Richard Wagner - Tannhäuser (Bayreuth, 2019)
Bayreuther Festspiele, 2019
Valery Gergiev, Tobias Kratzer, Stephen Gould, Lise Davidsen, Elena Zhidkova, Stephen Milling, Markus Eiche, Daniel Behle, Kay Stiefermann, Jorge Rodríguez-Norton, Katharina Konradi
BR-Klassik streaming - 25 July 2019
Not for the first time I'm watching the opening of a new Wagner production at Bayreuth and wondering what the hell has this got to do with the opera. Usually you can at least relate the idea or concept even tenuously to some of the familiar themes of the work, but over the overture Tobias Kratzer's production of Tannhäuser opens with a film of a motley group of wayward circus entertainers doing a runner at a petrol station, running down a police officer in the process. It's this incident, rather than any deep conflict about the nature of his art, that inspires this production's Heinrich to return to that great institution of the musical arts. No, not Wartburg, but Bayreuth.
And therein lies the clue that the production is not so much concerned with the fate and condition of the exiled artist who chooses to set himself up in opposition to conservative notions of musical, social, moral and religious order and instead chooses to explore a personal and profane voyage of the discovery of physical pleasures, but rather it's more of an self-mocking reference to Wagner creating a cult for himself and setting up Bayreuth as a kind of shrine for pilgrims to come in worship every year. There's even a joking reference in the opening film to the closing down of the Biogas plant that was the setting for the last (equally mystifying) Bayreuth production of Tannhäuser that this one is replacing.
It's certainly very much within the Bayreuth ethos - certainly since Katharina Wagner took over the running of the festival - not to treat Wagner's works with sacred reverence, but to continually challenge and question the master's works to see whether they still have contemporary relevance and can withstand a modern outlook. It's rather impressive to see that while some of the ideas, philosophy and nationalistic sentiments can seem outdated, the works always seem to touch on other fundamental matters, not least this central ethos of the role of the artist as a vehicle for challenging and questioning the prevailing social order.
Kratzer's hugely irreverent production doesn't initially seem to have much to offer on that front, and it probably doesn't help that Valery Gergiev's conduction of the overture sounds - in the broadcast performance of the premiere - very erratic in its pacing, rushing through it and smothering melodies. If anything, the crazy bunch careening in a camper van on their way to Bayreuth (their motto from RW - "Frei im Wollen, frei im Thun, frei im Geniessen" - ""Free in your desiring, free in you action, free in enjoying") seems like an open provocation on the nature of the Regietheatre, the team consisting of a dwarf Oskar, a black drag artist Le Gateau Chocolat, with Venus in a sparkly jumpsuit and Tannhäuser dressed as a circus clown. How the pilgrims, seen here in evening dress fanning themselves with programmes on the green hill, are going to react when this mob intrude is at least going to be interesting.
And interesting, rather than anything profound or revelatory, is indeed how it plays out. Act II opens with projected backstage footage of nervous performers preparing for a more traditional, conservative period production in as austere meeting room of Wartburg. The nerves around Heinrich's return seem to be over concern about his abandonment of the sacred tradition for the heresy of the anarchic madness of Regietheater. While the singing contest is going on and going south, Venus and her motley crew - Le Gateau Chocolat in an outrageous yellow puffball outfit - are seen climbing in a window of the Bayreuth theatre to add a further unwelcome intrusion upon the solemn festival proceedings (making fun of portraits of James Levine and Christian Thielemann on the way). Katharina Wagner is forced to call in the police.
It's certainly possible to explore Tannhäuser for more meaningful connections to contemporary situations, so Tobias Kratzer's production feels somewhat self-indulgent, but it's certainly amusing. And, if you consider the true spirit and range of Wagner lies in in something like Die Meistersinger von Nurnburg (essentially a superior reworking of Tannhäuser), where it leavens its solemnity with humour and true human feeling as well as with a spirit of anarchy, then this production does find a way of removing some of the more troublesome outdated principles and sanctimony for 'die holde Kunst' that can often get in the way of the true power and spirit of this work. Act III in particular is beautiful here, the transformation not some religious miracle or glorious sacrifice, but also there in Wolfram learning from Heinrich's inspiration and briefly winning the love and respect of Elisabeth, the conclusion downplaying the transcendence for what is real and human.
