The Tales of Hoffmann
An opera review by Murray Dahm
Jacques Offenbach’s 1881 opéra fantastique The Tales of Hoffmann (Les contes d’Hoffmann in French) is a fascinating work for a whole number of reasons.
Offenbach actually died (in October 1889) four months before the work premiered and so never got to see it succeed. It was also, originally an Opéra-Comique – with spoken dialogue – but the opera’s success meant that, soon, sung recitatives were put in place of the dialogue (just like Bizet’s Carmen – and, funnily enough, composed by the same man who wrote the recitatives for Carmen, Ernest Guiraud). This and other twists of fate has meant that other music and orchestrations have been included in the work over time. Opera Australia’s production (actually a co-production between Opera Australia, Royal Opera Covent Garden, Opera National de Lyon and Fondazione Teatro La Fenice di Venezia) is an absolute triumph in more ways than one and it can add its lustre to a stellar constellation of artists and productions associated with this wonderful opera.
Offenbach had a premonition that he would die before he saw the work completed. He had begun the work in 1876 but various factors delayed it – bit he least of which was his needing to compose several operettas (for which he was more famous). As his health deteriorated, Offenbach appealed for his opera be staged before he died. A short salon production was arranged in his house in May 1879 and when it premiered in 1881 it was performed without the third act (so no Barcarolle (‘Belle nuit, ô nuit d’amor’) – perhaps the opera’s most famous number). Offenbach’s death and several other mishaps have led to the opera being considered cursed in some ways – an explosion occurred during the second performance and a fire in 1887 destroyed the parts for the orchestra. In this tradition, too, Opera Australia can add its name – this production (directed by Damiano Michieletto and designed by Paolo Fantin, with costumes by Carla Teti) was attempted twice during Covid lockdowns so it is a wonder and a joy that it has made it this time (breaking a 142-year curse perhaps! – this production thoroughly deserves to as well).
Iain Henderson as Spalanzani, Jessica Pratt as Olympia and the Opera Australia Chorus in Opera Australia’s 2023 production of The Tales of Hoffmann at the Sydney Opera House
Photo Credit: Keith Saunders
I am in danger of using the word magnificent too many times in this review, so I will attempt to keep it to just the once – to describe the performance of Jessica Pratt as all four heroines (Olympia, Antonia, Giulietta, and Stella). These four roles are individually fiendish and to have an artist perform all four with such skill is, truly, a once in a life-time experience. Offenbach wrote all four roles intending that they be performed by the same singer (Olympia, Antonia and Giulietta represent different aspects of the soul of Stella). The four are so different, however, (Olympia a coloratura, Antonia more lyric and Giulietta more dramatic (she has even been performed by mezzo sopranos) that it did not take long for them to be split among different singers. Having them reunited in the same artist (as Offenbach intended) is thoroughly satisfying. What is more, Pratt showed why a great artist should encompass all four. Her Olympia was glorious, the doll of the production was lifelike (moulded after Pratt’s likeness rather than the other way around) and her vocal pyrotechnics in The Doll’s Song (‘Les oiseaux dans la charmille’) brought the house down, as well it should have. The top of her voice was clean and vibrant (and, quite frankly, a wonder in its own right) and it rang out as few other voices in the Sydney Opera House have in my experience. What is more, she was required to sing the second verse of the famous aria being wheeled around (albeit carefully) upon a desk. It is hard enough to sing such an aria standing still let alone on the move.
However, the dramatic sincerity of the Antonia act which followed was even more wondrous. Pratt sang the rêverie ‘Elle a fui, la tourterelle’ beautifully and this set up, for me, the dramatic core of the evening. As the disabled Antonia, no longer able to dance, and with the aid of wheelchair and crutches, it was completely convincing that Pratt had lost the use of her legs. To be able to sing (and, at the same time, by necessity, be grounded and supported to be able to sing) whilst making it appear that her legs no longer worked brought me to tears. The tragedy of the act (where Antonia sacrifices her life for art, manipulated by the villain, Dr Miracle) was astonishing. Here then, not only was the singing uniformly superb but the acting and dramatic truth were complete. As Giulietta, in gold lamé and blonde, she was the seductress the courtesan Giulietta needs to be. One of the many changes to Offenbach’s original scheme for the opera is that the order of the acts can be changed. Each is based partially on a short story by the poet E.T.A Hoffmann (the eponymous hero of the opera) and so, for the most part each act is not affected by the placement of the others. Thus, you will find the acts of the opera in different orders (and even with different names). In this production, they are presented in Offenbach’s original order – prologue, Act I (Olympia), Act II (Antonia), Act III (Giulietta), Epilogue. This production reveals why this order makes the most sense (although you will still find productions where the order is Olympia, Giulietta, Antonia).
