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    ‘Bérénice’ Review: Crushed by Isabelle Huppert’s Star Power

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    Romeo Castellucci’s production of the classic play by Jean Racine is all about the lead performer — and that’s it.The Isabelle Huppert vehicle is a curious subgenre of French theater. At this point, its ingredients have grown predictable: They include a high-profile male director, like Robert Wilson or Ivo van Hove; a prestigious playhouse; and a central role that casts Huppert as a woman teetering on the edge of reason.Huppert, 70, has adhered to this formula in a diverse set of plays in recent years, from Chekhov’s “The Cherry Orchard” to Tennessee Williams’s “The Glass Menagerie,” and, in New York, Florian Zeller’s “The Mother.” She was the focal point in all of these, but this season’s entry, a “Bérénice” directed by Romeo Castellucci at the Théâtre de la Ville in Paris, goes much further.The production does away with any pretense that it is about more than its star. Castellucci and Huppert have equal billing in all publicity material, down to the ticket stubs, and Huppert’s name is literally embroidered into the curtains that frame the stage. Some of the sentences that adorn them are barely legible because of the fabric’s creases, but one of them, a quote from a playbill interview with Castellucci, describes Huppert as “the synecdoche of theater.”Under the circumstances, don’t expect to actually hear much of “Bérénice,” a 1670 tragedy by Jean Racine that is widely considered one of the greatest plays in French. For starters, most of the characters have fallen by the wayside. Huppert is the only performer who speaks, delivering Racine’s alexandrine verse to an empty stage — or, in one scene, to a washing machine.Racine’s play offers a classic choice between love and duty: Titus, who is about to become the emperor of Rome, lives with Bérénice, the queen of Judaea. Custom dictates that a foreigner cannot become empress, however, and Titus renounces their love, leaving Bérénice shattered.Here, a silent, model-like Titus, played by Cheikh Kébé, hardly crosses paths with Bérénice. (Imagine being cast as Huppert’s love interest and only looking her in the eyes during the curtain calls.) Kébé only materializes for a few wordless scenes, along with Giovanni Manzo as Antiochus, a close friend of Titus’s who is also in love with Bérénice.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      A Model for Modern ‘Ring’ Operas Is Unfolding in Brussels

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      Romeo Castellucci’s production of Wagner’s “Ring” at La Monnaie embodies ideas that the Metropolitan Opera should take note of for its own staging.Before Act II of Romeo Castellucci’s new staging of Wagner’s “Die Walküre,” at La Monnaie in Brussels, a note projected onto the curtain reads: “This production respects animals and takes care of their well-being as a priority.”At a recent performance, the message seemed like a follow-up to the first act, a way to explain the presence of a wolflike dog that stalked Sigmund and Sieglinde like an angel of death. But then the animals kept coming: at least 15 birds, then a horse for each of the nine Valkyries at the start of Act III.The use of animals is impressive on its own. Their entrances, though, are coups de théâtre on top of the already impressive stage magic in this high-risk, high-payoff “Walküre” — the latest installment in Castellucci’s “Ring” cycle at La Monnaie. (“Das Rheingold,” which I watched on video, opened last fall; “Siegfried” premieres in September, followed by “Götterdämmerung” in January.)As the Metropolitan Opera in New York shops around for its own “Ring” production later this decade (basically next week in the industry’s long planning cycles), its leaders might take notes from La Monnaie. Castellucci’s staging is a reminder that spectacle can have substance, that a “Ring” can be both abstract and theatrical and, above all, that an audience can handle intelligence — beliefs that the Met lost sight of with its most recent “Ring.”A bird, one of many used in “Die Walküre,” flying over Bretz, left, and Marie-Nicole Lemieux as Fricka.Monika RittershausCastellucci is an auteurist director who makes the extraordinary seem natural, who conjures surprises that baffle and amaze, sometimes self-indulgently, but often brilliantly. Driven more by imagery than plot, he has been best suited to staging oratorios or concert works like Mozart’s Requiem and Mahler’s Second Symphony. When it was announced that he would direct his first “Ring” in Brussels, there were scattered groans among opera fans who wondered whether his non-narrative style could sustain 15 hours of music.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      At the Salzburg Festival, Riches, Retreads and Notes of Caution

