La Damnation de Faust: A Chorister's Synopsis
In the Met’s concert production of Berlioz’s La Damnation de Faust, the chorus is tasked with expressing the complex emotions of various characters without sets, costumes, or makeup, while holding scores in the traditional style of an oratorio. To give you an idea of what to expect from the performance, tenor Daniel Clark Smith gives us a chorister’s perspective of the first half of the piece.
Elina Garanca and the Met chorus in a concert presenation of Berlioz’s “La Damnation de Faust.” Photo: Ken Howard / Met Opera
Hector Berlioz called La Damnation de Faust a "dramatic legend", not an opera or an oratorio. Regardless of how you define it, the piece is a tour-de-force for the chorus. When performed as a concert piece, as we do this season at the Metropolitan Opera, the cast and orchestra must bring the drama to life without the help of costumes, set pieces, and props. Just as our four principal singers must sing with boundless expression, the Met Opera Chorus (at nearly 100 singers) depicts characters both natural and supernatural with only their voices. The chorus parts require a myriad of vocal colors, diction, and dynamics to realize characters from devils to angels, and everything in between.
The opera begins with Faust singing of the arrival of Spring, which awakens memories of his youth. The chorus' first appearance, the Peasants' Dance, uses the bright vowels of our "tra la la" chorus to mock Faust's age, as our accented laughing figures whirl around him. Dancing, the shepherdesses' flirt with their dresses, which leads to the tenors' third verse - a dialogue between amorous peasants. Tra la la, indeed!
The piece continues with the Hungarian March played magnificently by the Met Orchestra, an often excerpted concert piece of its own. Passing armies leave Faust alone in despair when our Easter Hymn raises his spirits and reminds him of his faith. For the chorus, the Easter Hymn is full of gorgeous, long melody lines, sung with clear diction and lightness of tone. The harmonies swell like those of a grand organ, bringing the opera house to church. Only the harmony of the final Hosannas hint at a sense of foreboding for Faust.
The Auerbach Cellar. (Source: www.hberlioz.com)
And with that sudden shudder to a minor key, Méphistophélès is introduced. The demon convinces Faust that he has all the answers, and we are swept into a tavern in Leipzig: "A boire encor!" - "Another drink!" The next sequence of choruses begins with the robust, virile energy of a tavern featuring rhythmic four-part men's music -- a full-throated Barbershop sound with liquor added. When we've finished our celebration of being in a smoky wine-filled tavern, we call out for a funny story -- Brander the Bartender has one to tell, if he's not too drunk to remember it! It's the Song of the Rat who has found himself cooked. The scene devolves into a drunken, slurred "Amen" fugue, replete with exaggerated vocal glissandos and, at times, annoying repetition. The piece seems to be the composer's way of mocking the musical form itself, and for us, it's a drunken Requiem for that poor rat. Following this ode is the Song of the Flea, this time sung by Méphistophélès. The Orchestra has all the "flea" action in this one, with string lines that buzz and scratch, and the Chorus joins in with laughter and "Bravos". Sharp accents in our last line depict the demise of the flea: "Écrasons-la soudain!" - "Let's squash it immediately!"
Maestro Edward Gardner, Ildar Abdrazakov (as Méphistophélès) and the Met Chorus and orchestra. Photo: Ken Howard / Met Opera
One of the most beautiful choruses we sing this season defies staging: the Chorus of the Gnomes and Sylphs. There is nothing better than one's own imagination and Berlioz' ingenious orchestration to portray the scene. Méphistophélès takes the audience and Faust out of Leipzig to the banks of the Elbe River, where we immediately feel the trees around us. A beautiful clarinet solo melts into a bassoon line, and we sense the lush greenery and the magic of the imaginary spirits Méphistophélès calls forth. We are the gnomes and sylphs, singing gossamer lines that ebb and flow with the wind. Long vocal lines are balanced with whispers of text throughout the piece, adding texture to the woodland setting. Faust dreams of a girl walking through the woods, and when we climb out of the texture to say "Elle t'aimera!" - "She will love you!", Faust calls out for Marguerite. This sets up the rest of the drama: Méphistophélès promises to lead Faust to his love.
These varied and extreme vocal colors keep us busy throughout the performance, and hopefully give the audience much fodder for their imagination. This season's four performances of La Damnation de Faust not only provide us with the opportunity to listen to the peerless Met Orchestra (led by Maestro Edward Gardner) and this phenomenal quartet of soloists (Elīna Garanča, Bryan Hymel & Michael Spyres, Ildar Abdrazakov, and Patrick Carfizzi) but they are an opportunity for the Chorus to show our strengths in acting with our voices.
