Soviet-Era Opera Finds a Niche in Stuttgart

Still, regulating an elusive art form like music was a slippery proposition, and when the Soviet Union collapsed, Denisov stood with Alfred Schnittke and Sofia Gubaidulina in a triumvirate of the leading post-Shostakovich Soviet composers. His close touch with composers in the West made him a point person for facilitating exchanges with Russian colleagues.

Understandably, his works found favor outside Russia. His opera “L’Écume des Jours” (“Froth on the Daydream”), which triumphed over the weekend in a new production at the Staatstheater here, is one of those rare operas written with no commission, least of all one from Russia. But the Opéra Comique in Paris gave the world premiere in 1986, and it has subsequently been produced by German opera companies in Mannheim and Gelsenkirchen, as well as in Perm in Central Russia.

Paris was a natural place for “L’Écume des Jours,” which is based on Boris Vian’s Surrealistic cult novel of the same name, to find refuge. Denisov was a devoted Francophile and at one point contemplated creating a triptych of Vian operas, though only “L’Écume,” for which Denisov prepared his own French-language libretto, came to fruition. Vian’s novel supplied an ideal match for Denisov’s artistic inclinations, with its Surrealism constituting a welcome element of fancy in an age when traditional narrative operas often seem wanting. In “L’Écume,” the protagonist Colin’s “pianocktail” machine mixes cocktails according to recipes determined by the music played on it , and Colin’s beloved Chloé is treated by a doctor who dresses in black and yellow so that motorists will notice the stimulating colors, thereby making it safer to cross the street.

“L’Ecume” has been compared to “Tristan und Isolde” and “Pelléas et Mélisande,” but it is also a kind of surrealistic “Bohème,” with two sets of young lovers who live in humble financial circumstances (even though Colin employs an imperious cook). Like Puccini’s Mimì, Chloé has a fatal affliction — a water lily is growing in her left lung and the only treatment is to keep her surrounded with flowers. Chick and Alise are drawn together by a preoccupation with the philosopher Jean Sol Partre (you can guess the model here), yet Chick comes to prefer the philosopher to Alise. Colin and Alise meet to discuss problems in their relationships, but end up making love while remaining emotionally committed to their original partners.

Who knows what Vian — who died at 39 in 1959 and was a singer, actor, critic, engineer and jazz lover, as well as a writer — would have thought of the opera? But you’d think such a polymath would respond favorably to Denisov’s brilliantly eclectic score. Its variety is apparent right from the beginning, when, after astringent, atmosphere-setting rumblings from the orchestra, Colin breaks into a waltz tune about the delights of singing.

Later he observes that only two things count in life: loving pretty girls and the music of Duke Ellington. Accordingly musical references to the jazz great are numerous. Jazz was another no-no for the Soviets, but Denisov’s Russian roots are apparent in the liturgical quality of the choral music, notably a grand chorus for Colin and Chloé’s wedding, which amusingly goes on to assume jazz attributes. During their fleeting moments of happiness, Colin reads Chloé the Tristan story, so you can add “L’Écume” to the list of works that quote from Wagner’s opera.

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