At the Metropolitan Opera in New York, the last curtain call had barely ended when a row of chairs was placed at the front of the stage for an onstage discussion, a short meeting that is becoming increasingly popular between artists and spectators at the end of a performance. For almost half an hour, conductor Pierre Vallet, director Bartlett Sher and the two lead roles in Gounod's Roméo et Juliette, tenor Benjamin Bernheim and soprano Nadine Sierra, still in their stage costumes, gracefully (and with a welcome sense of humor) answered questions prepared by Peter Gelb, general manager of the Metropolitan Opera.
The stage curtain had not been drawn on the imposing stone sets designed by Michael Yeargan, monstrous devourers of space and bearers of the constraints weighing down on the two Veronese families in the throes of discord and murder. The central square, lined with sumptuous palaces and dark alleyways, will witness the lovers' first meeting at the Capulet ball, the brawl between young enemies, the secret marriage, Juliet's bedroom, draped in a great white sheet, and finally the Capulet tomb, where Juliet and Romeo, exiled for having killed Tybalt (Capulet), himself the murderer of Mercutio (Montague), will meet again to die.
Catherine Zuber's rich period costumes – romantic Romeo in boots, peaked coat and white jabot, seductive Juliet in long, flowing gowns – Jennifer Tipton's narrative lighting, and the robust fights set to the style of B.H. Barry's cloak-and-dagger films, give this production an old-fashioned realism accentuated by Sher's conventional acting direction (a little muddled in the crowd scenes), whose production is enjoying its third revival since 2016.
In the supporting roles, the women deserve all the credit. From Eve Gigliotti's maternal, protective Gertrude to Samantha Hankey's deluxe Stéphano, whose presence is enhanced by the high notes that spice up her provocative "Que fais-tu, blanche tourterelle?" Both display a scenic commitment shared by their male counterparts: Will Liverman's mercurial Mercutio, much like Frederick Ballentine's rapacious Tybalt. The only benevolent father figure is Alfred Walker's Frère Laurent, while Nathan Berg's Capulet displays a slightly weary maturity, shared by Richard Bernstein as the Duke of Verona.
The couple formed by Benjamin Bernheim and Nadine Sierra is without doubt the most glamorous imaginable on today's operatic stage. The French lyric tenor confirms that he is without rival in this repertoire. Elegant lines, crystal-clear prosody, supple phrasing, refined emotional registers, a dizzying vocal palette: Bernheim is an ideal Romeo of passion, sensitivity and simmering impetuosity. In the perfect acoustics of the Metropolitan Opera, where the slightest pianissimo can be heard, the singer deploys the impressive canopy of a homogeneous timbre throughout the range, with a moving vibrato, daring twilight half-tones, floating high notes and irresistible full-voice projections. Her "Ah, lève-toi soleil" is a miracle of fervor and poetry. Handsome, seductive and scenically convincing, even in the fight scene between him and Tybalt, this Romeo is the perfect incarnation of the impulsive young man who love transforms into a tragic hero.
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