Bitingly satirical of capitalism: Robinson Crusoe makes an appearance at the Rennes Opera
With Robinson Crusoe, Jacques Offenbach signs in 1867 a comic opera that is as bewildering as it is captivating. Far from his buffoon successes like La Vie parisienne or Orphée aux Enfers, this more ambitious score explores a hybrid territory: an exotic adventure tinged with satire, where Offenbach's humor blends with a more straightforward lyricism than usual.
The work, very loosely inspired by the novel by Daniel Defoe, plays with the myth of the solitary castaway. The libretto by Eugène Cormon and Hector Crémieux multiplies the comical situations: an English family stuck in its principles, a dreamy and clumsy hero, cannibals more folkloric than threatening, and a Friday transformed into an irresistible stage companion.
At its premiere, the opera only meets with mixed success. The audience at the Opéra-Comique, accustomed to sentimental plots, is bewildered by this mix of genres. However, critics already recognize the quality of the music and the boldness of the subject matter.
It would take until the end of the 20th century for Robinson Crusoe to regain a place on European stages.
The new production completely departs from the original version. Very contemporary, it embraces a strong political dimension, without ever losing the spirit of the work.
The staging, signed by Laurent Pelly, stands out for its inventiveness and sense of rhythm, while the musical direction by Guillaume Tourniaire brings precise and nuanced energy to the whole.
Projected outdoors on Thursday on the giant screen in the town hall square, the opera gathered around three thousand spectators. It will be broadcast internationally again on November 6 at the Champs Libres.
This new production becomes a distorting mirror — but terribly recognizable — of the social and ideological fractures that run through the United States.
A perfect house that cracks: critique of the bourgeois illusion
The first set, a pastel show house worthy of a catalog from the Glorious Thirties, presents an idealized vision of the Western middle class. Everything is too clean, too orderly, too happy. Pelly seems to point to a conservative mythology: that of a model family, of frozen comfort, of a world where nothing is out of place.
Robinson's escape (Pierre Derhet) from this cocoon then takes on a political dimension: leaving the artificial perfection to face reality. The character of Sir William Crusoe, portrayed by Frédéric Caton, becomes almost a caricature of a paternalistic notable, guardian of an immobile social order.
From homeless tents to skyscrapers: America of inequalities
The shift to the second set is brutal: tents of the homeless, wandering silhouettes, glass towers. The transition evokes the extreme contrasts of many American metropolises, where prosperity coexists with precariousness.
This vision is not neutral: it refers to very real debates about housing, urban poverty, and public policies that struggle to address them. The performance does not take an explicit side, but it stages the social consequences of an economic model that leaves many people by the wayside.
The arrival of Mathilde Ortscheidt as Friday, who also lives on the street, reinforces this new reading. The duo she forms with Robinson, punctuated by passages in Spanish, opens another avenue: that of Latin American immigration, omnipresent in the American political debate. The performance does not formulate a direct message, but it suggests a reality: the border, the flight, the fear of being found.
Cannibal capitalism and the army of Trumps
The "cannibals" become workers on a cannibal production line, with flashing neon lights, fluorescent vests, and giant letters spelling "EAT." It's hard not to see this as a critique of industrial capitalism, the dehumanization of labor, or consumption as a devouring logic.
Then a horde of mini-Trumps appears, exaggerated caricatures of a globally known political figure. The show does not target a specific election but uses this figure as a symbol of a certain populism, aggressive rhetoric, and a political culture based on image and provocation.
Offenbach, master of parody, finds inspired heirs here
Satire is never gratuitous: it is rooted in the Offenbachian tradition, which mocks human flaws, social illusions, and overly comfortable certainties. Tourniaire conducts the Orchestre National de Bretagne with an energy that perfectly embraces this controlled madness: sudden accelerations, comedic breaks, and deliberate contrasts.
An audience won over by audacity and humor
The Rennes audience laughs, applauds, and allows themselves to be surprised. The show dares, subverts, exaggerates, but always with a theatrical intelligence that avoids easy solutions.
Performance dates: (last 2)
Monday, June 22 at 8 PM
Wednesday, June 24 at 8 PM
Opera sung and surtitled in French.
Price: from 5 to 64 euros
