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of a few pages where the instrumentalists manage to whisper without excess on a bare space.
               She makes us listen to the impressionism of the score and the dynamic frictions with the same
               facetiousness. It accompanies our trajectory as a listener. Music develops in this effect of quasi-
               improvisation,  testifying  to  the  part  of  the  unknown  of  a  universe  governed  by  natural  laws
               untouchable by Man. The abolition of the material order establishes a new frame of reference for
               listening, which makes perceptible the material of craftsmanship, the smell of an old house, the
               brightness of a wheat field or rural habits. Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla tells us a story parallel to the
               fabric of the opera, universal and individual, in addition to following its path strewn with pitfalls. It
               includes  a  movement  as  if  to  make  these  supposedly  irreconcilable  trajectories miscible.  She
               distributes an obvious in large format, and fulfills the realism of the situations.

               The  instrumentalists,  of  extraordinary  professionalism,  facilitate  his  task  by  providing  him  with
               waves of perfectly synchronized desks. And even when some instruments do not fall on the right
               note,  the  conductor  includes  situations  in  a  collateral  way,  without  it  being  "damage"  in  this
               sensational reference created from scratch. The cycle of nature is lived in the moment, not in
               expectation or regret that the cycle will happen again. Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla turns off the light,
               lowers the lightning, then brings back the sun, tickles the mandibles, and reflects the coats. It
               continuously has control over time and narrative, but leaves us the choice of the story we wish to
               receive.


               Let's move on to the Choir of Radio France,relatively anemic tonight, because the distribution
               has  something  to  please.  Except  perhaps Elena  Tsallagova,as  Renarde,  who,  unlike  her
               performance at the Opéra national du Rhin in 2016,lacks balance tonight in her nuances despite
               a cheerful science of theater. The timbre, however far from being unpleasant, seems a little too
               bright,  and  a  few  scratches  of  notes  enamel  here  and  there  the  lines. Angela  Brower's Fox
               dazzles and bewitches externally with a heart that pulsates inside, like a croissant coming out of
               the oven. The Gamekeeper could only have been frank of the collar, in an avid wake; Roland
               Wood makes him an exciting character with a fertile mind, assuming his mistakes without knowing
               how to deal with them. By deliberately dragging the ends of notes, he draws velvet legs to the
               character and highlights his unstoppable breath. Kitty Whately sings with great credibility and a
               convincing relief of the disorientation that afflicts the Woman of the Gamekeeper, and the cancans
               of  the  Owl.  Robert Murray's ease  is  beautifully  contagious, William  Thomas' show
               nourished,Ella Taylor's precision indisputable. The children of the Holy Trinity Catholic School in
               Birmingham also give their best to make the animals they embody endearing.


                                                                                             Thibault Vicq
                                                                                (Paris, 24 November 2021)
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