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      Classical music’s pre-eminent annual event had more revivals than usual, but also a breathless new staging of Janacek’s “Kat’a Kabanova.”SALZBURG, Austria — The premiere of a new production of Janacek’s opera “Kat’a Kabanova” had just ended at the Salzburg Festival here last week. When the lights went up, Kristina Hammer, the festival’s new president, was wiping tears off her cheeks.It was hard to blame her for crying. “Kat’a” is a breathless tragedy about a small-town woman trapped in a loveless marriage and driven to suicide after having a brief affair. Janacek’s music stamps out her ethereal fantasies with the brutal fist of reality.Barrie Kosky’s staging was the highlight of a week at Salzburg, classical music’s pre-eminent annual event, which runs through Aug. 31. Kosky has pared down this pared-down work even further, to its core of quivering human beings.The only set is rows of uncannily realistic models of people, standing, wearing street clothes, and facing away from us — and away from Kat’a and her pain. (I admit: I was fooled into thinking these were many dozens of very still extras.) Behind them loom the stone walls of the Felsenreitschule theater, whose vast stage has rarely seemed bigger or lonelier than when the soprano Corinne Winters races across it, running with nowhere to go.David Butt Philip and Winters in “Kat’a.” Behind them are uncannily realistic models of people standing in street clothes.Monika RittershausJittery and balletic, ecstatic and anxious, Winters has a child’s volatile presence, and her live-wire voice conveys Kat’a’s wonder and vulnerability. She is the production’s center, but the entire cast is powerful; Winters’s interactions with Jarmila Balazova’s headstrong Varvara make years of friendship between the characters easy to believe. The conductor Jakub Hrusa confidently paces the work as a bitter, intermission-less single shot, even if the Vienna Philharmonic — the festival’s longtime house band — sounded a bit thin and uncertain in what should be heated unanimity.There is a kind of familial resemblance between Kat’a and Suor Angelica, the agonized young nun at the center of one of Puccini’s three one-acts in “Il Trittico,” directed here by Christof Loy, with the Philharmonic conducted with sensual lightness by Franz Welser-Möst. Like Winters, the soprano Asmik Grigorian, who stars in all three acts, is an intense actress with a voice of shivery directness. (This is the vocal taste at the moment in Salzburg; the days in which Anna Netrebko’s plush tone ruled here seem over.)Spare yet detailed, unified by an airy buff-color space with shifting walls, Loy’s staging reorders the triptych, beginning rather than ending with the comic “Gianni Schicchi,” which now precedes the grim adultery tale “Il Tabarro,” with Roman Burdenko as a firm Michele.In “Suor Angelica,” Asmik Grigorian, left, faces off against Karita Mattila in a blazing confrontation of dueling pains.Barbara Gindl/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images“Suor Angelica,” the closer, is the reason to see this “Trittico”; it’s the only one of the three roles in which Grigorian’s lack of tonal warmth plays fully to her advantage. Her face-off against the veteran soprano Karita Mattila — not an alto, as the role of Angelica’s aunt really requires, but properly imperious — is a blazing confrontation of dueling pains. And Grigorian’s final scene, which milks the unexpected poignancy of her simply changing in front of us from her habit into a sleek black cocktail dress and letting down her hair, is just as wrenching.A woman is also on the verge of a breakdown, but far more amusingly, in Rossini’s “The Barber of Seville.” Now that the star mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli runs the springtime Whitsun Festival here, every summer includes a production vehicle for her. But there were snickers when it was announced that Bartoli, at 56, planned to play Rosina, usually sung at the start of careers. (Bartoli made her professional stage debut in the role, 35 years ago.)But her voice — and her rapid-fire coloratura — are remarkably well preserved, and her enthusiasm is irresistible. Directed by Rolando Villazón, the show is a love letter to the movies, like “The Purple Rose of Cairo,” which has characters walking on and off screen. Here it’s the silent era that comes to life, with Bartoli as a diva whose experience is winked at in a rundown of her pictures, from Joan of Arc to pirates, projected during the overture. But the concept is not held to so stringently that it detracts from the adorably madcap fun.Cecilia Bartoli, right, as Rosina in “The Barber of Seville,” a role usually sung at