Streaming the First Century
Session 2: Excerpts
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COMPLETE RECORDING
WERTHER, 1978
Jules Massenet
Antonio de Almeida, conductor
(run time 2 hours) -
COMPLETE RECORDING
LOUISE, 1999
Gustave Charpentier
Patrick Summers, conductor
(run time 2 hours and 36 minutes) -
DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
Historic interviews, contemporary conversations, and topical essays
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STREAMING THE FIRST CENTURY
Project overview
For a definition of “light coloratura soprano,” listen to Bidú Sayão in these excerpts from Manon. Her delicate voice is at once supple and taut, the vibrato never interfering with fine articulation. Exquisite is the word. The Manon she sang in San Francisco in 1939 marked her company debut, the start of a relationship lasting until 1953 and encompassing 61 engagements.
Larry Rothe (on Manon, 1939)
American Titans Beverly Sills and Sherill Milnes in this all too infrequently performed masterpiece is what great nights at the opera are made of. Here you have them both at the height of their vocal powers with Sills’ dramatic prowess coming straight through your speakers.
Kenneth Overton (on Thaïs, 1976)
Manon, 1939 (Jules Massenet)
Broadcast (10/15/1939)
4 excerpts: total run time ~ 8 minutes
This historic broadcast preserves the exquisite artistry of two all-time favorites from the Company’s annals, Italian tenor Tito Schipa and Brazilian soprano Bidú Sayão.
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MANON
(In French)Music by Jules Massenet
Libretto by Henri Meilhac and Phillippe Gille, based on the novel by Abbé PrevostWar Memorial Opera House
October 15, 1939 Opening Night (Broadcast Act II)CAST
Manon Bidú Sayão*
Chevalier des Grieux Tito SchipaConductor Gaetano Merola
Director Armando Agnini*San Francisco Opera debut
Clip 1: Des Grieux and Manon are in their Parisian apartment. They are in love and Des Grieux drafts a letter to his father, who he fears may disapprove. They read the letter together.
Clip 2: Manon is attracted to the offer of de Bretigny’s riches and resolves to leave her Chevalier.
Clip 3: Manon says goodbye to her life with Des Grieux, including the table and glass they shared.
Clip 4: Unaware that she intends to leave him, Des Grieux tells Manon of the beautiful dream (Le Rêve) he has had of their future together.
To access the featured libretto excerpts, click here.Original audio transfer and restoration by Richard Caniell.
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For a definition of “light coloratura soprano,” listen to Bidú Sayão in these excerpts from Manon. Her delicate voice is at once supple and taut, the vibrato never interfering with fine articulation. Exquisite is the word. The Manon she sang in San Francisco in 1939 marked her company debut, the start of a relationship lasting until 1953 and encompassing 61 engagements, including regular West Coast tours. As Gladys Bourdain wrote in The New York Times when Sayão died in 1999, “the Met was her base, the San Francisco Opera her alternate headquarters.” She is heard here with another San Francisco Opera favorite, tenor Tito Schipa, a regular with the company between 1924 and 1941.
I will never claim to have had contact with Bidú Sayão, but I was separated from her by one degree. A woman I worked with was a dear friend of hers, spent several weeks each summer at Sayão’s home in Maine, and entertained her when Sayão traveled to Manhattan. My colleague, you see, was based in New York. I was in San Francisco. We saw each other only when she visited the West Coast, so I never had the pleasure of being introduced to Bidú. I confess it was a name I had never heard. I had no clue who Bidú Sayão was, or what place she occupied in the history of opera in this country. This was years after the diva had retired, and years before I knew much of anything at all about opera. I imagine many opera lovers, given even the remote possibility of meeting a stage legend, would have happily traded places with me. I share all this only as a mea culpa. May my present praise of Bidú Sayão atone for my past ignorance.
Larry Rothe writes about music for San Francisco Opera and Cal Performances. His books include For the Love of Music and Music for a City, Music for the World. Visit larryrothe.com.
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What a treat to have Bidu Sayao as Manon in her house debut. Her voice is so well suited to this role. There is an honesty and freshness to the sound that is so enjoyable. The highlight for me is extended recitative of the “Adieu” that is so heartbreakingly gorgeous, it absolutely stops time. With Maestro Merola in the pit and Schipa as Des Grieux, this had to be a jaw dropping performance in every way.Kenneth Overton is lauded for blending his opulent baritone with magnetic, varied portrayals that seemingly “emanate from deep within body and soul.” Kenneth Overton’s symphonious baritone voice has sent him around the globe, making him one of the most sought-after opera singers of his generation. Amidst performing, Kenneth serves as co-founder and artistic director of Opera Noire of New York, a performing arts organization created to empower African-American artists to reach their full creative potential in a creative supportive environment.
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The 1939 Manon excerpts preserve two unforgotten and unforgettable lyric stylists, Brazil's Bidù Sayão—then 37 and at the height of her powers—and Tito Schipa, 29 years into his career at age 50 but plainly still capable of magic. Sayão's French training and airy lyric soprano make her credible as the adolescent Manon, but in the famous "Adieu, notre petite table" one hears the depth of feeling at the prospect of separation from her beloved des Grieux. (As a uniformed serviceman given a wartime free ticket, my 19-year old father heard her five years later in his very first opera, Pelléas et Melisande.) Schipa, with an unconventional timbre and the slimmest of vocal means at his disposal, manages through keen projection and chiseled phrasing to evoke the besotted seminarian's dream of happy union with Manon. His ability to diminuendo his sound into seeming infinity bespeaks a lost art.
