Donizetti La Fille du régiment
Tuesday 26 March 2024 - 20 h (Gala)
Thursday 28 March 2024 - 20 h
Saturday 30 March 2024 - 20 h
Comic opera in two acts
Music by Gaetano Donizetti (1797-1848)
Libretto integral from Jules Henry Vernoy de Saint-Georges and Jean-François Bayard
Premiere: Opéra-Comique, Paris, 11 february 1840
New production
Like Bellini and Rossini before him, Gaetano Donizetti turned his attention to Paris and its irresistible prestige once he had established his position in the Peninsula. It was there that he first premiered La Fille du régiment, a popular work at the time in spite of mixed reviews. Its adaptation for Italian theatres made certain changes that went beyond the translation of the text. Nurtured by the desire of light sopranos to shine in an entertaining role with spectacular vocal parts, this version of La figlia del regimento was very successful. Unfortunately, the role of Tonio was a victim of cuts in this edition and lost some of its lustre.
In the mid 1960s the original score, reinstating Tonio’s arias, was presented at Covent Garden in London. It was with these arias that the young Luciano Pavarotti won his place in the world of opera. Since then, La Fille has regained its foot-ing and today it demands not only a first-class soprano, but also an equally fine bel cantist as partner. Hence, the young Regula Mühlemann will share the stage with Javier Camarena. Will he delight Monaco audiences with a repeat of his famous aria and its 9 high Cs, as he has already done at major international venues? To find the answer, come and discover this new production staged by Jean-Louis Grinda!
MONTE CARLO PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA
PRODUCTION TEAM
Conductor
Ion Marin
Director
Jean-Louis Grinda
Assistant director
Vanessa d’Ayral de Sérignac
Sets
Rudy Sabounghi
Assistant sets
Julien Soulier
Costumes
Jorge Jara
Assistant costumes
Uta Baatz
Lighting design
Laurent Castaingt
Videos
Gabriel Grinda
Repetitor
David Zobel
Choirmaster
Stefano Visconti
SOLoISTS
La Marquise de Berkenfield
Marie Gautrot
Marie
Regula Mühlemann
Sulpice
Jean-François Lapointe
Tonio
Javier Camarena
Hortensius
Rodolphe Briand
La Duchesse de Crakentorp
Jean-François Vinciguerra
Un notaire
Benoît Gunalons
Un caporal
Paolo Marchini
Un paysan
Nicolo La Farciola
FIGURATION
Dailton Brandoa
Franck Dubois
Barbara Franch
Mathilde Grinda
Alain Louis-Jacquet
Emma Terno
Julia Zolynski
CHORUS OF THE OPÉRA DE MONTE-CARLO
Choirmater
Stefano Visconti
Pianist assistant to the choirmaster & consultant for the musical organisation
Aurelio Scotto
Chorus manager & librarian
Colette Audat
Sopranos I
Galia BAKALOV
Antonella CESARIO
Chiara IAIA
Giovanna MINNITI
Felicity MURPHY
Ronja Weyhenmeyer
Sopranos II
Rossella ANTONACCI
Valérie MARRET
Letizia PIANIGIANI
Laura Maria ROMO CONTRERAS
VITTORIA GIACOBAZZI
Mezzosopranos
Teresa BRAMWELL-DAVIES
Géraldine MELAC
Suma MELLANO
Federica SPATOLA
Altos
ORNELLA CORVI
Maria-Elisabetta DE GIORGI
Catia PIZZI
Paola SCALTRITI
Rosa TORTORA
Tenors I
Walter BARBARIA
Lorenzo CALTAGIRONE
