In this article, I use an intertextual interference – the spectral presence of Norma Desmond in a performance of Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor – as a locus through which to explore the consequences of the ‘open’ text in theatrical spectatorship, criticism and historical study. Norma’s ghosting of Lucia reveals how spectral effects function in musical and dramatic contexts, particularly in Gothic works. These effects replace illusions of linear teleology with temporal synchronicity and destabilise the boundaries that separate the critic or spectator from the work. Though examining Lucia through the lens of Sunset Boulevard inverts chronological sequence, it acknowledges the temporal contradictions inherent in historical work and assigns productive meaning to nostalgic impulses that engage a reflective mode of thought.

In 1892, physician Achille Gouguenheim (1839–1901) was invited to teach a course on the physiology and hygiene of singing at the Paris Conservatoire. By that time, scientists had been interested in the mechanics of the ‘invisible’ singing voice for years, initially experimenting on human and animal cadavers using strings and weights to make dead larynges sing. By mid-century, with the development of better quality artificial lighting and mirrors, physicians and physiologists finally developed a better understanding of the relationship between voice and physiology. Meanwhile, by 1890, a growing number of connoisseurs and medical professionals alike were concerned that there was a crisis ruining French operatic singing. Gouguenheim and others argued that the key to improving the situation rested on embedding medical knowledge and its relationship to the proper functioning of the larynx and voice into pedagogy at the Conservatoire. Drawing upon archival documents, debates in leading periodicals and Gouguenheim’s published lecture notes, we examine the marriage between medical science and artistic pedagogy during the latter part of the nineteenth century. Overall, we argue that this evidence reveals a strand of French vocal training that merged the fields of science and artistry, if ever so briefly, creating pedagogical methods that for a few years offered the promise of rescuing French opera performance.

On 26 October 1928 Paris was witness to a gala opera performance some sixty years in the making: the city’s first staging of Bedřich Smetana’s The Bartered Bride (1866). Organised under the auspices of the Czechoslovak embassy, joined with the tenth anniversary celebrations for the foundation of the First Czechoslovak Republic, and promoted as a marker of French-Czechoslovak cultural ties, the event constituted a triumph for Czech opera in one of the interwar period’s most important European cultural centres. The Paris premiere of The Bartered Bride allows for a detailed examination of two distinct but interconnected issues: the status of Smetana’s opera as political, ideological and national symbol for the nascent Czechoslovak state, and the diplomatic relationship between interwar France and Czechoslovakia.