Metropolitan Opera House, Lincoln Center, NY; March 19, 2024—The Met has revived Bartlett Sher’s 1967 production of Gounod’s R&J hot on the heels of its new production of La forza del destino, and it has two hits on its hands. Everyone seems to agree that “Forza” is a problematic work–too many scene and locale changes, noisy minor characters–but the Met’s opening night cast swept all of that under the rug.
Along that same line, we have the revival of Sher’s 2016 production of Gounod’s Roméo et Juliette. Some feel that the work is the epitome of French Romantic opera. Others, myself included, differ, in my case since I first saw it in 1967. We have a string of gorgeous love duets separated by the familiar plot, and a fistful of fine arias: Juliette’s “Je veux vivre” and so-called “poison” aria are glorious, as is Romeo’s “Ah, leve-toi soleil”, Mercutio’s witty apostrophe to Queen Mab, and Stephano’s little ditty. In between there are arguing choruses, commenting choruses, some fussing among minor characters, and a sugary inevitability, none of which is riveting.
Sher’s production, on Michael Yeargen’s ugly sets–a huge, gray stone edifice is the Capulet’s palace, which overlooks a stone gray courtyard–has been updated to the 18th century (why?); the costumes are puffy and colorful but don’t help. A particularly egregious decision is to toss a huge white sheet on the stone courtyard and call it Juliette’s bedroom. Ugly, and I’d guess, pretty uncomfortable.
All that having been said, I cannot recommend this revival highly enough. Opera is, after all, about singing, and of the more-than-ten-times over the years I’ve seen R&J at the Met, many have featured great singers: Alfredo Kraus, Neil Shicoff, Roberto Alagna, Natalie Dessay, Anna Netrebko, Angela Gheorghiu, and early on, a very non-French pairing of Mirella Freni and Franco Corelli. A particularly ardent, impetuous duo was Diana Damrau and Vittorio Grigolo.
But the new doomed couple–Nadine Sierra and Benjamin Bernheim–youthful in voice and demeanor, and echt French in style (aided, of course, by the French-Canadian Yannick Nézet-Séguin at the helm), was as close to perfection as one might imagine.
With voices seemingly without hurdles–Juliette’s Waltz Song glittered, her poison aria, a far heavier piece, rang out with assurance, her registers unbroken, and attention to text splendid–was ideally partnered by Benjamin Bernheim, his French perfect, his deceptively soft singing giving way to impressively grand B-flats and high Cs. He portrayed Romeo’s very moving uncertainty with almost as much attention to detail as Sierra’s Juliette.
Special praise to Will Liverman, who dispatched the Queen Mab arias with impeccable diction, style, and timing. He and Frederick Ballantine were well-matched in their duel scene, a moment that truly came to life. Mezzo Samantha Hankey was so fine in her charming chanson about an imprisoned turtledove that for once the audience wished to hear more from this character.
Frere Laurent rarely leaves much of a vocal imprint, but Alfred Walker’s bass-baritone filled the role with gravitas. Richard Bernstein’s Duke was imperious; Nathan Berg’s vocally occluded Capulet went on to just-about lose his voice near the opera’s end. Yanni, as he is called in New York, led with an ear toward the opera’s longueurs, and he moved those moments forward with warmth and charm.
Well, totally worth seeing (the Met will be telecasting it) even if you share my prejudices about the opera itself. And if you love this work, this performance will make your day.
