The Canadian Opera Company’s revival of Christoph Willibald Gluck’s “Orfeo ed Euridice,” now playing at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, is utterly divine in almost every regard. From the top of the bill to the bottom, everyone involved in this production is firing on all cylinders, granting this intense, powder keg of an opera the impactful interpretation that it calls for.
You know the story of the ancient Greek myth: Orfeo, filled with despair after losing his wife, descends into the Underworld. There, he manages to convince Hades to release Euridice and let him bring her back from the dead. However, the powerful god has one condition: Orfeo must walk out of the Underworld in front of his wife. If he looks back to even glance at her face, Euridice will die once again and return to the Underworld forever.
Gluck’s adaptation, featuring an Italian libretto by Ranieri de’ Calzabigi, isn’t entirely faithful to the original myth. In the opera, it isn’t Hades who grants Orfeo his wish, but rather the god of love, Amore. The work also concludes with an entirely contrived deus ex machina and some trite didacticism. (The opera’s ending is probably the weakest part of Gluck’s otherwise scintillating composition.)
This may all sound quite radical. But what’s most radical about “Orfeo ed Euridice” is its operatic style. Gluck’s streamlined, 90-minute piece largely reformed the Italian genre of opera seria when it premiered in 1762, doing away with much of the glut that defined the works of his contemporaries.
“Orfeo ed Euridice,” with its unique form, structure and emotional intensity, was centuries ahead of its time. It only features three named characters, but it’s arguably more of a solo psychodrama centring on Orfeo. It also packs a punch that’s reminiscent of those seminal modernist operas such as “Salome,” “Wozzeck” and “Peter Grimes.”
Canadian director Robert Carsen’s stark and scorching production, which premiered at the COC in 2011 and is now being revived by director Christophe Gayral, intensifies these emotions even further by paring the material down to its essence.
Tobias Hoheisel’s rocky set inhabits a world in between the living and the dead, with a horizon that seems to stretch on forever. The soft lighting designs, by Carsen and Peter Van Praet, complement this ravishing esthetic.
Gluck’s opera offers little for his lead performers to hide behind. The same is also true for Carsen’s production. There are no sweeping orchestrations, no grand sets. Instead, “Orfeo ed Euridice” is concentrated almost entirely on its three leading performances.
In that regard, the central trio in this revival are all in top form. As Orfeo, the British counter-tenor Iestyn Davies is magnificent in the enormous role. He initially faltered, somewhat, on opening night, with some of his lower notes lacking sufficient breath support. But he quickly settled in, revealing a gleaming resonance especially in his upper register.
In his solos, Davies’s voice floats effortlessly over the COC orchestra, playing with the agility and leanness of a chamber ensemble. (The orchestra is conducted by Canadian maestro Bernard Labadie.)
Davies also demonstrates impeccable chemistry with Anna-Sophie Neher, as Euridice. Their passion is evident — as well as their folly. So convincing and enthralling are their performances that Davies and Neher earn every gasp they receive from the audience during the opera’s inevitable third-act climax.
In the smaller yet pivotal role of Amore, soprano Catherine St-Arnaud possesses a willowy, supple instrument. She plays the god of love as a shape-shifting, jester. It’s an interpretation that, for me, took some time to register. But it makes sense. Love, after all, is a slippery and elusive thing — as the opera’s pair of eponymous lovers know well.
What didn’t work for me, however, were some of Hoheisel’s costumes. His decision to dress Amore to look like Orfeo’s body double in the first act, only to return later resembling Euridice’s twin, is somewhat confusing. As well, in the Underworld, I couldn’t shake the thought that Hoheisel’s drab costumes for the Furies (played by the mightily impressive COC chorus) look like they were cobbled together from a linen closet.
But these few uninspired elements are more than outweighed by Carsen’s production as a whole. It’s not only an incredible showcase for Davies, Neher and St-Arnaud, but also for Gluck’s influential work. It’s an “Orfeo ed Euridice” worthy of the gods.