Domenico CAPPUCCIO
Vincenzo DI NOCERA
Thierry DIMEO
Nicolo LA FARCIOLA
Tenors II
Gianni COSSU
Pasquale FERRARO
Fabio MARZI
Adolfo SCOTTO DI LUZIO
Salvatore TAIELLO
Baritones
Jean-François Baron*
Fabio BONAVITA
Vincenzo CRISTOFOLI
Daniele DEL BUE
Thomas EPSTEIN*
Hugues GEORGES*
Pascal TERREIN*
Luca VIANELLO
Basses
Andrea ALBERTOLLI
Przemyslaw BARANEK
Paolo MARCHINI
Edgardo RINALDI
Matthew THISTLETON
*additional chorus members for performances of La Fille du régiment
ORCHESTRE PHILHARMONIQUE DE MONTE-CARLO
Artistic and musical director
KAZUKI YAMADA
Violins I
David Lefèvre
Liza Kerob
Sibylle Duchesne
Ilyoung Chae
Diana Mykhalevych
Gabriel Milito
Mitchell Huang
Thierry Bautz
Zhang Zhang
Isabelle Josso
Morgan Bodinaud
Milena Legourska
Jae-Eun Lee
Adela Urcan
Anne-Cécile lecaille
mathieu joubert
marc zorgniotti
juliette roeland
Violins II
Peter Szüts
Nicolas Delclaud
Camille Ameriguian-Musco
Frédéric Gheorghiu
Nicolas Slusznis
Alexandre Guerchovitch
Gian Battista Ermacora
Laetitia Abraham
Katalin Szüts-Lukacs
Eric Thoreux
Raluca Hood-Marinescu
Andriy Ostapchuk
Sofija Radic
Hubert Touzery
anastasia laurent
Altos
François Méreaux
Federico Andres Hood
François Duchesne
Charles Lockie
Richard Chauvel
Mireille Wojciechowski
Sofia Timofeeva
Tristan Dely
Raphaël Chazal
Ying Xiong
Thomas Bouzy
Ruggero Mastrolorenzi
Cellos
Thierry Amadi
Delphine Perrone
Alexandre Fougeroux
justine perÉ
Florence Riquet
Bruno Posadas
Thomas Ducloy
Patrick Bautz
Florence Leblond
Thibault Leroy
Caroline Roeland
Double basses
Matthias Bensmana
Tarik Bahous
Mariana Vouytcheva
Jenny Boulanger
Sylvain Rastoul
Eric Chapelle
Dorian Marcel
Flutes
ANNE MAUGUE
RAPHAËLLE TRUCHOT BARRAYA
DELPHINE HUEBER
Piccolo
MALCY GOUGET
Oboe
MATTHIEU BLOCH
MATTHIEU PETITJEAN
MARTIN LEFÈVRE
English horn
Mathilde Rampelberg
Clarinets
MARIE-B. BARRIÈRE-BILOTE
vÉronique audard
E-flat clarinet
DIANA SAMPAIO
Bassoons
FRANCK LAVOGEZ
ARTHUR MENRATH
MICHEL MUGOT
Contrabassoon
FRÉDÉRIC CHASLINE
Horns
PATRICK PEIGNIER
ANDREA CESARI
DIDIER FAVRE
BERTRAND RAQUET
LAURENT BETH
DAVID PAUVERT
Trumpets
MATTHIAS PERSSON
GÉRALD ROLLAND
SAMUEL TUPIN
RÉMY LABARTHE
Trombones
JEAN-YVES MONIER
GILLES GONNEAU
LUDOVIC MILHIET
Tuba
FLORIAN WIELGOSIK
Timpani & Percussions
Julien Bourgeois
Mathieu Draux
Antoine Lardeau
Noé Ferro
Harp
SOPHIA STECKELER
STAGE STAFF
Stage director
Xavier Laforge
Main stage manager
Elisabetta Acella
Stage manager
Karine Ohanyan
Lighting manager
Enza D’Auria
Surtitling manager
Sarah Caussé
TECHNIQUE
Technical Director
Carlos Proenza
Technical adviser
Nicola Schmid
Head machinists
Carlos Grenier
Olivier Kinoo
Deputy head machinists
Yann Moreau
Franck Satizelle
Decorative painter
Gérard Périchon
Machinery supervisor
Frédéric Laugier
Stage technicians
Laurent BARCELO
Heathcliff BONNET
Mathias CATALDI
Morgan DUBOUIL
Jean-François FARAUT
Jean-Philippe FARAUT
Hassan FAREH
Schama IMBERT
David M'BAPPÉ
Khalid NEGRAOUI
Chief electrician
Benoît Vigan
Deputy chief electrician
GAEL LE MAUX
Lighting technicians
Guillaume BREMOND
Grégory CAMPANELLA
Ludovic DRUIT