There are many other reasons why this production of Hoffmann is a must see. Peruvian tenor Iván Ayón Rivas as Hoffmann poured out golden tone all night, in turns thrilling and touching. From the start where he played an older Hoffmann in love with the opera singer Stella, Rivas gave us an engaging rendition of ‘Il était une fois à la cour d’Eisenach!’ and then de-aged to tell us of his three previous loves. His singing throughout was lovely and he never flagged in energy to the very last bars. The setting for Act I (Olympia) made the most sense – having Offenbach recall his first love in (primary) school. Having the doll Olympia be a maths whizz also made a great amount of sense – Hoffmann’s admiration was centred around wanting to be top of the class with her, and the Opera Australia Chorus were able to (hilariously) revert to their younger selves.
The setting of the Doll’s song as the solution to a complex maths equation was a brilliant touch and anyone in the audience who ever struggled with maths could, no doubt, relate! All of the sets were the corner of a room (whether tavern in the prologue and epilogue, school room (in Act I), dance studio (Act II), and Venetian ball room (Act III). This helped to project the voices out and whenever the singing was at the front of the stage, the voices pinged satisfyingly into the auditorium. The judicious use of technology too helped the story (the blackboard, two-way mirrors and moving eyeball). Hoffmann, as an opéra fantastique is a crazy story (even for opera) – with soul stealing, life-like dolls, magic, organ harvesting(!) – much of it is inexplicable. This production framed the story in a way that made sense of the whole.
Another singer who was always intended to take on four roles in the opera is the bass; the embodiment of evil in each act (although he never gets the acclaim for doing so). Thus, the same singer should perform Lindorf (Prologue and Epilogue), Coppelius (Act I), Dr. Miracle (Act II) and Dapertutto (Act III). These were all performed here with great aplomb by Croatian bass-baritone Marko Mimica. He did not shy away from the inherent evil of the character and was sinister with his suggested ‘horns’ in his hair. Often accompanied by devil-dancers, however, his evil was clear. He sang with impressive and malevolent tone all night although I would have loved to hear him sing Dapertutto’s ‘Scintille diamant’ (even though it is one of the pieces later included and not originally intended for the opera). All the other roles were satisfyingly sung (special note to the pathos induced by David Parkin’s Crespel and the Nathanaël of Tomas Dalton).
Although there is evil and tragedy in Hoffmann, there is comedy too and this production embraced that without it ever seeming forced; the laughter in the audience was genuine (and occurred often). Even the setting of the Olympia act played into the laughs – with the chorus as children and Olympia as maths genius. Most of the laughs, however, were reserved for the four characters portrayed by Adam Player (the four servants – Frantz, Andres, Cochenille, and Pitichinaccio). His turn as the dance master Frantz (and how the children made fun of him) was genuinely funny and the applause for Player showed that the audience appreciated his craft. The comedic hairstyle of Iain Henderson (Spalanzani) deserved a round of applause all its own.
I mentioned the chorus in Act I – they were in great form all night and clearly enjoyed getting into character for their childhood selves. The men’s chorus got us off to a great start in the Prologue, and in Act III (set in Venice) the chorus got to be glamorous and be-gowned although there were no gondolas. They sang with gusto all night (and there was a huge amount for the chorus to sing throughout). In addition to the chorus, the dancers (members of the Opera Australia Dancers and Children Ensemble Dancers), must also be mentioned (choreographed insightfully by Chiara Vecchi) – much of the story telling would have been impossible without them.
The dancing of the mother and children in Act II was just lovely – evoking laughter and heartbreak as each was required. The dancers opened the show in green costumes, soon to be accompanied by the Muse of Sian Sharp. The green fairy-like nature of these characters was soon reinforced by Hoffmann being served not beer or wine in the tavern but Absinthe, and then with the green glitter blown by the Muse at the beginning of each act we were transported to a Hoffmann story inspired by Absinthe (in some countries still banned as an addictive psychoactive drug). The final moment of the opera where Hoffmann holds his Absinthe glass aloft and dedicates his life to poetry (as his Muse intended) made this whole subtext make sense. In most productions of the opera, the Muse transforms herself into Nicklausse – who will be Hoffmann’s companion on his adventures. Here, however, the Muse created Nicklausse as a Macaw and the role was sung ably by Agnes Sarkis as the voice of the Macaw. This worked well in some moments, less so in others. When Rivas’ Hoffmann sang directly to the Macaw puppet the idea was clear but at other times, singers sang to Sarkis who was made up and costumed to make her identity obvious.
All of this was undertaken under the careful hands of maestro Guillaume Tourniaire – who conducted the Opera Australia Orchestra skilfully but always with care to bring out the singers. The orchestra played beautifully all night. My only objection was the barcarolle was taken too fast (we had only just sat down after the second intermission (the barcarolle opens Act III) and it was over before we knew it). The Septet (‘Hélas, mon coeur s’égare’) was also taken too quickly for me. My very few (and admittedly finicky) criticisms notwithstanding, this opera is a must-see for every fan of opera in Sydney (but there are only five more performances – on July 13, 15, 18, 20 and 22).
Sydney Opera House July 11
