Some opera productions, like the total eclipse of the sun seen recently in the United States, happen so quickly that the operagoer must be primed in advance and have the absolute foresight to buy tickets. Les Fêtes de Thalie by composer Jean-Joseph Mouret and librettist Joseph de La Font in a spectacular modern premier by Opera Lafayette as conducted by Christophe Rousset and directed by Catherine Turocy thoroughly captivated the Dresser when she experienced the opening night performance May 3, 2024, at Washington, DC’s Kennedy Center Terrace Theater. The production continues in DC on May 4th and then moves to New York’s El Museo del Barrio for a final performance May 7.
Everything about this opera ballet pleased the Dresser. The Baroque music was at times vigorous, saucy, and sweet to the ear. The singers are extraordinary talents both for their abilities to perform the demands of Mouret’s compositions, to create characters that enchant the audience, and to play multiple roles. The eight dancers were remarkable for their muscular strength, grace, and often surprising flourishes that included foot stamping. Kudos to the creative team that balanced these remarkable talents to achieve a satisfying whole.
The costumes by Marie Anne Chiment flowered into bloom like an exotic garden, particularly eye-catching were those worn by the foot stamping Kalanidhi dancers. The punkish attire, including a rainbow of hair color and black, laced-up storm trooper boots, worn by Thalie, Muse of Comedy, provided loud counterpoint to the flowing purple gown worn regally by Melpomène, the Muse of Tragedy.
The story opens and closes on an argument between sassy Thalie (soprano Paulina Francisco) and melodramatic diva Melpomène (dramatic soprano Angel Azzara) concerning what an audience will like better: tragedy or comedy. Apollo (bass-baritone Jonathan Woody) is asked to settle the dispute and resolves that the two Graces take turns starting with a comedy.
The first offering entitled “La Fille” (The Girl) involves a sea captain (baritone Jean Bernard Cerin) who wants to marry the young woman Léonore (Paulina Francisco). But Léonore wants to be free to sing and dance. The sea captain hopes her mother (tenor Patrick Kilbride) will help him win the daughter’s hand. The catch is for ten years, the mother has not seen her husband and so, when Léonore refuses, the mother offers herself. This is made funnier by the mother being acted by a man with a rotund belly and, yes, Kilbride did a great job in this female role.
“La Veuve Coquette” (The Coquettish Widow) involves Isabel, a woman (soprano Pascale Beaudin) who is pursued by two seemingly desirable men—the wealthy financier Chrisogon (John Taylor Ward and the military man Léandre (Scott Brunscheen). Isabel, dressed in riding gear which possibly suggests she is a Dominatrix, sloughs off the advice of her friend Doris (Angel Azzara) who encourages picking one or other. The rich man woos her with an elaborate dance which she is eager to see but, in the end, she tells both suitors no. The centerpiece of this tragedy is the dance.
“La Femme” (The Wife) is a comedy about Dorante (Scott Brunscheen), a man who woos a masked woman though he has a beautiful and sexually appealing wife (Pascale Beaudin). Unmasked, the woman turns out to be Dorante’s wife Caliste which is taken cheerfully in stride by the married couple. At this time, Thalie, the muse of comedy, breaks into the scene as the audience claps and declares herself the winner—that comedy wins over tragedy according to the audience’s appreciation.
The final scene entitled “La Critique” (The Criticism) pits Thalie as librettist against Polyhymnia, the muse of Music and therefore the composer, and Terpsichore, the Muse of Dance and therefore the choreographer. She calls for mediation by Apollo, who sends a substitute. While Thalie may have won over the audience to comedy (versus tragedy), she must contend with the judgement of Momus, God of Mockery and otherwise known as the critic. With an extra kick of comedic irony Patrick Kilbride gleefully takes that role and knocks down her pride by saying he was glad he didn’t write the libretti for her comedies. However, this scene is not a tragedy, Momus assures all the muses that everyone deserves appreciation and that all should “laugh, sing, and dance” which is exactly how the Dresser felt leaving this well-orchestrated and fun-filled performance.
Photos: Jennifer Packard
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