Marine GENNA
Krystel OKWELANI BUNGU MASWA NTOT
Laurent RENAUX
Pupitreurs
Dylan Castori
Grégory Masse
Head of audio/vidéo
Benjamin Grunler
Video technicians
Felipe MANRIQUE
Aron Malek
Head prop maker
Audrey Moravec
Accessorists
Roland BIREN
Franck ESCOBAR
Nicolas LEROY
Charline TORRES
Head of costumes
Eliane Mezzanotte
Deputy head of costumes
Emilie Bouneau
Assistant wardrobe manager
Véronique TETU
Dressers
Christian CALVIERA
Nadine CIMBOLINI
Sandrine DUBOIS
Lili FORTIN
Edwige GALLI
Julie JACQUET
Magali LEPORTIER
Karinne MARTIN
Florence RINALDINO
Lauriane SENET
Chief wig and make-up
Déborah Nelson
Deputy chief wig and make-up
Alicia Bovis
Hairdressers
Jean-Pierre GALLINA
Agnès LOZANO
Corinne PAULÉ
Marilyn RIEUL
Make-up artists
Sophie KILIAN
Francine RICHARD
Patricia ROCHWERG
Ticket office
Box office manager
Virginie Hautot
Deputy box office manager
Jenna Brethenoux
Ticket service
Ambre Gaillard
Dima Khabout
Assmaa Moussalli
Act I
War is raging in the Tyrol and the villagers are expressing their fear (no. 1, introduction “L’ennemi s’avance / Sainte Madone”). Passing through the village the Marquise is so terrified that her loyal intendant, Hortensius, has to administer smelling salts to her (couplets “Pour une femme de mon nom”). To everyone’s relief the French army retreats (chorus “Allons, plus d’alarmes!”). The Marquise takes refuge among the peasants and dispatches Hortensius to obtain information from the XXI st regiment. Hortensius obeys, not without fear. The old Sergeant Sulpice informs him that his troops will restore order. Sulpice is joined by Marie, the vivandière (canteen girl) (no. 2, duet “La voilà! La voilà / Au bruit de la guerre”). The young girl’s origins are unknown: she had been found in a basket, the only clue was a letter left in the basket from a certain Captain Robert commending her to a Marquise of Berkenfield. The regiment immediately adopted her as their daughter. We also learn during the conversation that Marie is in love with a young Tyrolean who had saved her life when she fell into a precipice.
The troops enter with a prisoner who had been prowling around the camp. They want to execute him for spying. Marie immediately recognises him as her rescuer, Tonio, and pleads with her “fathers” to spare him. Tonio expresses his desire to join their battle for France – this would allow him to be near Marie (no. 3, chorus “Allons, allons, marche à l’instant! / Pauvre enfant, quelle ivresse”). In her joy, Marie starts singing the regimental song (couplets “Chacun le sait, chacun le dit”). She explains to the sceptical Tonio that she is the Regiment’s adopted daughter. The soldiers leave, summoned to do their duty (chorus “Dès que l’appel sonne”). Tonio declares his love to Marie, who eagerly responds (no. 4, duet “Quoi, vous m’aimiez? / Depuis l’instant où dans mes bras”). At that moment Sulpice enters, cooling the lovebirds’ ardour: Marie has promised to marry a soldier of the regiment. Tonio and Sulpice start to quarrel, interrupted by the entrance of Hortensius and the Marquise.