The production appears to hit its mark quite successfully. There's huge applause after Act I and Act II, with only audible boos at the conclusion, and most of them appear to be for Valery Gergiev. That's perhaps predictable, Gergiev not the most popular figure internationally for his support of Putin, but it's probably more politically motivated than any commentary on the musical performance. Despite the rather wayward overture - perhaps struggling to keep up with the on-screen visuals - Gergiev's account of the work is well-judged, harnessing the power of the work and not afraid to let its occasional bombast work in favour of the revised perspective. At the same time he captures the contrasting moods of the singing contest well, finding good expression for the deeper conflicts within Heinrich and Tannhäuser, the opera.
Whether you look at it as an in-joke or something celebratory, it's not a particularly thought-provoking Tannhäuser, but it is at least well-performed and entertaining. Elena Zhidkova, apparently standing in at short notice as Venus, gives a spirited performance that is a sheer joy, as is Lise Davidsen's soaring and beautifully controlled Elisabeth. Stephen Gould's Heinrich is generally solid, a little stretched in places, showing some nice interpretation and acting in his performance. Stephen Milling's and Markus Eiche are both reliably good in familiar roles as Landgraf Hermann and Wolfram von Eschenbach.
Bayreuther Festspiele, BR-Klassik
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - Così fan tutte
Royal Opera House, 2016
Semyon
Bychkov, Jan Philipp Gloger, Corinne Winters, Angela Brower, Daniel
Behle, Alessio Arduini, Johannes Martin Kränzle, Sabina Puértolas
Opus Arte - Blu-ray
Purely
in terms of the musical and singing performances, the Royal Opera
House's 2016 production of Così fan tutte is reasonably good, if not
quite exciting or revelatory. Semyon Bychkov conducts an elegant
account of the work, but it doesn't particularly fizz with those
energised moments of Mozartian brilliance. The singing performances are
fresh, bright and vibrant, but don't seem to be able to carry the
weightier considerations that are in the opera either. Jan Philipp Gloger's direction has an interesting concept that actually sets out to
bridge that gap rather well, providing plenty of visual interest in the
sets and situations, but somehow it still never quite coheres the way
you might like it.
Making Don Alfonso a theatre director
does take the work into a meta-theatrical direction, the opera even
opening with the director and the cast of his latest work taking their
bows at the start of this performance during the overture. The idea is
not just to be clever, but to consider the meaning of Mozart and
Da Ponte's opera in the context of art and artifice. It's not
real-life, it's an opera. That doesn't mean that it doesn't have a
serious point to make, but it can do it through music, theatre and,
although it might seem like a contradiction, and is less commonly seen
these days in this opera, it can be serious through comedy. As a
theatre director then, Don Alfonso uses a number of theatrical
situations to put love to the test and illustrate his point about
fidelity and constancy to the two unrealistically idealistic young
couples.
The Royal Opera House production tries to
address the issues of love and fidelity in the opera in a lighter and
more playful fashion without having to resort to that darker view of
male and female relationships and middle-class ideals that you will find
in some other productions (Michael Haneke and Christophe Honoré). It's true that some of the
ideas expressed in the opera might be considered rather out of step
with modern attitudes towards gender politics and political correctness,
but Mozart and Da Ponte's comedy is actually just as challenging of
prevailing attitudes. One need only look at their other two
collaborations to realise that the same principles are applied to Così
fan tutte. The theatricality and forced romanticism of the situations
in Gloger's production highlight the fact that Mozart and Da Ponte are
satirising such attitudes, regarding the notion of constancy and
fidelity as nothing more than an artificial bourgeois construct that
prevents us from following the true dictates of the human heart.
And
it's true. Don Alfonso and his rather more practical minded
co-conspirator from the serving classes Despina are actually correct.
Not so much in the idea that it's women who are inconstant (it's taken
for granted that men are fickle), but rather what Così fan tutte shows
us is that anyone can fall in love, the human heart can be easily swayed
and circumstances (or fate if you like) all have a part to play. It's
not about fidelity, it's about human nature, and when it comes to
exploring the wonder and the mysterious ways of the human heart, there's
no-one like Mozart for showing its infinite variety and capacity for
love. It might not always work out how we might like it, but in
contrast to the cynicism that you can find in some modern productions,
Mozart's music actually shows us that rather than leading to
disillusionment, he considers this to be something wonderful and
something to be celebrated.
