Olivier Bergeron & Daniel McGrew in The Descent of Orpheus | Photo by Bruce Zinger
Going into The Descent of Orpheus, Opera Atelier’s dignified, formalist production of Marc Antoine Charpentier’s baroque opera, I was struck by how often I’ve encountered this myth recently. Just three years ago Atelier did Gluck’s Orpheus and Eurydice (with its non-canonically happy ending); there’s Hadestown, of course; it features prominently in Portrait of a Lady on Fire and Hamnet. I suppose we have some trust issues we’re working through collectively.
Doubt, however, is not something I take with me into an Opera Atelier production. Having found the baroque form alienating in the past, I’ve been throughly enchanted by this company’s rigorous and handsome oeuvre. The 17th century aesthetic doesn’t foster immersion, so valued within our contemporary sensibilities, instead it compels you to scrutinize the individual elements, savour them, and appreciate how they align. It is meant, above all else, to charm.
Orpheus is the quintessential charmer and this tells the tale of his journey to the underworld to convince Pluto to let him take Eurydice, having succumbed from a snake bite, back to earth and how he ultimately loses her again when he, like the very human chump that he is, breaks the deal by looking back at her. Are we invested in the story here? Sure, but only vaguely. In the world of baroque opera, its greatest utility is as a familiar frame on which to hang gorgeous music and hypnotic choreography.
Soprano Mireille Asselin’s pained gasp at the snake bite that puts an end to bucolic frolicking is her most striking bit of business in this retelling, which does not favour Eurydice’s experience. Her entourage of ladies, dressed in lusciously colourful period dresses by costume designer Michael Gianfrancesco, seem almost to swallow her death scene up in a beatifically mournful heap. Tenor Daniel McGrew’s Orpheus has a majestic boyishness. Gianfrancesco’s costuming affords him a decidedly swashbuckling appeal. Sauveness aside, the exposed chest also suggests that he leads with an exposed heart.
I’m very fond of director Marshall Pynkoski’s overtly stylized yet emphatically sincere tableaux. The ensemble seems to rise and fall, sway and pose, in solidarity with Orpheus. I’m all about the sensual grasping and clinging too. There’s an erotic intensity to Apollo’s (baritone Olivier Bergeron) embrace as he dissuades Orpheus from taking his own life and, in the second act, where the tormented sinners wallowing in the underworld, inspired by Orpheus’ music, tug him to and fro in a sort of ecstatic frenzy.
Oddly enough, Orpheus has more on-stage synergy here with Pluto (baritone David Witczak, bounding about as a reasonable and sympathetic villain) than he does with his lover. He also has, in my estimation, more quality time with Persephone (mezzo-soprano Mireille Lebel), Pluto’s captive-bride, than with Eurydice.
Alexander Cappellazzo, Oliver Bergeron, Christopher Dunham with Daniel McGrew in The Descent of Orpheus | Photo by Bruce Zinger
Once again, Gerard Gauci’s set design seems like an organic extension of the white oak architectural elements of Koerner Hall. Tapestries and oval paintings add texture and motivic signifiers. An overhead screen, on which the English surtitles are projected, also provides ambiance and visual dimension—verdant scenes giving way to bleak, desolate landscapes and, eventually, the cosmic wonder of twinkling stars as the lovers’ fate is sealed.
Jeannette Lajeunesse-Zingg’s uplifting choreography sees the artists of the Atelier ballet imbue the atmosphere of this tragic tale with playful buoyancy. The most theatrically immersive this production gets is when we are first brought to the underworld and meet the three sinners writhing upon wooden torture wheels as shafts of light (designed by Kimberly Purtell) are caught in a billowing haze. This persuasive mise en scène conjures an elegant, rather sultry sort of hell.
This is a remarkably brisk opera. The program indicates that it runs 2 hours with a 20 minute intermission. Even with an opening speech, a lovely prologue (Ralph Vaughan Williams’ “Orpheus with his Lyre” performed by soprano Measha Brueggergosman-Lee) and an intermission, the whole evening lasts barely over 90 minutes. For all its brevity, though, it’s neither hurried nor paltry. If period authenticity isn’t your bag, it may feel somewhat affected. For those down for the studied execution, this is a delightful rendition.
The Descent of Orpheus
October 22 to 25, 2026
Koerner Hall
(273 Bloor Street West)
90 minutes (with intermission)
Daniel McGrew & Mireille Asselin in The Descent of Orpheus | Photo by Bruce Zinger