The Marquise wishes to return to Berkenfield Castle and requires an escort. Hearing this name Sulpice immediately reacts. We discover that Marie is in fact the Marquise’s long-lost niece, fruit of a love affair between her sister and Captain Robert. Come to make peace with Sulpice, Marie is informed of the turn of events. The Marquise invites her to accompany her to her castle, planning to educate her to become a proper lady. At the beat of the drum, the regiment assembles (no. 5, chorus “Rataplan! rataplan! rataplan!”). Tonio, highly excited, enters wearing a uniform: he has joined the regiment and can now ask for Marie’s hand in marriage (no. 6, cavatina “Ah! mes amis, quel jour de fête / Pour mon âme quel destin”). The regiment agrees to give him Marie’s hand, but Sulpice dampens Tonio’s enthusiasm when he announces that Marie will soon be leaving. In tears, the lovers bid their farewells, and the regiment weeps with them at their daughter’s departure (no. 7, romance and finale “Il faut partir!”).
Act II
The Marquise has decided to marry her niece to Scipion, the Duchess of Crakentorp’s son, and the notary has arrived to draw up the marriage contract. Marie, to whom the Marquise has done her best to teach good manners, has reluctantly agreed to the marriage. Sulpice enters. He has been recovering at the Castle from a serious injury he had suffered three months earlier. Marie presents herself to the Marquise for her singing lesson; she has to interpret a love song by Pierre-Jean Garat, Les Amours de Cypris. But, to her aunt’s horror, Marie slips in swear words and snippets of the regimental song. It is clear that she misses her former way of life and has not fully accepted the new one (no. 8, trio “Le jour naissait dans le bocage”). Left alone with Marie, Sulpice tries in vain to convince her that her coming marriage is an enviable outcome and that Tonio has probably forgotten about her, although Sulpice himself doesn’t really believe it. While Hortensius informs Sulpice that a high-ranking soldier has just arrived at the Castle, Marie sings her sadness. She is reconciled to the fate her aunt has reserved for her. But when she hears military music outside she becomes joyously happy again, expressing it in a brilliant cabaletta to the glory of France. She is soon joined by her former comrades (no. 9, cavatina “Par le rang et par l’opulence / Salut à la France”).
The high-ranking soldier is, of course, Tonio who has earned his stripes as lieutenant. Tonio, Sulpice and Marie rejoice at being reunited (no. 10, trio “Tous les trois réunis”). Marie and Sulpice are overcome by sadness at the thought that Marie can never marry Tonio, but Tonio then announces that an uncle had revealed to him a secret that he cannot yet tell them, a secret that could save the situation. Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of the Marquise. Offended to find her niece in the presence of a soldier, she tries to chase him away as Marie has to sign her marriage contract in an hour. Tonio then confesses to the elderly lady his love for Marie and asks for her hand in marriage (no. 11, romance “Pour me rapprocher de Marie”). Marie confesses that she also loves Tonio, but the Marquise refuses to accept it and dismisses him. Tonio then reveals his secret: the Marquise never had a sister, so Marie cannot be her niece. The Marquise orders Marie to go to her chambers and chases Tonio away. Left alone with Sulpice the Marquise admits that Tonio was telling the truth: it was she who had this illegitimate child with Robert and had been forced to abandon her. The distinguished marriage she had planned for Marie was the only way to restore her honour, name and fortune. Sulpice tries in vain to explain to the Marquise that Marie’s happiness lies elsewhere. It is now time to sign the marriage contract, but Marie has still not arrived and the Duchess of Crakentorp and the notary are becoming impatient. Sulpice goes off to fetch Marie. To persuade her to sign the contract he reveals to her that she in fact is the Marquise’s daughter. Marie resolves to accept the fate her mother has decided for her. At that moment the soldiers storm in, led by Tonio. They inform the wedding guests that Marie’s only father is the regiment and she was once their canteen girl. Despite this, Marie prepares to sign the marriage contract, but her mother, overcome with emotion, stays her hand and consents to her marrying Tonio. The Duchess and her guests are outraged and leave the assembly, while the soldiers celebrate love and France (no. 12, finale “Mais, ô ciel! quel bruit! quels éclats! / Au secours de notre fille / Salut à la France!”).
