The music of Charles Gounod‘s 9th opera certainly deserves to be heard. The shadow of the much wider known “Faust” hangs wrongly over it. Therefore praise be to the New York Metropolitan for programming this work. If the cast had been a complete success, I would have given this production wholeheartedly 5 or 6 stars. More about that later on.
The production was entrusted to Bartlett Sher, who decided to move the action to the 18th century for a number of reasons, one of which being: more decadent than the renaissance. There is something to be said for that, and the move was successful, all in all. There might be an unconscious motivation involved: I noticed how very classical the music for the masked ball in the first act sounded – even for Gounod. It oozes the “minuet culture”. Understandably so, in view of the situation, and the costumes of the late wig area fit it wonderfully well.
Then there’s the character management, that being, of course, highly dependent on the interpreters’ dramatic talent. Which brings us to the cast. The Met’s website announces the principals as “Two singers at the height of their powers”. For “radiant soprano” Nadine Sierra, that is absolutely the case. She has Juliette’s part clearly under her skin, now matter how demanding it is. Moreover she acts without equal, from the roguish teenager in the first act to the bewildered young woman seeing her lover die in her arms. She should have been awarded a worthy counterpart. But “tenor sensation” Benjamin Bernheim is a disappointment without equal. Never, not once single moment, is he able to convince us he is the young but fiery Roméo not hesitating to take the sword to avenge his nephew, at the same time taking his Juliette by storm. Samantha Hankey in Stéphano’s Hosenrolle is more virile than he is.
Vocally, he basically means nothing. Yes, he reaches the top notes in his part, but the matching colour and character remain painfully absent. What do you want, with a technique that doesn’t make any sense? Not the slightest bit of energy from the lower body, and lips – the capstone of a projection worthy of that name – that do… nothing. Need we be surprised that, in his cavatina “Ah, lève toi, soleil” he twice almost cracked because of a not so evident move (like rising from having knelt down). And then that horrible uvular -R. I know, French is spoken like that (the result of a speech impediment in one of Louis XIV’s courtiers, who was so influential that the whole court started imitating that to play up to him), but as singing technique is concerned, it is an abomination, it pulling the voice away from the front of the mouth, and reducing an instrument of little or no power to a sad caricature of a singing voice. Away with it!
Bernheim himself declares taking Neil Shicoff as an example. That may sound nicely to New York ears, but Neil Shicoff had a voice and the power of stainless steel, and he was (he is no longer active) a thoroughbred actor. Bernheim doesn’t compare to Shikoff for 10%. The consequence? When Nadine Sierra lets herself go, Bernheim is like a broken TV set: no sound. Let me paraphrase Monsieur de Sainte-Colombe when, in the movie “Tout les matins du monde”, he puts Marin Marais back to earth: “Vous chantez, monsieur, mais vous n’êtes pas chanteur”.
Luckily, there WERE some singers on the stage, like tenor Frederick Ballantine as Tybalt. Marvellous, powerful singer, and a sparkling actor. Dito for baritone Will Liverman as Mercutio: wonderful, clenched sound quality with an astounding carrying power. La forza della voce, remember? We talked about Samantha Hankey before; her vocal performance was as fulfilling as her acting. Beautiful artist. Another flower for Eve Gigliotti as Gertrude. A rather modest part, that deserves the right treatment. Which was done perfectly. An honourable Alfred Walker as Frère Laurent. I admit he was struggling with the French enunciation, but as a singer and actor, he does what is needed. I rather have this and not perfectly sounding French than… Well, you know what I mean.
As per usual, sturdy interventions by choir and orchestra, Yannick Nézèt-Séguin conducting. That he thinks Bernheim is the ultimate counterpart for Nadine Sierra, is his responsibility.
Conclusion: try and watch this Roméo and Juliette, and if certain vocal features start to get on your nerves, you had better concentrate on the orchestra.
All comments about Bernheim are bunk. The singing is elegant, indeed glorious, and the chemistry between Sierra and this Romeo jumps off the screen. I've seen many R&J's in 47 years of opera going and this performance was by far the best. Who says Romeo is a macho hunk? And criticizing the French of a native Frenchman is foolish.