the start of careers.Monika RittershausThe ensemble Les Musiciens du Prince-Monaco plays with silky spirit for Gianluca Capuano, who leads a cast as expertly easygoing as Bartoli — including Alessandro Corbelli, Nicola Alaimo and, as a Nosferatu-esque Basilio, Ildebrando D’Arcangelo. And the existence of a rarely performed mezzo version of the climactic aria “Cessa di più resistere” lets Bartoli trade off verses with the agile young tenor Edgardo Rocha.The other opera in the relatively intimate Haus für Mozart this summer also takes a hint from the movies: Mozart’s “The Magic Flute,” framed by the director Lydia Steier like “The Princess Bride,” with a grandfather telling the story to a young child — here, three boys. As when this staging was new, in 2018, this is a clever way of super-compressing the work’s extensive spoken dialogue.Four years ago, the production sprawled in the festival’s largest theater; now it’s been smushed into its smallest. Steier has wisely jettisoned a whole strand of steampunk circus imagery and concentrated more on the plot as a parable of the start of World War I, with “Little Nemo” touches. It’s subtle work as the boys gradually become participants in the action, not merely observers. The Philharmonic played under Joana Mallwitz with an ideal mixture of crispness and roundedness.Not every Salzburg Festival includes a revival of a past show; this year there are two. In 2017, the Iranian-born photographer and video artist Shirin Neshat’s staging of Verdi’s “Aida” was that summer’s most eagerly awaited offering, a rare full production conducted by the Verdian giant Riccardo Muti, and Netrebko’s debut in the title role.Rather in the background was Neshat, her first time doing opera — and a pristine, bland effort. Now, with less starry collaborators, her work has come to the fore, still decorous but deeper. To poetic effect, some of her blurry, languid early videos of slow-moving crowds on Middle Eastern streets and coasts have been added; her photographs also now play a part, and some dancers are covered in Arabic calligraphy, a trademark of her art.Directed by Rolando Villazón, “The Barber of Seville” is a love letter to the movies.Monika RittershausThere are some good ideas, like the ominous, violent renderings of the ballet in Amneris’s chamber and the Triumphal Scene. Also some bad ones: Amonasro, Aida’s father, here seems to be a specter, already dead, at the start of Act III, which makes the plot incomprehensible. Alain Altinoglu’s conducting of the Philharmonic is sensibly paced but, compared to the exquisite colors and textures Muti elicited, otherwise ordinary. (The nocturnal beginning of the Nile Scene is one of many passages less evocative this year than in 2017.)Elena Stikhina’s soft-grained Aida and Ève-Maud Hubeaux’s dignified Amneris were impressive, but Piotr Beczala, a shining Radamès, was the only really glamorous singer. And glamour is, like it or not, part and parcel of the ideal Salzburg experience: an extravagance of imagination and achievement that surpasses what you can get at the Met or the Vienna State Opera.There was grumbling among Salzburg watchers about the two revivals and the not-quite-new “Barber,” which premiered in June. An almost $70 million budget for just three truly new stagings?This was clearly a note of caution as the pandemic wears on. “I’m convinced it is the right thing artistically, and from the economic side,” Markus Hinterhäuser, the festival’s artistic director, said when the season was announced last year.But the economic part seems truer than the artistic. “Flute” and “Aida” were improved — the Mozart was tighter, the Verdi more nuanced. The question is whether opera’s most famous and rich summer festival needed repeats of two repertory standards — works that can be seen all over the world during the regular season — in performances that, while solid, weren’t much more distinguished than what you’d get in any major house.It is a telling bit of weakness as Salzburg faces renewed competition, especially from the growing Aix-en-Provence Festival in France — and even from the likes of Santa Fe Opera, which this year presented “Tristan und Isolde,” its first Wagner in decades, and a world premiere (“M. Butterfly”). For all its resources, Salzburg has of late abandoned major commissions in favor of bringing back underappreciated modern works.Aix and Salzburg went head-to-head this summer, both offering productions by the in-demand auteur Romeo Castellucci. It was a showdown that Salzburg soundly lost. Aix got a huge, haunting staging of Mahler’s Second Symphony as the exhumation of a mass grave. Here in Austria, though, as Joshua Barone wrote in The Times, Castellucci’s double bill of Bartok’s “Bluebeard’s Castle” and Orff’s “De Temporum Fine Comoedia” was a grim, murky