There’s a great deal to admire in this release, the realisation of a
long cherished idea for Diana Damrau. It’s meticulously sung, well
researched and beautifully presented. And don’t be fooled by the ‘grand
opera’ title: it’s not just a matter of works in the spectacular genre
with which Meyerbeer is most closely associated. There’s repertoire in
German and Italian as well as from French opéras both grands and comiques, plus plenty of music from before the composer conquered Paris, going back as far as the singspiel Alimelek, oder Die beiden Kalifen (1814).
Damrau’s own enthusiastic note in the booklet emphasises the variety
that the programme demonstrates. And, to a certain extent, we hear that
as we run the gamut from charming simplicity in the German works,
Rossinian fireworks in the Italian ones to, well, Meyerbeerian fireworks
in the French.
But having a whole disc of soprano arias by a composer whose major
concern never seems to have been three-dimensional characterisation also
seems to undermine the very point Damrau is trying to make. A third of
the arias feature extensive flute obliggato, for example, others
clarinet – or both. Perky coloratura, dispatched with cool aplomb by
Damrau, is a standard device. Meyerbeer could certainly string notes
(and lots of them) together fluently, but he struggled to hit upon truly
memorable melodies.
There’s still plenty of originality, though. Take the mournful,
heartfelt cor anglais solo in Isabelle’s ‘Robert, toi que j’aime’, which
looks forward to Berlioz’s ‘D’amour l’ardente flamme’ (while also
bearing a less fortunate melodic similarity to Monsieur Triquet’s ditty
in Eugene Onegin) – and Damrau rises to some exciting drama in its final moments. She’s also outstanding in Palmide’s ‘Con qual gioia’ (from Il crociato),
which feels like three virtuoso arias for the price of one, and the
extensive vocal fluff of Marguerite’s ‘Ô beau pays de la Touraine’ (Les Huguenots).
The soprano’s technique remains unruffled regardless of what
challenges are thrown her way, a tendency to sag on trills
notwithstanding. But the voice is not big on colouristic variety and
only hints at steely determination rarely, emphasising the somewhat
passive, generic nature of many of the women represented here. Sample
someone like Natalie Dessay in the ubiquitous ‘Ombre légère’ to hear
what more can be done. The scholarly and detailed booklet essay might
have helped, too, had it furnished us with dramatic as well as
musicological context for the music.
The Lyon Opera forces under Emmanuel Villaume offer fluent, lively
support (I hope the flautist got paid overtime), as do the other singers
making cameos. This is certainly a useful, generously filled and well-recorded compendium, better for dipping into rather than consuming
in one sitting. Whether it will do anything to change your mind on
Meyerbeer himself is another matter. (Hugo Shirley / Gramophone)