Critic and lecturer David Shengold resides in New York City. He regularly writes for Opera News, Opera, Opéra Magazine, Opernwelt and many other publications. He has taught courses on opera and literature at Williams, Mount Holyoke and Oberlin Colleges. He has done program essays for companies including the Metropolitan Opera, Lyric Opera of Chicago, Washington National Opera, ROH Covent Garden, and the Wexford and Glyndebourne festivals.
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Massenet’s exquisitely romantic Manon was seen frequently in San Francisco Opera’s early history, highlighting 21 seasons between 1924 and 1949. (In contrast, Puccini’s Manon Lescaut was given in only three seasons during that period.) The 1939 production, conducted by founder/general director Gaetano Merola, was graced by two singers closely associated with this work, which they reprised the following year.
Bidu Sayão, a Brazilian, had already made her debut in Rio de Janeiro at 18. Her studies in France under legendary tenor Jean de Reszke gave her the technical and musical polish she needed, and thereafter she rose rapidly to prominence in Rome, Milan, and Paris. She arrived at the Metropolitan Opera in 1937 and at San Francisco Opera two years later, debuting in both houses as Manon. Having sung nine comparatively light-voiced heroines in San Francisco, during the 1952-53 season—at the end of her career, with nothing to lose—she surprised her admirers by taking some risks with two heftier roles, Margherita in Mefistofele and Nedda in Pagliacci. Without question, however, it is Manon that will forever be regarded as her greatest achievement.
A vivid personality onstage, Sayão invariably brought specificity and insight to any character. Thanks to impeccable technique, her small voice carried easily in large theaters. The sound had surprising coloristic possibilities, with an endless capacity for floated soft singing and impressive agility.
Lyric tenor Tito Schipa was from Lecce, which apparently accounted for the liquid clarity of his Italian. Like Sayão, he was onstage quite early—at age 21. After important engagements in Europe (including Ruggero in the world premiere of Puccini’s La rondine in Monte Carlo), he introduced himself to America in Chicago in 1919, where he was idolized by the public. Five years later he arrived in San Francisco as Alfredo in La traviata, the first of his twelve roles between 1924 and 1940. Des Grieux was heard in San Francisco most often (five seasons). Only in 1935 did San Francisco hear Schipa’s most celebrated characterization in French opera, Massenet’s Werther, of which he was the most important non-French interpreter of his generation.
Trim of figure, Schipa also displayed a boyish handsomeness onstage, invariably proving totally convincing (as so much of his tenor competition was not) when playing any youthful romantic hero. Lacking voluminous sound, sensuously beautiful tone, and a wide range, he nonetheless enraptured the public through the matchless sensitivity of his phrasing and, above all, the sincerity of his line-by-line response to the text.
What a rare pleasure it is to hear Schipa and Sayão together in a live performance! Following the editorializing and mispronunciation from the radio announcer, we hear a portion of the Act II opening, with both artists shaping their French with the utmost precision and point (even with a seemingly throwaway moment like “Eh, bien!” Sayão is enchanting). Their affection for this music makes itself constantly felt, and they take their time over the phrasing, lingering delectably—and appropriately—on the word “tendresse.”
Projecting all of Manon’s desperation in the powerfully dramatic “Allons! Il le faut!” recitative, Sayão reminds us there that the glory of her vocalism in any role was at the top, radiantly displayed at the climax on—appropriately— “beauté” (“beauty”). The soprano follows this with the touching farewell to the little table, always one of the most memorable highlights of her portrayal. Listening to the final minute of this aria, one’s feeling is that Sayão simply is Manon, the very embodiment of “faiblesse [weakness] et fragilité,” with genuine pain in her voice as she remembers how much Des Grieux loved her.
Des Grieux’s dream aria offers the heartfelt tenderness that was Schipa’s trademark, with the final “si tu le veux, ô Manon” (“if you wish it, Manon”) exquisitely sustained. The tenor also employs an ornament that has unfortunately gone out of fashion today: a delicate grace note on Des Grieux’s final utterance of Manon’s name.
Roger Pines, who recently concluded a 23-year tenure as dramaturg of Lyric Opera of Chicago, is a contributing writer to Opera News, Opera (U.K.), and programs of opera companies and recordings internationally. He has been on the faculty of Northwestern University’s Bienen School of Music for the past three years.
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"This is a very special program for me because across the table from me is sitting a lady who is responsible for my being here. That is that Bidú Sayão is responsible for Terry McEwen having got interested in opera in the first place, which ultimately led to my arrival in San Francisco. It’s obviously terribly thrilling for me to introduce Bidu to our radio audience. When I was a young man, and Bidu was a young girl, I heard her sing a performance of Manon in Montreal, Canada ... ."Listen in as Terry McEwen, SF Opera's third general director, engages his dear friend Bidú Sayão in a lively conversation recorded in 1979 -- 40 years after her Company debut in Manon.
(run time ~ 31 minutes) -
ACT ILescaut, a bibulous officer of the guard, is awaiting the coming of a coach bearing Manon, his cousin, who is being sent to a convent in his care. On her arrival, Guillot Morfontaine, an old roué, who is at the inn with a party, takes a fancy to the petite and pretty Manon and pays her court. Amused but flattered, Manon rejects his advances and he is called away by Bretigny, his traveling companion. Among those who have been attracted by Manon is young Chevalier des Grieux on his way to begin study for the priesthood. He approaches and pays his addresses. Manon, not liking the prospect of life in a convent, accepts his proposal and suggests an elopement to Paris. They use Guillot's coach for the purpose.
