There are rarities, and then there is Guercœur -one of only two operas completed by Albéric Magnard in his lifetime- which disappeared almost completely after its posthumous première in 1931. Its neglect, inversely proportional to its qualities, is wholly unjust: its score is satisfyingly late-romantic in its orchestration and thematic intensity, while its Janus-like handling of the drama draws upon the classical tradition of divine personifications looking dispassionately on the actions of humankind, while simultaneously attempting to tackle the political realities of its own time. Despite a moderately high-profile recording in the mid-1980s under Michel Plasson, the work remained absent from the stage until a revival in 2019 and another in 2024.
Yet
there has never been a better time for Guercœur to make a comeback. The
story, which deals broadly with the erosion of democracy, is almost
disturbingly prescient -in the final tableaux of the second act, supporters of
the dictatorial Heurtal even state that he will “make [their nation] great
again- while the music is arguably superior to many of the late-romantic
“rediscoveries” that enterprising opera houses have been returning to the stage
in recent years. The new production at Oper Frankfurt treated the opera with
the reverence it deserved: while the musical direction of Marie Jacquot offered
an eloquent introduction to Magnard’s world, it was the magnificent staging of
David Hermann that worked most tirelessly to argue for the opera’s modern
relevance.
The complex genesis of Guercœur may, to some extent, account for its neglect. Although Magnard composed the work in the final years of the 1890s -almost a decade before his other opera, Berenice- it went unperformed in his lifetime. Indeed the full score was destroyed when invading soldiers set fire to Magnard’s country house at the beginning of the first World War, killing the composer in the process. The opera might have disappeared completely had it not been for Magnard’s friend and fellow composer Guy Ropartz, who reconstructed the orchestral parts and was instrumental in securing its première in 1931. Although the work’s handling of the rise of fascism should have struck a chord with audiences of the early 1930s, its old-fashioned score and odd dramatic structure made little impact, and the opera took its place next to Magnard’s wonderful symphonies in the depths of obscurity.
Admittedly
the libretto -Magnard’s own- makes few concessions to dramatic accessibility.
The story concerns Guercœur, a mythical statesman who is loved by his wife
Giselle and by the people he has freed from some unspecified tyranny; after his
premature death he finds himself trapped in a refreshingly un-Christian
afterlife ruled by the personification of Truth. Unable to tolerate the
pleasures of eternity, he petitions to be sent back to the real world where he
discovers that Giselle has fallen in love with his former protégé Heurtal, who
is busy promoting his own dictatorial agenda. Although the long second act is structured
around a love triangle and an intense political conflict -both good operatic
staples- what makes Guercœur unique are the afterlife scenes, which
do not merely bookend the opera, but account for roughly half its length;
although these scenes achieve a curious musical grace, they are also notable
for their lack of conventional drama.
Magnard: Guercœur. Marie Jacquot, conductor. David Hermann, director. Oper Frankfurt, February 2025. © 2025 by Barbara Aumüller / Oper Frankfurt.
For
David Hermann, however, the work presented no obvious difficulties. He made
only one textual amendment, ending the ‘second act’ after Guercœur’s encounter
with Giselle and combining the final tableau of the second act with the
entirety of the third; whatever this may have done to Magnard’s intended
dramatic flow, it had the practical advantage of breaking the evening into
three digestible segments of roughly equal length. The staging opened at the
very moment of Guercœur’s death, but instead of shifting the action to the
afterlife, Mr Hermann allowed the real and spirit worlds to co-exist in
parallel on stage; spirit figures were dressed entirely in grey and could not,
of course, be seen by the more colourfully dressed inhabitants of earthbound
reality. Guercœur’s attempts to bargain with Vérité and her cohort of
personified virtues thus unfolded against the mourning of Giselle and Heurtal
and the subsequent funeral arrangements.
Although
there were a few theatrical contrivances -the set, which featured a revolving
modernist house on a larger rotating stage, allowed for seamless changes of
location, and the transformation of Guercœur back into his mortal self-involved
some impressive stage magic- the first act thrived largely on the strength of
its direction; indeed Mr Hermann’s deliberately paced scenes conspired with
Magnard’s loftily contemplative music to almost hypnotic effect. Oddly the
second act, which aimed for a higher degree of character-driven naturalism,
felt less cohesive: the meeting of Guercœur and Giselle, although more
conventionally operatic, had moments that seemed laboured, as though the
characters had used up their reserve of dramatic gestures before the scene had
ended. (It should be added that the house in which the scene took place -based
on the Kanzlerbungalow in Bonn- was especially elegant, a pleasing arrangement
of orthogonal planes, white concrete block and tasteful mid-century furniture;
there was a perverse irony in the notion of a would-be dictator planning his
take-over from a residence that so clearly embodied the rational humanism of
the post-war era).
