ARTS The graves of Academe

JOHN HIGGINS

Faust is dying. This much is clear from the trappings of mortality, the priest and' the nun, by his side. His passing is lonely: his sole worldly friends, his books and his faithful dog, are there with him. It is the end of a man who has deliberately given up the obvious pleasures of the world in the interests of dedicated learning:

Oh! qu'il es: doux de vivre au fond des solitudes Loin de la hate huntaine et loin des multitudes.

as Faust sings at the end of his opening aria in Berlioz's The Damnation of Faust.

For a moment it looks as though Michael Geliot in his production at the Coliseum has taken his cue from these two lines. But of course he hasn't. There is for a start that intrusive 'doux'—Faust's death like his life is far from sweet, it is bitter and un-

satisfied. Then again, why should he be dying? There is nothing in Berlioz's first scene to suggest that Faust is on his last legs or even his last volume: he is merely moved for a moment, as any good roman- tic should be, by the sight of nature, before a scholarly indifference overcomes him and he returns to his work.

The interpretation is entirely personal to Michael Geliot; for him the beginning and end of this Damnation are provided by Faust's deathbed. The opera comprises the visions, thoughts, memories, unfulfilled desires, even nightmares of an old man. But these intimations of what might have been and recollections of what was create a universal panorama of desires and dis- appointments. All of human life is there, Mr Geliot tells us, in its Nest's of the World glory: war and peace, the beauty of nature and the coarseness of the tavern, sacred and profane love, a glimpse of heaven and a final taste of hell.

And he is right. This surely is what Ber- lioz's legende dramatique is all about. Ber- lioz wrote it, as he tells us in his Memoires, on the road. The opening aria was com- posed at Passau and the 'Dance of the Sylphs' in Vienna, the students' song was inspired by the imposing academic build- ings of Breslau (or Wroclaw, as it is now) and the 'Peasants' Dance' created under the lamplight of Budapest. There is a spacious- ness about the work which reflects very accurately these journeyings; there is too the feeling of restlessness that travel brings, of stretching out for new goals and by no means always reaching them.

Mr Geliot has caught the universality of the work brilliantly in his production. The criticisms levelled at him for not treat- ing the text literally are as petty as the academic niggles directed at Berlioz him- self for heretically removing Faust to the plains of Hungary. If Geliot had produced the type of Bearheitung favoured by Ger- man opera' houses for the less tractable operas of Rossini or Donizetti then he could have been threatened with the scaf- fold. As it is he has produced a personal vision while sticking meticulously to the score—would that more opera producers did the same.

As Berlioz borrowed from Europe, so does Geliot. It is in Prague or Berlin rather than London that one would be likely to find the two ranks of mirrors that cross the Coliseum stage. Sometimes the pro- jections on these reflect the text precisely: during the invocation to nature, for example, the forest, peaks and mountain streams are all there before us; during the ride to the abyss Vortex and Giaour appear to be thundering over the footlights. At other moments the images are carefully non-representational: Cranach and Dela- croix are plundered for the sake of atmos- phere, later the fight between two stag

beetles recalls Bui L'Age d'or.

The mirrors take both projections and reflections—someone should invite Geliot's designer, Wilfried Minks, to explain just how he has achieved this remarkable con- juring trick. In between them the dancers appear in flesh and in silhouette, their flow- ing movements given the sort of imagina- tiv. lighting that Alwin Nikolais was using in i:osebery Avenue a month or two back. Al" we the mirrors is a carved wooden gothic frieze, perpetual reminder of Faust's era: and between them stands an immense, inverted coffin, the intimation of his mor- tality. with a skull frequently peering out of the upper background.

Geliot has fused brilliantly these twin worlds of mirrors and wood. Basically Faust's personal drama is acted out before wood. For 'Voici des roses' the coffin opens out to reveal Faust lying in a bower of bulging breasts and thighs while Mephi- stopheles, standing on a grinning Andy Warhol set of dentures, directs operations from above. Marguerite's room, which Faust investigates so tenderly, is all too real, and so is Auerbach's cellar. The mirrors come into play as his mind wanders and takes flight.

A production of this strength and imagination- with the exception of some trouble with the projectors, it moved with remarkable precision on the first night— could swamp the music. But not with Charles Mackerras in the pit. The Sadler's Wells orchestra, which had been in up and down form during the season's first two revivals, played superbly. The sense of excitement of what was happening on stage was transferred to the pit and conveyed back again to the chorus.

The four principals were less caught up in affairs. Alberto Remedios is an un-

involved actor and there were moments when he seemed overcome at what was going on. The voice remains big enough for the house and there were moments of sweet tone. especially in the first two parts, but the top gave way under strain. Rai- mund Herincx is a fine Mephistopheles: not the conventional Delacroix figure. Satanic as Ion Tiriac losing a point to Stilwell, but instead a genial, red-haired drinking companion - (idiot, wisely follow- ing the chorus's comments on Mephi- stopheles 'Son poil est roux'. chose to give Faust a red setter instead of the usual black poodle. The serenade alone gave him trouble, and probably Margaret Curphey's Marguerite has not yet settled down, and is impeded by an irritating interval before 'D'amour. l'ardente flamme', which should be removed so that the opera goes through its two hours without a break. The cast is completed by an excellent Brander from Gwynne Howell. He sings the 'Song of the Rat' full length on the floor as we are told Jeritza used to sing sVissi d'arte—but for rather different reasons.