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Reviews — The New York Times
From the New York Times - November 26, 1907
MASSENET’S
“THAIS”
FIRST TIME HERE
Mary Garden Makes Her Ameri-
can Appearance as the Heroine.
AN UNINSPIRED OPERA
The Singer apparently Not in Good
Voice - Her Dramatic Power -
Mr. Renaud as Athanael.
Thaïs - Miss Mary Garden
Crobyle - Mlle. Trentini
Myrtale - Mlle. Giac‚cle
Athanael - M. Renaud
Nicias - M. Delmores
Palemon - M. Mugnon
A servant - M. Reschinilian
Musical Director - M. Cleofonte Campanini.
“Thaïs” is not a new opera, as operas are accounted new nowadays, and it already takes on the appearance of middle age in reckoning the works of its industrious composer, Jules Massenet. He never lets a year elapse without producing one new opera, and sometimes not without two. “Thaïs” was produced in Paris in 1894; there are a considerable number that follow it in the Massenet list. It was first heard at the Op‚ra, where it was especially intended for the benefit and behoof of Miss Sibyl Sanderson, to whom Massenet was devoting much of his skill in those days. Since then Miss Mary Garden has found in it a congenial means for the exploitation of her own talent in Paris.
The story of “Thaïs,” as it has been outlined in THE TIMES, comes immediately from a romance of Anatole France; but France got it from older sources. This Thaïs is an Alexandrian of the fourth century, and the friend of Alexander the Great and afterward of Ptolemy Soter. The name Thaïs was not an uncommon name for persons of her social circle in the later Greek comedies. There is an ancient story of the conversion of Thaïs of Alexandria by a priest, Paphnuce. The priest is still Paphnuce in Anatole France’s story; but he becomes Athanael in Louis Gallet’s libretto. Athanael, it may be, has a more impressive and religious sound.
The battle between Christianity and paganism presents many a fierce and clangorous struggle in the early Christian centuries; but the struggle that is represented in “Thaïs” - not in the end an unequivocal victory for the newer faith, since its champion himself falls from grace - is not ruffled by much violence or indiscretion. It is a passage between a man and a woman, in which the baser elements of passion are driven out at first by religious influences of exalted purity, only to give place at the end to the unquenchable promptings of human love. Athanael, the ascetic, having rescued Thaïs from evil, finds his interest in her is more than that of a religious confessor, and comes back to her on her deathbed, imploring her to love him, and offering to renounce all his vows for her.
The subject has, on the whole, little dramatic propulsive force. The motive that underly its action are not strenuous. Athanael is no crusader, no militant Christian; scarcely, as it turns out, a muscular one. Thaïs the courtesan glides into the Thaïs, the penitent without any furious grapple between the forces of good and evil in her soul. There is much that is lightly touched with religious mysticism in the opera, but all in the sentimental, sensuous vein that flowed strongest in Gounod. Its crises are psychological. The action is not at any point exciting; the dramatic flow of the opera is, to say the least, tranquil. What stirs the listener’s heart beats are the passages in which Athanael is wrestling with the courtesan’s spirit, and an occasional passage in the subsequent development of the story, but only an occasional one.
For this kind of operatic book it may be imagined that Massenet had a certain predilection. He loves first the sluggish, languorous atmosphere of the Orient, the persistent monotony of its music, and he can find the right note to express it. Such a note runs through “Thaïs,” as it does through some of his other works. We may recall the scene of the visit to Nicias’s house in the first act, the scene of Athanael at the door of Thaïs’s house in the second scene of the second act, the orchestral prelude of the third act, suggesting the oasis in the Egyptian desert. He loves the sombre, tranquil mood of the religious mystics and has expended his restrained and delicate half tints in the orchestra largely through the opera. The same mood accompanies much of Athanael’s somewhat lengthy discourse. Characterization of the personalities of the Christian monk and the courtesan is suggested but none too vividly; and these two are the only ones that stand out as individual in the opera; the others are veiled in uncertainties.
There are few brilliant touches in the music in the house of Thaïs; there are various orchestral interludes; and the “Meditation” that divides the two scenes of the second act was so emphatically applauded that Mr. Campanini repeated it. Athanael is addicted to visions, in which the orchestra plays an important part, he has one in his Cenobite cabin in the first act, another as Thaïs is preparing to leave her earthly tenement in the last act, and an orchestral description of his mad journey to win her back for himself at the end.
But with all these episodes the music, though it shows the skill of an accomplished musician, has the effect of monotony. There is a prevalence of arioso of uncertain melodic contour, and not much decided inspiration. There is much preaching, and there is much sugary sweetness, but little strength; and it is spread thin.
Miss Garden disappointed those who expected beauty and richness of voice and purity of vocal style. Her voice has something of an acid quality, and has no longer the freshness and sensuous charm that doubtless once belonged to it.
In its higher tones, especially, it had last night a certain stridency and unsteadiness. In the rest of its compass, particularly when she sang mezzo forte, it had expressiveness and flexibility. Her intonation was occasionally at fault.
Whether or not she gave a fair account of herself as a singer last evening may be determined from her subsequent appearances. It is as a dramatic artist that she creates the deepest impression. She has beauty of face and figure, and a swift litheness and graceful activity upon the stage, an incessant play of plastic pose, a rich suggestiveness of facial expression. She is an actress of the true vein, and her denotement of the changing phases of emotion through which she passes are clear, incisive, and subtle. There is an unceasing intensity and poignancy in her dramatic style. She made all that there was to be made of her experiences under the spell of Athanael’s influence, and represented the last condition of her soul as a member of the White Ladies a true tragic note. So far as the somewhat limited opportunity of this opera permitted, she disclosed herself as a dramatic artist of real power and individuality.
Mr. Renaud as Athanael gave a new insight into the resources of his art. It is not an interesting or altogether sympathetic character that he has to present, but he makes it one of great nobility and fervor, and one to centre the attention of the listener. The part of Nicias, of comparative unimportance, was splendidly sung by Mr. Dalmorès, and another pretty but inconsequential character, Crobyle, was attractively presented by Mme. Trentini. The chorus of Cenobites in the first act was a strangely uncertain and uncomfortable body, but the chorus of Alexandrians in the subsequent acts was spirited. Mr. Campanini conducted with much energy and discretion, and got what there was in the score properly presented. The scenery was, of course, new, except in the scene before Thaïs’s house, it was somewhat garish.
The audience was enthusiastic when opportunity offered, and gave Miss Garden a warm welcome with many flowers.
Last updated December 29, 2006