Si J'Etais Roi (If I Were King) Adolphe Adam (18031856) Premiere: Theatre Lyrique, Paris, 1852 Conductor David Agler; director Renaud Doucet; set designer Andre Barbe; costume designer Huguette BarbetBlanchard; lighting design Rupert Murray Sung in French
Adolphe Adam's approach to the writing of opera was blissfully simple. "My only ambition," he declared, "is to write music that is transparent, easy to understand and amusing to the public. Of course, I can write only light music, but I am content to do what I can." He proceeded to do exactly that, turning out about 70 operas and a large number of ballets, many of which were hugely popular, both in France and around Europe. Today he is best remembered for his ballet score, Giselle, and the comic opera, Le Postillon de Longjumeau, with its famous - or infamous - high "D's" for tenor. The overture to Si J'Etais Roi has made it on to many orchestral compilation discs and the opera itself has been praised as one of Adam's most tuneful and charming. The story, adapted from Arabian Nights, concerns a young fish erman, Zephoris, who saves a beautiful unknown girl from drowning. Naturally, she is revealed to be a princess, called Nemea and he dreams of becoming a king in order to marry her. His wish is granted by the real king, but just for a day - which, happily, turns out to be plenty of time for Zephoris to woo and win the lady, despite the machinations of the evil Prince Kadoor, who has designs on her himself.
`It's a big choux a la creme - a cream cake," says Renaud Doucet, director of Si J'Etais Roi. "Well, that's nice as a cream cake. But if we try to make a muffin out of it . . ." He shrugs an immaculately Gallic shrug. It's a fair bet that anybody seeking political comment or a statement about the meaning of life from this Wexford production is doomed to disappointment. Doucet, a former dancer and ballet master, is taking Adam's comic confection lightly - which doesn't, of course, mean he isn't taking it seriously.
In fact, he spent a year researching the piece and conducted an archaeological dig at the Paris Opera which revealed a treasure-trove of documents: details of original sets, costumes, staging, the entire choreography of the ballet, reviews, the lot. "We could reconstruct it if we wanted to but, you know, 1852 to 2000 - things have changed a lot, thank God. We don't want to put on a museum piece."
In its day, the opera was part of an orientalist fad which began with the visit of a troupe of Indian dancers to Paris in 1847 and inspired operas such as Lakme and The Pearl Fishers. "The text is excellent and the music is excellent," says Doucet. "Pieces of gold everywhere, little nuggets. So I'm working with the designers to make things very simple and very colourful and absolutely charming. Because there's no point in putting this into a black box - it's not a big conceptual drama.
"It's funny, but it's also very sad in places and anyhow, with comedy, you have to balance everything; if you're funny all the time, nothing is funny. It's very delicate. It's like old French lace. You have to be very careful of what you do. But we have a very good cast - very good dancers, also. There was a debate about whether we keep the ballet or not, but how do you do Adam, the composer of Giselle, without the ballet? How do you do French opera without the ballet, anyway? Opera in France was considered serious only if it had a ballet."
Doucet, who has been working with Montreal Opera in Canada for a number of years, says he learned about production values from the inside out, when he signed on as a student director and worked with a touring company. "On tour you do everything - put up the set, drive the truck, do the lighting. Which is quite different from being a principal dancer and choreographer. I learned what is a light and how you put it on and how you focus it. Now when I speak with a lighting designer, we speak the same language. He is the expert, but at least we can have an exchange."
Ultimately, he is a firm believer in sticking with the essence of an opera. "My job is to be at the service of the composer and of the score. I didn't create anything. I'm the lucky one - I get a fabulous piece of art and my job is to respect it as much as I can. Of course I must make choices, and as soon as I make choices I'm responsible for those. But there are some choices . . . I mean, what's the point of doing Manon in a psychiatric hospital? None. Above all, I'm working for the audience. You know, it's not mental torture this opera, not at all. If people leave the theatre and they are happy and they give a big smile, I think we will have succeeded."