Claire Delamarche. Translated by Mary McCabe.
Regula Mühlemann
This production contains many firsts for you… So, chronologically: how do you prepare for a new part?
I always sit down at the piano myself at first and learn a new part on my own. From the beginning, I try and take into account as many nuances as possible and to pay close attention to the pronunciation. In a second period, I go to professional coaches, who know the piece and its style very well. With their help I complete the learning process and polish my part. In this particular case, I plan to do so for La fille du régiment next autumn, when I spend an extended length of time in a French environment, during a production of Die Zauberflöte in Paris.
Have you sung La Fille du régiment before, and what is your current repertoire?
I have not sung this opera before and am there-fore extremely excited to learn this role for my debut in Monte Carlo. After having sung Adina in L’elisir d’amore, it will be interesting to get to know the French Donizetti. Recently, I have sung a lot of Mozart, also Verdi’s Gilda, and feel very comfortable in these relatively light soprano parts with coloratura.
With Javier Camarena you have one of the most popular of today’s Tonios at your side …
I feel greatly honoured to sing my first Marie next to someone as wonderful and as experienced as Javier Camarena. I admire him very much and am sure that I can learn many things from him.
Do you know the Opéra de Monte-Carlo?
Of course I am terribly excited about singing for the first time in Monte Carlo! So far, I know this theatre from photographs only, where it looks stunning. I cannot wait to get there and step out onto its stage, in a wonderful new role and with fantastic colleagues.
From failure can come beauty, and Gaetano Donizetti learned this from experience. In 1838 the composer, born in Bergamo, Lombardy was the unique star in the celestial sphere of Italian opera: in 1829 Gioachino Rossini had taken early retirement, and in 1835 Vincenzo Bellini had died prematurely. Giuseppe Verdi, a young 25 year old, was indeed in the starting blocks, but his first opera, Oberto, conte di San Bonifacio, was only premiered in 1839 and was not a great success. It was not until 1842, with the premiere of Nabucco, that Verdi would finally transcend all his rivals. In 1838, therefore, Donizetti seemed unbeatable. At the age of 40 he already fifty-five operas to his name, including masterpieces such as Anna Bolena (1830), L’elisir d’amore (1832), Lucrezia Borgia (1833), Lucia di Lammermoor and Maria Stuarda (1835), as well as Roberto Devereux (1837). But that did not prevent his fifty-eighth opera, Poliuto, inspired by Racine’s Polyeucte, from being refused by Neapolitan censorship. This was followed by the death of Donizetti’s wife, the suicide of the tenor chosen to premiere Poliuto and the disappointment at not being appointed director of the Naples Conservatory of Music where he had been teaching since 1834. There was no reason for him, therefore, to remain in the capital of the Two Sicilies where he had been living since his marriage in 1824.
So Donizetti left for Paris, where he had already put his popularity to the test: in 1834, invited by Rossini, he had premiered his Marino Faliero at the Théâtre des Italiens, for which he was awarded the Légion d’honneur by King Louis-Philippe. Career opportunities were attractive in the French capital: the Académie royale de musique (aka Opéra de Paris) commissioned two works from him (La Favorite in 1840 and Les Martyrs, an adaptation of Poliuto, the following year); the Théâtre de la Renaissance also commissioned two operas (they would be Lucie de Lammermoor, a French adaptation of Lucia di Lammermoor, in 1839, and the following year L’Ange de Nisida, that would not be staged due to the theatre’s bankruptcy); the Théâtre des Italiens staged the French premiere of Lucrezia Borgia (under the name of La rinegata in order to get around the censorship); not wanting to be left behind, the Opéra-Comique proposed an opera based on the libretto by Vernoy de Saint-Georges and Bayard, our Fille du régiment. Thus, Donizetti was taking on the four major opera houses in Paris – leading Hector Berlioz to write, the day after the premiere of La Fille du régiment (in Journal des débats of 16 February 1840), “M. Donizetti appears to think he can lord it over everyone, it is a real war of invasion. We can no longer say: the opera houses of Paris, but quite simply Donizetti’s opera houses.”