ACT II
Des Grieux and Manon are living in an apartment in Paris. Des Grieux writes for his father's consent to his marriage with Manon and goes out to post the letter. The capricious Manon, having found that the modest style of their menage hardly meets with her desires, listens to the advances made to her by Bretigny, who promises a life of luxury. It ends by her conniving in a scheme, planned by the elder Des Grieux, for carrying off the son from his questionable surroundings. However, she cannot leave without regret, for she knows how deeply Des Grieux loves her. And when he returns from posting the letter and tells her of a dream that has come to him, it is with a heavy heart that she thinks of their separation. A knock at the door halts the dream narrative. Manon, suddenly repentant, vainly tries to prevent her lover's capture.
ACT III
Manon, as the mistress of Bretigny, is admired and feted. During an entertainment she has overheard a conversation between Bretigny and the elder Des Grieux from which she learned that the latter's son is a novice at Saint Sulpice, and, seized with a sudden return of her old love, she has hastened to the seminary. But the father is before her. He does his utmost to persuade his son from taking up the holy life. Des Grieux stubbornly refuses and seeks the sanctity of his cell. Manon arrives and sends for him. Des Grieux prays for strength to resist her sensuous pleadings. It is in vain and he flees the monastery with her.
ACT IV
That Manon may have her love and still satisfy her craving for luxury, she persuades Des Grieux to gamble. In a fashionable temple of chance he wins large sums from Guillot, who revenges himself by denouncing Des Grieux as a cheat and Manon as an accomplice. Des Grieux and Manon are placed under arrest. The former is released through his father's influence, but Manon is sentenced to deportation.
ACT V
Des Grieux is waiting for Manon to pass on her way to the ship that is to carry her to her exile. She approaches and, exhausted by the harsh treatment and illness, falls by the wayside. Lescault restrains Des Grieux from attacking the guard and himself disappears with the sergeant that Manon may find peace in her lover's arms.
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To access the cast page and full program, click here.
Les Troyens, 1966 (Hector Berlioz)
Audience recording (November)
5 excerpts: total run time ~ 8 minutes
Berlioz’s epic roars into the Company’s repertory with two iconic interpreters at its heart: French soprano Régine Crespin as both Cassandre and Didon and Canadian tenor Jon Vickers as Aeneas.
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San Francisco Opera premiereLES TROYENS
(In French)War Memorial Opera House
November 1966 (Audience Recording)CAST
THE CAPTURE OF TROY
Cassandre Régine CrespinTHE TROJANS AT CARTHAGE
Didon Régine Crespin
Aeneas Jon Vickers
The ghost of Priam David Giosso
The ghost of Chorebus Clifford Grant
The ghost of Cassandre Carol Kirkpatrick
The ghost of Hector Adib FazahConductor Jean Périsson †
Production Louis Erlo †† U.S. Debut
Clip 1: THE CAPTURE OF TROY, Act I – In an abandoned Greek encampment outside the walls of Troy, the prophetess Cassandra stands apart from the rejoicing Trojans. She is anxious and troubled.Clip 2: THE TROJANS AT CARTHAGE, Act I, Scene 2 – In the garden of her palace, Dido and Aeneas are alone together under moonlight.
Clip 3: THE TROJANS AT CARTHAGE, Act II, Scene 1 – Standing in the port of Carthage, Aeneas is visited by the ghosts of the Trojans who urge him on to his destiny.
Clip 4: THE TROJANS AT CARTHAGE, Act II, Scene 1 – Aeneas turns back toward Dido’s palace and says farewell and the Trojans prepare to sail for Italy
Clip 5: THE TROJANS AT CARTHAGE, Act II, Scene 2 – Heartbroken by Aeneas’ betrayal, Dido is resolved to kill herself. She says farewell to her proud city and people.
To access the featured libretto excerpts, click here.
Translations: Patricia Kristof Moy
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Les Troyens is one of the most extraordinary achievements in the history of music. Certainly it stands apart from all other operas, thanks to Berlioz’s command of its grand-scale architecture, the sheer variety of the score, the imagination employed by the composer in his orchestral writing, and of course, his constant inspiration as a melodist. The work’s Wagnerian length, plus the vast orchestral and technical resources required, kept Troyens out of the reach of American houses until San Francisco Opera finally presented the U.S. professional stage premiere in 1966. Although heavily cut, the production was sufficiently successful to be mounted again two years later (with numerous cuts restored), but then went unheard until 2015.When first presented by the company, Les Troyens had the inestimable advantage of a French conductor, Jean Périsson, and two leading artists with the voices, style, interpretive acumen, and unique charisma for the leading roles. Canadian tenor Jon Vickers played the hero Aeneas, opposite French soprano Régine Crespin, who took on the challenge of singing Cassandra and Dido in the same evening. In major opera houses, these two did more than any other artists to revive the fortunes of Troyens, sustaining a standard at which all subsequent interpreters must be judged.
Crespin and Vickers had already performed together in Buenos Aires (Aida, 1962), and in the same year as Troyens they recorded Die Walküre, later a great success for each of them in Salzburg and New York. (Crespin returned to San Francisco for Troyens in 1968, but with a different tenor.) It was unfortunate that these two didn’t collaborate more often, given that they worked in tandem so beautifully. Their exceptionally distinctive voices were immense in size, but neither singer was remotely interested in sound for its own sake. They were profoundly expressive, deeply subtle artists (each was famous for the ability to float the voice exquisitely in pianissimo). True singing actors, they also cared passionately about textual communication.
