This staging, first presented at the Lyon Opera in the mid-1980s, was brought by the company to the Edinburgh Festival, where I was wholly engrossed though sometimes puzzled by Pierre Strosser’s highly original concept of setting the whole action in a large drawing-room of a French chateau. Thus none of the intended settings materialise, Melisande doesn’t hang her hair from a balcony, there is no fountain and so on. Yet such is the magnetism of the performance and the conviction of the singers that these absent props to the action are hardly missed. A particular coup of the staging concerns the windows that open onto some brightly lit other world, into which Melisande eventually departs. As the work is already part of a dream-like world, another layer of dreaming seems in order. On DVD, with superb lighting and camera work, the results are even more convincing than they were within the confines of a theatre, where compromises inevitably had to be made.
Gardiner, who worked hard on the score to cleanse it of mistakes and emendations, conducts a wonderfully translucent, firmly shaped account. His interpretation brings the piece even more clearly into a post-Wagnerian world of sound, and the Orchestra of the Lyon Opera play up to the hilt for their music director at that time. The cast, entirely Francophone, is one of the best ever assembled for recording the work, challenging the hegemony of the audio-only versions conducted by Desormiere (EMI, 8/88) and Ansermet (Decca, 9/52 – nla, the earlier of his sets).
The staging can be seen as being all Golaud’s dream or nightmare, and Jose van Dam, in possibly his greatest role, is very much centre- stage. He sings with all the sense of a tormented soul that it demands. His voice, in pristine form in 1987, is ideal for the part, as is his carefully crafted control of dynamics and text, and his concentrated acting. Le Roux, who was very much the Pelleas of the day, gives the role all the eager palpitation it calls for, and his tone has just the right texture. He, too, acts with gratifying discernment, as indeed does Alliot-Lugaz as Melisande. She captures in voice and mien the character’s beauty, fey charm and, above all, mystery. Soyer is a properly wise, world-weary Arkel, Taillon reads Genevieve’s letter as to the manner born, Golfier finds the right boyish timbre for little Yniold and Frank Morazanni’s kindly, down-to-earth presence as the sane, supportive servant acts as an antidote to all the hangups of the principals.
Jung’s video direction is positive, and the sound is well balanced. This is an experience not to be missed – but there is a rival in the wings, the excellent Stein/Boulez/WNO version on VHS (DG, 6/94), surely soon to be transferred to DVD, which keeps closer to the original scenario, though it is not nearly as well cast.'