[From Paris, via Brno and San Francisco]
Janos: Just back in Brno from my Paris jaunt, where I saw some
interesting films (Palestinian "Divine Intervention" which I daresay
won't get wide US play - Beckett/Tati/Keaton as political deadpan
sad-absurdities; James Mason and Danielle Darrieux in "Five Fingers"
(L'affaire Cicero, in French - James the coldblooded money-hungry
ohsosuave spy in Istanbul; DD the down on her fortunes baroness of
suspect affiliations), and a strange documentary about people living
in Brasil's Surtao), but the big hit was the Martinu opera "Juliette,
ou, le cle des songes" - actually, this was the reason I went, and
it fulfilled all expectations but one - I was really surprised to
discover that sitting dead center back row of the 'balcon' (a slightly
raised back portion of the parterre) the sound was most peculiar:
snare drums sounded like they were just behind my right shoulder,
piano often sounded over my *left* shoulder, and surprisingly loud,
louder than most the singers. Other than that, though, it was a dream!
(Literally, since that's the basic idea of the plot).
You probably know the plot, and maybe even saw the film by Carne (I
think it was Gerard Philippe's last film, correct me if I'm wrong -
I'd seen it and completely both forgotten it or not connected it with
the opera), so I'll skip the plot, but the staging was just what
originality should be - both wonderful to note and not distracting
either from the music or the essence of the piece.
In this case the accordion player's instrument in act one is used as
the motif: when the play starts we see a canted accordion on its side
as the front drop (not a scrim, but it was at the front a la scrim -
so what's that, a drim? Too close to dream for the present production),
on its side, keys visible protruding from the right side of the stage.
Once the young man has arrived in the village, the bellows slowly
expand, sending the keys across the stage, the bellows then revealing
themselves as the buildings of the town - suitably surreal, with a
slight expressionist patina, but veddy French somehow. Act two's drim
shows us a similar instrumental view, but with the buttons now showing.
As the curtain rises, we see a forest scene (and this act had glorious
lighting and shadowing throughout), bordered on both sides by the
white folds of the bellows, thus we are now *within* the accordion.
Act three, the bureau of dreams, shows the accordion lying on its
back, keys to the fore, across the width of the stage. The bellows,
partly expanded, curve up, back, and to the right, most of the folds
exhibiting a place tag as in a filing cabinet (Rouen, Paris, Avignon,
etc).
The name inscribed on the case of the accordion almost invisible at
the back and top - Juliette. The man in charge of the bureau sits
within and atop the front case, and the portal to the dreams is one
of the large button stops on the front of the accordion. Perfectly
atmospherically appropriate, wonderfully inventive, and thank god not
pushy.
Though I saw the final performance of the first run (is it possible
this wonderful and oh so French opera (ok, he's Czech, and apparently
wrote it in Czech, from a French play, and it premiered in Prague in
1938, but it's sooooooo French) has never heretofore been produced
at the French Opera??? They say it is now "in the repertoire", so
with luck others will have the opportunity to see this production.
A gem, overlooked, and ready to be rediscovered, say I.
Charlie Cockey
Janos Gereben/SF
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