Back from the Dead : Massenet Le roi de Lahore, Chelsea Opera QEH

In Jules Massenet's Le roi de Lahore,  King Alim returns from the dead, redeemed by love. On Sunday, the Chelsea Opera Group brought the long-dead opera back to life at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, London.  The opera was a smash hit from its premiere in April 1877. Fifty-seven performances followed, in several productions, in France, Italy, London, St Petersburg and Buenos Aires  Then, suddenly, silence until the first shoots of new interest in the early 1960's. The present reincarnation began with a new edition by Marcello Viotti and a ground-breaking production at La Fenice, ten years ago. (Read more HERE).

This enthusiastic performance by the forces of Chelsea Opera showed what made Le roi de Lahore an instant success. It was created as a showpiece for the then new Palais Garnier, built to flaunt the confidence and wealth of the Third Republic, and also its new empire in Africa and Asia. To quote Simon Bainbridge's notes for the Chelsea Opera Group, the premiere was "an occasion of almost unimaginable splendour..... the costumes alone cost 200,000 francs."  It was so spectacular that the stage designs were published, and photographs taken to preserve it for posterity. The picture above shows the Act V scene in Indra's temple. The deity dominates: all else is dwarfed. Perhaps this very grandeur might explain the opera's eclipse. Like a juggernaut it mesmerizes by its sheer audacity. Yet six years later, Délibes's Lakmé premiered at the Opéra  Comique, combining spectacle with even more spectacular music and songs which remain immortal today.

The Grand Overture whips up promise for grand things to come. Massenet's instrumentation calls for  fashionable "new" instruments like three saxophones, and the giant Adolphe Sax contrabassoon, plus an unusually large range of percussion, which includes antique cymbals, Indian drums and a large Indian gong.  This artillery provides great special effects  and must have sounded wildly exotic at the time. Even in  a non-staged performance, this Indian flavouring whips up mental images of a busy temple, packed with worshippers, wild horns and drums beating incessant rhythms. The Battle Scene in the desert is even wilder, with off-stage trumpets (attackers) and on-stage brass (defenders)  Huge ostinato - did French audiences assume Punjabis fought with elephants? The London audience were thrilled, and that's what matters. The three divertissements for dancing  were less atmospherically written, apart from the second, which might have inspired swooping and lilting choreography. Tantalizing hints of flesh under saris, perhaps, to please the balletomane faction.  Since Sitâ is Scindia's niece, the plot even by non-western standards is a little risqué.

Renato Belsadonna is best known as the Chorus Master at the Royal Opera House,  so he was an ideal choice to conduct Le roi de Lahore, where the choruses play a critically important role. The Chelsea Opera chorus and orchestra are good, though nowhere near ROH standards, but Belsadonna's verve  makes them respond with such enthusiasm that they create the right kind of wayward atmosphere, much more in the spirit of this opera than over-refinement, though we could have used more luminosity in the Act III Paradise chorus. This isn't a plot for deep introspection. Besides, crowds in temples, battles and market places wouldn't sound right, drilled to perfection.  We came for the fun of the opera, and Belsadonna gave us adventure, without lapsing into the kind of noise-for-the sake-of-excitement that prevails all too often in concert halls these days.

Wedged between Bizet's Pearl Fishers and Délibes' Lakmé, Le roi de Lahore doesn't compare. The principals aren't really given enough material to display what they can do. Michael Spyres sang Alim with ardent fluency, hitting the high notes with athletic grace. Would that we could have heard more of him,  but this isn't really a numbers opera.  Anush Hovhannisyan sang Sitâ. The awkward extremes in the range pushed her, but she had lovely mezzo-ish tints, suggesting that Sitâ, despite her youth, has an instinct for passion. Hovhannisyan is beautiful.  as befits a girl men would die for. It's no fault of the singers that modern audiences can't forget The Bell Song from Lakmé or The Flower Duet. Justina Gringyte sang Kaled well, a part written with interesting spice.   William Dazeley as Scindia has a lot to sing. If Dazeley's voice was a tad dry, that worked fine for a villain, especially one who preys on girls and kills his King. Scindia and Timour are great characters. As Timour, the High Priest, Jihoon Kim creates a figure of authority with the depth of his timbre, but also colours his singing so that we can feel the depth of Timour's personality. This Timour is a man who cares about people even if it means going against the rules. An excellent portrayal. Kim will make a good Heinrich or Marke, in the not-too-distant future. Robert Lloyd was slotted to sing Indra, but had to cancel. Joshua Bloom saved the day, singing both the Army Chief and Indra, standing high amongst the chorus. Please see my other posts on Massenet, including Hérodias, as well as Manon and Werther.

