Aix-en-Provence.(International)(La Traviata)(The Love for Three Oranges)(Hercules)(Hanjo)(Opera Review)

Aix-en-Provence is back on track again. Last year, most of the French summer festivals had to be canceled because of the intermittents--part--time actors and stage technicians who protested against a tightening of the conditions to get unemployment benefits. When rioters accompanied the premiere of La Traviata by chanting, banging pots and setting off fireworks, director Stephane Lissner threw in the towel: "lf you need police protection, there is no point in carrying on." The conflict may not be definitely settled, but a cease-fire has been reached, and even the Communist union that had been behind the riots was on its best behavior. Nobody wanted a repeat performance of last year's disarray and collapse. The Minister of Culture discreetly covered the festival's debts.

So, Verdi's grande horizontale was back this season without extraneous background noise. Was it worth the wait? It depends on whether one deems the authors (Alexandre Dumas and Francesco Maria Have) or the director (Peter Mussbach) the higher authority. The Aix Traviata was a classic example of what the Germans proudly call Regietheater, which means that the author counts for nothing and the director for everything. Instead of sumptuous Parisian parlors and elegant period costumes, Mussbach treated us to wet asphalt, a dark tunnel, a huge windshield wiper and a sinister crowd in black. Only the heroine was dressed in white, and she wore a blond wig. She is a victim, we were given to understand, like the people's princess Diana, who loved life but perished in a tunnel. It was no help that Mireille Delunsch, a competent singer in a different field, was hopelessly overtaxed by the technical demands of the title role. Rolando Villazon, on the other hand, left nothing to be desired. He was a wonderfully impassioned Alfredo. Zeljko Lucic was a sturdy, none-too-subtle Germont senior. The Mahler Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Daniel Harding, sounded refined but somewhat undernourished.

The festival opened in the Grand-Saint-Jean, a charming open-air theater outside of Aix, with The Love for Three Oranges, Prokofiev's whimsical opera buffa based on a fairytale by Carlo Gozzi, who also inspired Puccini's Turandot. When it was first performed, in Chicago in 1921, it was sung in French. But the French opted for the Russian version and imported the enormous cast wholesale from St. Petersburg. All the singers were students at the Mariinsky Academy. Russia, as we know, is a vast land with an impressive reserve of highly gifted talents, but somehow none of those seems to have made it into the Academy. The sensation of the evening was not the singing but twenty-seven-year-old Tugan Sokhiev, who conducted the Mahler Chamber Orchestra with confidence and zest. He is no longer an unknown quantity: last year, Welsh National Opera named him music director. Director Philippe Calvario tried his best to enliven the somewhat dated fun, with moderate success.

The highlight of the festival was Handel's Hercules. The composer called it an oratorio, because his last operas had been resounding flops. In fact, it is an English opera in all but name. It was not appreciated in Handel's days and is still neglected in ours. But it is a masterpiece. The heroes may ...