Sensory overload would be an accurate way to describe the revival of Jean-Philippe Rameau’s Platée at the State Opera in Prague, though it doesn’t quite capture the visual onslaught of the production. Baroque opera was never so wild... nor such confounding fun.
The title character is an ugly nymph who is led to believe that Jupiter, king of the Roman gods, is smitten with her and coming to her swamp for a tryst. Concocted by Cithéron, an earthly king who has been fending off Platée’s advances, and the god Mercury, the ruse is designed to help Jupiter get his nagging, suspicious wife Juno off his back. Other gods and personified forces like Love and Folly join the deception, which ends with Jupiter and Juno happily reunited and Platée a disillusioned, brokenhearted mess.
It’s a cruel fate, reducing the lovelorn protagonist to a pathetic plaything for fickle and unfeeling deities. How to address the moral turpitude of that situation? The SKUTR directing team of Martin Kukučka and Lukáš Trpišovský doesn’t even try. Instead, they recast the piece as a burlesque, a riot of color and comedy that takes the creaky conventions of early opera and runs them to absurd extremes. Or violates them completely with brash, witty updates. Like the storyline, their approach is a put-on, with the audience in on the joke.
The main reason this works is because there is no time to wonder what’s happening, or why. The sets are elaborate, the singing and acting animated, the special effects charming and the movement nonstop – not just the singers, but a constant flood of bodies dancing, falling, rolling, flashing and forming a human caterpillar across the stage. Increasingly outrageous costumes by Simona Rybáková and surprises like performers suddenly breaking the fourth wall by jumping into the audience add to the air of unpredictability.
At this second performance, even the music was disorienting. It was played completely straight, with conductor Václav Luks bringing his early music expertise – along with members of his Collegium 1704 period ensemble – to the production with excellent results. He gave Rameau’s elegant, innovative score the bright, energetic treatment that characterizes all of his group’s performances, producing authentic and glorious Baroque music that was three centuries out of synch with the modern carnival unfolding onstage. In theory, that shouldn’t hold together. But in performance it was captivating, precisely because it was such an audacious marriage of opposites.
All of which would fly apart without a solid cast to anchor the production. Dutch tenor Marcel Beekman held center-stage most of the night playing Platée as a drag queen, the ultimate trouser role (if nymphs wore trousers). His voice was sharp and his tone sardonic, setting the prevailing mood onstage. Tomáš Šelc (Satyr/Cithéron) and Ruairi Bowen (Thespis/Mercury) portrayed persuasive cynical schemers, and Olga Jelinková (Thalia/Folly) was a spitfire, especially once she got hold of Jupiter’s lightning bolt. Lukáš Zeman (Momus), Pavol Kubáň (Jupiter) and Michaela Zajmi (Juno) brought a measure of gravitas to their roles (albeit with tongue firmly in cheek), no small achievement when you’re saddled with silly props like, for example, wearing a cake on your head.
Still, the standout singing performance was by Collegium Vocale 1704, the choral section of Luks’ ensemble. The group’s sound was electric from the opening scene, and maintained a riveting intensity throughout the comic tumult and a dizzying number of costume changes. Also worthy of special mention: the eight dancers from the National Theater Opera Ballet who filled the stage with kinetic excitement, in particular during the many dance interludes intricately choreographed by Jan Kodet. More than most productions, this one depends heavily on well-executed choral and dance routines to keep everything moving, and both groups turned in impeccable performances.
Clearly, this is not a Platée for purists. Instead, it’s an imaginative effort to see how far a staid form can be bent and stretched, and if the laughter and applause it drew are any indication, a successful one. In spirit and style, it resembles nothing so much as the classic Marx Brothers comedy A Night at the Opera. And that’s a compliment.
