Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Going to the Theatre






Parisians love the theatre!  In the Metro, whole sections of wall space are given to promoting plays.  In the weekly L'Officiel des Spectacles, theatre listings take up over 50 pages each week. Comedies, tragedies, dramas, musicals, festivals - I can't think of any form of live theatre that you will not find here.


And theatres are everywhere. In our neighborhood alone, there must be at least six small ones, with maybe seating for a hundred. And that's before you get a few blocks away to the Grands Boulevards, where there are several very large ones. It's the same in every arrondissement.



This year, Matthew and I have been making an effort to become theatre patrons, and are finding it a pure delight!

We learned right away that it is essential to READ the play first -- in French! Actors speak quickly on stage, often in some kind of character-driven voice, so if you don't know the text ahead of time, you soon find yourself lost.

So far, we've seen plays translated into French from English playwrights -- Ronald Harwood, Alan Ayckburn, and, coming up next week, Oscar Wilde -- but this past Sunday we dipped ourselves into a classic French play by Eugène Labiche, Le Prix Martin, at the historic Théâtre Odéon over in the 6th arrondissement, next to the Luxembourg Gardens.

Originally built to house the Comédie Française (who chose to stay in their own Théâtre Française at the Palais Royal), the theatre was inaugurated in 1782 by Marie-Antoinette herself.



One of the earliest productions was Beaumarchais' The Marriage of Figaro. The Odéon was reconstructed in 1808, then burned to the ground in 1818!

The present building was designed by Pierre Thomas Baraguay, and opened its doors in 1819.



Although it's still known as the Théâtre Odéon, since 1990 its official name is "Odéon Théâtre de l'Europe". It is one of six national theatres of France. In 2006, it underwent a glorious restoration/renovation, all of which was on full display on Sunday.





The upstairs lobby, with its elegant columns and gleaming chandeliers awaited the sold-out audience...




...whilst the figure of tragedy stood proudly across from her counterpart, which you can see reflected behind her in the mirror...



...and striking oil portraits gave a small clue to the history of the important plays and stage directors that have appeared here over the past 230 plus years. In 1827, it became the first theatre in France to present Shakespeare plays in English.

Nothing quite prepared us, though, for the actual theatre itself, which was very dimly lit, so hard to photograph, but which was aglow in red velvet and gilt railings, rising up five levels, and capped by this dazzling ceiling:

Sunday's play, Le Prix Martin, was almost the last work of Eugène Labiche, one of France's most popular comic playwrights of the 19th century.  A classic French farce with all kinds of plot twists, romantic intrigues, high drama, gunshots, broad humor -- in essence, a not so gentle nudge at the manners and mores of the Bourgeousie. Flaubert was said to have adored it!



As well as discovering the joys of live theatre, we've also been finding some rare treasures in the world of cinema. Our nearest movie house is at the Forum des Halles, where there are probably some 20 screens playing moves all the time. Even though part of the subterranean rat maze that is Forum des Halles, it's very close and we can walk there, so we tend to take advantage of its location. However, there are a few others that are worth a metro ride, and this is one: La Pagode, over in a quiet backwater of the 7th arrondissement.

The story of this place reads like a fairy tale: Once upon a time, in 1895, a Monsieur Morin, the director of the very fancy department store, Le Bon Marché, wanted to give his wife an especially beautiful birthday present. At the time, the Japanese and Chinese markets had opened up to the west, and everyone was wild for the oriental style.


So M. Morin commissioned the architect Alexandre Marcel to build a pagoda on the rue Babylone for his wife, complete with a small garden and stone Chinese lions.

The delicate stained-glass windows and ornate woodwork are just stunning. Alas, Madame Morin, although she adored the pagoda, did not adore her husband. She left him the next year for his business partner, M. Plassard! However, she continued to host sumptuous soirées here, attended by the cream of Paris society, until 1927, when it was closed.

That might have been the end for La Pagode, but in 1930, it opened its doors again as a cinema!


The elegant salon, with its decorated walls and ceiling, now houses plush red seats and a good-sized screen. It made its reputation as a venue for avant-garde and independent films -- especially in the 1950s and 1960s, but it's not all been plain sailing.  At one point it was threatened with demolition. Happily, it is now a protected building, there is a second screen downstairs, and patrons come from near and far to support its programs. When the weather's nice, you can take a coffee in the garden, and give thanks to M. Morin for building such a beautiful spot, even though it ended up breaking his heart.




Meanwhile, as predicted, the milder temperatures have produced their magic -- everything is just bursting into leaf, my window boxes are re-installed and planted, windows are thrown open, and as I leaned out of mine this weekend, I had a nice conversation with the neighbor across the street, who had come out onto his terrace. The first time I have laid eyes on him since we arrived in January. We don't actually know each other, but we have waved at each other over the years, and with the bitter cold winter we have all endured (with everyone stuck indoors) I think we both felt it was time to speak!

