Big Columbus Mystery

In fourteen hundred ninety-two, as any schoolboy knows, Columbus sailed the ocean blue to discover a passage to India. But that is not the way the story goes in Christophe Colomb, the 25-year-old opera by Darius Milhaud, with a text by French Poet Paul Claudel. In Rome last week, the gigantic work got a full stage performance for the first time since its 1930 Berlin premiere (it has had concert performances in Manhattan and Paris, abridged productions in Cologne and Buenos Aires). Unfortunately, Rome's critical opera audience was neither wholly delighted musically nor enlightened historically.

Untroubled by any theory that the earth is round, Milhaud's Columbus goes on a purely religious mission: his "new world" represents the "other world," the kingdom of heaven. Columbus himself (sung by Piero Guelfi) is first seen as an old man, fingering the shackles that once held him. Then, quick as an amoeba, he splits in two: the man as seen by his contemporaries and the hero posterity thinks him to be. He sets out on his mission partly because of the arrival of a mystical dove (representing the Holy Ghost), while beyond the seas, certain Mexican deities stir up frightful waves to discourage the expedition.

In the second half of the opera, the symbolism gets thicker: Columbus' shadow and conscience appear. At one point, Columbus I and II (a baritone and a basso, respectively) clasp each other and vow to be together in death, and the finale finds a general movement towards paradise as the dove appears in radiant glory while angels (and everybody else) sing a deafening "Hallelujah!"

To present this fascinating if confused spectacle properly, Rome's heavily state-subsidized opera pulled out all stops. Preparations started last November, rehearsals a month ago. For the final rehearsal week, all other performances were canceled. It was necessary: the opera has some 18 scenes, uses specially filmed movie footage (doves, clouds and scenes of violence) plus so-odd full-color still projections (including El Greco's Toledo and Bruegel's The Fall of Icarus'). The cast included a chorus of 100, 48 solo parts and some 150 extras (redskins, sailors, Mexican gods).

Romans found the choral music interesting, occasionally quietly melodious,and beautifully sung. They gave the work respectful applause, although they found the production as a whole just too much to take in, and never quite understandable. Old (61) Darius Milhaud, who was on hand for the occasion, had no such reservations. "I was so satisfied," he said, "that I couldn't suggest any change."

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