slog, played sludgily by the Gustav Mahler Youth Orchestra under Teodor Currentzis.But even an expanding Aix lacks the scope of Salzburg’s concert schedule, which begins with a long Ouverture Spirituelle mini-festival and offers an enviable, overlapping array of often superb orchestral programs and recitals.Though less widely publicized, the weekend Mozart Matinees featuring the Mozarteum Orchestra often present the most joyful, vibrant playing of the festival. Marco BorelliThis year the concerts didn’t all satisfy. The pianist Grigory Sokolov’s pillowy touch was alluring in Beethoven’s “Eroica” Variations and Brahms’s Op. 117 pieces, but smoothed Schumann’s “Kreisleriana” into slumber. The tenor Jonas Kaufmann’s voice rarely came alive in a recital whose halves were dully drawn from his two most recent albums.But it was touching to see the superstar pianist Lang Lang show his respect for Daniel Barenboim by joining that conductor and the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra for Manuel de Falla’s “Nights in the Gardens of Spain,” not at all a virtuoso showpiece. And while the Vienna Philharmonic under Andris Nelsons made a muddle of Bartok’s Piano Concerto No. 2 with Yefim Bronfman, the orchestra sounded sumptuously ripe in Mahler’s Fifth Symphony.More memorable was a less exalted, less widely publicized concert: one of the festival’s 11 a.m. weekend Mozart Matinees featuring the Mozarteum Orchestra. These mornings often have the most joyful, vibrant playing of the festival, and last week’s program was no exception, led with verve by Adam Fischer.The Mozart Matinees are well attended and happily received. But they still feel like a Salzburg secret. More

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      Review: Salzburg Festival Opens With Operatic Apocalypses

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      Romeo Castellucci directs, and Teodor Currentzis conducts, an unusual double bill of a Bartok classic and an Orff rarity at the Salzburg Festival.SALZBURG, Austria — The public has spoken.Any fears the Salzburg Festival had over whether the conductor Teodor Currentzis’ presence there would attract boos or disruptive protests were dispelled on Tuesday. Since the invasion of Ukraine began, he has attracted controversy over his and his ensemble MusicAeterna’s Russian state support, as well as their silence on the war and ties to associates of that country’s president, Vladimir V. Putin. But at the opening of a new double bill led by Currentzis and featuring members of the MusicAeterna choir, the audience responded only with applause.Whether the evening — a pretentious, overlong yet occasionally illuminating marriage of Bela Bartok’s “Bluebeard’s Castle” and the Carl Orff rarity “De Temporum Fine Comoedia,” directed by Romeo Castellucci at the expansive Felsenreitschule — could have been divisive on artistic grounds is one thing. Politically, however, it was extremely complicated, worthy of neither cheers nor boos but rather more of a “hmm.”The festival itself was under scrutiny for standing by Currentzis. Unlike, say, the Metropolitan Opera in New York, which has taken a hard line on Russian artists with links to Putin, such as Valery Gergiev and Anna Netrebko, Salzburg has kept a close eye on the European Union’s sanctions list and said in a statement, “We see no foundation for artistic or economic collaboration with institutions or individuals who identify with this war, its instigators or their goals.”Do Currentzis and MusicAeterna fall into that category? Based in St. Petersburg, they are primarily sponsored by VTB Bank, a Russian state institution that was sanctioned this year, and some prominent Russian officials sit on the board of the ensemble’s foundation. As a collective, it doesn’t have any public stance on the war, though organizations and critics have mostly demanded one from the safety of their Western perches.At the very least, Currentzis seems to have fallen into careerist behavior. Since 2004, he has been building MusicAeterna toward the international standing it enjoys, and as the ensemble went freelance in recent years, it found Russian funding that has since been revealed as untenable. To survive in the West without scandal, it needs a new home, and new sponsors. And the longer this war goes on, the more silence will become as impossible as the group’s current position.Teodor Currentzis leading a rehearsal with the Gustav Mahler Youth Orchestra, the pit ensemble for the production.Alexandra MuravyevaIn an interview on Monday, Markus Hinterhäuser, the Salzburg Festival’s artistic director, said that if people are looking for a statement from Currentzis, “the signs are there.” His work has subtly condemned Russian state beliefs, as well as the country’s troubled 20th-century history; and