Belgian? French? André-Ernest-Modeste Grétry (1741–1813) was born in Liège, then a semi-independent prince-bishopric within the Holy Roman Empire, now a cultural hub in Wallonia, one of the Kingdom of Belgium’s three federal regions. But he made his name in Paris, where his remains are interred in the fabled cemetery of Père Lachaise (resting place also of worthies like Jim Morrison and Maria Callas, to name just two). His remains, that is, except his heart, which was sent home to Liège after a 15-year custody battle—an arrangement less macabre in its time than it seems in ours. (Google Chopin. Google Shelley.) The operas of Grétry, alas, are little remembered today, though lovers of Tchaikovsky’s Pikovaya Dama know (whether they realize it or not) a ditty from Richard, Cœur-de-Lion that haunts the fatal encounter of the decrepit Venus of St. Petersburg and Gherman, a gambler desperate to learn her winning secret. An especially scintillant variation on the well-loved theme of Beauty and the Beast, Zémire et Azor is an altogether happier proposition. The swift-rising Berkshire Opera Festival transports the action to “the shimmering yet morally fragile world of Gilded Age America,” presenting Zémire (Ethel Trujillo) as the daughter of a nouveau riche father yet possessed of a heart of gold, and Azor (Scott Rubén La Marca) as an Old Money recluse, disfigured in an industrial accident. Brian Garman conducts; Mo Zhou is the director. —Matthew Gurewitsch