By Eli Jacobson

Orpheus was called by the poet Pindar “the father of songs.” Certainly in the world of opera his legend has fathered many sung dramas starting with Claudio Monteverdi’s “L’Orfeo.” For his first season as the new general and artistic director of the Glimmerglass Festival in upstate Cooperstown, Michael MacLeod has chosen five operas that deal with the myth of Orpheus ranging from Monteverdi’s seminal work from 1607 to Philip Glass’ 1993 setting of Jean Cocteau’s 1949 cinematic version of the legend.

This month, Gluck’s “Orphée et Eurydice” was presented in a new critical edition of Hector Berlioz’s 1859 revision designed for the great contralto Pauline Viardot-Garcia. Oddly, this version for female contralto was chosen as a vehicle for a male countertenor, or male soprano in this case, the supremely gifted Michael Maniaci. Whether this casting was the best one for the piece or for the singer is open to debate. What is undeniable is the success of the performance as a whole and the affecting sensibilities, musical and dramatic, of the star protagonist.

Lillian Groag’s sensitive and penetrating production, with settings by John Conklin, is anchored in the 18th century but with a backward look to Greco-Roman antiquity. The main unit set is a ruined classical marble façade with a central arch in what seems to be Italy. Similar to the productions of the late Jean-Pierre Ponnelle, there is a mixture of classical and baroque motifs all within a restricted palette — here soft earth tones and pastels. The costumes are all simple period clothes stylishly designed by Constance Hoffmann.

Orpheus and Euridice are clearly rustic Italians living in a farming community that still worships pagan deities The overture is staged as a harvest dance during which we see Euridice bitten by a snake and fall dead. The figure of L’Amour, here a serene classical goddess in toga and laurel wreath, appears and sends Orpheus on his journey through the underworld to reclaim his beloved, arming him with a golden lyre, symbol of poetry and music.

The underworld and its furies are depicted as a madhouse in the manner of Peter Brook’s “Marat/Sade.” This world of madness is contrasted with the world of reason represented by the Elysian Fields, here an 18th century salon peopled not by aristocrats but by spirits of artists, intellectuals, and scientists as well as musicians, notably the Happy Shade of soprano Caitlyn Lynch.

The final choral tableau is a communal celebration with the story of Orpheus performed as a dumb show. But the story in the dumb show ends tragically with Eurydice not being revived by deus ex machina. The curtain falls with only the lyre remaining center stage — life and death have become myth and art subject to interpretation and reinterpretation.

Michael Maniaci was a youthfully vulnerable protagonist visibly wounded by grief and loss. His male soprano voice has a wide range of colors from high keening tones to lush legato phrases to florid passagework in his Act I rondo. Unfortunately, too often the low contralto range designed for Viardot took Maniaci into areas of his voice where focus and power weakened. However, Maniaci’s artistic commitment, emotional honesty, and elegant delivery of text put aside any minor vocal weaknesses.

Coloratura soprano Amanda Pabyan limned the lyrical role of Eurydice with rich, penetrating tone and firm dramatic intention. Glimmerglass Young Artist Brenda Rae sang a dignified and elegant “L’Amour” with creamy tone and dramatic authority. Young American conductor Julian Wachner conducted with a firm grip on dramatic pacing and musical structure despite some imprecision in the string section.

Offenbach’s wicked satire of bourgeois 19th century French mores disguised as classical parody is presented in a new English version by Kelley Rourke, a resident dramaturg. French operetta in English is often not a good idea since the musical and phonetic rhythms are delicately intertwined and often an overlay of broad American musical comedy style stifles the Gallic wit and light touch.

Here, despite some clever direction by Eric Einhorn and colorful, daffily off-kilter sets by Allen Moyer, the effect was often flat-footed and obvious. This was compounded by using relatively inexperienced singers largely drawn from recent alumni of the resident Young Artist program. The singing was variable — promising in a few cases such as Joélle Harvey’s sparky Cupid — and the acting plagued by lumbering over-emphasis particularly in the spoken dialogue which needed more timing and speed.

The difference was shown up by the smooth, unforced professionalism of such veterans as mezzo-soprano Joyce Castle in full Agnes Moorehead-as-Endora mode as Public Opinion and Jake Gardner as a droll Jupiter. Tenor Marc Heller, late of Caffé Taci and now a regular in the small international houses, also displayed vocal authority and dramatic panache as Pluto/Aristeus.
The wacky, eclectic look of the production with its over-saturated colors, the goofy stage business, and louche contemporary visual references all point in the right direction. But the singing and acting lacked polish and consistent style, so an enlivening comic spark failed to ignite. Part of the problem is Offenbach who, unlike Gluck, takes too long to take us to the Underworld where musically and dramatically things get livelier and funnier.

Another problem is a lack of dancing. The dazzling can-can in Act II was done as practically a solo act where clearly a stageful of acrobatic dancers is called for. In the pit, the conducting of Jean-Marie Zeitouni had some swing and sparkle and the orchestra seemed energized.