The premiere took place on 11 February 1840, at the Théâtre des Nouveautés, where the Opéra-Comique troupe was being housed temporarily after the first of the two fires that ravaged the Salle Favart. The opera received mixed reviews, and the divided critics battled fiercely. At the forefront of the opponents was Hector Berloz, still bitter after the failure of his Benvenuto Cellini at the Académie royale de musique, a few months after being rejected by the same Opéra-Comique. He led the charge in the above quoted article: “The score of La Fille du régiment is therefore exactly similar to those that neither the author nor the public can take seriously. There is harmony, melody, rhythmic effects, instrumental and vocal combinations; it is music, if you like, but not new music. The orchestra exhausts itself in useless noise, the most discordant reminiscences clash in the same scene, we have here Mr. Adam’s style side by side with Mr. Meyerbeer’s.”
But La Fille du régiment would soon have its revenge at the Opéra-Comique by celebrating its 500th performance in 1871, and its 1000th in 1914. In addition, the Italian version, premiered at La Scala in Milan on 30 October 1841 (La figlia del reggimento) also took flight, rapidly winning over America (except in Louisiana where it was performed in French) and the United Kingdom, driven by stars such as Jenny Lind, Henriette Sontag and Adelina Patti. In the first half of the XXth century Toti dal Monte lent her talent to Marie. In 1940, when war was raging in Europe, the New York Metropolitan Opera staged the opera with the French soprano Lily Pons in the title role. In the final bars of the opera a few bars of the Marseillaise were added to the reprise of “Salut à la France”, and Pons created a sensation by waving the French flag bearing the Cross of Lorraine. After decades of decline La Fille du régiment returned with a bang thanks to Joan Sutherland who revived it at Covent Garden in 1966.
More than any other “tenor opera”, La Fille du régiment is all about the high C. In the early XIXth century France the mythical high-pitched note was embodied by one singer, Adolphe Nourrit, who rendered them in the same way as the hautes-contre in Baroque and Classical opera, i.e. in head voice. Nourrit enjoyed unparalleled glory until, in 1836, the Académie royale de musique hired a rival to perform beside him, Gilbert Duprez, who rendered this note in the Italian way, namely the chest voice. The insult was all the more intolerable given that Duprez had made his debuts by taking on the role that had crowned Nourrit’s career, Arnold in Rossini’s Guillaume Tell, premiered a few weeks earlier. Nourrit suffered such anxiety over this rivalry that he moved to Naples, with the double objective of conquering the chest C and starting a new career. It was with him in mind that Donizetti had conceived the title role of Poliuto. The banning of this opera tipped Nourrit over the edge and he threw himself out of a window – a tragedy that led Donizetti to abandon Naples. Poliuto returned to life in the form of Les Martyrs, performed by the Florentine tenor Carlo Baucardé. But doesn’t Nourrit’s memory linger in the high Cs that flourish in the second part (cabaletta) of Tonio’s cavatina “Ah ! mes amis, quel jour de fête / Pour mon âme quel destin”, in the finale of Act I? No fewer than eight high Cs, grouped in pairs, make this aria the tenors’ “Everest”, not counting a ninth in the final cadenza: it is not written but the audience awaits it as impatiently as the soloist who, traditionally, sustains it in a long fermata.
Marie is not left behind. From her very first appearance, the duet “Au bruit de la guerre”, with Sulpice, she has two high Cs (as well as the others the singer unfailingly adds); but in fact, with its high notes and virtuosity, and the colourful finale where Marie expresses her military instinct by imitating the cornet and drum (“Rataplan, rataplan, rataplan…”), the entire piece is a vocal fireworks display. The soprano’s most spectacular piece – the cabaletta “Salut à la France!”, that with its Tyrolean yodel accents crowns the cavatina of Act II “Par le rang et par l’opulence” – officially peaks with a high B flat. Traditionally, however, the singers let themselves go in the second couplet, already full of vocalises, so that they can also shine in high Cs, or even high E flats (two tiny steps below the famous high F of the Queen of the Night in Mozart’s Magic Flute).
