Les Paladins

First, the good news. The music to this 1760 opéra-ballet (actually termed a comédie lyrique) by Jean-Philippe Rameau (1683-1764), one of the great masters of French baroque, is absolutely delightful, a bit more bizarre than his earlier scores but filled with verve and charm. And it's beautifully performed here, with William Christie leading the superb Les Arts Florissants (playing on original instruments) and a cast of able vocalists in a scintillating reading. The plot is an inconsequential bit of fluff about a beautiful ward freed from her possessive guardian by a handsome young knight, but that hardly matters when the music is so enchanting. Now, for the bad news. José Montalvo's staging in this 2004 production at the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris is utterly misguided: As evinced in the title of the behind-the-scenes documentary included as the major extra—“Baroque That Rocks!”—his approach mistakes anarchy for parody and the boorish for the boisterous. The relentlessly garish and anachronistic costumes are bad enough, but Montalvo also continuously employs absurdly busy backdrops, largely composed of pre-recorded video gags, as well as almost constant dancing—with an abundance of wiggling derrières—intended to mimic the music not merely in the instrumental passages but during the arias and ensembles, as well. While you have to admire the sheer athleticism of the singers and dancers (and precision of the effects team), the onstage hullabaloo detracts from the score rather than serving it. Still, there's no alternative version of Rameau's wonderful piece, even on audio CD, so you might want to listen to this double-disc set—presented with DTS and LPCM stereo sound options—with your eyes closed. A strong optional purchase. Aud: C, P. (F. Swietek)