in 2017 he was outspoken about the arrest of the director Kirill Serebrennikov, which was widely seen as punishment for his theater that was critical of life under Putin.The examples could go on in either direction. But outwardly, Currentzis remains a mystery. If his previous projects have offered signs of his beliefs, there were few if any political revelations in the double bill on Tuesday. All that was left to judge was the art-making itself.And that was something of a sequel to Currentzis’ collaboration with Castellucci last year: a staging of Mozart’s “Don Giovanni” here that stretched the score an hour beyond its typical running time, with recitative delivered at the speed of snow melting in the nearby Alps. I remember spending four hours inside the Grosses Festspielhaus trying to understand why an interpretation like this was necessary; I still don’t have an answer.Both men are strong-willed, provocative auteurs. Separately, they have been capable of awe-inspiring work; together, they seem to mutually enable an exasperating self-indulgence. Their Bartok and Orff, then, made for an uneven night, as double bills can be — a “Bluebeard” of misguided tempos and dynamics but committed performances and a “Comoedia,” for all the work’s flaws, more persuasively executed than on Herbert von Karajan’s original recording, in a staging characteristically monumental yet somewhat pompous.Once again, the evening was longer than it needed to be. Each score contains about an hour of music; with an intermission, the double bill ran a little over three and a half hours, in part because of tempo choices, but mostly because the scenes in the Orff were padded with new, atmospheric transitional passages written by Currentzis. This prolonged a piece that few find enjoyable to begin with, and that Castellucci didn’t have much to say about.Members of the MusicAeterna choir and the Bachchor Salzburg in Carl Orff’s “De Temporum Fine Comoedia.”Monika RittershausHis biggest interpretive statement was in bridging the two works, which wouldn’t appear to share much beyond different scales of apocalyptic events. In “Bluebeard,” it’s intimate — the slow-burning drama of a wife unveiling her new husband’s pained world, to the destruction of them both. And in the “Comeodia,” which premiered at Salzburg in 1973, it’s cosmic, with an impersonal, aggressively Christian vision for the end of time.Castellucci has the spoken prologue of “Bluebeard,” a cameo role called the Bard, given with a declamatory grandeur that later matches the musicalized speech of the “Comoedia.” (The Bard is also played by Christian Reiner, who returns at the end of the Orff as Lucifer.) And he threads the action of the first opera with the second: Bluebeard and his wife Judith, Castellucci suggests, are here an established couple in grief over the loss of their child, and in a dreamy, dark void of just water and fire. Peace comes for them at the end of the “Comoedia,” where they return in an act of redemption that renders Judith as a sort of Eve bringing about universal salvation.Elsewhere, visual motifs — masks, costumes and even stains — recur throughout both works, which are otherwise aesthetically distinct. The trouble is that these Easter eggs, along with the more explicit gestures, and stylized movement choreographed by Cindy Van Acker, exist more to justify the double bill than elevate the meaning, and, crucially, the emotional impact of either work. Both the Bartok and the Orff come out feeling less operatic for it.Ausrine Stundyte brought a compelling, fierce humanity to her Judith.Monika RittershausNot that emotion was absent from the performance. As Judith, the soprano Ausrine Stundyte made a bizarre treatment of the character — constantly on the verge of self-immolation — at least compelling, with a fierce humanity largely absent in the staging. (Her counterpart, the bass Mika Kares, was a resonant but wooden Bluebeard, a passive presence where he should have outdone her unraveling.) The Gustav Mahler Youth Orchestra played with organic unpredictability yet skilled precision, and brought animalistic intensity to the Orff.Where they took a wrong step, they were following Currentzis’ baton, which was less reliable than when he and the orchestra performed a moving, sweeping account of Shostakovich’s “Babi Yar” Symphony during the festival’s Ouverture Spirituelle last week. His reading of “Bluebeard,” an opera of accumulative power, was one of luxuriant tempos and high emotional temperature with nowhere to go but occasional crests that drowned out the singers, despite the hair-raising power of Stundyte’s voice.Currentzis’ take on the Orff, though — realized by the orchestra with a game combination of the MusicAeterna choir, the Bachchor Salzburg and the Salzburger Festspiele und Theater Kinderchor — was a triumph that reveled in the primitive, ritualistic nature of the work and rose to rattling clashes that you could feel deep within your ears.In an evening of looking for signs in Currentzis’ work, it was difficult to miss that his podium sat empty during the final, prerecorded moments of the “Comoedia” score. So he was nowhere to be seen as a single sentence spread over supertitle screens above the stage: Pater, peccavi. Father, I have sinned.Bluebeard’s Castle and De Temporum Fine ComoediaThrough Aug. 20 at the Felsenreitschule, Salzburg, Austria; salzburgerfestspiele.at. More

