Opera Lheure Espagnole M52 Program Notes, Sheet Music and Recordings

Program Notes & Analysis

A "Pornographic" Farce? Ravel's Anti-Romantic Statement

On May 19, 1911, the respectable audience of the Opéra-Comique in Paris had just been put through the wringer. They had watched Thérèse, a dark, bloody, and emotional verismo drama by the reigning king of French opera, Jules Massenet. After a somber intermission, the curtain rose on something else entirely: a clock shop filled with ticking, whirring, and chiming sounds, which soon gave way to a cynical, fast-paced sex farce. When it was over, the "old guard" was horrified. Camille Saint-Saëns reportedly huffed that the opera was "pornographic." Another critic dismissed it as "kitchen-boy music." They had expected high passion, moral drama, or at least the gauzy, symbolic "mist" of Claude Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande. What Maurice Ravel gave them instead was a "conversation in music," a work that was as brilliant, as cold, and as precisely mechanical as a Swiss watch. L'heure espagnole was Ravel's first completed opera, and it was a bold, laughing rejection of the 19th-century's operatic obsessions. He had taken the most sacred of subjects—Love—and turned it into a witty, perfectly-timed, and completely un-romantic "mechanics problem."

The Return of "Opera Buffa"

Ravel, like many French modernists, was caught between two massive shadows: the "tyranny" of Richard Wagner and the "vagueness" of Debussy. He admired both, but he was determined to find a different path, one built on clarity, wit, and classical form. He found his inspiration not in German myth or Belgian symbolism, but in the 18th-century opera buffa of Italy. L'heure espagnole is a direct, loving homage to the clockwork farces of Gioachino Rossini (The Barber of Seville). The libretto, which Ravel set almost verbatim from Franc-Nohain’s popular play, is a marvel of dry, cynical wit. Ravel’s revolutionary idea was to create a new kind of "recitative," a parlante style that follows the natural, rapid-fire rhythms of the French language. There are no grand, show-stopping arias to halt the plot. Instead, the music is the plot, a continuous, sparkling, and rhythmically precise conversation. This was Ravel’s answer to Wagner’s "endless melody" and Debussy’s "floating" dream-speech: a melody of pure, articulated, and brilliant rhythm.

A "Toy Box" Spain

Ravel’s obsession with Spain is legendary. His mother was of Basque origin, and he famously declared, "I am Basque, Basque, Basque." He was the composer of Rapsodie espagnole, Alborada del gracioso, and, later, Boléro. So when he chose a "Spanish" subject, the audience expected a blast of fiery, Bizet-like passion. Instead, Ravel gives them a "toy box" Spain. The music is saturated with Spanish rhythms—the Habanera, the Malagueña, the Jota—but they are not used for passion. They are used for character and for jokes. The Habanera, that classic dance of seduction, is Concepcion’s theme, but it’s a Habanera of pure frustration. The castanets, bells, and tambourine are not "earthy"; they are part of the clockwork mechanism of the orchestra. This is not the "real" Spain; this is a "Frenchman’s Spain," a brilliantly orchestrated, artificial world, as intricate and beautiful as a Fabergé egg.

The Orchestra as a Clock Shop

The true star of L'heure espagnole is the orchestra. Ravel, alongside his teacher Gabriel Fauré and his contemporary Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, is arguably the greatest orchestrator in history. The score is a masterpiece of precision. He uses a massive orchestra, but with the delicacy of chamber music. The percussion section alone is a fantasy, calling for celesta, xylophone, glockenspiel, triangle, cymbals, snare drum, bass drum, tam-tam... and three separate clocks, each with its own, distinct, ticking rhythm. The opera’s prelude is a "symphony of ticking," an astonishing, "inhuman" soundscape of whirring springs, clicking gears, and chiming bells, all layered in different meters. This is not just "atmosphere"; it is the opera’s central metaphor. The characters, like the clocks, are "automatons," puppets going through their mechanical motions. The "Spanish Hour" is not just a time of day; it is a "clockwork" hour, and Concepcion is frantic because her "mechanism" is not working.

The Characters: A Gallery of Fools

Ravel’s music paints the five characters with a brilliant, satirical brush. They are not real people, but perfect commedia dell'arte archetypes.

• Torquemada (Tenor): The clockmaker. He is the fussy, oblivious husband. His music is as dry, fast, and mechanical as his clocks. He is so obsessed with the idea of a mechanism that he is blind to the "human mechanism" operating right in front of him.

• Concepcion (Soprano): The "heroine." She is the motor of the plot. But she is not a romantic "Juliette" or a tragic "Butterfly." She is a practical, sensual, and deeply frustrated woman. This is her "hour," her one window of opportunity, and she is furious that her "equipment" (her lovers) is failing. Her one "big" aria, "Oh! la pitoyable aventure!" (Oh! what a pitiful adventure!), is a complaint that her lovers are all talk and no action.

• Gonzalve (Tenor): The "Poet" lover. He is a hilarious, brutal parody of the 19th-century Romantic hero. He is a direct satire of the "precious," perfumed style of Massenet’s heroes. While Concepcion is trying to get him into her bedroom, he is "stuck," singing absurd, florid, and completely "useless" poetry about "singing stars" and "liquid gold." He is all "head" and no "body."

• Don Iñigo Gomez (Bass): The "Banker" lover. He is the classic opera buffa "Basso," a pompous, self-important bore. His music is low, slow, and clumsy. He believes he can "buy" Concepcion's affections. His comedy is physical: he is so puffed-up with his own self-importance that he gets physically stuck inside a grandfather clock.

