L'Œil crevé
Bouffonnerie musicale en 3 actes créée le 12 octobre 1867 au théâtre des Folies-Dramatiques (livret et musique d'Hervé). Pour une seconde version (1881, théâtre de la Renaissance), le livret est remanié par Hector Crémieux.
Hervé’s most important works were written after his return from a long journey that took him notably to Egypt. Freed in 1858 from the restrictive licensing system in Paris that had obliged him hitherto to produce only one-act operettas, he was at last able to turn his attentions to full-length opéras-bouffes. His first one, Les Chevaliers de la table ronde, despite its undeniable qualities, was a failure, but L'Œil crevé was taken into the repertoire of many theatres, as the multiple editions of the libretto for the piano reduction show. Chilpéric and Le petit Faust followed and were both later performed in English versions in Britain and the United States. First produced in Paris on 12 October 1867 at the Théâtre des Folies-Dramatiques, L'Œil crevé took some time to find its definitive title: it was first called L'Œil de Mademoiselle, then V’lan dans l’œil. In three highly developed acts, the work presents a gallery of contrasting characters, each one zanier than the next. The quartet for the two sopranos (Dindonette and Fleur de Noblesse) and the two tenors (Alexandrivore and Ernest) stands out as particularly demanding in its vocal writing. In that sense, L'Œil crevé is probably the score that comes closest to the old opéra-comique as practiced by Hérold and Auber, and the musical writing does not shy away from lengthy Italian cantabile passages and expressive theatrical harmonies. Both the libretto and the music show Hervé at his best: an irreproachable composer with a surrealistic and truly avant-garde taste for comedy. Is this not the tale of a princess who, after being shot in the eye during an archery contest, complains only that she is now less enviable? The same princess who, with a mad passion for carpentry, exclaims: “Peu importe le mari que l’on me destine, tant qu’il rabote bien!” (“It matters not which husband I am destined to have, as long as he planes well!”)