Poulenc: La Voix Humaine (Richmond Orchestra / Hesketh / Winter)

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• published: 15 Dec 2014
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Poulenc's 'La voix humaine' recorded 30 November 2013 at the Wathen Hall, Barnes, London. Richmond Orchestra conducted by Philip Hesketh Soprano soloist: Helen Winter La voix humaine ('The Human Voice') is a 40-minute one-act opera for soprano and orchestra composed by Francis Poulenc in 1958. The work is based on the play of the same name by Jean Cocteau, who, along with French soprano Denise Duval, worked closely with Poulenc in preparation for the opera's premiere. The libretto consists of a woman's last phone conversation with her lover, who now loves someone else. During the call, the woman reveals that she has attempted suicide because her lover has abandoned her. Synopsis: Elle, an actor, is waiting late in the evening for a phone call from her lover. The phone is on a party line and she is plagued by crossed lines, mistaken calls, uncooperative operators. At last he rings. She explains that she has just got in from dining at her friend Martha’s, that she and Martha had lunched together ,she had returned home and then been collected to return to Martha’s for the evening. She admits that the night before she had taken a sleeping pill, ‘No, just one, at nine thirty’. She says she is wearing her pink jacket and black hat- the one he adores. The tone suddenly changes. He asks her to return all their letters. She declares that she is calm and brave, and not pretending ,not putting on an act; that she is the cause of their disagreements. But surprised that he wants the letters by tomorrow. She says the letters will be with the concierge in the morning, ‘Just tell Joseph to collect them’. His phone goes very faint: ‘it doesn’t sound like your phone at all’. But she says she can see him, in cravat with his sleeves rolled up doodling hearts and stars on the blotter. And then she admits to being frighten to sleep alone, not daring to turn on the light in her dressing room at the theatre in case she is face to face with an ugly old woman with thinning hair and ‘hideous wrinkles’. She tells him it is lucky that he is gullible and in love with her , else the phone ‘could easily become a terrible weapon that would leave no trace and not make a sound.’ They are cut off. She gives the operator his telephone number. Only to find for his man servant Joseph that he is not at home nor is he coming home tonight. Covering her tracks she says, ‘Monsieur must have rung me from a restaurant.. Excuse me Joseph. Thank you. Good evening Joseph.’ Her lover rings again. Her tone voice betrays her realisation of the truth. She denies that anything is wrong. That she has told any lies. And then she admits that she has been lying for the past quarter of an hour: she is not wearing her jacket, just a wrap over her nightie, she did not have dinner with Martha and that she has been waiting all evening for his call, even contemplating going to stand underneath his window, ‘in the hope that...’ She tells him that last night she took half a dozen sleeping pills hoping to sleep dreamlessly forever. But she did dream and woke to the realization that she was abandoned. At four in the morning she spoke to Martha who came over with a doctor. She says that Martha stayed until the evening. Elle begs her to go lest she is prevented from speaking to her lover. But as they talk Elle hears music on the line: ‘you should knock against the wall…if your neighbours insist on playing music at this time of night.’ She explains that the night before last she went to bed hugging the phone, the friend that is the connection between her and he alone who for the last five years has been her inspiration, he around whom all her waking moments have revolved. They are cut off again. He rings again. She says that she thought they were talking as before but then she realised the truth and that ‘when affairs are over they are over’. The phone goes dead again. ‘My God, make him call back!’ He calls: she tells him the receiver cord is round her throat, ‘It would only take an error to cut us both off.’ He tells her he is going tomorrow to Marseille with his new love. She pleads that they do not go to the same hotel, ‘the one where we used to stay together.’ She thanks him, she says she loves him; by force of habit she says that she will see him soon. But it is too late. ‘Just hang up. Hang up. Quickly. I love you. I love you, I love you… love you.’ The phone falls from her hand.