• Ramiro (Baritone): The "Mule-Driver" (Muletier). He is the opera’s "wild card," the only "real" person in this artificial world. He is simple, strong, and completely un-poetic. He doesn't understand the "conversation" of the others, but he understands action. His "aria" is a simple, humble melody about his life ("Le muletier... c'est une chose..."). He is defined by his physical strength, which he admires with a detached, naive wonder. He is the "muscle" that the other "heads" try to use as a piece of furniture, and in the end, he is the one who "wins" the day.

The Farce of the Clocks

The plot is a masterpiece of buffa mechanics. Concepcion has one hour. Ramiro, the mule-driver, is in her shop. To get him out of the way, she asks him to move a heavy grandfather clock up to her bedroom. He does it with shocking, easy strength. While he's gone, her first lover, Gonzalve, arrives. She hides him in the other grandfather clock. Ramiro returns. Frustrated that Gonzalve is just singing poetry from inside his clock, she asks Ramiro to bring the first clock back down and take the second clock (with Gonzalve in it) up. Ramiro does so, marveling at how light the second clock is. Then, the second lover, Iñigo, arrives. Concepcion, now frantic, asks Ramiro to bring Gonzalve back down and take Iñigo up in the first clock. Ramiro, the "mule," obliges. This endless, absurd shuffling of clocks is the opera’s "action." But when Concepcion goes to Iñigo, she finds him pompous and now physically stuck. Her "hour" is ruined. In her famous aria, she laments her terrible luck with lovers... and then she looks at the strong, simple, and very "physical" Ramiro. In a moment of pure, practical genius, she decides her "mechanism" works after all, and she invites him into her bedroom. The "mule" has become the "man."

The Moral of the Story

The finale is a brilliant, sudden shift. Torquemada, the husband, returns. He finds his two "clients" (Gonzalve and Iñigo) stuck in his clocks. He's not angry; he's delighted—he finally has customers! The opera ends with a sparkling, fast-paced Jota, a "quintet-finale" in the style of Mozart. All five characters step out of the farce and deliver the "moral" directly to the audience, just like in Don Giovanni. The moral? "In the pursuit of love, the 'Mule-Driver' often gets his chance. When the 'poet' and the 'banker' fail... the 'M-M-M-Mule-Driver' has his day!" It's a cynical, witty, and perfectly "modern" conclusion. Ravel has taken the grand, passionate form of opera and reduced it to a witty, one-act "mechanics problem" where, in the end, only the "man of action" succeeds.

The Story of the Opera

L'heure espagnole is a single, continuous act.

Scene: The clock shop of Torquemada in Toledo, Spain.

The opera opens with a "symphony" of ticking, whirring, and chiming clocks. Ramiro, a mule-driver, has come to have his watch fixed by the clockmaker, Torquemada. Torquemada fusses over the watch, but explains that he must leave—it is his one hour of the week to go and tend to the city's public clocks. As he leaves, his wife, Concepcion, enters. She is clearly annoyed to find Ramiro in the shop. This is her "Spanish Hour," her one chance for her weekly trysts.

Desperate to get Ramiro out of the way, she asks him if he would be so kind as to move a large, heavy grandfather clock up to her bedroom. Ramiro, a man of simple strength, hoists the massive clock onto his shoulder with ease and carries it upstairs. Concepcion is amazed.

As soon as Ramiro is gone, her first lover, the poet Gonzalve, arrives. He is full of flowery, "poetic" language, but Concepcion is in a hurry. "To the clock!" she says, and shoves him into the other large grandfather clock to hide him. Ramiro returns, marveling at his own strength. Concepcion, now needing to get Gonzalve upstairs, tells Ramiro that she has changed her mind. She wants the other clock (the one with Gonzalve in it) upstairs, and asks him to please bring the first one back down. Ramiro, polite and uncomplaining, obliges.

While Ramiro is upstairs, Concepcion's second lover, the pompous banker Don Iñigo Gomez, arrives. Concepcion is now frantic. Ramiro returns with the first clock. Concepcion, at her wit's end, asks him to please take the clock he just brought down (the one with Gonzalve in it) back up again. Ramiro does so. Frustrated with Gonzalve, who is just singing poetry from inside his clock, Concepcion decides to hide Iñigo. She suggests he hide in the first clock (the one Ramiro has just brought down twice). Ramiro returns. Concepcion, exasperated, asks him to take the first clock (now with Iñigo in it) upstairs again. Ramiro, the "mule," simply picks it up and carries it away.

Concepcion goes upstairs to her bedroom, intending to meet Iñigo. But she returns, furious. Iñigo, it seems, is so pompous and fat that he has gotten himself stuck in the clock. She then goes to the other clock (with Gonzalve), but he refuses to stop singing poetry. She comes downstairs and, in her great aria "Oh! la pitoyable aventure!" (Oh! what a pitiful adventure!), she laments that she has two lovers, and both are "failures." Ramiro enters, having left Iñigo (stuck) in the bedroom. Concepcion, in a moment of pure pragmatism, looks at the strong, simple, and very "active" mule-driver. She makes a new decision. She points to her bedroom and says, "There... and no clock this time!" Ramiro, finally understanding, smiles and follows her.

Torquemada, the husband, returns. He finds Gonzalve and Iñigo, both stuck in his clocks. He is overjoyed, believing they are "clients" inspecting his merchandise. Concepcion and Ramiro re-enter, and the farce is revealed. But no one is angry. Torquemada is just happy to have customers. The opera ends with a sparkling quintet, as all five characters line up and sing the opera's cynical moral to the audience: when it comes to love, the "poet" and the "banker" may fail, but "the 'Mule-Driver' often gets his chance!"