Singing the monologue of the dramatic-soprano role of Cassandra, Crespin—in the first of her 11 San Francisco Opera roles—exhibits a quality in her singing that critics commonly referred to as “the grand manner.” That phrase implied an essential dignity and an eloquence that compelled the listener’s attention. Although a soprano, Crespin was totally at ease in Dido’s mezzo-soprano tessitura and joins Vickers in a sublime presentation of the serenely beautiful love duet.
Vickers sang nine starring roles in San Francisco, beginning with Radames in Aida in 1959. At his vocal peak during Troyens, he’s singing music requiring astounding range and stamina, but he revels in the role’s demands. Aeneas is the focal point of a chilling scene in which he’s confronted by the ghosts of Priam, Chorebus, Cassandra, Hector. The tenor skillfully conveys Aeneas’s terror at this moment, impressing with the extraordinary density of his sound. In the final moments of the role – the despairing farewell to Carthage (and Dido)—Vickers’s vocal security when “pouring it on” leaves the listener in awe.
One of the opera’s greatest glories is Dido’s monologue, in which Crespin always made a profoundly moving impression. The music eminently suits her unique warmth of tone, and especially her gift for sustained quiet singing (listen to her ravishingly dreamy reprise of the love duet’s theme, and later the aria’s exquisitely sustained final “floats”). Her sound at the top of the staff thrills in its substance, clarity, and radiance. All of Crespin’s vocal excellence serves a characterization that remains unsurpassed in its nobility, femininity, and grandeur.
Roger Pines, who recently concluded a 23-year tenure as dramaturg of Lyric Opera of Chicago, is a contributing writer to Opera News, Opera (U.K.), and programs of opera companies and recordings internationally. He has been on the faculty of Northwestern University’s Bienen School of Music for the past three years.
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Reaching further back in time to 1966's Les Troyens, it's fascinating to hear two powerful, beloved artists I was often to hear later, Régine Crespin and Jon Vickers, in key roles they first brought to America at San Francisco Opera but had abandoned by the time I started attending opera. Here Crespin sings both female leads—Cassandre and Didon—with glowing tone, passion and clarion native French. In the final clip, she uses both words and dynamic shadings to drive home the depth of the abandoned queen's despair. Vickers' portrayal of Énée (Aeneas) had introduced the opera to Covent Garden (1957) and would bring it to the Met (1973). Though not a match for Crespin in terms of perfect Gallic diction, he lends the destiny-constrained Trojan leader heroic stature and his utterly personal tenor—alternately craggy and capable of soft accents.Critic and lecturer David Shengold resides in New York City. He regularly writes for Opera News, Opera, Opéra Magazine, Opernwelt and many other publications. He has taught courses on opera and literature at Williams, Mount Holyoke and Oberlin Colleges. He has done program essays for companies including the Metropolitan Opera, Lyric Opera of Chicago, Washington National Opera, ROH Covent Garden, and the Wexford and Glyndebourne festivals.
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The Capture of TroySCENE 1—After ten years of siege, the Greeks have abandoned their camps outside Troy, leaving behind a huge wooden horse, concealing their soldiers. The Trojans, rejoicing in their freedom, swarm over the plain to view the strange creature. Cassandra foresees the city's destruction but is unable to make others believe her prophecy. Even her lover Chorebus has ignored her warning, thinking she has gone mad. Cassandra, unable to prevent what she knows is to come, resigns herself to death. The Trojans celebrate their supposed victory and decide to bring the horse inside the city to the temple. Cassandra, distressed at their action, feels the approach of impending doom. Accompanied by the Trojan March, the wooden horse is dragged into the city.
SCENE 2—Troy has fallen and Cassandra comes to the lamenting priestesses and women of Troy. She tells them that Aeneas has escaped with the remaining Trojans and the royal treasure and has gone to found a new Troy in Italy. Cassandra urges the women to kill themselves rather than be captured and enslaved by the Greeks. The Greek soldiers burst in and demand the whereabouts of the treasure, Cassandra stabs herself, and the others follow her example.
The Trojans In Carthage
ACT I
SCENE 1—A festival is being held celebrating the seventh anniversary of the founding of Carthage. Queen Dido addresses her subjects encouraging them to continue their great work. She is then left alone with her sister Anna who urges her to remarry so that the new city will have a king. Dido, however, swears she will remain true to her dead husband whose ring she still wears. Iopas announces that a foreign fleet has arrived in the harbor, and its leaders have requested to see the Queen to ask for refuge. Dido welcomes the Trojan fugitives who are led by Pantheas and Ascanius, son of Aeneas. Narbal interrupts with the news that the city is threatened by invading Numidians. Aeneas, who has been disguised as a sailor, now reveals his identity, and, promising to help repel the invaders, sends his men to arm the Carthaginians.
SCENE 2—Aeneas has returned triumphant and a fete is being held in his honor. Dido, who has become infatuated with the handsome victor, urges him to retell the story of the fall of Troy. As he does so, Ascanius playfully removes the ring from Dido's hand. After the festivities Dido and Aeneas are left alone. They recall the love stories of their heroic forebears and are drawn into each other's arms. United in love, Dido forgets her vow to remain faithful to her late husband. Hoping he will remain with her, she sees in Aeneas a new king for her city.
