The investigation that dislodges Lully’s orchestra

An absolute myth since the 1987 version by Jean-Marie Villégier and William Christie, Lully’s tragédie en musique returns in 2026 from a radically new angle: that of investigation. With Benoît Dratwicki and the Centre de musique baroque de Versailles (CMBV), the project does not merely “revive” a masterpiece; it questions its very foundations—the sources, the orchestra, the voices, right down to the place of the wind instruments. The late discovery, at the municipal library of Colmar, of a manuscript contemporary with the 1676 premiere acted as a true artistic revelation which, far from constraining the project, greatly expanded its scope. In doing so, this 2026 version opens up an unprecedented landscape in which several readings can coexist… and happily contradict one another!

Let’s first place Atys in history: why did this opera become so emblematic, both at the time of its creation and, above all, since the 1987 production?

B. D.: Atys is emblematic on three levels. First, in 1676. In many respects, it can be considered the first “true” tragédie en musique. Before that, in Cadmus et Hermione, Alceste, Thésée, or Les Fêtes de Bacchus et de l’Amour, one often finds grand spectacle machines in which the theatrical thread remains, shall we say, rather diluted. In Atys, for the first time, dramaturgy is genuinely refined: from Act I onward, we have tragic characters with psychological subtlety, evolving personalities, complex interactions. The libretto claims to reach the level of Racine and Corneille. Then, Atys is emblematic because it has often been called “the king’s opera”. Louis XIV did appreciate it, that’s true, but the formula is a bit misleading: he later liked other titles as well, and in the eighteenth century, Atys was not Lully’s most frequently performed opera. The most often staged were rather Thésée and especially Armide. Finally, Atys becomes a myth in 1987, with the Villégier and Christie production at the Opéra-Comique. In my view, that choice stemmed precisely from the fact that it is a fairly stripped-down tragedy, with large scenes of tragic discussion: the work closest to the Racine model. And that is very interesting, because it conveys a “period vision”. Villégier’s staging—sober, black and white, almost without machinery—pulls tragédie en musique towards classical tragedy. Whereas in reality, Lully’s opera is also grand spectacle! So, in 1987, we have a reading that in part “betrays” the nature of the genre—but which produced immense success, and a landmark moment.

You insist on this phenomenon: did the 1987 Atys almost eclipse an earlier wave of the baroque revival?

B. D.: Yes. The revival had begun earlier: the Opéra de Lyon, Scylla et Glaucus by Leclair, Phaéton, Les Boréades in Aix… All that is already the early 1980s. But Atys “buried” that first wave and became the central myth: “Atys ’87”. When one revives Atys today, one inevitably places oneself within that chronology—even though I, for example, did not see the 1987 version: I was in the countryside, I was ten years old. I discovered it later, and I saw its revival in 2011. I remember that some spectators, nourished on the fantasy of 1987, found it austere… but the fact remains that it marked history.

So why, in 2024, decide to take on this monument?

B. D.: The project is part of a cross-residency: the CMBV, La Grande Écurie et la Chambre du Roy and Alexis Kossenko. Together, we had already done Zoroastre by Rameau, Le Carnaval du Parnasse by Mondonville, symphonies pour les soupers du Roy by Lalande, cantatas by Rameau… At a certain point, I suggested that we not remain in the eighteenth century and shift back to the seventeenth. So: Lully or not Lully? I said: “We’ll also do rare works, but let’s dare, for once, a ‘well-known’ composer!” With Lully, we quickly understood that the early operas—very rich in recitative, with a decisive role for the text, the basso continuo, diction—offered more ground for deepening interpretation than the later operas, where the orchestra is more “fused” and accompanied recitatives are more prevalent. And if one is going to question performance habits, one might as well do so with an emblematic title. Afterwards, we learned that Christophe Rousset was going to propose Atys in his complete cycle, then that Leonardo García-Alarcón also had a project (revived in Versailles this January 2026). At the time, one thinks: “Oh no…”. Then I thought: no, this is great! We can hear three very different Atys, whereas for a long time everyone had been content with a single reference version. The more Atys there are—and the more they diverge—the more we demonstrate the diversity of possible approaches to the heritage!

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