Iphigénie en Tauride

Gluck’s Iphigénie en Tauride (Iphigénia in Tauris) is one of those operas whose praises are more frequently sung than the opera itself. Gluck always gets plenty of praise for the success of his operatic reforms—which reached their pinnacle here—but when it actually comes to performing the opera, singers have often seemed strangely reluctant. Which may have something to do with Gluck’s determination to put the drama before anything else—including the arias. What Gluck created in Iphigénie was a powerful psychological thriller, with fast-paced action and vividly drawn characters. Its central themes of isolation, paranoia and hope are powerfully projected, and remain as compelling today as they were at the opera’s premiere in Paris in 1779. Operatically speaking, Gluck slots into that mysterious gap between Handel and Mozart. Which is a tricky place to be, though not quite as tricky as the place in which Iphigenia finds herself. The goddess Diana has just saved her from a sacrificial death at the hands of her father, Agamemnon, and has organised a last-minute relocation package to the island of Tauride—home to the barbaric Scythians. Gluck gets the ball rolling immediately, and in full reform mode dispenses with an overture and plunges straight into the action with a thrilling orchestral storm scene. There may be no conventional love interest, there may be fewer arias and more ensembles than we’re used to, but Iphigénie is Gluck’s most tightly constructed opera, based on the best libretto he ever set—the crowning achievement of his career.