INTERLUDE: The Royal Hunt and Storm
ACT II
SCENE 1—As the Trojan fleet prepares to depart, Hylas, a young sailor, sings of his longing for home and his wish is echoed by the other sailors. Aeneas is torn between his love for Dido and his duty. Dido has tried in vain to persuade him to remain with her. The ghosts of Priam, Chorebus, Cassandra and Hector appear, urging Aeneas to follow his destiny. He reluctantly boards the ship and gives the command to set sail.
SCENE 2—Dido, deserted by Aeneas, swears vengeance and in her fury wishes she had burned his fleet. In her despair she vows to take her own life and bids her city a final farewell.
SCENE 3—Beside the sacrificial altar in the Temple of Pluto, Dido foresees the day when Hannibal will avenge the shame brought upon her by Aeneas. Prophesying the triumph of Rome, she takes her life.
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To access the cast page and full program, click here.
Thaïs, 1976 (Jules Massenet)
Broadcast (09/10/1976)
4 excerpts: total run time ~ 9 minutes
Nearly a decade before his appointment as Music Director, Sir John Pritchard led the Company premiere of Massenet’s Thaïs with the operatic star power of Beverly Sills in the title role and Sherrill Milnes as Athanaël.
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San Francisco Opera premiere
THAÏS
(In French)Music by Jules Massenet
Libretto by Louis Gallet, based on the novel by Anatole FranceWar Memorial Opera House
September 10, 1976 (Broadcast)CAST
Athanaël Sherrill Milnes
Thaïs Beverly SillsConductor John Pritchard
Production Tito Capobianco
Clip 1: The monk Athanaël arrives the city of his birth, Alexandria. He criticizes its impurity and sin.Clip 2: In Thaïs’ bedroom, Athanaël and the courtesan discuss differing views on love; his spiritual and hers sensual.
Clip 3: Thaïs prays to the goddess of love, while Athanaël wrestles with his passion for her.
Clip 4: Thaïs is dying in the desert monastery. Athanaël confesses his passion and calls upon her in despairing tones, but Thaïs sees Heaven and her spirit passes gently away.
To access the featured libretto excerpts, click here.
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With its fourth-century setting, demanding vocal requirements, and orchestration by turns silken and sumptuous (not to mention a story that in modern times can seem wildly over-the-top), Thaïs is a tricky proposition for any opera company. It was perhaps the difficulty of finding the right principal artists that led San Francisco Opera to allow more than half a century to go by before mounting Massenet’s drama about an emotionally vulnerable courtesan, whom a monk persuades to renounce her dissolute life and be guided by him to repentance.In 1976 Beverly Sills was the logical choice for the title role. She’d first appeared in San Francisco early in her career, in four wildly diverse roles she never sang again: Gerhilde in Die Walküre, Donna Elvira in Don Giovanni, the Fifth Maid in Elektra, and Elena in Mefistofele, all in the same season (1953). Eighteen years later, as America’s best-known opera star, she finally returned as Massenet’s Manon. Four more heroines would follow, three of them Sills signatures—Lucia, Marie in La fille du régiment, and Elvira in I puritani—but Thaïs was a first for her. It would be her final new role in the French repertoire, following successes elsewhere not only as Manon and Marie, but also in Faust, Louise, and Les contes d’Hoffmann.
Like Sills, Sherrill Milnes was American-trained and began his career with successes at the New York City Opera. After scoring his breakthrough to stardom at the Metropolitan Opera in 1968, for the next quarter-century he was triumphant in every major American and European theater, particularly in Verdi roles. He debuted at San Francisco Opera in 1973 in one of his most celebrated characterizations, Rigoletto, but then returned only twice: as Athanaël and then, eight years later, as Carlo in Ernani. Along with the title role of Thomas’s Hamlet, Athanaël was Milnes’s most important achievement onstage in French opera, reprised opposite Sills when the Met presented San Francisco’s production in 1978.
Given that Sills and Milnes didn’t perform frequently together onstage, their collaboration in Thais was big news. By all accounts they responded to the needs of these tremendously challenging roles with the all-out commitment that audiences had come to expect. In these excerpts, their terrific vocalism and interpretive intelligence are constantly evident.
Athanaël’s denunciation of the depravity rampant in his native Alexandria, “Voila donc la terrible cité,” is magnificent: Milnes’s imposing, firmly centered, superbly controlled instrument pours forth with a freedom at the top not often heard in the role. When confronting Thaïs at her home, this Athanaël brings considerable velvet to his singing. In that scene Sills offers sparkle and abundant charm (reminding us of her superb Manon), plus the authentic French for which she was always much admired. When the courtesan suddenly invokes the goddess Venus, the veiled quality Sills brings to her sound is mesmerizing, giving this whole passage an exquisite mystery. Although nearing the end of her career, she could still float the voice ravishingly.
Admirably supported by Sir John Pritchard on the podium, the two singers are at their peak in the opera’s soaring final duet. Here Athanaël’s desperate desire for Thaïs is overwhelming in Milnes’s performance, as is the ecstasy of Thais, who sounds utterly transfigured as embodied by Sills. After all the vocal challenges a soprano must face in Thaïs’s previous scenes, it’s impressive in these final moments to hear Sills nail the two high Ds, which have severely tested nearly every exponent of this role.
