Salieri - Tarare

Christophe Rousset, Cyrille Dubois, Jean-Sebastian Bou, Karine Deshayes, Judith van Wanroij, Enguerrand de Hys, Tassis Christoyannis, Jerome Boutillier, Philippe-Nicolas Martin, Les Chantres du Centre de musique baroque de Versailles, Les Talens Lyriques

Antonio Salieri’s posthumous reputation has both prospered and suffered thanks to the highly fictionalised representation of him in Peter Shaffer’s 1979 play Amadeus (played memorably by F Murray Abraham in Miloš Forman’s Oscar-winning 1984 film version). Since the 1980s there has been a notable revival of interest in the music of the Italian-born, Vienna-based contemporary of Mozart; but it has come at the expense of being cast as the ‘bad guy’ implicated in Mozart’s death, for which there is no historical evidence at all. Indeed, the composers were at the very least mutually respected colleagues, Salieri rising to the post of Hofkapellmeister to the imperial court of Joseph II, while on occasion also championing the work of his younger ‘rival’. Salieri – a pupil of Florian Leopold Gassmann and protégé of Gluck – was also hugely influential as a teacher (Beethoven, Schubert, Hummel and Liszt were among his students), and as a composer of operas he prepared the way from Gluck’s reform operas to the works of Cherubini, Spontini and others. After his death in 1825, Salieri’s fame waned, his music completely overshadowed until recently by that of Mozart.

Among the most significant developments in the current Salieri revival have been the acclaimed recordings of his French operas of the mid-1780s, Les Danaïdes and Les Horaces, by Christophe Rousset’s excellent period-instrument band Les Talens Lyriques and starry Francophone casts. Now they complete the trilogy with Tarare (1787), arguably the most important and successful of Salieri’s Parisian operas, which enjoyed even wider triumph in a revised Italian version as Axur, re d'Ormus (1788). Tarare was a collaboration between Salieri and the great Pierre Beaumarchais, author of Le Barbier de Séville and Le Mariage de Figaro, in his only original opera libretto. Salieri was very much the junior partner, subjugating the music to the text in accordance with both Gluckian ideals and Beaumarchais’s own personal standpoint. The result is a work that for the most part avoids arias and other set-pieces but covers a range of recitative and arioso styles in a boldly experimental mould that in many ways anticipates (by more than six decades!) the Wagnerian concept of music-drama.

Framed by an allegorical prologue and epilogue, the opera tells the tale of a despotic Asian king, Atar, and his fateful jealousy of his general Tarare, whose wife Astasie he abducts. Atar eventually plans to have Tarare killed, but his subjects turn on him and he commits suicide, with Tarare reluctantly accepting the throne himself. Several minor principals, including the high priest Arthenée, the chief eunuch Calpigi and his wife Spinette, contribute to the twists and turns of the plot, and the overall message (two years before the French Revolution) is clear: it is character, not condition (or birthright) that determines a person’s greatness. The exotic setting provides an excuse for plenty of janissary-style percussion, and a first impression might be that of a collision of the world of Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail on the one hand with the narrative machinations of Figaro and Così on the other.

If for all its early success the opera has a fault, it is that in the main action the women make no appearance until the fourth of five acts – a serious flaw when compared to Mozart’s Da Ponte operas. However, when performed by such an exemplary cast such reservations recede. Tenor Cyrille Dubois is outstanding in the title role, with some stratospheric high notes fearlessly delivered, and bass Jean-Sébastien Bou brings formidable bluster to the part of the tyrant Atar. Mezzo Karine Deshayes brings plenty of nobility to the character of the captive Astasie, while soprano Judith van Wanroij shines as the allegorical figure of Nature in the Prologue, and brings an engaging coquettishness to the Neapolitan Spinette. Character tenor Enguerrand de Hys almost steals the show with his Act 3 set-piece ‘Je suis natif de Ferrare’, and baritones Tassis Christoyannis (as Arthenée and the Genius of Fire) and Jérôme Boutillier (captain of the guard Urson) make assured contributions.

In a plot that mercifully avoids the bloodsoaked excesses of Les Danaïdes and Les Horaces, the choir (from the Centre de musique baroque de Versailles) and the impressively-sized orchestra of Les Talens Lyriques deliver plenty of local colour, with choruses, marches and dances peppering the action. Rousset’s unerring, fleet-footed direction keeps things moving along nicely, with crystal-clear textures captured perfectly by Aparte’s recording team. This is an important addition to the discography of classical-era opera, easily outclassing Jean-Claude Malgoire’s currently unavailable video version. The three discs avoid splitting acts and are handsomely housed in packaging (numbered in limited-edition style) that includes the complete libretto and translations. The only serious omission is that there are no track numbers alongside the text, but whether you follow the libretto or just sit back and enjoy the music, there’s so much to savour here that this is a minor quibble. With this and their two previous releases, Rousset and his colleagues have given Salieri’s reputation a welcome boost and a long overdue corrective. Essential listening indeed!