Gloger's production then
captures both the artifice of romantic ideals where we don disguises and
play roles, but in each of the theatrical settings it also shows the
wonderful variety of circumstances in which love can work its magic and
catch us unawares, breaking down any preconceived ideals. It's a
production that is perfectly in tune with the playfulness of the idea
and the execution of the original, matching its cleverness, its richness
of mood and character. Mozart and Da Ponte tell us to keep an open
mind, and the same thing can be applied to this production. Every time
you come to a Mozart opera, you can experience and discover something
new about this wonderful work, and this one actually extends on some of
its themes rather brilliantly, if you have an open mind and no
preconceptions.
In execution however, it somehow doesn't
quite come together the way it should. It's perhaps the difficulty of
maintaining all those levels and trying to provide something for
everyone; trying to retain some amount of the familiar with a few new
ideas to challenge them. It's also down to the nature of the work
itself, which demands young, fresh singers, but expects them to have the
experience to maintain those various levels of superficiality and
sophistication. Corinne Winters, Angela Brower, Daniel Behle and Alessio Arduini however give engaging individual performances of equal
weight that permits them to interact well as a team. Sabina Puértolas is a lively irreverent Despina, and Johannes Martin Kränzle perfect as a
generous rather than a cynical Don Alfonso.
The
disconnect however appears to be more in the musical performance. Semyon Bychkov keeps the tone deceptively light, and it's this tone that
dominates without either connecting meaningfully or contrasting with
what is going on up on the stage. While Gloger's sets carry the sense of
game play and role play, each of the 'actors' playing their allotted
roles, it all feels a little detached and doesn't find a way to carry
through to the ambiguous feelings that linger with the revelations made
at a very confused resolution. There's an effort made to end on a
wistful note, but you never get the sense that there is anything serious
at stake here and no one really gets hurt. The ambiguity about Così
however is what keeps it fresh and keeps you thinking, and this
production does give you plenty to think about.
The
Blu-ray presentation of the production also gives it a new lease of
life, particularly in the High Resolution audio mixes of the musical
performance. The extras on the BD are scant, but the introduction
covers the all you need to know about the director's intentions for the
concept, the characters and the nature of the work itself.
Links: Royal Opera House YouTube
Richard Wagner - Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg
Bayreuther Festspiele, 2017
Philippe Jordan, Barrie Kosky, Michael Volle, Klaus Florian Vogt, Johannes Martin Kränzle, Daniel Behle, Anne Schwanewilms, Wiebke Lehmkuhl, Georg Zeppenfeld, Günther Groissböck, Tansel Akzeybek, Armin Kolarczyk, Daniel Schmutzhard, Paul Kaufmann, Christopher Kaplan, Stefan Heibach, Raimund Nolte, Andreas Hörl, Timo Riihonen
BR-Klassik - 25th July 2017
Barrie Kosky tones down his usual visual extravagances for his Bayreuth debut, but there's no shortage of spectacle, imagination and controversy in his production of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg premiered at the 2017 festival. The reason for the taking a little more of a low-key approach is that Kosky, as a Jewish director, has decided to tackle a rather difficult subject, and that's the longstanding question of Wagner's antisemitism and the alleged expression of it in this opera. You can hardly accuse Kosky then of reigning in his excesses out of reverence for the composer on his home turf, so to speak.
There's a case for challenging Wagner's beliefs around the questions of art, race and nationalism in his works, and certainly over the last decade Bayreuth has been at the forefront in addressing the difficult and troubling nationalistic elements in his works, particularly in Lohengrin and Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. Effectively putting the composer's great late masterpiece on trial for alleged antisemitism, there are initially some doubts about whether such an emphasis should be allowed to dominate over the whole of a work that has considerably more warmth, humanity and humour to it.
It certainly looks like Kosky is about to over-complicate and muddy the waters by inserting Wagner directly into the production, creating a tangled web around the work's composition, history, tradition and legacy. Act I recreates Wagner's Bayreuth mansion Haus Wahnfried, where the composer is showing off his latest creation to his family and friends. Franz Lizst, who evolves into Pogner, is there with his daughter Cosima, Wagner's wife, who in turn will transform into Eva in the opera. Wagner himself will of course transform into the wise Hans Sachs, but he also models a youthful version of himself as the spirit of Walther von Stolzing.
Perhaps most controversially, Hermann Levi, the Jewish conductor of the first performance of Parsifal, transforms into Beckmesser, who it has been said (but hardly definitively) is a Jewish caricature in the opera. In the traditional German craft of the Meistersingers, Beckmesser is the one who might aspire to compose great art, but he can never be truly German, and in the end is shown to imitate and steal the ideas of others to little authentic effect from one who is in closer contact with the nature of the land and has noble pure German blood running through his veins. And, of course, the people rise up and reject Beckmesser's poor and inauthentic efforts at German art, giving him a good kicking for his troubles in Act II.
