“Franciscan Scenes” was the subtitle Messiaen gave to Saint François d’Assise and, ever since its premiere at the Paris Opéra in 1983, it has been accepted that while the music may represent a summa of the composer’s style, the work is best appreciated as a set of tableaux, lacking the kind of narrative or tension which deserve the designation of opera. It was the achievement of Maxime Pascal and his forces at the Enescu Festival to challenge this orthodoxy.
No corners were cut in a one-off concert performance at the Communist-era, congress-style Palace Hall. The stage heaved with the winds and percussion of Le Balcon, joined by the (much expanded) string section of the Romanian Opera. Behind them, the choruses of both Romanian Opera and Romanian Radio also satisfied Messiaen’s extravagant demands in terms of sheer size – around 200 in number – but also intonation in the fiendish pitching of the Stigmata scene, hushed reverence in the two liturgical scenes, and excellent French diction.
At points such as the surging motif to depict the grace which falls upon both the Leper and St Francis after their kiss, the lower strings did not quite match the pin-point articulation of the winds, but the performance overall was notable for its precision as well as force. In so vast a space, no mitigating brake needed to be applied. Instrumentalists and singers were free to give their all at full tilt, which they did to thrilling effect, culminating in a final chord of pure C major light as overwhelming as any in my experience.
At the back of the stage, a huge screen projected video designs by the French artist Nieto. The designs effectively served a dual purpose, both supplying Romanian surtitles – in a cursive script with its own hypnotic appeal even for non-Romanians – and illuminating the drama in complement and synchrony to Pascal’s conducting. Several previous full stagings have hardly conveyed the force of the Angel’s knock at the door of the monastery in Scene 3, the pain of the Stigmata in Scene 7, or the swooping, whirling presence of birdsong throughout the piece, as vividly as Nieto’s straightforward visualisations.
In Catholic theology, the journey of the Cross is not only a spiritual but a physical one, exemplified by the liturgical traditions of the Stations of the Cross and the Seven Last Words. The first scene of Saint François establishes its place in this tradition, with Francis explaining to Brother Leon that through suffering, following the path of the Cross, he may arrive at “La joie parfaite”. For Messiaen to conceive of going one better and composing eight meditations would not be uncharacteristic. Each successive scene flowed naturally from and into the next, thanks both to Nieto’s iconography and to Pascal’s assured direction.
While he drew out points of repose such as the heavenly music of Scene 5 – the Angel as God’s musician appearing to Francis – Pascal also sustained a pulse, led by the chant-like nature of much of the vocal writing, which brought the whole work in considerably under the duration of previous performances (3 hours and 40 minutes compared to the 3'55” at the premiere, for example, or 4'10” in the 2011 Madrid staging led by Sylvain Cambreling): not so much Die Meistersinger as Die Walküre, and all the more engaging for it.
Perhaps it was this attention to text that allowed the singers to project so freely over the forces massed behind them, despite being unaided by microphones. Husbanding his resources in the first two scenes, Antoin Herrera-López Kessel stayed the course of the punishing central role with impressive stamina and reassuring strength of tone. When his voice faltered in the final phrases, it was with dramatic necessity rather than any frailty.
All the bit-part brothers drew sharply differentiated sketches, especially Mathieu Debroca as Francis’s faithful but fearful disciple Léon, whose fresh expressions of wonder and curiosity are the essential foil to what can otherwise become the didactic ornithology of the sixth and longest scene, in which Francis preaches to the birds. The role of the Leper is a gift for any character tenor, and Damien Bigourdan seized it with the subtlety not to overdo the initial expressions of disgust at his condition, making his repentance and redemption all the more touching.
Elena Tsallagova, too, brought credible humanity more than two-dimensional beauty to the Angel, including a welcome touch of humour to her dealings with the lesser brothers in Scene 4. Faced with the riches of the month-long Enescu Festival, many of its patrons gave Saint François a miss, and only a few hundred remained for the last two scenes. With stagings planned for both Hamburg and Geneva in 2024, however, there is every sign that Messiaen’s opera will increasingly be recognised as such.
