Quebec-native Marie-Nicole Lemieux, C.M., C.Q., is one of the highest-rated contraltos in the world, performing regularly at Covent Garden, Theater an der Wien, Barcelona’s Liceu, the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées, and singing alongside such luminaries as Anna Netrebko and Plácido Domingo.

Name a world-class orchestra or maestro, and Lemieux has more than likely worked with them at some point in her career. While the Baroque repertoire is a particular sweet spot for Lemieux, the singer has an incredibly flexible voice for her fach, enabling her to sing roles ranging from Cassandra in “Les Troyens” to Azucena in “Il Trovatore” to Carmen. Lemieux is quite at home on the recital stage, too, recently having performed Wagner’s “Wesendonck Lieder” with Maison Symphonique de Montréal in February.

The versatile contralto is a prolific recording artist with dozens of albums to her name, many of which are solo. She is a featured soloist on Warner’s latest compilation, “Hector Berlioz: The Complete Works,” and is releasing another album this fall which includes works by Berlioz, Chausson, and Elgar, as well as a world premiere by Joncières.

Finally, should you be wondering what the letters following her name represent, Lemieux is a Knight of the National Order of Quebec, a member of the Order of Canada, the Order of the Pleiade, and she has a Doctor Honoris Causa from the Université du Québec at Chicoutimi.

In fine, Lemieux is a woman of extraordinary accomplishments.

However, despite all her major accomplishments, it remained somewhat surprising to see the Metropolitan Opera as a company not gracing her substantial resume.

But that changed this past January, when Lemieux strode onto Met stage to make her house debut in Debussy’s “Pelléas et Mélisande.” Following on the heels of “Pelléas,” she went on to perform in the Met’s production of Verdi’s “Falstaff.”

“Pelléas et Mélisande” at the Met

Lemieux made her Met debut as Geneviève in “Pelléas et Mélisande,” in a production paced by Met Music Director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin. While the role provided the singer with a scant five minutes of singing, Lemieux jumped at the chance to work with the Maestro Nézet-Séguin.

“Geneviève was a good way for me to start at the Met,” she told OperaWire in a recent interview. “I’ve sung the role many times, and a big reason I wanted to sing it in New York was that it was with Yannick; I wanted to work with him again after a wonderful European tour in 2017 with his Orchestre Métropolitain de Montréal. Everyone says it’s so great to sing with Yannick, and I must say it’s true! He understands how to inspire people, and we’ve known each other since conservatory, can you believe?

“Interestingly, the first time I saw ‘Pelléas,’ it was at Opéra de Montréal, and, if I recall, Yannick was conducting the work for his first time,” Lemieux added, reflecting on the early days of their careers.

Turning her thoughts to Debussy’s opera, Lemieux acknowledged the challenges “Pelléas” presents to operagoers. Debussy’s only opera, is an ethereal, rarely-staged work about which audiences have definite opinions; some love Debussy’s strange, soporific music while others struggle to connect with the Impressionistic palette of sounds. The work has some Wagnerian aspects; there are no standout arias as the music flows without interruption beneath the text and leitmotifs announce different characters.

Yet, different from most of Wagner’s operas—except for perhaps “Parsifal, in terms of sublimity—Debussy’s “Pelléas” is a slow-moving river within a Monet painting.

“I’ve always held that with ‘Pelléas et Mélisande,’ you like it, or you go to sleep; you find it difficult and strange, or you love it. For me, watching ‘Pelléas’ that first time was a huge moment—a moment in which I fell in love with the work,” she noted before turning her attention to the limited musical moments she gets. “The difficulty for me when playing Geneviève is that the role has such a limited amount of time on stage. I want to be out there singing. I adore ‘Pelléas,’ so much that I’ve memorized every word in the entire opera, and I sit in rehearsals quietly singing all the characters.”

Lemieux, an enthusiast of the visual arts, spoke of “Pelléas” as an Impressionist painting; a work that needs to be viewed from a distance to see the complete image. She explained how if the listener backs away, so to speak, and takes the time to read what is being said in the unadorned language of the libretto, they will see an intensely sinister story drifting above the somnolent and dreamy waters of Debussy’s score.

