Hector Berlioz's
Romeo et Juliette is a rare example of a work whose radicalism has endured from its own day down to ours. There isn't anything quite like it. It is not an opera, nor incidental music to
Shakespeare's play, and the roles of Romeo and Juliet are voiceless, taken by the orchestra, with the vocal parts representing smaller characters (Mercutio, Friar Tuck), a contralto narrator, and the clashing families in a double chorus.
Shakespeare's actual words aren't present;
Berlioz spoke no English, but he grasped the play anyhow when he saw it performed in that language. It is an orchestral drama mapped onto traditional symphonic form, and it is, by
Berlioz's own admission, extremely difficult to perform; he put his orchestra through sectional rehearsals, a novelty at the time, before bringing them together. This is a wonderful performance. When the history of symphonic recordings in the early 21st century is written, the
Berlioz albums of conductor
John Nelson ought to get their own little chapter. The
Orchestre Philharmonique de Strasbourg is not the
Berlin Philharmonic, but both the passion and the detail of
Berlioz's score are here, and one senses that this is a performance the composer would have loved: vivid and imbued with the score's sense of straining at orchestral boundaries. The soloists are quite strong, and the presence of soprano
Joyce DiDonato is a double bonus because the album concludes with the rarely performed
Berlioz cantata
Cleopatre, an unsuccessful
Berlioz entry in the Prix de Rome competition. This work has been sung by both mezzo-sopranos and contraltos, and it is right in
DiDonato's sweet spot; she delivers an exceptionally persuasive reading. A
Berlioz recording to keep and treasure, the album landed on classical best-seller lists in the spring of 2023. ~ James Manheim