It is, finally, "April in Paris"

À bientôt!

Monday, April 15, 2013

What a difference a day makes....




To paraphrase Will Shakespeare:  "Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious spring by this sun of Paris!"


Maybe the double rainbow against the black clouds the other evening was the sign we've all been waiting for. Suddenly there was a shift, temperatures rising, winter coats being shed, a lightness of foot on the streets, and a flurry of events this past week -- all heralding, perhaps, the arrival of spring.



At the Palais Brongniart (formerly the old Bourse, and just down the street from us), the annual Salon du Dessin opened its doors.
Print and Drawing dealers from around the world come here every April, offering their exquisite works of art for sale.

They're all way beyond our pocket book, but it is a great delight to wander from booth to booth and enjoy their display. I fell in love with this Indian elephant, an ink and watercolor and gouache from Nicolas Huet le Jeune from the early 1800s...




...and with a Sonia in our family who is a painter, who could not be in love with the works of Sonia Delaunay!!


Meanwhile, over at the American University of Paris there was a reception to celebrate the latest Cahier, published in association with their Center for Writers and Translators. This one features lovely watercolors by Ralph Petty, accompanied by poems and short prose pieces by Jeffrey Greene -- whose book "The Golden Bristled Boar" we read on KWMR last year!



And then, the Classic & Klezmer group made their return with a smashing concert Saturday night at Reid Hall (Columbia University's footprint here in Paris) in the 6th arrondissement.

With a pianist, clarinettist, violinist, accordionist and percussionist, they were an incredibly lively group. As well as Klezmer, they also played works by Khachaturian, Gershwin and Brahms. See if you can get this clip to play on your computers!




Not to be outdone, the glorious Grand Palais was transformed this past weekend for Le Saut Hermès Show Jumping competition. Riders from around the world stable their horses in specially erected stalls on the edge of the Champs Élysées, for this four-day event. One of these years, I will find a way to buy tickets to actually attend. I spent most of my childhood riding ponies and following the exploits of my show jumping heroine, Pat Smythe and her horses, Prince Hal and Tosca. This year, I contented myself with watching from home, thanks to coverage by Equidia TV. Here's a short clip of a young American rider.






With all this activity in town, we woke up Sunday morning to clear, sunny skies  and decided to take a break and catch the train out to the Chateau Chantilly for the day. We had been here for the horse racing last summer, promising ourselves we would come back to see the Chateau. The train service from Paris is fast and short (24 minutes from the Gare du Nord). Alas, the featured bus service from Chantilly station to the chateau was not to be found -- "jamais les dimanches, Madame" (Never on Sunday!). The featured taxi service was also non-existent. So, it was through the woods, on foot!




We've been amazed at how bare the trees have been since we arrived. Here we are in mid-April and the woods look like January...



...although carpets of these sweet white flowers were everywhere, signalling the arrival of something!

Some 35 minutes later, we came out of the woods, and there was the chateau, serenely situated on its bassin.

Originally there were two attached buildings, one, le petit chateau, built for Anne de Montmorency in the 16th century. The other, the grand chateau, was destroyed during the French Revolution and rebuilt in the 1870s by Henri d'Orleans, the Duc d'Aumale, a son of King Louis-Philippe and a grand nephew of the Duc du Bourbon, who left him the estate, a lot of art, and many millions of francs!

He spent his money well, collecting more and more paintings, sculptures and other objets, that are all housed today in the Chateau in the Musée Condé. He stipulated in his will (he left the entire collection and the Chateau to the Institut de France) that the paintings continue to be shown as they were during his lifetime. The main gallery remains so, with paintings up and down the walls, with no particular order to them. With the light streaming through the skylights above, the effect is quite jaw-dropping!



After a while, you got a bit blasé at seeing several Rafael paintings, along with works by Delacroix, Poussin, Géricault, Watteau, Corot, etc. etc.!


Maybe that's why odd ones caught my eye, like this painting by Edward Lear...




...or this dramatic scene by Jean-Léon Gérome: a New Year's Eve duel has ended badly for Pierrot, as the victor, an American Indian, walks away in the cold morning light!


We were also struck by this wall in a small, skylit antechamber:  a beautiful nude, framed by portraits, including a self-portrait by Ingres on the upper left.

It's no wonder the collection of the Musée Condé is considered one of the finest in France, outside of the Louvre!



Beyond the actual museum, there were the Duc's apartments, with all their restored pomp and glory...





...a mirrored gallery, looking like a miniature Versailles...



...even one room with painted wall panels featuring monkeys serving human figures!



Then, there's the library, literally lined floor to ceiling with over 12,500 printed volumes, medieval manuscripts, and some 40 miniatures from Jean Foquet's Book of Hours.


Whenever it got to be too overwhelming inside, a quick look out of the window reminded us that the gardens were originally designed by André le Nôtre!

