Nicolas Joel dreamed of it, Alexander Neef did it: here is
Oedipus at last
by Georges Enesco at the Paris Opera. Created in 1936 at the Palais Garnier, the unclassifiable masterpiece of the most French of Romanian composers has just entered the repertoire of the Opéra Bastille and obtained a comforting public success. Because the work is not easy to defend. Neither entirely French, nor frankly Balkan, his music creates bewitching climates by its unclassifiable harmonies, which move away from any classical scheme without appearing dissonant. Enesco put all his soul into it, sometimes awkwardly, but one cannot help but be touched by this opera which recreates the journey of Oedipus, from Corinth to Colone. Unfortunately, the dramatic tension is weak there, Achilles heel of so many musicians who dreamed of opera but did not have a sense of the theater.
See also
The incredible rebirth of the Athens Opera House
For his second attempt on a lyrical stage, the great theater director Wajdi Mouawad, for whom Greek tragedy has no secrets,
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