Is this all that Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg is about? It is really an antisemitic work? The question is one worth addressing, particularly by the time you come to Act III of the work with its problematic concluding speech. Barrie Kosky fortunately proves to be more than capable of tackling some of those more troubling questions without neglecting all the other essential elements of the work. It might appear to be somewhat provocatively over-emphasising the matter, not to mention making a lazy reference to the Nuremberg by placing the medieval citizens in a courtroom during war crime trials that took place in the city in 1945, but the validity of exploring the legacy of Meistersinger far beyond its own time is borne out by the almost prophetic words of Wagner's libretto.
"How peacefully with its staunch customs, contented in deed and work, lies in the middle of Germany my dear Nuremberg", sings Hans Sachs about a place that embodies the spiritual heartland of Germany. And yet Wagner recognises that the same essential German qualities also contain within them an element of old madness that could come under the thrall of "a goblin" who could unravel the thread of madness that lies within it, and it's the role of a Hans Sachs "to guide the madness so as to perform a nobler work"; towards art. The Nuremberg trials setting is not arbitrary or gratuitous then, but it gives real meaning and force to Wagner's words and to the sentiments at the heart of Meistersinger.
Whether you agree with the premise and is execution, Kosky at least makes a meaningful connection between life and art by looking at the work through the prism of Wagner's own life and composition, a much more meaningful exploration than Stefan Herheim's half-hearted placement of Wagner into the opera in his 2013 Salzburg production of the same work. At the very least, Kosky keeps the stage interesting, full of movement, ideas and occasional eccentric little touches (the little phials of colour representing the chemistry of composition), but never going in the direction of campness or irreverence which this director is capable of but clearly finds inappropriate for this major work.
Thanks to Philippe Jordan's conducting and supporting the idea from the orchestra pit - the performance filled with warmth and a complementary of blending of the complex moods and colours of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg - it's possible to enjoy the production without having to grasp all the historical references and controversies that have dogged the work throughout its lifetime. The singing, from an absolute A-list of Wagnerian singers, also truly brings out all the musical qualities of the work. It's a sheer delight to see them all combining to such remarkable effect on this great work.
The singing is exemplary, but it's more than just technical prowess being exhibited here. There's evidently a strong directorial hand in the characterisation which brings in full individual engagement and collaborative interaction between the performers. I don't think I've ever seen Klaus Florian Vogt perform better anywhere than he does with this Walther von Stolzing. His distinctive light youthfully lyrical tone is perfectly suited to the role, but in performance too he seems totally involved with the character, the drama, and in reaction to the figures around him. Judging by the mixed reception at the curtain call, the casting of Anne Schwanewilms as Eva was a little more divisive, but personally I thought her performance was exceptionally good, her voice as distinctive as Vogt's, full of character and with extraordinary swoops and expressive detail.
Michael Volle and Johannes Martin Kränzle of course have a well-honed double act as Sachs and Beckmesser, but they adapt that well to the requirements of the production bringing even more depth to the interpretation and the characterisation. There is never a moment when they don't have you entirely in their spell, bringing nuance and complexity to the soul-searching explorations. Volle in particular gives a mighty performance, again the best I've ever seen from him or indeed from anyone in this role. When his Wagner/Sachs addresses the charges laid against him and fervently pleads his case from the Nuremberg witness stand asking "how can the art be unworthy which embraces such prizes?", there's not a jury in the land that would convict him.
Links: Bayreuther Festspiele, BR-Klassik
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - Così fan tutte
Royal Opera House, 2016
Semyon Bychkov, Jan Philipp Gloger, Corinne Winters, Angela Brower, Daniel Behle, Alessio Arduini, Johannes Martin Kränzle, Sabina Puértolas
Cinema Season Live - 17 October 2016
Così fan tutte has never quite been treated with the same love and affection that is given to Mozart's other two collaborations with Lorenzo da Ponte, Le Nozze di Figaro or Don Giovanni. Perhaps it's because Così fan tutte is more overtly a comedy, but there are comic elements in all three operas. Perhaps the same weight of insight into human feelings and behaviour just isn't there or just gets lost amidst the farce, but that depends very much on the choices made in direction. In recent years for example, Michael Haneke and Christophe Honoré - both filmmakers - have explored the very dark side of human behaviour in Così fan tutte to a largely successful degree.
