There’s something about this performance that’s different from any other: People endlessly discuss how Debussy aurally evokes lightness and darkness, but whether it’s the acoustic or something else, that observation rings truest here. From the mystery of the opening moments to the frightening, echo-y, stone-like moments in the Castle vaults (Act 3, scene 2), to the bright light that relieves the gloom when Golaud and Pelléas emerge from the vaults, the score shimmers and controls our reactions. Abbado leads an Italianate performance, and Boulez, while clear as a bell, seems not to find any mystery in the piece. But Ansermet and his Swiss orchestra find all the trouble and uncertainty and still manage to make us wonder and worry over the characters and their situations. Ansermet’s pacing wastes no time, either. The cast is remarkable.
Erna Spoorenberg’s just-audible, terrified gasping–even before she utters a word–sets us up for her portrayal. This is an absolutely vulnerable Mélisande. Camille Maurane is a perfect Pelléas: boyish, head-over-heels, rueful, scared. And his high baritone suits the music perfectly. George London’s Golaud sounds ugly–he had a nasty growl to his voice that recordings made even more prominent. But this is not to say he’s not totally “in” the character and both frightening and pitiable. You merely have to get used to hearing an unpleasant sound. The Genevieve and Arkel are just right, but the cutesy little-girl voice used by soprano Rosine Bredy to characterize little Yniold is the aural equivalent of knitting needles in the eye. Nevertheless she manages to make it work within the context of Golaud’s abuse. This set is haunting, and is the first choice.