However
the first scene of the third act (in fact the final tableau from Magnard’s Act
Two) was extraordinary. Magnard may not have been the most subtle of political
dramatists -there is not much room for nuance in the scene’s black-and-white
battle between freedom and fascism- but Mr Hermann made sure that none of
its present-day relevance went unnoticed: what started as a factional shouting
match in a parliamentary chamber soon devolved into physical violence and
culminated in a deeply memorable piece of stage imagery illustrating the
collapse of democracy. Although the embittered Guercœur returns to the
afterlife in the opera’s final scene -where he again encounters Vérité and the
other virtues- Magnard’s luminous music and message of hope were tempered
somewhat by Mr Hermann’s Sisyphean vision of eternity, suggesting that history
has a lot of repeating to do before the condition of humanity improves.
Magnard: Guercœur. Marie Jacquot, conductor. David Hermann, director. Oper Frankfurt, February 2025. © 2025 by Barbara Aumüller / Oper Frankfurt.
If
Mr Hermann’s staging offered a compelling point of entry into an unusual
narrative, Domen Križaj made sure that the opera’s titular character remained firmly
at the centre of the drama. Although he brought sturdy tone and effortless
projection to each of his appearances, he was at his most persuasive in the
higher-lying passages, in which the presiding lyricism of the music was given
an almost heroic edge. His inextinguishable desire to return to the world of
the living was very much the engine of the first act -the anguish in his voice
stood out against the calm of the afterlife- while in the second he
brought a tremendous charge to the long confrontation with Giselle. He was more
than able to hold his own against the volatile choral exchanges of the
parliamentary scene, and the bitterness that clouded his final scenes in the
afterlife suggested that even the most ardent idealist could be made to lose
faith in humanity.
As
Giselle, Claudia Mahnke was warmly sympathetic, if a touch distant, in her
first scene with Heurtal, but her performance shifted into a much higher gear
with the arrival of Guercœur: she delivered her pleas in the long duet with a
finely balanced mixture of confusion and remorse, while retaining a firm
resolve to continue on the path she had chosen. By the time of her final
appearance, after Guercœur’s departure, she had reached a state of palpable
exultation. AJ Glueckert, as Heurtal, was at his best in the political intrigue
of the parliamentary scene, Anna Gabler, as Vérité, was occasionally eclipsed
by the orchestra in the first act but delivered a moving assessment of humanity
in the third, and Judita Nagyová provided the evening with a pleasingly
dark-toned Souffrance. The choir, who play such a crucial role in the opera,
were superb throughout, singing offstage with haunting concentration in the
first and final scenes, while bringing an energetic vigour to the onstage
factionalism of the parliamentary chamber.
Magnard: Guercœur. Marie Jacquot, conductor. David Hermann, director. Oper Frankfurt, February 2025. © 2025 by Barbara Aumüller / Oper Frankfurt.
Marie
Jacquot anchored the evening with a firm and idiomatic reading of the score.
With the exception of the first scene of Act Two, which suffered from a touch
of rhythmic stiffness, the second act moved forward with assured momentum: if
Ms Jacquot did not downplay the hints of Wagner in Guercœur’s return to Giselle
-which bears a passing resemblance to Isolde awaiting her secret meeting with
Tristan- she made sure that Magnard’s unique blend of idealism and tragedy
remained at the forefront of the real-world scenes. Yet she was arguably at her
best in the afterlife scenes, which were presented at an enthrallingly
unhurried pace and with great attention to the score’s wealth of orchestral
detail. While there were some passages in the first and third acts where one
longed for greater mid-range warmth in the strings, the lean, compartmentalised
sound of the orchestra worked ultimately to the advantage of the drama.
There is undoubtedly a strain of gloomy romanticism that runs through Magnard’s œuvre, but in many of his works it exists alongside an almost defiant humanism; if the latter can be glimpsed in his symphonies, and grasped more readily in his orchestral Hymn to Justice, Guercœur stands as the most comprehensive expression of his idealism. Admittedly audiences of the present day, living in despair as history repeats itself, may find the opera’s belief in humanity to be hopelessly naïve; yet it is equally difficult not to find some consolation in its ultimate message of hope. Although Guercœur, like it’s eponymous character, disappeared prematurely after its first appearance, the new production at Oper Frankfurt makes a convincing argument that the opera should once again be a part of our world.
Desde 1996, informamos con independencia sobre música clásica en español.
La lectura es libre. Si quieres participar en los comentarios, crea una cuenta.
🙌 Registrarse ahora
Comentarios