Perhaps all Haneke and Honoré really did with Così fan tutte was find a way to connect the audience to an emotional reality within the opera that the comic side doesn't achieve quite so well, but that raises the question about whether or not this betrays the true intent of the work. Like Le Nozze di Figaro and Don Giovanni all sides of human behaviour are explored, and there are also dark and disturbing aspects that are there to be drawn upon in Così fan tutte. The answer would seen to lie in achieving a human balance between the comedy and the darkness and, if nothing else, this search to reveal the true worth of Mozart in Così fan tutte means that the work is always a fascinating challenge.
Jan Philipp Gloger's production for the Royal Opera House takes the challenge head-on by recognising that, perhaps even more than the other two Mozart/Da Ponte collaborations, art and artifice are at the heart of Così fan tutte and part of its very nature. Even if it's entirely in the spirit of the work, placing the emphasis on the artifice in the opera with an openly theatrical presentation is however a risky gamble as it tends to place even more distance between the situation and the truth behind it. The real test of whether the work can reveal its deeper human predicament lies more with the performers here, but despite truly great performances from an impressive young cast, the production does seem to work against them.
By using and emphasising theatrical devices as the basis for the production, Jan Philipp Gloger adheres to the comic principles that are at the heart of the work, and the means by which Mozart and Da Ponte make their case. The subtitle of Così fan tutte - A School for Lovers - tells you of this intent. The plot of the opera, like the opera itself, relies on the artifice of art to get its message across. Art is a means of arriving at a truth about inner sentiments that outside 'realism' might not be capable of reaching. Just as Mozart's music is a means of expressing those feelings in relation to love and fidelity in Così fan tutte, so too the use of theatre has the power to invent situations that put those feelings to the test.
The lesson that Don Alfonso has to impart to his students Ferrando and Guglielmo is not just that all women are by nature inconstant and unfaithful in their love, but rather that love is not some romantic ideal that we can choose to bend to our will. The heart has no master. The meaning and intent of this lesson is a serious one, but presenting it as a comedy does pose some problems that often tend to overshadow the truth of the work. Rather than play it straight with the two men donning stupid disguises as moustachioed Albanians that would fool no-one, there has to be some sort of complicity in going along with the game on the part of both men and their partners, Fiordiligi and Dorabella. It has to be seen as a role-play on some level that delivers the truth.
Gloger's idea of having Don Alfonso as a theatre director then has considerable merit, not least for the conceit of the two men dressing up and behaving out of character as they try and woo their respective fiancées into being unfaithful. As the theatrical sets and situations are levered into place, it is however clearly a high-level concept and not one could bear any realistic scrutiny. Suspension of disbelief is necessary, but at some level surely we must all realise when we go to the theatre or the opera that we are never watching realism on the stage, but just people acting. But acting for a good reason, which is to get to a deeper truth, and, let's not forget, to entertain. This production entertains and impresses and it even gets the all-important human message across through its art, but it does still feel a little too artificial.
It's through no fault of the singing or the musical performance. On every level this is an outstanding performance. While the characters are by no means interchangeable (other than for the necessities of the plot evidently), I often find that it's harder work to distinguish or perhaps care enough to consider what are the defining characteristics of the four main characters. They might not be as multifaceted and complex individuals as those in The Marriage of Figaro, but they can still have depth and personality. Genuine attention to the music and the arias show that this is the case and if it doesn't come across it not as much an issue with Mozart and Da Ponte's depiction but more likely with the direction or the singer's ability to bring something to their role. There is no issue at all with the singers here in the Royal Opera House production, but perhaps the direction doesn't do enough to highlight the contrasts and differences.
As far as singing and characterisation go the performances however are outstanding. Corinne Winters, Angela Brower, Daniel Behle and Alessio Arduini are just delightful as the confused lovers, each of them bearing equal weight, each of them meeting the challenges of the work, all of them bringing considerable youthful personality and sympathy to the roles in their individual arias, in their duets and ensembles. It's marvellous to see such a team interacting, working with each other in a way that illustrates all the points of the music and the drama. Sabina Puértolas too is one of the best Despinas I have seen, her singing performance impressive, bringing a lively fun personality and a sense of pleasure at mixing things up on the stage. The wonderfully versatile Johannes Martin Kränzle is comparatively rather restrained as Don Alfonso, but dressed in period costume as the 'director' (as Lorenzo da Ponte?), it was hard to really grasp his real nature here.
