Time, the diva and death
Krzysztof Warlikowski directs The Makropulos Case in Paris (****) [live]
Author : Jos Hermans
From her father, the body physician of Rudolf II, the last Habsburg emperor, she is given an elixir of life at the age of 16. She spends a week in a coma. Then she becomes a singer, and one of the best ever. But emotionally she dries up over time. She has seen so many lives come and go that she loses interest in people and is no longer able to love them. She retains her youth by which she continues to attract others, leaving a trail of 22 children and many broken lives. Now, at the age of 337, she takes stock for herself: "life should not be so long; for you everything has a meaning and a price, for the simple reason that you will soon die." This is the message she throws in the faces of us, astonished spectators, with prophetic grandeur. Emilia Marty aka Elina Makropoulos is one of the most fascinating figures in opera literature.
The eternity of Elina Makropoulos is similar to that of the stars of the silver screen, director Krzysztof Warlikowski must have thought: even when they have ended their lives, the radiance and glory remains. And so Warlikowski has transposed the action to the world of cinema, more specifically to Hollywood's golden 1950s. Cinephilic references will pervade the entire performance. The Makropoulos Case was not only one of the most remarkable productions of Gerard Mortier's tenure, it was one of those rare premiere nights in Paris that saw Warlikowski receive a standing ovation in 2007.
Before the performance begins, you know that this will be a typical Warlikowski production. The azure blue front screen is bordered with art deco panels of a movie theater. Three microphones are set up in front of the screen. The first images on the video wall take us to Norma Desmond in her morose villa on Sunset Boulevard. It is the opening shot of Billy Wilder's film of the same name with Gloria Swanson, this time backed by Janacek's pumping overture. Soon the icon of the 1950s emerges, Marilyn Monroe, with excerpts from news reels, sometimes very cleverly edited together with the music (Denis Guéguin: video). But King Kong, that other legendary star of the silver screen also makes his entrance. What image is more powerful to demonstrate the fascination with female stardom than the monstrous gorilla lovingly holding the frilly girl (Fay Wray) in the palm of his hand? The fact that the path to stardom does not run on roses is also demonstrated by the news footage of a stressed Monroe. "As a woman, I've wasted my life. The men I am with expect too much of me, because of the image of a sex symbol that people have made of me, that I myself have made of me," Monroe will confess in 1962, the year of her death, when the stars of the silver screen have long since taken over from the opera divas.
Not surprisingly, Emilia Marty appears in Dr. Kolonaty's office (here, Malgorzata Szczesniak's fine art-deco cinema) as Monroe wearing the iconic billowing dress from Billy Wilder's "The Seven Year Itch" (1955). The conversation piece about the Gregor/Prus trial that began at the standing microphones in front of the screen has been going on for a while by then.
The duet with her unsuspecting great-grandson takes place in the toilets. Fortunately, the urinals shine like in an advertising brochure. Albert Gregor only wants to interpret Emilia's maternal inclinations as sexual advances. Pavel Cernoch portrays him with temperament. A dancing Gloria Swanson concludes the first act beautifully.
In the second act, the diva makes her entrance from the palm of King Kong's hand. Her image as a diva is the facade behind which she hides her scars. Hauk-Sendorf's brief but touching love scene with Emilia is the only moment of real human love in the diva's life. One can very easily recognize the composer in it, enamored as he was with his 40-year younger gypsy girlfriend. Peter Bronder plays the eccentric with exaggerated childlike features, as he should.
As immortal as the stars of the silver screen is the finale, a moving highlight in every production of the piece with the viola d'amore in a starring role. Here she recalls the pool scene from Monroe's last unfinished film, George Cukor's "Something's got to give" (1962). Her life lesson appears on the video wall like the credits of a movie. Krista, meanwhile, is a starlet, waiting for her chance. She too sneaks into the Monroe outfit, her skirt too lifted by the wind. In the end we see her not burning the formula as it says in the libretto (sorry, script!) but merely eagerly awaiting the recipe for eternal fame with her arm outstretched. So strong is the call of stardom, after all, apparently !
The indomitable Karita Mattila stepped into Emilia Marty's clothes. The voice has been past its prime for years now but what she does with it is still worthwhile. Large parts of the part she can still fill in with the soprano power of yesteryear without a faltering vibrato. She is most convincing when she cynically-laughs about the scars men have given her. Pavel Cernoch I always considered to be the ideal Albert Gregor until I heard Nicky Spence sing the part in Berlin with a larger, fuller voice. Johan Reuter as Jaroslav Prus was convincing with his characterful baritone. Karoly Szemerédy is an ideal Dr. Kolenaty. Ilanah Lobel-Torres as Krista was great with her clear, well-projecting soprano. She seems ready for larger roles to me.
With Nicholas Jones as Vitek, Peter Bronder as Hauk Sendorf, Cyrille Dubois as Janek, the smaller roles were also well cast.
For Susanna Mälkki, seasoned in contemporary music and music director of the Ensemble Intercontemporain for seven years, Janacek should not be an unknown. Nor was it. She kept her crew strictly in line. Janacek's hyper-prosodic tonal language is especially challenging rhythmically. It requires great precision and intense concentration from musicians and singers. All instrument groups sounded clear, the timpani a bit woolly. The double basses laid a carpet of resonance under the orchestra, the low brass players blew themselves into the spotlight. The woodwinds (especially the flutes and oboes) tweeted their little bursts of repetitive notes, all of this performed with great detail and compellingly executed. The prelude came off completely : the race with time and the wistful farewell to life, punctuated with the creepy medieval fanfares of Rudolf II. Janacek knew damn well how to open his operas.
Watch the show on the streaming platform of the Opéra de Paris