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      At the Opera, Humans Bear Witness to Atrocity, or Ignore It

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      Whether in works by Mahler, Mozart or Rossini, directors at the Aix-en-Provence Festival in France evoke mass death and refugee crises.AIX-EN-PROVENCE, France — The bodies kept coming up.First one. Then another. Then a dozen. Then a hundred. After an hour of “Resurrection,” the opening night production at the Aix-en-Provence Festival, 160 decomposing corpses lay in neat, sickening rows on a stage covered in dark earth.The exhumation of a shallow mass grave is a grimly familiar sight: Sudan, Srebrenica, Veracruz, Rwanda, so many others. In March, Bucha, Ukraine, added to that litany a scene so eerily reminiscent of the one being staged here that the festival sent out an email assuring audiences that the director, Romeo Castellucci, had conceived the production a year before the war broke out.Three years ago at the Aix Festival, Castellucci presented “Requiem,” a staging of Mozart’s final work. In a series of enigmatic episodes, he set to the mournful, churning music an evocation of civilization’s full span, from birth — with plangent child singers — to vibrant, folk-dancing life, and shadowy implosion amid battles and nature’s destruction.His new piece, which premiered on Monday, is a pendant to “Requiem,” but Castellucci has done something quite different with Mahler’s 90-minute Second Symphony, known as the “Resurrection.” Rather than short episodes, here there is a single, almost unremitting action: We watch a United Nations team silently excavate a site where a catastrophe has taken place.This spectacle risks tastelessness. But “Resurrection” dwells on these anonymous professionals and their experienced, repetitive choreography so endlessly and matter-of-factly — in naturalistic, unhurried real time — that it transcends a sense of aesthetic or moral pornography. Instead, the experience of watching it evokes that of watching the news or reading the front pages: waves of sympathy and horror that yield to powerlessness and numbness.Esa-Pekka Salonen led the Orchestre de Paris in the Mahler symphony.Monika RittershausEven the Mahler looks on this unbearable pain with a kind of detachment. The stage action is directly spurred by the sprawling symphony only a few times, so the moods don’t match neatly; this isn’t a soundtrack, thankfully. For all the intensity of the imagery, there is rarely a sense of emotional manipulation.“Resurrection” weakens when it does feel manipulative, moving from the reality of vans and body bags toward more sentimental symbolism: a white horse galloping onstage at the start, innocence soon to be tarnished; a U.N. worker who refuses to stop digging; a final, clichéd benediction of rain.But the Orchestre de Paris’s performance of the score, under Esa-Pekka Salonen, was properly savage, even raw — though also relished, unrushed. This was deliberate, spaciously paced Mahler, lilting but never too sweet in its ländler second movement, its third-movement danse macabre as haunting as ever.Golda Schultz sang the soprano solos with quiet purity, but she barely registered next to the mezzo-soprano Marianne Crebassa’s consoling but commanding “Urlicht,” focused but rich. The bodies driven away, the stage finally emptied, the symphony’s stirring, stentorian choral finale was a promise of rebirth directed at a field of upturned dirt.The site of the performance had its own symbolic charge. During its brief initial existence in the 1990s, the Stadium de Vitrolles, a huge, gritty black concrete box on a hilltop in a suburb of Aix, hosted athletic and entertainment events, as well as an attempted far-right rally concert. It has been abandoned for over two decades; the graffiti on the walls and its industrial scale give it the impression of Berlin squatting in sunny Provence. This production is a ruin’s resurrection, too.The stadium shares a cavernous mutability with the Park Avenue Armory, where Pierre Audi, the Aix Festival’s director, is the artistic leader. You get the sense that in spaces like this, with productions that couldn’t happen anywhere else, Audi is most