 But as well as all this true grandeur and splendor, and the fact we saw it all on the most glorious sunny, warm day we've experienced so far this year, there was still one more treat in store for us at the Chateau café:


Yes, Chantilly is, of course, also famous for its "crême Chantilly". According to some, it dates back to the 17th century, to others not until the late 18th century. Either way, in those days, it was whipped with birch twigs (!), and is flavored with vanilla and sugar. Served alongside this freshly baked Tarte au Pommes, it was a divine finale to our day in the country.

Meanwhile, back in Paris, every scrap of grass was taken up by happy residents, and with just this one day of sunshine, we predict in a couple more days, the trees will all be in full leaf!

A bientôt!

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

That Certain French Style...




No matter where you are in Paris, it's not hard to pick out the real French people -- something about the way they stand on a street corner, exchanging phone numbers, with the handbag carried, just so, the scarf draped, just so.



This older woman, stepping out of the bus, has her fur hat placed on her head, just so, making her fairly ordinary wool coat and sensible shoes suddenly become an elegant ensemble.



I was thinking about this when I was in the BHV the other day, how the most attractive outfits, even the most casual, are almost always the most simple, how the use of colors pulls everything together, just so!


I'd had a glimpse of this when we were in Avignon. I went over the Rhône one afternoon to visit Fort Saint-André, a medieval fort at Villeneuve-les-Avignon. Part of the fort was a 12th century Benedictine abbey, and part of the abbey (restored over the centuries) was the Abbot's small palace. In 1916, the French painter, Gustave Fayet bought the decaying palace for a young painter, Elsa Koeberlé, who undertook massive renovations of the house and the gardens. I went there to walk around the gardens, but arriving "au bon moment", as they say, I found I was able to tag along on a tour of the house itself.

Along with all the restoration work she undertook, Elsa Koeberlé apparently also fell in love with clothes designed by the Parisian couturier, Paul Poiret, who reigned at the top of the Haute Couture world in the early 1900s. One of his signature achievements was the abolishment of the corset, thereby liberating the female body!

Not only did we tour through many rooms, lavishly furnished, but we were also taken to the top floor, where there was a whole museum dedicated to Monsieur Poiret and his sublime creations. They were all remarkably well preserved, the colors true, and the workmanship outstanding. What also struck me was that, even back then, the basic lines are very simple.

With all these thoughts running through my mind -- as I tried to tie my own scarf, just so -- imagine my delight when posters for this show began appearing throughout the city. As soon as I could, I headed down to the Hôtel de Ville exhibition space to take a look.

One of the first displays was a book of Paul Poiret designs! With their pronounced bustles, these clearly pre-date the gowns I saw at the Fort St.-André Abbey.

 Lucien LeLong's pattern books, however, with sample fabrics attached, took you right into the 1920s.

The whole notion of "haute couture" has been a distinctly Parisian discipline since the 17th century. In the 19th century, "maisons de couture" established themselves, most notably the 'House of Worth'. Charles Frederick Worth was actually born in England, but moved to Paris in 1846, set up shop on the rue de la Paix, and made an indelible mark on the French fashion industry.

Worth's exquisite silk evening gowns were highly sought after, the ultimate in elegance and simplicity. The House of Worth remained successful under several of Worth's descendants, until the 1950s, when C.F. Worth's great-grandson, Jean-Charles, retired. Les Perfumes Worth continued as a separate company. I used to love the fragrance Je Reviens!


Before I got busted for taking snapshots, I managed to snag a few photos in the exhibition, including these two adorable afternoon dresses from the 1930s from Martial and Armand Jean Dessès...



Givenchy (on the left) from 1954 (think Audrey Hepburn!), with a Dior evening dress from the 1940s behind it...




and a Jacques Heim cocktail dress from 1951 in dark grey wool, with a hot pink midriff.



Some of the displays showed how a good design never goes out of style. The suit on the left is Thierry Mugler from 1998, the one on the right is from 1951, designed by the house of Carven!

And even within the same house of fashion, some things never get old -- on the left Chanel from 1960, on the right, Chanel from 1995! This simple style of suit was launched by Chanel in the mid-50s, putting the new-look trend out of fashion and bringing us into the 1960s.


In the second half of the 20th century, "prêt à porter" (ready-made clothing) began to take over from haute couture, and gowns like these by Jacques Fath and Marcelle Dormoy disappeared. By 1967, the number of "maisons du couture" had shrunk from 106 to just 19. Today, there are barely a dozen.


But, luckily, there's always the new generation to keep us stylish. This little 13-month-old Brooklynite came on her first visit to Paris last week. Check out those polka-dot "plus-fours", the purple tights and the green shoes...



...not to mention the snazzy shades, as she and her parents bundled themselves up in sunny, but still very cold Paris!!



In spite of the weather, Clio was definitely ready for the Easter Bunny in her pretty smocked frock!






À bientôt!