Massenet Le roi de Lahore Sunday QEH

The Chelsea Opera Group presents Jules Massenet Le roi de Lahore this Sunday at the Queen Elizabeth Hall.  A pity it will be unstaged, because this is an opera that needs extravagant extreme visuals, in technicolor, and as over the top as possible. But we mustn't be greedy. Le roi de Lahore is a rarity. The only major production in recent years was at La Fenice, in 2005, presenting a new edition of the score by Marcello Viotti. The photo above comes from that production, which is on DVD but NTSC only. There's an informative review here in Opera Today. There's a single recording, with Joan Sutherland, but the recording quality does it no favours. Although Sutherland was only in her 50's when she sang Sitâ, the priestess, don't expect another Lakmé.

While Massenet's  Le roi de Lahore pre-dates Délibes Lakmé by only six years, they occupy different worlds. Worlds that reflect French taste for exotic orientalisme, rather than the reality of India. In Le roi de Lahore, we'll hear "Indian" trumpets blaring and and bits of local colour in the orchestra, but audiences weren't bothered by historical accuracy as long as they had a grand show. In any case, the plot is preposterous. In this pre-Islamic Lahore, the King, Alim, falls in love with Sitâ, the vestal virgin. Sacrilege! Alim is condemened to die in battle. Then things get really interesting. He gets killed. With the intervention of Indra, the Hindu deity, he comes back to life as a beggar. Dead and living sing together., Eventually, the lovers are reunited,  Even Bizet's Les pêcheurs de perles pales in comparison.  Timour, the High Priest, has a great role. 

The Chelsea Opera Group performance weill be conducted by Renato Belsadonna,  better known as the Chorus Master at the Royal Opera House, which will be good, because the choruses are the making of Le roi de Lahore, though there are many good star turns for the soloists. If this opera had been written for Hollywood in the 1930's it would have been choreographed for hordes of singing, dancing extras. With Belsadonna conducting, we'll also have an extremely good cast, some of whom are ROH regulars. Book now -some seats still available.  :

Anush Hovhannisyan soprano, Sita, Priestess of Indra
Michael Spyres tenor, Alim, King of Lahore
William Dazeley baritone, Scindia, Minister to Alim
Jihoon Kim bass, Timour, High Priest of Indra
Justina Gringyte mezzo-soprano, Kaled, the King's servant
Robert Lloyd bass, Indra, an Indian deity

Jihoon Kim Recital, Royal Opera House

Jihoon Kim is shining proof that the Jette Parker Young Artists Programme at the Royal Opera House, London, develops singers into complete artists. rich, resonant bass is much admired. During his two years as a Jette Parker Young Artist in 2011/13 he was cast in a wide range of roles at the Royal Opera House, from Alessio in Bellini’s La sonnambula and Colline in Puccini’s La bohème to the Ghost of Hector in Berlioz’s Les Troyens. After completing the Programme, he was offered a one year contract as a Royal Opera principal, covering more than 50 performances in the current season - in fact, when he sings Stimme der Wächter on the first night of Strauss’ Die Frau ohne Schatten it will be his 100th performance on the main stage. 

In Verdi Les vêpres sicilennes, Kim’s Robert was so distinctive that  James Sohre wrote in Opera Today that “As one would expect at Covent Garden, all of the minor roles were polished and poised, but I particularly enjoyed Jihoon Kim as Robert. The ROH is right to place such confidence in him and to nurture a performer of such accomplishment and real individuality. His rolling, dark bass surely has a bright future”. Watching the HD broadcast of that production, I noticed how often Director Stefan Herheim used Kim at many critical points in the drama, far more often than the actual singing part required. Kim appeared many times in close-ups because he has presence, even when he was not singing.  

