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Review: A Newly Relevant ‘L’Amour de Loin’ at the Met Review: A Newly Relevant ‘L’Amour de Loin’ at the Met
(about 5 hours later)
Kaija Saariaho’s opera “L’Amour de Loin” (“Love From Afar”) had its premiere at the Salzburg Festival in 2000, a period when Europe, especially Austria, was roiled by rising nationalism, movements to protect the sanctity of borders and demonization of the “other.” Kaija Saariaho’s opera “L’Amour de Loin” (“Love From Afar”) had its premiere at the Salzburg Festival in 2000, in a period when Europe, especially Austria, was roiled by rising nationalism, movements to protect the sanctity of borders and demonization of the “other.”
This powerful work was presented for the first time at the Metropolitan Opera on Thursday night, a time when America seems shaken by its own conflicts, having just gone through an election stoked by rhetoric about immigrants and renewed calls for nationalism. This powerful work was presented for the first time at the Metropolitan Opera on Thursday night, at a moment when America seems shaken by its own conflicts, having just gone through an election stoked by rhetoric about immigrants and renewed calls for nationalism.
Feelings about the “other” run through “L’Amour de Loin.” In this story, however, the other is not demonized, but idealized. Yet, as this haunting opera suggests, idealized assumptions can also cause harm, however unintended.Feelings about the “other” run through “L’Amour de Loin.” In this story, however, the other is not demonized, but idealized. Yet, as this haunting opera suggests, idealized assumptions can also cause harm, however unintended.
With this production, by the director Robert Lepage, the Met has also addressed a serious gap in its history: “L’Amour de Loin” is only the second opera composed by a woman to be presented by the company. The first was Ethel Smyth’s “Der Wald” in 1903.With this production, by the director Robert Lepage, the Met has also addressed a serious gap in its history: “L’Amour de Loin” is only the second opera composed by a woman to be presented by the company. The first was Ethel Smyth’s “Der Wald” in 1903.
In addition, Thursday’s performance was the Met debut of the brilliant Finnish conductor Susanna Malkki, who becomes, amazingly, only the fourth woman to take the podium in the company’s history.In addition, Thursday’s performance was the Met debut of the brilliant Finnish conductor Susanna Malkki, who becomes, amazingly, only the fourth woman to take the podium in the company’s history.
What matters most is that this impressive work has finally come to New York. Ms. Saariaho, born in Helsinki in 1952, has long been known for writing music rich with luminous sounds, astringently alluring harmonies, myriad instrumental colorings and atmospheric textures — qualities ideally suited to telling this medieval tale. The Lebanese-born author Amin Maalouf wrote the poetic and profound libretto.What matters most is that this impressive work has finally come to New York. Ms. Saariaho, born in Helsinki in 1952, has long been known for writing music rich with luminous sounds, astringently alluring harmonies, myriad instrumental colorings and atmospheric textures — qualities ideally suited to telling this medieval tale. The Lebanese-born author Amin Maalouf wrote the poetic and profound libretto.
The story tells of a renowned troubadour, Jaufré Rudel, prince of Blaye in 12th-century Aquitaine in France. Grown weary of a life of pleasure and entitlement, Jaufré yearns for an idealized, distant love, but assumes this is impossible. His hearty companions try to snap him out of it. A pilgrim just arrived from overseas, struck by the prince’s longing, tells him that the woman of his imagination exists: the countess of Tripoli, who is “beautiful without the arrogance of beauty.” The story tells of a renowned troubadour, Jaufré Rudel, prince of Blaye, in 12th-century Aquitaine in France. Grown weary of a life of pleasure and entitlement, Jaufré yearns for an idealized, distant love, but assumes that this is impossible. His hearty companions try to snap him out of it. A pilgrim just arrived from overseas, struck by the prince’s longing, tells him that the woman of his imagination exists: the countess of Tripoli, who is “beautiful without the arrogance of beauty.”
The pilgrim’s report fires the hopes of Jaufré, who rhapsodizes the countess in song. At first he does not want to meet her, lest reality spoil his distant love. The pilgrim becomes a go-between, traveling across the sea to Tripoli to bring Clemence, the countess, news of Jaufré’s idealized devotion. She is also feeling sick at heart. Still, that a noble troubadour may love her so purely leaves her questioning if she merits such devotion. The pilgrim’s report fires the hopes of Jaufré, who rhapsodizes about the countess in song. At first he does not want to meet her, lest reality spoil his distant love. The pilgrim becomes a go-between, traveling across the sea to Tripoli to bring Clémence, the countess, news of Jaufré’s idealized devotion. She is also feeling sick at heart. Still, that a noble troubadour may love her so purely leaves her questioning if she merits such devotion.
