Review of Pelléas et Mélisande – a beautiful scene but Debussy’s opera keeps its secrets | Opera

Tcrying out to reveal the secrets of Debussy’s opera Pelléas et Mélisande, based on Maeterlinck’s allegorical play, is a slippery task at its best. Doing that in a theater, with the orchestra on the stage and the musicians, is very difficult. At the opening of the Aldeburgh festival this summer, that was the challenge that reunited the conductor Ryan Wigglesworththe famous artist this year, and the actor is Occasional opera director Rory Kinnear.

Apart from the industrial-style lamps and a single high-rise stool, there were no visuals or visuals – unless you count the musicians, whose characters stumbled as if the musicians were the forest surrounding the building. The costumes, also attributed to Vicki Mortimer, were very low-key: black suits for the royal men, white for Mélisande’s bridesmaids, steam suits for the silent extras, who also provided a brief musical accompaniment.

The essential, the visible, was the light. Working with lighting designers Paule Constable and Imogen Clarke, Kinnear based his writing on the shadows and light of the text. People walked through spaces or pools of light on the platform, or walked in the light of the concert lights between the orchestra behind. As Geneviève sang of distant reflections from the sea, it was the outside light that shone through the open back door where her son Pelléas entered, singing along as he approached the stage across the hall. His inevitable kiss with his brother’s wife took place over the campfire.

Designed by Wigglesworth, the featured artist at this summer’s festival, the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra it often sounded glorious, especially in the middle classes. Yet when the music that manages to sound real comes out, the orchestral output here seems solid, even earthy. This was no problem for the singers, whose voices were quickly heard in the Snape acoustic, from Nicolas Testé’s cavernous Arkel through Sarah Connolly’s clear Geneviève to Beth Stirling’s chirpy Yniold. There was a satisfying sibling rivalry between Gordon Bintner’s Golaud, all velvet power, and Jacques Imbrailo’s delightful, generous Pelléas. But where did the mysterious Mélisande end up? Sophie Bevan shone brightly in her role, a silvery and fluid soprano, but in this hidden voice, the character had little to do but stare intently at the audience, hands at her sides, blank rather than surprised. These brilliant plays were satisfied with what they wanted to achieve, and almost succeeded – but Debussy’s opera remains difficult.