VERSAILLES — Jean-Romain Vesperini’s new production of Donizetti’s La fille du régiment for L’Opéra royal du château de Versailles is a pure delight. The opening-night performance on April 4 was brilliant and fizzy, equally enjoyable for its wit and humor as for the energy and élan of the musical performance. The theater in which it was performed made the occasion even more special, particularly for someone experiencing opera at Versailles for the first time.
The Opéra Royal was inaugurated on May 16, 1770, during the festivities celebrating the marriage of the Dauphin, the future Louis XVI, to Marie Antoinette. Designed by Ange-Jacques Gabriel, the theater has 712 seats and is constructed almost entirely of wood, which contributes to its excellent acoustics. The theater’s opulence is an illusion, achieved through painted faux marble rather than real stone. Nonetheless, the Opéra Royal’s combination of grandeur, history, and intimacy has few rivals.
La fille du régiment, Donizetti’s first opera with a French libretto, premiered on February 11, 1840, at the Opéra-Comique in Paris. Set during the Napoleonic Wars, the story centers on Marie, a foundling raised by the soldiers of the 21st Regiment of the French army, all of whom claim paternal rights over her. She is in love with Tonio, a Tyrolean, who enlists in the French army to win her hand by impressing her fathers with his patriotism and perhaps save his life.
The hijinks and drama unfolded in a simple, traditional staging infused with modern strokes. Roland Fontaine’s sets were true to the spirit of the piece and the theater in which it was performed, with some elements employing the original stage machinery. A distinctly contemporary touch was the large fireplace, complete with a fake fire, in the Marquise’s drawing room, which with a quick spin, became a piano.
Fashion designer Christian Lacroix’s costumes contrasted the realism of the soldiers’ uniforms and the picture-perfect postcard attire of the Tyroleans with fabulous, whimsical haute couture creations for the refined guests who gathered for the wedding festivities. The bejeweled, fashion plate of a Madonna to whom the local folk prayed nonchalantly stepped off her pedestal, blew a kiss, and bid them “Auf wiedersehen!” Lacroix also paid homage to Karl Lagerfeld through the flowing white hair and dark glasses worn by the notary summoned to officiate at the marriage of Marie and the Duke.
Vesperini and his team pushed the needle more toward operetta than opera, but conductor Gaétan Jarry stayed true to Donizetti. He whipped the Orchestre de l’Opéra Royal into a frenzy during the adrenalin-fueled overture, with clarity and precision suffering a bit. In his defense, Jarry did have to compete with Étienne Guiol’s videos depicting snowy Alpine vistas and cannonballs exploding.
Once the singers appeared on stage, Jarry channeled that energy into a well-paced performance that provided the space for the singers and instrumental soloists to be as relaxed and expressive as the moment demanded. The use of period instruments further set the performance apart from the norm. Solos by violinist Fiona Poupard, cellist Natalia Timofeeva, and oboist Martin Roux were mesmerizing.
Gwendoline Blondeel’s Marie tugged at one’s heartstrings with her sincerity as an actress and the luster of her voice. She was a hearty tomboy, singing the regimental song with gusto, but her limpid tone and expressive coloratura charmed even more. Blondeel has the rare ability to capture joy in cascades of sparkling bubbles of sound. But in keeping with Marie’s character, when roused, there was a striking metallic sheen to Blondeel’s voice.
Patrick Kabongo nailed every high C in “Ah! mes amis, quel jour de fête!” with astonishing ease. His Tonio brimmed with bonhomie as he pledged loyalty to France, but this fine rising tenor is cut from romantic cloth. Kabongo was at his best in his duets with Blondeel’s Marie and pleading his cause to the implacable Marquise de Berkenfeld.
Éléonore Pancrazi was zany, bawdy, and hilarious as the Marquise, costumed in an explosion of a dress topped by a towering wig and hat. Pancrazi was no aging star doing a final turn in a plum character role, as so often is the case, but a woman in the prime of life. The result was an unforgettable Marquise de Berkenfeld.
Jean-François Lapointe’s Sulpice had warmth of spirit and voice. Jean-Gabriel Saint-Martin’s Hortensius was a scheming, simpering dandy at the Marquise’s beck and call. Flore Royer’s Duchess of Krakentorp was a rarified vision of youthful glamour.
The soldiers of the 21st Regiment were drawn from the Chœur de l’Armée française. They may not have marched in step, but they sounded and looked like the gallant soldiers they are. The women of the Chœur de l’Opéra Royal sang with equal polish and richness of sound.
In the finale, the French Tricolor flowed proudly, streamers shot through the air, and Napoleon rose on a column in a grand “Salut à la France!” Applause rained down on all, with the loudest ovation reserved for Blondeel, whose Marie had captured all hearts.