“‘Pelléas’ is one of the hardest and darkest operas in my repertoire. The story is about jealousy, murder, and violence towards a woman. Each time I finish the opera I am crying. Think about it; Golaud molests Mélisande and does so in front of Arkel! After witnessing the act, Arkel excuses it, saying, ‘Oh, that Golaud, he was just drunk…’ It’s horrifying!”

“Falstaff:” Laughter with a Lesson

With the close of “Pelléas,” Lemieux immediately shifted aesthetic gears, slipping into her signature role of Mistress Quickly in the Met’s production of “Falstaff.” In stark contrast to “Pelléas’” dark tragedy, Verdi’s “Falstaff,” is a raucous comedy adapted from Shakespeare’s “Merry Wives of Windsor.” It’s also the last opera written by the composer.

“Falstaff,” like “Pelléas” contains no standalone arias, but that is where the similarities end—although it’s worth noting that both operas premiered in 1893.

“Falstaff” is an ensemble piece, and Lemieux likens the work to a modern musical in which theatrics are essential. The contralto illustrated the importance of theater in “Falstaff” with a bit of music history, relating the story of how Verdi gave the heave-ho to his first Mistress Quickly. According to Lemieux, the great composer fired the singer—a first for the maestro—because she was an awful actress. Verdi wanted a comedienne with a commanding stage presence as his hilarious, double-entendre spewing innkeeper.

Reviews of Lemieux’s portrayal of Quickly make it easy to believe Verdi would be quite pleased.

“I created this particular staging of Mistress Quickly six years ago at Covent Garden,” Lemieux stated. “For me, she’s like an old friend; she’s part of me. I don’t get tired of playing her because it’s great to be on stage and hear people laughing!

“When you perform this type of repertoire, yes, you need musical precision, but you also have to play, and have fun. That’s risky; just singing Mistress Quickly is much safer, but it’s not very interesting. When it all comes together, the result makes people happy, so very happy!

“With ‘Falstaff,’” Lemieux continued, “Verdi gave us a beautiful lesson. At 80-years-old, he chose a comedy as his last opera because I think it was the culmination of all he had learned about humility and life. At the end of the opera, when Quickly asks Falstaff how he could’ve possibly believed the two young women would fall in love with him, he shrugs it off, agreeing with her. ‘Yes, yes, you’re right. Ah! But it was fun!'”

A Reason to Sing

Happiness and joy are emotions Lemieux radiated as she discussed her work—laughing, chuckling, and speaking excitedly about her passion for singing. The delight she takes in her work stems not from accolades or prestige, but out of a deep sense of calling.

Lemieux revealed to OperaWire that performing isn’t about her; it’s about those sitting in the auditorium seats or listening to her recordings. The contralto sees her career as a means to transport people away from the daily grind of their lives to a place of solace, beauty, and, in the case of ‘Falstaff,’ laughter.

“My goals are to share the love I have for music and to make people feel better by doing so. I want to grab audiences with my voice and use it to say to them, ‘Everything is going to be fine; forget your troubles for a few hours, we’re going on a trip together.’ I believe this is my duty as an artist, to share comfort.”

Lemieux says viewing her singing as a mission helps keep the loneliness that comes with being a singer at bay, cautioning those who seek an opera career to give serious consideration of their motives.

“Singing is a work of great joy, but you have to understand that it comes with a huge price. Even if you are on the Met stage, even if you are singing at Covent Garden, be prepared to be alone,” she explained. “Most of the time, you are on stage, and you are shining. People are saying, ‘Oh, my God! You are a diva, or you are a divo!’ But what happens afterward? You go back to your little apartment, or your hotel room, and you are alone.

“When you know why you sing, when you do it for a good reason you can find joy when there’s no one around. No one teaches singers how to deal with being alone. We need to talk openly about this; what we do is too hard otherwise.”

Lemieux admits that even with her positive mindset, the opera grind wears her down as she hops the globe living out of a suitcase. She’s been in the business long enough to know that no one is immune. So, how does a singer who seeks to comfort others, comfort herself?

“I go and find beauty. While in New York, I take walks in Central Park. I have a membership at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I adore hanging out in museums, and when I am there, I lose track of time. Before I know it, I’ve spent hours looking at paintings and sculptures.

“I also remember to be grateful. I get to sing; I get to do what I love. How wonderful!”