La voix humaine

Even as operas go, La voix humaine (The Human Voice) is voyeuristically uncomfortable, logistically perverse—and yet it works, with devastating power. Onstage is nothing but a woman and a phone, while in the pit is a substantial orchestra. Singing against its fervently dramatic and occasionally explosive interjections, she spends 40 or so minutes—the entire duration of the piece—in telephonic conversation with her unseen, unheard lover, who is leaving her for someone else. It’s 40 minutes of emotional assault and battery as her increasing torment alternates with wistful sadness, resignation and despair, ending in a gesture that could be interpreted as suicide. Poulenc composed the piece, based on a preexisting monodrama by Jean Cocteau, in 1958: an era when the unreliability of French telecommunications makes moments when the phone line abruptly disconnects part of the drama. And though there’s an element of abstraction in both the title of the piece and the way he gives his heroine no name (she’s identified only as "Elle"), the neurotic energy of Poulenc’s writing, with aggressive mood swings and a sparing use of melody (the vocal line comes largely as abruptly fractured recitative), probably reflects the composer’s own emotional vulnerability at that time, living as he did in fear of losing a much younger lover.