in his element as a programmer. The rest of the festival is taking place at more traditional theaters, and while the musical values are generally superb, it can all hardly help but feel blander, less of a special occasion than “Resurrection.”The soprano Elsa Dreisig as Salome was the most eyebrow-raising casting at the festival this year.Bernd UhligAt the Grand Théâtre de Provence, Andrea Breth has done her best to stage Strauss’s “Salome” without its traditional luridness. The Dance of the Seven Veils is a cool and collected promenade of body doubles, without a hint of nudity. Even the decapitated head of John the Baptist, climactically kissed by the title character, goes unseen inside a metal bucket.The action tends sleepily glacial: The dimly lit set suggests an ice floe, which the characters cross as if trapped in a grayscale dream. The most eyebrow-raising casting at Aix this year was the soprano Elsa Dreisig as Salome, a role usually taken by those who also sing Wagnerian heroines. Dreisig, just into her 30s, is better known for far lighter roles like Mozart’s Pamina and Zerlina.But, aided by Ingo Metzmacher’s delicate, languid, sometimes muted conducting of the Orchestre de Paris, she acquitted herself admirably on Tuesday, singing with sweetness and, yes, a girlishness that you rarely hear from those who play this teenage princess.Michael Spyres, left, and Sabine Devieilhe in Satoshi Miyagi’s staging of Mozart’s “Idomeneo.”Jean-Louis FernandezThus far — the festival runs through July 23 and features seven full productions, as well as a crowded concert program — Mozart’s “Idomeneo” has been the best played, with Raphaël Pichon conducting his ensemble, Pygmalion, with longing sensitivity on Wednesday. At the outdoor Théâtre de l’Archevêché, Satoshi Miyagi’s production has an air of ritual; the main characters stand in place atop plinths that slide gently around the stage. The lighting on occasion suddenly shifts to show the huddled masses working endlessly to keep this royal family in motion.The soprano Sabine Devieilhe sang with soaring grace as Ilia; the mezzo-soprano Anna Bonitatibus was a somber, secure Idamante; and the soprano Nicole Chevalier reveled in Elettra’s wide-eyed despair. But Michael Spyres, his tenor usually trumpeting, sounded uneasy in the title role, his phrasing abrupt and the top of his voice strained.Kayo Takahashi Deschene’s costumes are a blend of ancient Greece and Japanese Kabuki; Neptune’s wrath is here a stylized version of the nuclear bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Like in “Resurrection,” real-life tragedies are ambiguously but potently evoked — as they are, too, in Tobias Kratzer’s production of Rossini’s “Moïse et Pharaon.”The Aix-like set of Tobias Kratzer’s staging of Rossini’s “Moïse et Pharaon” suggests the audience’s ties to the opera’s themes.Monika RittershausKratzer, who has swiftly become one of Europe’s most in-demand opera directors, makes the opera’s enslaved Hebrews into contemporary refugees, the Egyptians into corporate types in smart suits. Only Moïse occupies a timeless sphere — with a hint of camp — in Cecil B. DeMillian biblical robes.Leading the orchestra of the Opéra de Lyon at the Archevêché on Thursday, Michele Mariotti kept the pulse vital even in the score’s longest-arching lines and most gradually building ensembles. And Kratzer is gifted at eliciting forceful yet restrained performances, particularly in tense but unexaggerated duets. The production’s video elements — digital static, projections of social media accounts, the Egyptian army’s unconvincing drowning — merely distracted from this human element. And the rare opportunity to hear the opera’s full ballet music was marred by forgettable, seething choreography.As Moïse, the veteran Rossini bass Michele Pertusi was authoritative in declamation, a bit less so in long-phrased prayer. The rising soprano Jeanine de Bique’s voice is fascinatingly wiry: sometimes shaded, sometimes pristine, always urgent. The mezzo-soprano Vasilisa Berzhanskaya sang with even strength as the pharaoh’s wife, Sinaïde.This “Moïse” ends with the Hebrews scattered among the audience for the final hymn of thanks for their deliverance. Onstage, bourgeoisie lounge at the beach, blissfully ignorant that they are tanning by the same sea where refugees have cast out in rafts, to live or die.Here, as throughout the evening, the back wall of the stage is one of Aix’s antique stone facades, with its idyllic Baroque fountain. It’s we in the audience on that beach, Kratzer is saying.But, like Castellucci in “Resurrection,” Kratzer does not seem interested in angry indictments, or pat accusations of complicity. His staging is, more subtly and powerfully, a sad, unsettling suggestion of our unmalicious but all-too-willing forgetfulness. More