The part of Orfeo in Gluck’s 18th century rendering of the Greek myth of Orpheus’s journey through Hades to retrieve his deceased wife, Euridice, from the clutches of death, was originally written for castrato. The fashion for castrato singing, fortunately, has long departed from the scene (although there are extant a few recordings) and in the modern day the role has typically been scaled down for tenor or sung by a mezzo-soprano.
While often quite beautiful the female voice does not have the same character or power as the male voice does and, in my view, works like Orfeo ed Euridice in which the central character’s role was written for castrato should not be bowdlerized: they should either be sung by counter-tenor (male alto; not quite the same as the castrato’s male soprano but pretty darned close) or allowed to drop from the repertory.
The counter-tenor voice is quite startling for us today. The first time you hear it you’ll probably look around the stage trying to identify where the remarkable voice is coming from. In all honesty it’s a bit of an acquired taste but I recommend that it’s something you experience at least once in your musical life.
I’ve sung counter-tenor myself and I sincerely believe that it’s the most exacting and strenuous of all voices.
Fortuntately, last night our Orfeo was performed by David Daniels, an American counter-tenor who’s probably the premier counter-tenor of the day, who gave a performance of enormous power and facility. We’ve heard Mr. Daniels at Lyric before—as Arsace in Parthenope—and, if anything, he’s gained in grace and elegance in the three years since we’ve heard him. Isabel Bayrakdarian sang Euridice quite beautifully and the lovely Spanish soprano Ofelia Sala was under-utilized as Amor (only a little more than a walk-on part).
There are many moments in Orfeo ed Euridice of great beauty: the choral portions were simply fabulous, Orfeo’s second act aria was glorious, and Orfeo and Euridice’s brief close-harmony duet in Act III was of surpassing beaty.
I’m not as enthusiastic about the production itself. The scene opens on a barren desert-like vista with a fresh grave downstage left. Mourners file in dressed in black suits and dresses, the men in black caps the women in veils. It was all a little too like the Anatevka dirge at the end of the musical Fiddler on the Roof for my taste.
The second act was equally barren and very dark, lit mostly by a number of torches and a tight follow spot. The third act returned to the desert landscape of the first act.
The problem, I believe, is that the work was, as best as I can determine, originally written as a pantomime-ballet for mostly chorus and solo voice. Presumably, in the original production the chorus would dance to their positions and strike a tableau (from which they would sing their parts). The soloist would come in, the chorus would dance, etc. The work is written without a great deal of obvious action and I think it’s really quite difficult to do a satisfactory modern staging of it.
In the 18th century there were two completely different styles of opera: opera seria and, as Peter Schikele put it, opera funnia (opera buffo). Opera seria was for the nobility and it dealt with mythological, classical, and historical themes and was ponderously didactic. Opera buffo was low comedy and, consequently, is more appealing to the common people i.e. people like you and me. Practically all 19th century Italian opera was descended from opera buffo.
In its day Orfeo ed Euridice was quite revolutionary for opera seria. It was less highly ornamented than most of the works and relied more on harmony, poetry, and melody. Consequently, compared to most of the works in the opera seria corpus, it’s pretty accessible and mercifully short.
I wasn’t able to find any pictures of the production for you. The Lyric’s page for the opera is here.
The season so far: Rigoletto, Der Rosenkavalier, La Cenerentola, The Magic Flute, Orfeo ed Euridice, Manon Lescaut, The Midsummer Marriage. Advantage: Rigoletto.
BTW, Robert the Llama Butcher had a lovely commentary on the other Orfeo here.
Thanks for the link. I’ve never heard Gluck’s treatment, only really knowing his Don Juan ballet music and his Ipheginia in Tauride. If his Orfeo is anything like them, it must have moments of both the sublime and the silly.
That’s a pretty good description.
I was privileged to see Orfeo Saturday evening. While the singing was very beautiful, I was a bit disappointed in the stage production itself. It was almost like looking at a Dali painting in some ways….only without the flash of color, surreal, but not enough. The lights tried to do it, but while good, they weren’t enough and the mood always remained somber. I did think the final scene of the ultimate triumph and rejoicing would have been relieved a bit if the costume designer had added brightly colored silks as scarves or sashes to denote the happiness. All the funeral garb was too much. Thanks for listening. Lovely place, the Lyric.
Julie George, Muskegon, MI
I’m completely with you on your reaction to the performance, Julie. My take was that there was a fundamental conflict between the values of 18th century opera and 21st century production. I would have liked to have a seen a production that was a little truer to the way this work would have been seen by its original audience.