Ms. Saariaho establishes the mystical mood of the story at the start with suspenseful orchestral murmurings, over which rising pitches stack up to form piercing, sustained chords. Jaufré’s first lament unfolds in phrases that subtly evoke medieval song but with modes fashioned by the composer. Ms. Saariaho establishes the story’s mystical mood at the start with suspenseful orchestral murmurings, over which rising pitches stack up to form piercing, sustained chords. Jaufré’s first lament unfolds in phrases that subtly evoke medieval song, but with modes fashioned by the composer.
The bass-baritone Eric Owens, in one of his finest Met roles, makes an achingly vulnerable Jaufré. The earthy, weighty qualities of his voice convey the troubadour’s world-weary sadness. Yet, when the character’s ruminations take the music into higher lyrical phrases, Mr. Owens sings with poignancy and tenderness.The bass-baritone Eric Owens, in one of his finest Met roles, makes an achingly vulnerable Jaufré. The earthy, weighty qualities of his voice convey the troubadour’s world-weary sadness. Yet, when the character’s ruminations take the music into higher lyrical phrases, Mr. Owens sings with poignancy and tenderness.
The mezzo-soprano Tamara Mumford brings mellow sound and calm dignity to the role of the pilgrim, a young man curious about far-off places, those lands with “oceans of sand” and “rivers of ash.” The pilgrim tends to sing in firm, declarative phrases. But the most beautiful episode of the opera may be the scene in which the pilgrim tells Clemence about Jaufré and tries to recall, as best he can remember, the odes the prince has written for his distant love. The music evokes medieval song in halting phrases, backed by plush choral refrains. Yet woodwinds hint at Arab reeds and exotic dances, music the pilgrim has encountered on his travels. The mezzo-soprano Tamara Mumford brings mellow sound and calm dignity to the role of the pilgrim, a young man curious about far-off places, those lands with “oceans of sand” and “rivers of ash.” The pilgrim tends to sing in firm, declarative phrases. But the most beautiful episode of the opera may be the scene in which the pilgrim tells Clémence about Jaufré and tries to recall, as best he can remember, the odes the prince has written for his distant love. The music evokes medieval song in halting phrases, backed by plush choral refrains. Yet woodwinds hint at Arab reeds and exotic dances, music the pilgrim has encountered on his travels.
The soprano Susanna Phillips looks and sounds radiant as Clemence. At first, hearing about Jaufré’s adoration, Clemence is affronted and breaks into skittish lines that Ms. Phillips sings with miffed agitation. But soon she is entranced by the idea of the prince’s heightened form of love. At this point the opera exposes the folly, even the danger, of making idealized assumptions about the “other.” The soprano Susanna Phillips looks and sounds radiant as Clémence. At first, hearing about Jaufré’s adoration, Clémence is affronted and breaks into skittish lines that Ms. Phillips sings with miffed agitation. But soon she is entranced by the idea of the prince’s heightened form of love. At this point the opera exposes the folly, even the danger, of making idealized assumptions about the “other.”
Clemence, we find out, is from Toulouse, where, she tells the pilgrim, she spent five happy childhood years. She longs to return there. Jaufré assumes Clemence is a beautiful, exotic Eastern princess. The reality is more complicated. Also, can she really remember the France of her very early childhood? Clémence, we find out, is from Toulouse, where, she tells the pilgrim, she spent five happy childhood years. She longs to return there. Jaufré assumes that Clémence is a beautiful, exotic Eastern princess. The reality is more complicated. Also, can she really remember the France of her very early childhood?
Jaufré finally decides that he must sail to Tripoli to see Clemence. En route with the pilgrim, he takes ill. When the distant lovers meet, they pledge devotion, but the prince dies. Clemence will enter a convent, she announces. Jaufré finally decides that he must sail to Tripoli to see Clémence. En route with the pilgrim, he takes ill. When the distant lovers meet, they pledge devotion, but the prince dies. Clémence announces that she will enter a convent.
