If time has shrouded the first operas ever composed in a veil of mystery, something we can positively guess is that the premiere of Monteverdi’s milestone work L’Orfeo in 1607 was unusually – and paradoxically – unoperatic. Probably without an actual stage design or even costumes, what took place in the Ducal Palace of Mantua was closer to what we would now call a concert performance. A few centuries later, somewhat far from Northern Italy, conductor René Jacobs revives a similar experience with an unstaged version of L’Orfeo at the Berlin Philharmonie, leading the Freiburg Baroque Orchestra and a solid cast fronted by baritone Yannick Debus.
In Jacobs’ scenic arrangement, all the performers shared the same stage and were asked to move around and intermingle. In addition to creating unique, variable acoustic effects, this also contributed to a sense of ease and familiarity, possibly evocative of the intimate atmosphere of the opera’s origins. Indeed, the entire performance maintained a remarkably unspectacular tone, to the advantage of its emotional strength.
Letting oneself be absorbed into the story, witnessing the events from a close point of view – this seemed to be the invitation sent out to the audience from the very prologue. Despite the limited size of the ensemble – only a portion of the Freiburg Baroque, named BarockConsort – Jacobs managed to create a warm, enveloping sound, where the soft timbres of the strings and woodwinds were complemented, and not overpowered, by the velvety brass. No marriage between a legendary poet and a nymph could have sounded more serene and festive, benefiting from unrushed tempi and a tranquil, joyful interpretation. Orfeo’s prompts were resumed by his shepherd friends in a musical back and forth punctuated by different groups of instruments: violins, recorders, harp.
The same instrumental texture that sustained the merry wedding then turned to conjure the gloomy scenery of Hades. A few timbral adjustments, courtesy of the organ, double bass and trombone, made it possible for Jacobs to preserve continuity between the acts while applying a tint of spooky supernatural. Overall, great consideration was given to how a single instrument – or two, or three together – could characterise a situation, like the wooden clappers of the bacchanal of the last act. Notably, Jacobs decided not to choose between the two possible finales – the Dionysian, where Orfeo gets chased by the Bacchantes, and the Apollonian, where he is rescued by the god – and integrated them instead, setting the text of the former to music by Marco da Gagliano, Monteverdi’s brother Giulio Cesare, and Monteverdi himself.
Basically ever-present on stage, Debus’ Orfeo was hardly the melancholic type. His sizeable baritone, secure in the middle and high register, propelled the wedding celebrations in the first acts, and then conveyed the poet’s resolute, lyrical temper once he enters the underworld. Often in dialogue with solo instruments, Debus’ coloratura was composed and smooth. Except for him, most of the other singers played more than one role. It was the case of Isabel Pfefferkorn, who portrayed a tender and frail Eurydice with touching pianissimos, but also as part of the chorus. Mezzo Olivia Vermeulen juggled the most roles, singing La musica, La messaggera and also in the chorus, always with intense emotional results thanks to her limpid phrasing (even as a ferocious Bacchante). Completing the cast, Grégoire Mour, Nikolay Borchev and Raffaele Pe also showcased their versatility in different roles, proving themselves well-versed in the repertoire. A final special mention must be given to the Zürcher Sing-Akademie, whose polyphonic precision and harmonic fullness were only matched by the ease with which they danced and rushed about on stage.
