It would be impossible to list all the treasures of the score. It is filled with innovative forms; its dances segue into unforgettable songs (as in the priestesses’ divertissement, for example); the da capo arias (the solo scenes which open the acts) and recitatives (beginning with those of Diana and Jupiter in the Prologue) have a melodic breadth which must indeed have troubled those who believed the genre should be patterned on declamation; and the orchestra imitates the sounds of crashing waves, the echoes of the hunt, and the torments of the damned. The universally admired Act II takes place in Hades and fairly bursts at the seams with music, from the dialogue mixed with short airs between Theseus and Pluto – followed by Pluto’s ferocious invocation (accompanied by the chorus) and Theseus’ astonishingly supple, Purcell-like arioso, “Ah! Qu’on daigne du moins” - to the Furies’ dances and Mercury’s flight. The Fates’ trios with their foreboding harmonies are the most striking of all. The second trio, which includes a famous enharmonic passage, was considered too difficult to be included in the first Paris performances. The passage uses pivotal notes belonging to two different key signatures in order to modulate downward in unexpected ways, and opened the door to truly dizzying harmonic freedom. From the point of view of today’s listener, Hippolyte et Aricie is the only Rameau opera in which monologues accompanied by the entire orchestra, such as Theseus’ air at the end of Act III, are developed to such a high degree. Outstanding moments in this section include the imitation of the raging seas and, particularly, Phaedra’s confession at the end of Act IV, which also includes the chorus and contains stupefying moments of silence and echo effects that anticipate some of Gluck’s most dramatic scenes.
|
Rameau’s second tragédie lyrique, Castor et Pollux (1737), was more moderate, more “French”, and met with less mitigated success. The work was the best loved of all Rameau’s œuvre, and remained in the repertoire for the longest period.
|
Rameau’s second tragédie lyrique, Castor et Pollux (1737), was more moderate, more “French”, and met with less mitigated success. The work was the best loved of all Rameau’s œuvre, and remained in the repertoire for the longest period, until 1785. The libretto, by Pierre-Joseph Bernard (also known as Gentil-Bernard) is of classical linearity. It recounts the story of Pollux (who, although he was smitten with his brother’s betrothed, brought his brother back from Hades) and lends itself well to a grand setting. Though the work is not as thrilling as Hippolyte, its score is wonderfully well articulated around two contrasting atmospheres. The first, martial and severe, dominates the Overture and Acts I and III; the second, which prevails in Acts II and IV, is delicate and langourous. Following the lovely minuets and gavottes sung by Love in the Prologue, the funeral ceremony that opens Act I comes as a shock. The plaintive chorus of the Spartans with its chromaticism and dramatic pauses is followed by “Tristes apprêts”, Telaira’s shattering yet dignified air, whose bassoon accompaniment marvellously portrays a broken heart. (Berlioz felt this aria was “one of the most sublime conceptions of dramatic music”.) Next comes the athletes’ divertissement, whose dotted rhythms and warlike trumpets enliven the atmosphere once again. Act II is just as admirable, though in a different way. Here, after “Nature, amour”, Pollux’s impassioned aria, the Pleasures attempt to stall his departure in one of the few Rameau ballets written in a homogenous way, a bewitching rondeau tinted with ambiguous harmonies by the celestial choir. The last three acts suffer from a lack of dramatic unity, despite the dazzling trio in Act III, Castor’s elegy (“Séjour de l’éternelle paix”) in Act IV, and the Planets’ divertissement in Act V, with its brilliant arietta and lavish chaconne. Rameau was aware of these faults of proportion, and in 1734 wrote a second version of the work in which he did away with the Prologue, combined Acts III and IV, and added an opening act. The result is better balanced, but less rich in musical terms, and has not proved convincing to modern audiences.
|
|
|
|