Claire Delamarche, translated by Mary McCabe
The vocal fireworks are just part of the charm of La Fille du régiment. Following the tradition of opéra-comique, Donizetti skilfully blends virtuosity and lyricism, elegance and triviality, the picturesque and the sentimental. For audiences at the Théâtre de l’Opéra-Comique performances were a family affair, where mothers took their eligible daughters. But they also had to be entertained and nurtured with good sentiments (in 1875 the directors of the opera house, and subsequently the audience, would have been horrified by Carmen with its passionate sensuality and tragic ending). The intrigue had to be simple, the emotions clearly portrayed, the music easy to remember, with an exotic touch as an added bonus.
La Fille du régiment ticks all the boxes. The overture sets the musical decor, as did the Guillaume Tell overture eleven years earlier. It opens with a horn solo reminiscent of an alphorn; it continues with birds warbling, and echoes of yodeling, the song that can be heard in the Swiss and Tyrolean Alps and that constantly changes from the chest to the head voice. No doubt about it: we are in the Alps and this faint echo of yodelling is present in several other passages, including in the “Salut à la France” [“Hail to France”]. The overture then introduces the military drum beat and a military march, where we hear the future Regimental Song (“Chacun le sait”). Here we have the local colour aspect.
To tantalize the young ladies from good families the soldiers and their canteen girl use rather unrefined language (the most obvious difference between opéra-comique and the French grand opéra, the only genre allowed at the Académie royale de musique, is that the former incorporates spoken dialogues that are forbidden in the latter). The easily hummed melodies are all the easier to remember as the arias, ensembles and choruses are often in the form of couplets, and the most symbolic ones (the “Rataplan”, the Regimental Song, the “Salut à la France”) are often repeated. However, Tonio and Marie each have a double Italian style aria, i.e. beginning with a lyrical part, the cantabile, where they can display their velvety voices, and a second part, the cabaletta where they flaunt their vocal brilliance (and their high-pitched notes). These two arias (respectively “Ah ! mes amis, quel jour de fête / Pour mon âme quel destin”, and “Par le rang et par l’opulence / Salut à la France”) are referred to in the work as cavatina.
The authors didn’t hesitate to insert a few funny passages, especially in the trio of Act II “Le jour naissait dans le bocage”, where the Marquise tries to get Marie to repeat an authentic romance by Pierre-Jean Garat, Les Amours de Cypris. But a leopard can’t change its spots, and the soldiers’ swear words return in full force! The ageing Marquise almost has a nervous breakdown when the good manners she has tried so hard to drum into Marie are swept away by the irresistible gusto of the military songs murmured by Sulpice.
The final essential ingredient of the opéra-comique potion is the sentimental one. It reaches the summit in the finale of Act I, more precisely in the central slow movement, the romance where Marie bids farewell to Tonio and the regiment. With its French horn solo, its minor key, its strings in ternary rhythm acting as grand guitar, and the distressing appoggiatura of the melody, it evokes Nemorino’s aria “Una furtiva lagrima”, in L’elisir d’amore. The similarity is not that absurd: conceived as a melodramma giocoso (joyful melodrama), this Italian opera is based on a libretto by Eugène Scribe, a prolific producer of opéra-comique librettos, and similar to this genre it walks a fine line between laughter and tears, but always with tact, and it is precisely therein that lies the spirit of opéra-comique: we cry a little, but soon dry our tears, we laugh a lot but always respectfully, and all we retain at the end of the show is an impression of uplifting entertainment. The English critic, Henry Chorley (1808-1872), made an accurate assessment of the spirit of opéra-comique after seeing La Fille du régiment: “It is slight, it is familiar, it is catching, it is everything that pedants find easy to condemn.”
Claire Delamarche, translated by Mary McCabe.