Roger Pines, who recently concluded a 23-year tenure as dramaturg of Lyric Opera of Chicago, is a contributing writer to Opera News, Opera (U.K.), and programs of opera companies and recordings internationally. He has been on the faculty of Northwestern University’s Bienen School of Music for the past three years. -
Massenet’s Thaïs: The Sinner Turns SaintlyIn this seldom-heard Massenet opera, a scandalous high-end prostitute repents her wanton ways and embraces religion at the urging of a monk who in turn nearly yields to his passion for her. These recorded excerpts from 1976 represent the only time SFO has performed the work, with then superstar coloratura soprano Beverly Sills (called “Bubbles” by her friends) in the title role opposite the distinguished baritone Sherrill Milnes as the monk Athanaël. The conductor is John Pritchard, who would later become SFO’s Music Director.
Sweeping orchestral figures in Clip 1 vividly depict Athanaël’s mixed feelings of exhilaration and scorn as he greets his native city, Alexandria. (Note the audience applauding the scenery as the curtain rises.) Athanaël has left his desert monastery to return home in hopes of saving the soul of the voluptuous Thaïs. The internal conflicts that will later become obvious are hinted at here as he simultaneously praises the city’s and decries its luxuriant excesses, which he recalls from his youth.
Clip 2 is reminiscent of the scene in Verdi’s La Traviata in which Alfredo pours out his true love to the courtesan Violetta and she shrugs off his sincerity with brittle laughter. Here Athanaël assures Thaïs that he offers her a pure, spiritual devotion that will give her eternal happiness, while amid giggles she flippantly retorts that she has already known all of life’s pleasures.
Dueling prayers are at play in Clip 3, as Thaïs mocks the monk’s piety by invoking Venus, Goddess of Love, while Athanaël prays for the strength to resist her temptations.
The tables are turned in Clip 4. By the opera’s end Thaïs has embraced religious faith to the extent that some even call her saintly, but she is near death after months of self-denial and penitence. Athanaël on the other hand is now unable to deny his physical desire for her and fervently professes his love. Visions of heavenly angels calling to Thaïs send her vocal line soaring to a stratospheric high D (twice!), and in her final moments she is oblivious to her would-be lover’s belated pleas as the curtain falls. That’s opera!
Dr. Clifford “Kip” Cranna is Dramaturg Emeritus of San Francisco Opera. -
American Titans Beverly Sills and Sherill Milnes in this all too infrequently performed masterpiece is what great nights at the opera are made of. Here you have them both at the height of their vocal powers with Sills’ dramatic prowess coming straight through your speakers.Kenneth Overton is lauded for blending his opulent baritone with magnetic, varied portrayals that seemingly “emanate from deep within body and soul.” Kenneth Overton’s symphonious baritone voice has sent him around the globe, making him one of the most sought-after opera singers of his generation. Amidst performing, Kenneth serves as co-founder and artistic director of Opera Noire of New York, a performing arts organization created to empower African-American artists to reach their full creative potential in a creative supportive environment.
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ACT ISCENE 1—A hermitage in the Egyptian desert. At a time, the 4th century A.D., when Christianity, though recognized by the Emperor Constantine, coexisted uneasily with paganism, the holy men of North Africa fled the decadent towns and went to live In the desert.
An order of ascetic monks, known as Cenobites, has gathered to share an evening meal. Under the leadership of an aged monk, Palemon, they speak of their friend and brother, Athanaël, who has been absent for some time.
As night descends, Athanaël returns. His journey has led him to Alexandria where the influence of the actress-courtesan Thaïs, with whom he was obsessed in his youth, dominates the city, corrupts the people; he declares it his duty to rescue Thaïs, turn her to God. Palemon warns him of the dangers of earthly involvement.
The monks withdraw; Athanaël lies down to meditate . . . and, in ecstasy, he sees Thaïs, who appears to him as the goddess Venus. Devastated, he awakens, vows to set out at once. Again Palemon counsels restraint; Athanaël departs.
SCENE 2—Alexandria: the mansion of Nicias. Arrived in the city, Athanaël goes to seek out his boyhood friend, Nicias, a man of great wealth. Waiting for Nicias to appear, the monk stands on a terrace overlooking Alexandria, curses his native town for its libertine ways and prays to God for guidance. Then, as Nicias appears, he asks his friend to be presented to Thaïs.
Nicias, who has been living with the actress, answers that she will be coming to his home that evening from the theater for a feast in her honor. It is to be their last night together. Generously, he offers Athanaël proper attire in which to meet the courtesan and bids two female slaves, Crobyle and Myrtale, to attend to him.
At length Thaïs appears—magnificent—attended by admirers. She reaffirms to Nicias the end of their full week of love. Then she feels the harsh glance of the visitor upon her. After they are introduced, her voluptuous sensuality devastates him once again, as it had in his vision. He rushes out, horrified, vowing to redeem her soul.
ACT II
SCENE 1— Thaïs’ house. The courtesan, back from the feast, is in solitude, fearful that her beauty will desert her. She looks in the mirror, prays that Venus might safeguard her charms and youth.
Athanaël appears, declaring he has come to save Thaïs. At first she taunts him; but her bantering changes to fear as he stands before her as a monk and bids her embrace another life, ruled by faith and purity. She must decide that night. He will await her on the threshold until dawn.
At that moment, the voice of Nicias is heard far off, still singing of pleasure. Frightened of the unknown future, Thaïs bursts into hysterical laughter, then into sobs, and collapses into deep meditation. Her meditation leads her into a nightmare in which she sees herself losing her beauty. In despair she remembers her childhood Christian upbringing and hears the call of God.