Musically too, there's a good performance here from the orchestra under Semyon Bychkov that keeps the tone deceptively light, but it's this tone that dominates without either connecting meaningfully or contrasting with what is going on up on the stage. While Gloger's sets carry the sense of game play and role play, each of the 'actors' playing their allotted roles, it all feels a little detached and doesn't find a way to carry through to the ambiguous feelings that linger with the revelations made at a very confused resolution. There's an effort made to end on a wistful note, but you never get the sense that there is anything serious at stake here and no one really gets hurt, which, for all the criticisms you could make about it, is not something you could say about Christophe Honoré's devastating conclusion in his production for Aix-en-Provence and Edinburgh.
Links: Royal Opera House
George Frideric Handel - Alcina
La Monnaie-De Munt, 2015
Christophe Rousset, Les Talens Lyriques, Pierre Audi, Sandrine Piau, Maite Beaumont, Angélique Noldus, Sabina Puértolas, Chloé Briot, Daniel Behle, Giovanni Fulanetto, Edouard Higuet
La Monnaie, Culturebox, RTBF - February 2015
There's long been a belief that Baroque opera can't possibly be put performed in the manner in which it was originally intended, and indeed, it hardly serves any useful pupose to attempt to recreate the theatrical conditions of 300 years ago. If you're going to attempt a more 'authentic' experience of Baroque opera beyond the now more common use of period instruments however, the location needs to be right. The Drottningholm Slottsteater near Stockholm is one of the few working Baroque theaters in the world and seen in that context it's necessary and doubtlessly instructive to see great works making use of the theatre's rope and pulley stage systems. I'm not convinced however that there's anything to be gained from putting on Baroque period-style productions elsewhere, and on the rare occasion I've seen it attempted, I haven't been terribly impressed.
Originally created for Drottningholm by Pierre Audi, the productions of Handel's Alcina and Tamerlano have been modified to allow them to be taken to Madrid, Amsterdam and to La Monnaie in Brussels this year, but still retaining the character and purpose of the original productions. The intention is to show how revolutionary these operas are as dramatic stage works and, up to a point, they do just that. On the surface, Alcina, one of Handel's operas derived from Ariosto's Renaissance work 'Orlando Furioso', isn't really much different in form from other opera seria works of this period. There are only a few characters and little real dramatic development beyond the usual love complication ones, resulting in a great deal of anguish and emotional turmoil for all concerned. There is however in Handel a different type of dramatic structure from the types we are familiar with, and that definitely comes through in this production. Up to a point.
The simple sets recede from the wing panels to a plain painted backdrop, creating the space and the perspective required, leaving the stage clear and fuctional. Within this, the period costumes designed by Patrick Kinmonth stand out and keep the eye drawn to the characters themselves, to the specific arrangement of people on the stage at any one time, and to the sentiments they are expressing. Audi's direction allows the emotional flow and expression of the music itself to determine the dramatic arc of the work, and when you've got Christophe Rousset directing Les Talens Lyriques in the pit, you'd be right to do just that. The rhythm, precision and with the extraordinary beauty of what Handel writes and the sound that can be derived from those period instruments is just breathtaking. When you have singers who can make something of those arrangements too, well, musically, this is as close to perfection as you can get.
And yet, it's still not enough. As beautiful as the music is, as wonderfully as it's performed and as beautiful as the stage production looks, it all becomes tiresome and visually repetitive over a three hour performance. Audi's intention is of course to prove that this is not the case, but - viewed on screen at least (admittedly not the intended or ideal way to view these productions) - it starts to drag by the middle of the second act. By that point we've obtained a good sense of where all the drama and the conflict lies. We are aware of Bradamante's mission to save Ruggiero from the spell that Alcina has cast upon him, and we are aware that Alcina's love is genuine. We also realise that, disguised as her brother Ricciardo, Bradamande has stirred up some other problems on the enchanted island, coming between Oronte and Morgana. There is however only so much back and forth switching of sentiments and partners that one can take before it all becomes terribly tedious and repetitive.
It is nontheless possible to sustain the viewers interest in other ways. As a magical opera, where the enchanted island is populated by the spirits of Alcina's former lovers who she has since abandoned and transformed into stones and trees, or at best into animals, there are opportunities to present some magical effects, or visual imagery, but that's not taken advantage of here in Pierre Audi's production. Occasionally, we see figures, ghosts with veils wrapped around their eyes, and we also have occasional interjections from Oberto, a young man with no memory of his past who is looking for his missing father, which helps bring a little variety and 'colour' to the otherwise predictable sequence of arias of love, betrayal and jealousy, but there's really not enough done to make any of this visually distinctive, much less magical.