Particpants in the Jette Parker Young Artists Programme have considerable professional experience even before they join the scheme. The programme polishes these skills so they learn all aspects of their profession. Coaching includes languages, musical style, interpretation, stagecraft, acting and movement. There is more to being an opera singer than singing alone. Because the programme focuses on practical performance skills, Young Artists give individual recitals, as well as participating in main house productions. Jihoon Kim’s recital in the Paul Hamlyn Hall in the Royal Opera House in December 2013was unique, however, because he sang Korean Art Song, a genre almost unknown in the west. 

 

Korean Art song or Gagok are songs composed in the Western form. Borrowing the melody of hymns from the end of the 19th century Gagok began in the 1920s, when Korea was occupied by Japan, and continues to flourish today. In South Korea, classical music is cherished and music education standards very high. The songs describe mountains, woodlands and the simple life of Korean peasants, celebrating national culture and identity, much as Grieg and Dvořák did in Europe. The lyricism in the music of Gagok expresses nostalgia, but also a more subtle sensibility. “Deep in the woodland” writes the poet Donghwan Kim, set by composer Wonshik Lim in 1942, “a spring never seen or found trickles secretly……I take a sip, returning home with pleasure, for the spring will remain my own, secretly”

“Another aspect of Korean Art Song”, says Kim, “is that it mainly consists of a lyrical melody (cantilena), which does not require a trained vocalization, to be sung easily by the general public.” Kim is modest, though, for some of these songs are technically sophisticated and benefit from his sensitivity to musical form. Dongsu Shin’s Dear Mountain (1983) is a particularly beautiful song, allowing Kim to showcase the range of colours in his voice. In Hoon Byeon’s Pollack (1952), fast paced, ever-changing rhythms suggest the movement of a fish frolicking in the sea before it gets caught in a net. Kim sang with agile flexibility and freshness, quite unusual in his fach. The fish is “ripped to shreds, my body may disappear but my name will remain, as Pollack, Pollack, I will remain in this world”. There is humour in the song, but also bitter irony. The very fact that Kim was able to express these complex feelings to an audience who did not speak Korean shows how well he can communicate : a valuable skill in opera. Kim could convey meaning so well that many in the audience could follow the spirit of the songs, such as the drinking song, without needing translations at all.

Kim sang some songs accompanied by pianist Jean-Paul Pruna. Pruna, who was a member of the Young Artists Programme in 2010/12, postponed his return to Holland for his current engagement with Reisoper in order to take part. Kim also built the programme to include performances on traditional Korean instruments, in order to show how modern art song connected to traditional form. Hyelim Kim played taegŭm, a transverse bamboo flute. She played Chʻŏngsŏnggok, a melody used in Korean court circles. It was transposed an octave higher in parts to maximize the distinctive buzzing articulation of the membrane within the instrument, which acts as a kind of sympathetic resonator. 

Hyunsu Song played the haegŭm, a two-stringed bowed string instrument. A percussion ensemble joined Kim and the other soloists for larger pieces, such as the three variations of Arirang. The Koreans in the audience started to clap in rhythm with the percussive pulse, underlining the changing shape and form. For westerners, who aren’t used to participating in classical music, this was quite an education. 

For an encore, Kim sang a lullaby his mother sang to him when he was a baby. Although he was so young, he responded to the emotion in the song and used to weep. “Maybe it’s the song that made me become a singer”, he said. The ability to feel and express emotion is perhaps fundamental to the art of song. Kim sang the song first sotto voce, barely above a whisper, conveying the idea of a song heard as distant memory. Then he sang it again with confidence. We could hear the boy grown into a man with a bright future. I was very moved. 

As an extra theatrical touch, Kim wore a hanbok, a spectacular silk costume, loaned by Somssimyoungga, the only luxury traditional company designing bespoke Korean garments. Kim thinks as an opera artist, who understands the importance of visual images. Kim also has exceptional organization skills, putting together the whole programme and people involved on his own initiative. Great attention to detail : at one stage, the bow of the haegŭm brushed too close to a microphone. Without missing a note, Kim bent over and fixed things. 

This was a unique recital, from an unusually promising young singer who has justified the faith the Royal Opera House has placed in him.

See the full review HERE in Opera Today.Photos copyright  Marco Godoy