In 2014, Pierre Audi signed a new production of Tosca. Together with set designer Christof Hetzer, he imagined a set with the shadow of a cross hovering above it, thus making the political and dramatic implications of the libretto tangible. Alexandre Gaillard, head of the Set Design Department at the Paris Opera, reveals the genesis of the production's set, which proved to be an adventure worthy of the work.  

Alexandre Gaillard is Assistant Head of scenery workshops and Technical Supervisor.

I arrived at the Paris Opera in 2003 in the post of assistant to the supervisor of the scenery design department. In 2007, the head of the scenery workshops asked me to oversee all the technical side, a post I’ve occupied ever since. In this job, I follow the entire process of creating the sets: firstly the initial designs with our artists, then, when the plans are ready, I supervise the construction in collaboration with the heads of the different workshops concerned. My mission is to guarantee that every set fully answers the requirements of the stage directors and scenographers, whilst taking our own constraints into account. This also means sometimes modifying the choices made by scenographers or working with them to reach a compromise.

The set for Tosca underwent several adjustments between the initial presentation of the drawings and its final realisation at the time of its creation in 2014. When the drawings were submitted, the design consisted of just a single cross: in Act I it was on the stage. To show us its position in Act II, Christof Hetzer took hold of it, put two strings round it and there it was suspended above his set. To the problems of a cross on the stage were therefore added the difficulty of suspending it. For us, these problems required completely different technical solutions prompting us straightaway to envisage two different crosses. However, the illusion that the cross is the same before and after the interval remains intact for the audience.   

The hanging cross is the one that required most thought. First of all, we reconsidered its shape and dimensions with the scenographer. It required three motors to suspend it and it had to be mobile which provided an additional challenge. We had to consider how to construct a metallic skeleton for the cross as well as the best way of covering it, that is to say, its exterior panels and their decoration. We had to recalculate the dimensions three times before we found the best structural solution: a framework in aluminium tubing reinforced at strategic points with steel elements. Next, we had to find the best solution for the exterior: it was made mostly out of a composite of polystyrene, carbon fibre and resin which allowed for very rigid but also very light panels. The Scenery Workshop had one last challenge to face: making the material as light as possible. When the first samples were shown to the scenographer, the decorative layer weighed 1.5kg per m². After a series of tests, the decorators managed to reduce the weight by half and still produce the same visual effect. Our combined efforts resulted in an overall weight of 2.7 tons and a maximum of 960kg at the leverage points (the limit was 1 ton per motor). Rarely had a set demanded such an investment on the part of the technical and artistic workshops and the Design Department.

The first time we suspended the cross in the workshop it looked so intimidating that we hardly dared walk underneath it. It’s a marvellous piece of opera scenery in that it is full of paradoxes: it’s a highly monolithic object, the rock-like appearance of its outer covering reinforces the impression of density and contributes to the oppressive quality of its presence on stage, although in fact it was made as light as possible and is largely hollow, composed of emptiness.

I was trained as an engineer and have a diploma from the Arts & Métiers school. For me, working at the opera really is “engineering” in the fullest sense of the term. Over and above technical realism, it requires creativity, ingenuity and perseverance to go the extra mile and come up with the bright ideas that will allow you to bring the artist’s vision to life on stage.   

Interview by Milena Mc Closkey

In Tosca, Pierre Audi has chosen to place religion and its complex relationship with political power at the centre of his production: a choice that continues to have an impact today. The director talks to philosopher Henri Peña-Ruiz, a specialist in secularism.

Henri Peña-Ruiz: Yes, and, to some extent, it’s scarcely surprising that the oppression that Scarpia subjects Tosca to, the threat of rape that he keeps hanging over her, is carried out with the tacit approval of the clerical authorities. When the Church involves itself in society’s mores, it is often to the detriment of women. Think of Molière’s Tartuffe and his famous phrase:

Cover that breast which I may not behold.
Such a sight is harmful to the soul;
for it will beget impure thoughts.

Men endeavour to exert control over the bodies of women—be it in France, Italy or in Spain—in societies long marked by patriarchy and sexist domination. From that perspective, most religions codify such domination by sacralising it and presenting it as ordained by God. From Molière to Puccini, one of the tasks artists attributed to themselves was to denounce the hypocrisy of such a position.

Henri Pena Ruiz: That’s a complex question which touches on the very purpose of art! Does art serve another purpose other than itself? Philosophy has often answered no to that question. Art is its own end because it is that wonderful activity by which man expresses a creativity that produces beautiful works that we enjoy for and in themselves. Kant asserts that “art is an endless finality”. Even so, it is clear that this has never stopped artists from taking an emancipating, demystifying, critical position relative to a given historical situation. History has shown us that when human beings are suffering, or demanding and fighting for their liberty, artists cannot remain unmoved. Earlier, I cited Victor Hugo. I could also evoke the films of Bernardo Bertolucci, Ettore Scola and even Arturo Toscanini in the domain of opera... Those are artists I admire.

Pierre Audi: Personally, I find that the notion of sacred is very useful: the form, the setting. That doesn’t mean that I stage masses for the public [laughter], of course, that's not what I mean. For me, the sacred is a form. It is like a circle or a square, a shape inside which I can set up my production. It’s a prism through which I can have a dialogue with the public.

Interviewed by Simon Hatab