“Roma”, Jules Massenet’s final work, is being staged in Paris

Here we have the usual unfaithful vestal virgin for love’s sake, the sort so beloved by Beethoven (Vestas Feuer), Spontini (La vestale), Bellini (Norma) and who knows how many others. The unfortunate woman, named Fausta, is seduced by the heroic but not particularly brilliant tenor—not coincidentally named Lentulus—and, as a result, the sacred fire goes out, leading to nothing less than the defeat at Cannae. Condemned to be buried alive following a hasty inquiry by the pontiff Lucius Cornelius, amidst the invectives of the choruses and the lamentations of her extremely strict father Fabius Maximus, she is about to enter the tomb when, to shorten her agony, she is stabbed to death by her blind (!) grandmother (!) named Posthumia (!). This is not the new Asterix album but the plot of Roma (1912), the final opera by Jules Massenet, who died shortly after its premiere, leaving behind three posthumous and equally forgotten works. However, the ever-commendable Palazzetto Bru Zane, the ‘Centre de musique romantique française’, has organised a recording and a couple of concert performances (thankfully: *Roma* would be the perfect director’s nightmare), the second of which takes place on Monday at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées in Paris.

The subject matter is drawn from a forgotten tragedy by Alexander Parodi from 1876, which had patriotic aims as it asserted the Latin origins of France, which had been routed by the brutal Teutons in the war of 1870 – the true Great National Trauma. Why Massenet embarked on a similar endeavour almost forty years later is unclear: nothing seems further removed from the sensibility of Jules, with his languor. Indeed, the finest moments are the lyrical ones: the tenor’s aria, his duet with the priestess, and the beautiful entracte between the second and third acts (or perhaps the prelude to the third). Although weary, Massenet had certainly not lost his flair as an orchestrator, but the austere style does not suit him, and the opera gives a curious sensation of timeless unreality, out of step with the times – a work perhaps not poor but certainly past its sell-by date in an era when Strauss, Puccini, Schönberg and Stravinsky were at their height. I believe Roma is the last opera in history to be preceded by an overture. That said, to discuss it – even if only critically – one must be familiar with it; therefore, this Parisian performance was a valuable opportunity. All the more so as the performance was, on the whole, convincing.

It is difficult to judge a conductor on the basis of a score one has never heard before. We already knew that the young Diego Ceretta had what it takes, but this challenging and far from straightforward late work by Massenet confirms it: he is highly authoritative and capable of bringing out the very best, at the helm of a Monte-Carlo Philharmonic that is not always flawless, unlike the Radio France Choir. The ensemble, whilst not ideal, is nonetheless good. Rachel Willis-Sørensen, as Fausta, sings very well, although she doesn’t strike me as quite a ‘tragédienne’. Julie Robard-Gendre is remarkable as the murderous grandmother, not least because she is a genuine contralto (the part is Massenet’s tribute to Lucy Arbell, his last love). Jean-François Borras manages to get through the role of Lentulus, which would require a far more powerful vocal range, Tassis Christoyannis and Patrick Bolleire are well-suited to the roles of the stern yet sorrowful father and the unyielding, somewhat of a jerk, priest, and the best of them all is Jérôme Boutillier, who is a fantastic Vestapor, the ‘rooster’ (meaning slave) who makes sarcastic remarks about the Roman defeat. The audience appeared somewhat perplexed but ultimately jubilant, perhaps out of relief that the 120 minutes listed as the running time for the first three acts turned out to be just 90 (as for the others, the fourth is long-winded and the fifth flies by).