In a strangely chilling final soliloquy, she prays over the body of her lover. But her words are confusing. “Now you are the distant love,” she tells God. Is she rebuking or beseeching him? Even about God she has made assumptions.In a strangely chilling final soliloquy, she prays over the body of her lover. But her words are confusing. “Now you are the distant love,” she tells God. Is she rebuking or beseeching him? Even about God she has made assumptions.
As in many of Ms. Saariaho’s works, whole stretches of the score come across as dreamlike, continually alive with color and inner details, but ruminative-sounding over all. She takes risks with this approach here. Sometimes, the orchestral recedes into what can seem murky, hovering slowness. As in many of Ms. Saariaho’s works, whole stretches of the score come across as dreamlike, continually alive with color and inner details, but ruminative-sounding over all. She takes risks with this approach here. Sometimes, the orchestra recedes into what can seem like murky, hovering slowness.
This production is lucky to have the impressive Ms. Malkki conducting. All the modernist sonorities and layered strands in this dense, complex music come through. She is excellent at animating the buzzing, frenetic riffs and fleeting ostinatos that ripple through the score. It was only last year that this charismatic conductor, then 46, made her auspicious New York Philharmonic debut. The Met must have her back as often as possible.This production is lucky to have the impressive Ms. Malkki conducting. All the modernist sonorities and layered strands in this dense, complex music come through. She is excellent at animating the buzzing, frenetic riffs and fleeting ostinatos that ripple through the score. It was only last year that this charismatic conductor, then 46, made her auspicious New York Philharmonic debut. The Met must have her back as often as possible.
With “L’Amour de Loin” Mr. Lepage returns to the Met after his hotly debated production of Wagner’s “Ring” cycle, a clunky, fairly clueless staging dominated by a gargantuan set made of rotating planks. “L’Amour” has a kind of machine as well, but it’s delicate and often captivating. The sea is the fourth main character in this opera, Mr. Lepage said in a recent interview. It separates the distant lovers and nations, but also connects them. With “L’Amour de Loin,” Mr. Lepage returns to the Met after his hotly debated production of Wagner’s “Ring” cycle, a clunky, fairly clueless staging dominated by a gargantuan set made of rotating planks. “L’Amour” has a kind of machine as well, but it’s delicate and often captivating. The sea is the fourth main character in this opera, Mr. Lepage said in a recent interview. It separates the distant lovers and nations, but also connects them.
Mr. Lepage and his production team evoke the sea with more than two dozen strands of tiny LED lights, some 28,000 of them, stretching from the pit to the rear of the stage. The lights twinkle in changing colors to create luminous waves and rippling effects. The castle where we first see Jaufré, and later Clemence, is a movable, elevated bridge that looks a little like the mobile stairs you sometimes climb to board an airplane. Mr. Lepage and his production team evoke the sea with more than two dozen strands of tiny LED lights, some 28,000 of them, stretching from the pit to the rear of the stage. The lights twinkle in changing colors to create luminous waves and rippling effects. The castle where we first see Jaufré, and later Clémence, here becomes a movable, elevated bridge that looks a little like the mobile stairs you sometimes climb to board an airplane.
The strings of lights create magical images. Still, you get a little blurry eyed looking at them, especially since Mr. Lepage has kept the side and rear walls of the stage black. The chorus members, who portray Jaufré’s companions and the countess’s attendants, pop up from between the strands of lights when they sing. Mr. Lepage means the effect to be mysterious, but when those heads pop up it’s hard not to think of the game Whac-a-Mole. The strings of lights create magical images. Still, you get a little blurry-eyed looking at them, especially since Mr. Lepage has kept the side and rear walls of the stage black. The chorus members, who portray Jaufré’s companions and the countess’s attendants, emerge from between the strands of lights when they sing. Mr. Lepage means the effect to be mysterious, but when those heads pop up, it’s hard not to think of the game Whac-a-Mole.
But those who decided to give up on Mr. Lepage after the “Ring” should see this production, which over all is rich and original, if a little awkward. And during the final ovations, something that had never happened on the Met stage took place: a female conductor and a female composer congratulated each other with a warm embrace. It’s about time. But those who decided to give up on Mr. Lepage after the “Ring” should see this production, which over all is rich and original, if a little awkward. And during the final ovations, something that had never happened on the Met stage took place: A female conductor and a female composer congratulated each other with a warm embrace. It’s about time.