SCENE 2—The square before Thaïs’ house. As the courtesan submissively joins Athanaël before daybreak, the monk reveals his plan: Thais is to leave Alexandria, travel with him across the desert to a cloister over which the venerated Albine, descendant of the Caesars, presides. But first she must destroy all remnants of her former life.
When the courtesan pleads for just one object that is dear to her—an exquisitely wrought statue of Eros—Athanael, on learning the object is a gift from Nicias, destroys it in a jealous outburst. Then he leads Thaïs into her house, where they will burn all of her belongings.
Now Nicias enters with his friends. They have been gambling, and Nicias decides to celebrate his regained wealth by improvising a Bacchanal, led by an enchantress. When they learn that the monk is depriving them of their cherished actress, the crowd becomes enraged. To divert attention and assure the safety of Thaïs, Nicias scatters the coins he has won. As the people scramble for them, Thaïs escapes with Athanaël.
ACT III
SCENE 1—A place in the desert. Thaïs, worn from the long journey, is driven onward by Athanaël. He relents only when he sees that her feet are bleeding, seeks water and fruit to refresh her. They are near the cloister; and soon Albine comes to receive the novice. As Thaïs turns away, assuring the monk they will meet in the next life, he is torn by despair.
SCENE 2—A hermitage in the Egyptian desert. Athanaël, returning, avows to Palemon that he is haunted by Thaïs. Palemon can bring no consolation. Exhausted, the monk collapses. Once more in a hallucination, he sees the courtesan, hears her alluring song, her mocking laughter . . . then hears distant voices predicting the death of Thaïs. On awakening, in an outburst of passion, he renounces his faith and rushes to Thaïs.
SCENE 3—Albine's refuge in the desert. As Thaïs lies in agony, the nuns, led by Albine, are gathered in prayer Athanaël arrives and passionately confesses his love to Thaïs. She dies ... and the monk, in a final blasphemy, succumbs to possession by the devil.
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To access the cast page and full program, click here.
Saint François d'Assise, 2002 (Olivier Messiaen)
House recording (October)
5 excerpts: total run time ~ 10 minutes
The U.S. premiere of Messiaen’s only opera was a marquee event in Company history, led by then-Music Director Sir Donald Runnicles and starring Sir Willard White in the title role of St. Francis of Assisi, San Francisco’s namesake.
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United States premiereSAINT FRANÇOIS D’ASSISE
(In French)
Music and libretto by Olivier MessiaenWar Memorial Opera House
October 2002 (House Recording)CAST
The Angel Laura Aikin
Saint François Willard White
The Leper Chris MerrittConductor Donald Runnicles
Production Nicolas Brieger
Chorus Director Ian Robertson
Clip 1: Act I, Scene 2: Francis and three Brothers kneel in prayer. Francis prays that he may meet a leper and be capable of loving him.Clip 2: Act I, Scene 3: In a hospital room, Francis is sitting with a leper when an Angel begins to speak. Francis encourages the leper to listen to the voice which has been sent from heaven to comfort him.
Clip 3: Act I, Scene 3: Francis embraces the leper, who shows remorse for his sins, and a miracle occurs: the leper is cured.
Clip 4: Act I, Scene 6: It is Spring in Assisi and birds are singing. Francis preaches a sermon to them and the birds answer him.
Clip 5: Act III, Scene 8: Francis dies and the choir hymns the resurrection.
To access the featured libretto excerpts, click here.
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Operas about religious figures are not a rarity, but Saint Francois d’Assise (Saint Francis of Assisi) is in a class by itself in combining music drama and transcendent spirituality. The excerpts heard here are from San Francisco Opera’s heralded 2002 performances, which represented the American stage premiere of this masterpiece in its complete form. Olivier Messiaen’s only opera, this immense work of Christian contemplation and mystical devotion, over five hours in length, premiered at the Paris Opera in 1983.For its production, San Francisco Opera employed a massive orchestra of 97 players and a chorus of 120 singers, an all-time high for the Company. The musical language of the piece is unique, offering a sort of suspended-animation journey with unhurried declamation in unconventionally shaped vocal lines punctuated by unorthodox, densely dissonant, crunching orchestral harmonies that upon extended listening take on a surprisingly refreshing appeal.
Messiaen was a devout Catholic who held the title of organist at the Église de la Sainte-Trinité in Paris for 61 years. He believed that Francis of Assisi, the thirteenth-century saint, provided a supreme example of a life led in perfect imitation of Christ, dedicated to chastity, humility, and penance. In dramatizing his story, the composer focused on three legendary events: the Sermon to the Birds, Kissing the Leper, and Receiving the Stigmata—bodily wounds symbolizing those of Christ on the cross. (Another of the saint’s famed deeds, Taming the Wolf at Gubbio, is not featured in the opera.)
The first two of these episodes—the Sermon to the Birds and Kissing the Leper—are reflected in these recorded excerpts. In Clip 1, as Francis offers praise to God, the chorus echoes his words in slow, complex, astringent chordal harmonies that seem to come from an otherworldly distance. The choral phrases are interspersed with chatty orchestra riffs in imitation of birdsong (warblers in this case), using a trio of busy mallet instruments: xylophone, xylorimba, and marimba. (Messiaen was an ornithologist who made the study of birdsong a lifelong preoccupation.)
In Clip 2 the pristine clarity of soprano Laura Aikin as the Angel seemingly floats on air, calling to the long-suffering Leper (tenor Chris Merritt), who responds in agitation borne of suffering, while the Angel’s voice continues to counsel him to trust in God.
