(Photo: Mirco Magliocca)

The Versailles Royal Opera successfully staged one of the most curious titles of the eighteenth century: Baldassare Galuppi and Piero Chiari’s “L’uomo Femina.” Galuppi, once a popular Venetian composer—especially known for what is now recognized as opera buffa—has largely fallen into obscurity. Today, his name resonates only among the most hardcore early music enthusiasts—the same audiences likely lamenting the absence of Cimarosa and Paisiello from the standard repertoire.

Even more intriguing than the composer’s history is the opera’s plot: two shipwreck survivors are rescued on an island in the Mediterranean Sea where women rule. It is not a matriarchal society in the traditional sense, but an allegory of patriarchy with the inversion of its signs: men behave femininely (they are referred to as the weaker sex), and women are warriors who subject men to sexual harassment. Of course, it being the eighteenth century, in the end all the women will relinquish their power, submitting to male dominance and to the restoration of patriarchal order. Yet, the opera ends with one of the most ambiguous resolutions I’ve ever witnessed.

Provocative Production Details

With such a provocative subject—provocative and yet characteristic of eighteenth-century allegory—“L’uomo Femina” offers ample material for contemporary debate, especially regarding gender representation. While some modern directors have censored themselves and proffered their progressive bona fides and virtue, Agnès Jaoui wholeheartedly embraced the opera’s potential controversies. Her depiction of dominated men is unabashedly flamboyant, recalling the exaggerated queens of New York’s former Meatpacking District at night. The women, on the other hand, embody crude stereotypes of aggressors. The settings are orientalist, as though this feminist island were modeled after the sensual harems of European fantasies of the Arab world.

When an opera is this overtly “problematic,” it is better to confront the issues head-on. Jaoui wisely recognizes that at its core, “L’uomo Femina” offers an ambiguity that leaves audiences pondering whether it critiques patriarchy or femininity under patriarchal structures. In the opera’s closing moments, the cast sings, “Those who are smart will understand what the author meant.”

What that meaning is remains deliberately opaque.

Musical Highlights

Musically, however, the opera reveals why it has been neither frequently performed nor often recorded. I would be lying if I claimed to remember any of its melodies vividly. While there are some engaging moments—Roberto’s aria “Roberto, dove sei?” and a few scenes involving Cretidea—the finale, set in a curious minor key, is the only instance where the music truly captivated me.

Sometimes, music is forgotten for good reason.

Vincent Dumestre conducted “Le Poème Harmonique”  with evident enthusiasm. The ensemble’s sound was rich and vibrant despite its modest size. However, the vocal performances left room for improvement. While the acting was generally solid, there was noticeable sloppiness, particularly in the execution of coloraturas, which proved difficult to overlook. Though I appreciated the emphasis on the Italian text—rare for such an obscure opera, as I hardly needed to glance at the supertitles—at times, the singers’ over-pronunciation interfered with musical phrasing and resulted in uneven vocal timbres within the same register. Perhaps Galuppi’s music doesn’t naturally suit modern voices, but the overall impression was less than stellar.

That said, mezzo-soprano Eva Zaïcik’s warm and captivating vocal tone was a standout. Playing the ruthless ruler Cretidea, Zaïcik demonstrated that her voice is better suited to tragic roles than parodic ones. Victor Sicard brought depth to the misogynistic Roberto, excelling in moments where his character was as bewildered as a cockroach caught in the crossfire. François Rougier provided solid comic relief alongside Sicard’s more serious portrayal.

Lucile Richardot and Victoire Bunel (as Ramira and Cassandra, respectively) fully embraced their roles as caricatured, phallic soldiers, while Anas Séguin impressed with his commanding baritone voice, despite performing a role that seemed like an indictment of femininity.

While undeniably a minor work, “L’Uomo Femina” stands out for its unique take on patriarchy, written at a time when such questions were far from obvious. Despite its shortcomings, the opera, with its competent cast, offers moments of appeal. Still, it’s difficult to feel strongly about Galuppi’s music after such an uneven experience.