Orchestra's "Damnation of Faust'

When I reviewed the Philadelphia Orchestra's last— and only—performance of Berlioz's opera, The Damnation of Faust, I noted that Berlioz treated the Faust legend as an excuse for every kind of musical number he happened to feel like writing. It's been 20 years since I wrote that, so I approached this performance wondering if I might have been mistaken.

I wasn't. The Damnation of Faust is a mishmash. The opening scene transports Faust to the plains of Hungary because Hungary is a great venue for a composer who wants to captivate his audience with a peasant dance and a rousing military march. The scene is supposed to contrast Faust's boredom with the high spirits of ordinary mortals, but we all know that Faust broods in Hungary rather than his native Germany because the Magyars make livelier music.

The rest of the libretto is crammed with drinking songs, religious choruses, military marches, pastorals and love duets. An astute editor could have cut two-thirds of them on the grounds that they contributed zip to the overall story line.

A different story, too

Berlioz even changes the point of the story. For most of us, Faust is the man who sold his soul to the devil so he could enjoy power, wealth, beautiful women and other popular temptations. Berlioz's Faust condemns himself to eternal hellfire because his dalliance with Marguerite led to complications that ruined her irretrievably. So the great moral epic instead becomes the story of a man who Done a Woman Wrong and redeems himself by plunging into Hell so she'll be saved.

The Damnation of Faust is the kind of piece that throws the literary half of my personality into a state of head-shaking bemusement. The musical half, on the other hand, revels in every bar. The audience would miss plenty of attractive music if you cut out the gratuitous sideshows.

Berlioz had a passion for the grandiose, but he could also write quieter music that's just as effective as his big blasts. Some of the best moments in Faust are airy, lightly textured passages like the sweet string dance that serenades Faust when he flees the tavern for a sylvan rest. The opening scene may include a dance and a war song, but it begins with a flowing tenor aria that may be one of the best evocations of spring that anyone ever wrote.

My problem with Rattle

In the past, I've complained that Simon Rattle wows the audience with the Big Bang sections and misses the beauties of the more delicate interludes. But I felt no objections to his work on this visit. Rattle fulfilled all the expectations created by my memories of the production Charles Dutoit conducted in 1988.

I've heard bass-baritone Thomas Quasthoff sing in his native German and was impressed by the power and exuberance of his Bach arias. He's one singer you should make it your business to hear whenever he comes to Philadelphia. In his French incarnation, Quasthoff displayed another side to his talent and created a suave, jaunty Mephistopheles.

Singing from memory

Tenor Gregory Kunde sang the title role from memory, without a score, and his expressive voice and intelligent acting deserve much of the credit for the overall success of the production. Magdalena Kozena as Marguerite possesses a beautiful mezzo voice, but she would have been more effective if she had colored her part with the nuanced shadings her older co-stars added to their roles.

Eric Owens filled a limited first-act assignment, singing the role of the tavern singer Braden, but he proved, once again, that he's a major musical asset. In this case, Owens had to trade drinking songs in direct contention with the formidable competition presented by the other bass-baritone on the stage. Faust may have been defeated by the devil, but Owens held the devil's representative to a draw. â—†

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