With divine help Francis summons the courage to kiss the Leper despite his grotesque and disgusting appearance. In Clip 3 we hear the Leper wildly proclaim the miracle of his healing. His ecstatic, almost manic dance for joy is described by the orchestra in exuberant syncopations and ever-changing meters.
In Clip 4 we hear the remarkable baritone Willard White deliver part of Francis’s extended Sermon to the Birds, in which he exhorts them to praise their Creator for the gift of flight that He has bestowed upon them. The sermon is really a dialogue: Francis delivers his pronouncements in deliberate note-by-note declaration, and the birds join in response to each of them in an animated chorus of lively Messiaen-style chirping.
At the death of Francis, the blazing triumph of the Resurrection is heralded in the final resounding chorus heard in Clip 5.
The experience of hearing and watching this opera as it slowly and serenely unfolded onstage back in 2002 was an event never to be forgotten. These short clips will give you a brief glimpse of something hugely extraordinary, a truly memorable milestone in San Francisco Opera’s first century.
Dr. Clifford “Kip” Cranna is Dramaturg Emeritus of San Francisco Opera.
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'"Donald [Runnicles] was a little bit stunned when I said to him, "Well, I want my first premiere to be Saint François d'Assise by [Olivier] Messiaen," he kind of fainted. "Okay." And that was in '99. We did it in September of 2002, we premiered it. It's over five hours."'
In partnership with the Oral History Center at UC Berkeley and the Company's Archives, SF Opera's fifth general director, Pamela Rosenberg. sat down with Paul Burnett, interim director of the OHC, to discuss her life, career, and tenure at SF Opera. This audio excerpt focuses on the US premiere of Messiaen's only opera, Saint Francois d'Assise in 2002.
(run time ~ 26 minutes) -
SCENE ONE—THE CROSSIn the midst of an average day, Francis is confronted with the song of his companion, Brother Leo: "I am afraid on the road." Francis does not respond to him directly, but rather speaks of "perfect joy," always describing what it is not. It is not found in the curing of the blind, deaf and mute. Even if one could divine the future of the world and the secrets of all hearts, even if one could understand the language of the angels and of nature, even if one could convert all people, all this does not bring "perfect joy." If all this is not perfect joy, asks Brother Leo, then where is it found? Francis explains that if one can accept being chased from one's home, and lie freezing in the street without hatred or resistance, one can know "perfect joy." Francis has an experience that radically changes his life. He comprehends that everything can be avoided except the recognition that in the face of inevitable mortality, everyone must experience his own personal suffering.
SCENE TWO—LAUDS
Francis isolates himself from the brothers' ritual songs. He retreats into solitude, and sings his own song of praise, seeking dialogue with the God who created air, sky, fire and earth. His search for a radical change in his life culminates in the recognition that he must overcome the most disgusting thing he can imagine; his greatest fear. He asks God that he might meet a leper, and that he will love him.
SCENE THREE—THE KISSING OF THE LEPER
Francis does not avoid the leper, who treats others aggressively and with disgust. Mere sympathy for the leper does not suffice for Francis, who seeks direct physical contact with him. An angel's voice is able to eliminate the seemingly insurmountable distance between them. As though in a trance, between death and rebirth, the leper is cured. For Francis, this crucial encounter with his own mortality becomes the turning point on his way to becoming Saint Francis.
SCENE FOUR—THE JOURNEYING ANGEL
On his journey, the angel uses the time prior to meeting Saint Francis to ferret out the brothers who do not recognize him. In response to his question about divine providence, the angel receives two answers that could not be more conflicting: Brother Elias feels that the angel's casual and forward manner is patronizing and pretentious, and he drives him away. At the unyielding angel's behest, Brother Masseo calls Brother Bernard, who answers the question of divine providence simply and urgently, given the imminence of his death. Following the departure of the remarkable guest, the brothers can only explain the events by considering that the guest might have been an angel.
SCENE FIVE—THE ANGEL-MUSICIAN
Completely isolated from the outside world, Saint Francis experiences a dream encounter with the angel, who plays for him the "music of the invisible." The other brothers discover Saint Francis unconscious.
SCENE SIX—THE SERMON TO THE BIRDS
Sensing a kind of disturbance in Saint Francis, brother Masseo attempts to distract him with talk of birds, trying with difficulty to describe them in words. As Saint Francis begins to hear birds that are not native to Umbria, Masseo reacts to his companion with increasing confusion. Saint Francis explains that he heard them in a dream, and this dream has enabled Saint Francis to hear his environment like never before. At first, Saint Francis perceives only single voices, then they become more and more numerous. Finally, he is able to hear each individual detail in a seemingly impenetrable babble. Saint Francis starts speaking with the birds, and this becomes a pivotal experience for him as he releases himself more and more from the laws of space and time.
SCENE SEVEN—THE STIGMATA
Abandoned and alone, feeling unworthy and contemptible, haunted by prophetic voices, Saint Francis receives the stigmata. Following a period of utter motionlessness and unspeakable pain, he hears his name. He follows the example of Jesus Christ unconditionally while remaining true to himself in the process, and takes yet another step on his journey.
SCENE EIGHT—DEATH AND NEW LIFE
People who accompanied Saint Francis on his journey pass through his consciousness. On the border between life and death, he encounters the angel once again. Brother Leo announces the death of Saint Francis. The chorus assures us that he has reached a state of "perfect joy."
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To access the cast page and full program, click here.