There's nothing predictable or tedious about singing performances, or at least not in the principal roles. Maite Beaumont's Ruggiero is a little cool and not particularly distinctive, but it's sung well. You can forgive Ruggiero being a little cool as he is under a spell for most of the work, but you really need fire and depth of sentiment in Alcina and Bradamante. Sandrine Piau is a richly-voiced Alcina, variously commanding, fired up with rage, and hopelessly in love at different points. Piau is impressive on every register, reminding you that no matter what sentiment Alcina is feeling, she's always a sorceress and a woman and consequently very dangerous indeed. Angélique Noldus's Bradamante/Ricciardo is just as well characterised, her singing voice delightful and clearly well-trained for this repertoire. The ornamentation for her Act I 'È gelosia forza è d'amore' is superb, and she demonstrates great variety and colour elsewhere.
The other roles are also well-sung, and the performance of Les Talens Lyriques under Christophe Rousset is truly wondrous, but it's still not enough to sustain dramatic interest. There's not really enough depth in the drama of Alcina to give you a great deal to think about, work out or engage with. It's fairly rote opera seria material and even if Handel's treatment of it is just exquisite beyond words, it can still be long and tedious without some additional visual or mental stimulation. As a 300-year old work, far from its original historical context, it's surprising that Pierre Audi is unable or doesn't feel it necessary to use other means that would enable a modern audience to engage with its themes in a way that would not at the same time harm the beauty or the indisputable brilliance of this work.
La Monnaie's Alcina and Tamerlano can be viewed on-line for a limited period from the La Monnaie streaming service, or from the RTBF Belgian radio web-site. Links below. The next production from La Monnaie is Wolfgang Rihm's Jakob Lenz, available from 17 March to 6 April.
Links: La Monnaie, RTBF Musiq3
Richard Strauss - Die schweigsame Frau
Bayerische Staatsoper, 2014
Pedro Halffter, Barrie Kosky, Franz Hawlata, Okka von der Damerau, Nikolay Borchev, Daniel Behle, Brenda Rae, Elsa Benoit, Tara Erraught, Christian Rieger, Christoph Stephinger, Tareq Nazmi
Staatsoper.TV - 5 October 2014
There are a few subjects or themes that appear regularly in the operas of Richard Strauss, and sometimes even within his other tone poems and orchestral works. One of them is family life, as seen in his Symphonia Domestica and in the closely autobiographical opera, Intermezzo. Another recurrent theme in Strauss' work is around opera itself and the nature of being a composer. This self-referential subject is most evident in Ein Heldenleben, Feuersnot, Aridane auf Naxos and Capriccio, but there are also self-referential elements in the music and treatments of Der Rosenkavalier and Der Liebe der Danae.
All of these familiar themes are there to one extent or another (depending how much emphasis a director wants to give them) in Die schweigsame Frau ('The Silent Woman'). Considering that Strauss was married - albeit happily - to a woman who by all reports was very difficult to live with, the idea of being married to a silent woman was perhaps one that Strauss found amusing to contemplate. It certainly makes a fine subject for an entertaining but relatively light comic opera, but the musical treatment by Strauss is typically sensitive and beautifully orchestrated in a way that draws out other qualities and characteristics from the subject. These are brought out wonderfully in the Bayerische Staatsoper's production directed by Barrie Kosky and conducted by Pedro Halffter.
The first thing a director has to recognise about Die schweigsame Frau is that in addition to the family matters that dominate the subject, the work is also very much an opera about opera. Set in England, the subject of Die schweigsame Frau resembles Verdi's Falstaff in it being about an old and somewhat past-it knight, Sir Morosus, who is encouraged by one of his servants, the barber Master Cutbeard, to get himself a wife. Morosus however can't bear to have women about him and despises their chatter. In his 46 years as a sailor travelling around the world, the only silent woman in his experience is one who is "in the churchyard and under a stone cross". His housekeeper is torment enough, but a wife in the house would have him in a coffin within three weeks.
