Elizabeth Futral in Kaija Saariaho's "Emilie" at the Lincoln Center FestivalNEW YORK — Émilie du Châtelet led an extraordinary life. An 18th-century physicist, mathematician and philosopher, she took famed writers — including Voltaire — as lovers.
As she worked on her final book, she was carrying the child of the young poet Saint-Lambert and predicted that the birth would ultimately kill her.
But an interesting biography doesn’t necessarily make for a good opera. And for those who lean more toward the arts than the sciences, theories about the sun and moon — much less song about them — seem unlikely to command the stage.
Adding to the challenges of "Émilie," now playing at the Lincoln Center Festival, it’s a monodrama — the title character, played by soprano Elizabeth Futral, remains alone on stage for the duration of the 80-minute performance.
That it all works stunningly well is a testament to the vision and craft of composer Kaija Saariaho, librettist Amin Maalouf, director Marianne Weems and the rest of the company.
Rather than a dutiful eulogy ticking off major milestones and accomplishments, the opera immerses the audience in Émilie’s interior life, plumbing her emotional and intellectual experiences and, most interestingly, the places where the two conflict and collide.
The opera takes place in Émilie’s final days, as she obsessively tries to complete a translation of Newton’s "Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica." Besides work — her greatest passion — her thoughts wander to the loves of her life, to the burdens of womanhood, to posterity. By the time she is heavily engaged in scientific details, she’s compelling enough of a character that, with some effort, one can stay with her.
Saariaho’s heady, atmospheric score features unexpected timbres and rhythmic patterns that fit with the colorful and dreamy qualities that Émilie associated with her work. There are otherworldly chimes, microtonal passages, anxious trills and repetitions, and jabbing, wailing and whining sounds.
Busy harpsichord patterns — the physicist herself played the instrument — dance like swirling thoughts, and even the scratch of her quill pen makes it into the music. Brutish brass outbursts echo her rage at the men and "prudes" who scorn her condition.
As she grapples with her mortality, the music rises in pitch and grows in volume and density. Then, as she shifts her focus, it seems to slide onto another plane.
Futral conquers the musically and dramatically complex role — one that requires her to sing, speak and tread the ground in between — with unshakable technique, intelligence and, in the intimate space, considerable visceral power. Saariaho also employs live electronics that morph Futral’s voice, so that it can sound like her lover and, even more uncannily, her unborn daughter.
Key to the opera’s success is its synthesis of elements. Maalouf’s libretto adroitly flits between French and English, and poetic, conversational and technical language. Neal Wilkinson’s sets are an artful construction of angular geometric screens that alternately reflect Emilie’s image and fracture it into shards. Via video by Austin Switser, they also become a canvas for writings, formulas, fire and celestial bodies.
Conductor John Kennedy leads Ensemble ACJW in an uncommonly graceful yet still forceful performance.
In a program note, Saariaho writes, "The most famous musical monodramas ... depict a woman losing her life’s purpose, owing to the absence of a man. As great as these pieces are, as a woman, I must say that I have never been comfortable with the way they portray the female sex."
It is gratifying and significant to see the composer create a portrait that neither denies Émilie’s love nor reduces her to it, and even more so one with the artistic merit to stand not just as a statement, but also a worthy addition to the repertoire.
Ronni Reich: (973) 392-1726, rreich@starledger.com, Twitter: @RonniReich
Émilie
Where: Gerald W. Lynch Theater, John Jay College, 899 10th Ave., New York
When: Tonight and tomorrow at 7:30 p.m.
How much: $35 to $75; call (212) 721-6500 or visit lincolncenterfestival.org