Written within ten years of each other, these two one-act operas by Maurice Ravel and Giacomo Puccini provide a brilliant account of the patchwork of musical aesthetics prevailing at the beginning of the 20^th century and represent two very personal and accomplished re-appropriations of Italian opera buffa. L’Heure espagnole is Ravel’s first completed opera and Gianni Schicchi is Puccini’s last: he died before completing Turandot. A youthful work and something of a manifesto for the French composer, who was only thirty-two when he undertook it; a mature work for the Italian master, who was sixty years of age at the first performance in 1918.

L’Heure espagnole was conceived as a musical offering by Ravel to his father, whose days, in 1907, were evidently numbered. But the project was delayed and death intervened ineluctably the following year. After numerous setbacks, the work was finally performed in 1911 at the Opéra Comique. For the libretto of his “musical comedy”, Ravel chose a vaudeville play by Franc-Nohain which had been a triumph at the Théâtre de l’Odéon in 1904. For personal reasons first of all: the title brings together from the outset the backgrounds of his parents: that of a Swiss engineer fascinated by all types of mechanisms, and that of a girl from the Basque country brought up in Madrid. And then for aesthetic reasons: Franc-Nohain was at that time a member of the non-conformist circle known as Les Amorphes, alongside Jules Renard et Alfred Jarry. When he began work on the composition, Ravel was a member of the “Société des Apaches”, which included Erik Satie, Jean Cocteau, André Gide, Paul Valéry, Igor Stravinsky and Manuel de Falla; they also intended to rejuvenate the French artistic scene, notably by combatting the excesses of symbolism.

The opening bars of L’Heure espagnole sound therefore like a prosaic manifesto: metronomes represent the ticking of the clocks in Torquemada’s workshop. The orchestra has been supplemented with unusual instruments – a celeste, bells, a whip and, in the bottom register, a sarrusophone, similar to a contrabassoon. An exploration of timbres and ways of playing is also perceptible: the “brassy” mode of the horn imitating “an automat playing the trumpet”; the crystalline sounds of the celeste evoking the magic of the clock mechanisms and trombone glissandi heralding the farce in the offing.

Gianni Schicchi, first performed seven years after L’Heure espagnole, seems considerably less innovative by comparison. It is, however, a work apart within Puccini’s output. This short opera is in fact the last part of a tryptich that includes the sombre, verismo Il Tabarro and the severe Suor Angelica. Then, in the summer of 1917, Puccini wrote the following to Forzano, his librettist, “I feel the need to amuse myself”, as if, like Giuseppe Verdi, his model, he felt an overwhelming urge to try his hand at comedy. Of verismo, from which he completely frees himself here, he retains only the one-act structure, some borrowings from popular music and an unmitigated exposure of human cynicism. Without renouncing the use of bel canto, that most Italian of arts, of which the aria “O mio babbino caro” remains one of the most accomplished examples, Puccini takes particular care with the orchestration, rendering the music not so much an illustrative element but rather a means of supporting the creative freedom of the performers.

What remains of the opera buffa tradition that these two works claim to belong to? First of all, the choice of hero – modest and undervalued – the muleteer in Ravel and an upstart in Puccini: heroes with whom, in the closing bars, the audience is invited to side. Secondly, the use of musical elements borrowed from popular repertoire: Spanish dances in Ravel, Tuscan melodies for Puccini. But the real tour de force resides in the subtlety with which music serves humour, a return to the very essence of opera buffa.

With a final, albeit involuntary, wink, L’Heure espagnole joyously echoes Puccini’s personal history: Elvira Gemignani, who became his wife, was already married when he met her and their romance blossomed whilst he was giving her “piano lessons” during her husband’s frequent absences…

Clocks constitute a scenographic common denominator between Ravel’s L’Heure espagnole and Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi. Their role in Laurent Pelly's two productions go beyond mere utilitarian function in that they are rarely used as a means to track time… Concepcion, clockmaker Torquemada's unfaithful wife, uses the clocks as closets for her lovers. In Gianni Schicchi, they symbolise the passage of time and an opportune moment—that of falsifying the testament of Buoso Donati to reunite two young lovers. Gilles Figue, performance manager of the Paris Opera’s props department, looks back on some of the department’s creations as he passes on the baton to Samantha Claverie.

L’Heure espagnole was the first production I was responsible for at the Opera. The pre-assembly and assembly of the production was carried out at the Berthier workshopsbefore the definitive version was created in Japan during a Paris Opera tour there. The number of props and accessories is enormous: we list over 350 references, not counting the prop doubles. These range from small watches and pairs of shoes, to a refrigerator and even the front of a Fiat. For the most part, the props were purchased in the boutiques around Abbesses, in second-hand shops or at the online mart Le Bon Coin. Others were modified or made in the studios and workshops of the Palais Garnier following the instructions of the set designers. For example, two grandfather clocks were built with double compartments to enable the singers to hide inside so that they could disappear and appear at will throughout the plot. Other items participate in the action, including a cuckoo in a clock and the wheels of a bicycle which turn thanks to a mechanism operated by stagehands behind the wall. I really appreciated the fact that the singers embraced the sets to the extent that they did by playing with the props. It must be said that it’s a real jumble of clutter, you’d think you were at a flea market! The set for L’Heure espagnole is more intimist and it makes me think more of a set for a play than an opera. The artists are at the edge of the stage about five or six metres from the orchestra pit. It’s quite impressive to see all those accessories hanging on wallpaper-covered walls or lying on the floor. The props literally create the set in L’Heure espagnole. Conversely, in Gianni Schicchi, the set is more airy, there’s a lot more space between the audience and the back of the stage.

With L’Heure espagnole, respecting the production deadline was our first challenge. In fact, we completed the job the day before the crates were sent off in containers. The set change from L’Heure espagnole to Gianni Schicchi was another seemingly impossible challenge for us since everything had to be disassembled and assembled by hand. To save time, the clocks and the smaller pieces of furniture for Gianni Schicchi were pre-installed behind the sets for L’Heure espagnole and at the end of that performance the wall rose up into the flies. We had to be certain that everything was flat enough to ensure that the props attached to the wall—and that included some forty clocks—didn’t catch on anything. We then assembled the set pieces into blocks and they in turn were pieced together. Everything on the floor, such as the staircase, the refrigerator and the front of the Fiat, etc… had to be placed on rollers. Once the set for L’Heure espagnole was removed, we had to bring on stage some twenty pieces, including wardrobes, armoires, a bed, and chairs etc. to prepare the set for Gianni Schicchi. It was a challenge to pull off, an extremely rewarding experience but ultimately, a wonderful adventure. Today, Samantha Claverie is responsible for the revival of these two productions at the Opéra Bastille. Since they’ve travelled quite a bit—to Tokyo, London, and Milan—we had to repair or replace certain items. “We also added our own touch by creating a clockwork skeleton that springs into life during the performance.”

Interviewed by Anna Schauder