When his son Henry returns from the dead however, bringing with him a loud wife and a noisy opera company that he has joined, Morosus considers that it would be better to marry in order to disinherit his son and the raucous company he keeps, but who would marry an old man like himself? Somewhere between The Barber of Seville and Don Pasquale (it's worth noting that alongside Falstaff, the three comic operas referenced here are perhaps the three finest comic operas ever written, barring Mozart's work, but that too is referenced elsewhere), Sir Morosus' barber hatches a plot to trick the old man into a sham marriage, rescuing the inheritance for Henry, and perhaps winning the old man over to a realistic acceptance of the idea of married life.
Well, realistically that's not going to happen, and the authors recognise this. Instead, what Strauss manages to do - the music being particularly instrumental in how successfully this is achieved - is reform Morosus' view of the world and the audience's view of Morosus. Over the course of Die schweigsame Frau, he becomes wonderfully human. Even though he is being set-up, with three members of the opera troupe being offered as potential brides in a sham marriage, Morosus is nonetheless moved that a beautiful woman would even consider marrying an old man like himself. Timidia, who is Henry's wife Aminta playing a role, is herself moved somewhat by how the old man is stirred into love and begins to understand that happiness isn't necessary something elusive.
The fact that the emotions are stirred by something "fake" isn't an issue. The role-playing is just another example in the Strauss canon, of how the "artificial" construction of art, music and opera can inspire genuine feelings and suggest possibilities that one might not otherwise be open to in "real-life". To do that successfully, of course, the opera and the music must itself be good, and with Strauss, that's something that is never in any doubt. Act II culminates in the most beautiful sextet that is typically Straussian in the soaring beauty of its orchestration, but worthy of Mozart (who is the model for this kind of scene evidently, and a model that Rossini often emulated) in how it draws together sentiments of nobility, sadness and humanity, even within a comic situation.
Despite its qualities, Die schweigsame Frau wasn't a success when it was first performed and it has rarely been revived over the years. Much of the opera's troubled history stems from the fact that it was banned by the Nazis in 1936 after only three performances. This was less to do with any controversy surrounding the subject of the work than the fact that Strauss worked with a Jewish writer, Stefan Zweig, on the libretto. Even after the war, there was little appetite for this Strauss comedy, or indeed for much the lush orchestration and frivolous subjects that seemed increasingly out of touch with developments in 20th century music, and Die schweigsame Frau is consequently one of those latter works by the composer that is rarely performed and has subsequently fallen into obscurity.
In the year of Strauss's 150th anniversary however, Munich's Bayerische Staatsoper's new production of Die schweigsame Frau gives this neglected work a welcome revival and they've done rather well by it. For much of the first two acts, and much of the third also, the set consists of nothing more than a raised platform on the stage, with a bed the only real prop. Barrie Kosky however lets the characters and the music fill out everything that is essential in the work. Or rather, the conductor Pedro Halffter ensures that the full impact of Strauss's orchestration serves the comic drama and the underlying human sentiments, while Kosky draws out the typically Strauss themes and references, most notably in how the Henry's opera troupe are all dressed as famous opera characters.
It might have been better to dress Tara Erraught as Mariandel here rather than Violetta, since her character plays the same type of plain-speaking, forward country-girl when introduced as one of Morosus' potential wives, but I can think of at least one good reason not to go in that direction (fun and appropriately opera self-referential as it might have been), but there's no reason to over-complicate the work with too much cleverness - the work is strong enough to work on its own terms. Act III opens up the stage a little more when Timidia starts transforming the house and start spending the money which drops down like rain as the platform opens up. It's a simple and effective direction that gets the essentials across.
The production is also very well served by the cast. Like most Strauss operas, the principal soprano role is exceedingly challenging, and Aminta/Timidia is no exception. Brenda Rae has to hold some very high notes indeed, and she does so impressively, her performance in the dual role moreover wonderfully engaging. The lower end of the bass tessitura for Sir Morosus is no less challenging, and in many respects, the role can be just as rewarding as Baron Ochs von Lerchenau. Perhaps that's just because Franz Hawlata sang it so well here and, just as importantly, recognised and brought out the different human facets of his character. As mentioned above, Tara Erraught's soaring mezzo-soprano made a noticeable impact, but there were equally strong performances and singing from Nikolay Borchev as the barber and Daniel Behle as Henry.
This was a wonderful start to the new season of live steamed broadcasts at the Bayerische Staatsoper in Munich. In an anniversary year where we've been treated to plenty of Der Rosenkavaliers, Ariadnes and even an unusual amount of Die Frau ohne Schatten productions, this is an ambitious and pleasantly successful venture into lesser explored but eminently worthy Richard Strauss territory.
Links: Staatsoper.TV
