Mahler - Von der Liebe Tod (Vienna, 2022)

Gustav Mahler - Von der Liebe Tod

Wiener Staatsoper, 2022

Lorenzo Viotti, Calixto Bieito, Vera-Lotte Boecker, Monika Bohinec, Daniel Jenz, Florian Boesch, Johannes Pietsch, Gabriel Hoeller

Wiener Staatsoper Live Streaming - 7th October 2022

To somewhat stretch a metaphor, the idea of a Mahler opera is a bit like waiting for a bus around these parts. It can feel like you are waiting for a hundred and fifty years and then suddenly two of them come along together. Since of course there is no such thing as a Mahler opera that's even more unexpected, and it's perhaps no surprise that the directors daring to stage Mahler's symphonic and lieder works as opera are two of the most ambitious and controversial of contemporary directors; Romeo Castellucci and Calixto Bieito. As strange as it might be to imagine Mahler staged, it's even stranger that such an idea in these times is deemed controversial enough to upset a few sensitive souls who don't even have to watch it or let it impinge upon their favourite Mahler recordings on CD.

While that might not exactly be the primary intention of these directors to upset anyone, there is certainly something of a desire to stir things up - but in a good way, or perhaps a necessary way. Because these are indeed the times we are living in; a time of war in Europe, a time of global pandemic killing millions, a time of looming environmental crisis and climate change that does indeed affect everyone. It's not enough in these times for an artist to remain detached from that, but there should be some recognition that great art is drawn from such dark times and experiences, and it should reflect them and not gloss over them.

In the case of Castellucci's production of Resurrection, for example, it's not enough to just put on a work of such sublime creativity and feeling as Mahler's Sixth Symphony as a concert performance for a wealthy audience at the Aix-en Provence festival. It would almost be an injustice to Mahler to present such a work as a rich indulgence. It's a profound work that has deeper meaning and if it can move an audience - whether to applause or booing - then it ought to provoke such a reaction. Anyone however who boos the imagery of the digging up of a mass war grave while such atrocities are happening for real at that moment not so far away should really think twice about their understanding and purpose of the arts.

The same goes for anyone who manages to work themselves into a state about a creative artist taking a similar approach to this Vienna State Opera stage production of another Mahler's work. Von der Liebe Tod actually consists of two Mahler works brought together, Das Klagende Lied, a cantata from 1879/80 based on the Brothers Grimm fairy tale, and Kindertotenlieder from 1901/04, based on a poem by Friedrich Rückert. Calixto Bieito employs similar techniques to Romeo Castellucci, the two directors almost crossing over as they progress from what were not ever exactly conventional opera stagings in the first place to rather more abstract presentations of works that were never intended to be fully staged.

I say never meant to be fully staged, but the question that arises immediately when watching the first part of this production, the cantata Das Klagende Lied, is why not? It has a clear fairy tale narrative and powerful accompanying music and singing that is dramatically attuned to the developments and deeper sentiments of the story. It's mostly narrative based admittedly, and doesn't even have clear individual roles that you might find in an oratorio, but it is filled with imagery that deserves to exist more than in the mind of the individual listener. In fact it is the role of a director - much as some would seek to not credit him or her with any importance - to explore a work closely and relate it to universal concerns that any listener will recognise and identify with.

Calixto Bieito then evidently doesn't go in for straightforward naturalism or literal illustration of the story in the way of Otto Schenk's The Cunning Little Vixen at the same opera house, for example. The imagery Bieito devises for this fairy tale opera/cantata however is exactly what a director should do when confronted with a work of great art and that is to dig deeper into the underlying meaning of the fairy tale and relate it to more universal concerns. Using the red flower of the fairy tale, the imagery of the willow and the nightingale, all of them witnessing the killing of one brother by another, the overriding idea - for me at least - appears to be the impact violence has on individuals, on society, on nature. And yes, that is something we can see in many aspects of the times we are living in.

As he is wont to do, Bieto simultaneously makes this beautiful to look at but harrowing at the same time, refusing to prettify the underlying horror at the heart of the tale (see also his response to the not dissimilar fairy tale story of men dying for a cold hearted queen in his version of Turandot). In the story, the minstrel comes across a gleaming bone in the woods that he carves into a flute, but here he hacks off an arm, cuts out a bone from within the flesh and plays on a blood spattered bone. It's not the 'flute' that sings either, but the grim spectacle of the dead boy with a bloody hacked off arm singing of his fate. Evidently, this will not be to everyone's taste, but it is necessary.

The dead boy slayed by his brother over a flower leads beautifully into the second part of Von der Liebe Tod, the ruins of the wedding feast turning into an abandoned playroom for dead children in Kindertotenlieder. Conceptually this is marvellous, the earliest of Mahler works - Das Klagende Lied his Opus 1 composed when he was 19 - brought together with the later, final work of a composer capable of committing all his lived experience in the meantime into it; a fairy tale turned into reality and that reality and horror concentrated and transformed into something beautiful through art. That is the purpose of art, or one of its many purposes. It's that same art in musical performance and interpretation that ensures that such work lives on, remains vital and alive and connected not to past events, but to what people are experiencing today. Sometimes life mirrors art in shocking and unexpected ways. One need only think of another recent tragedy in Thailand to see how deep feelings run in Kindertotenlieder. The idea that anyone could even think of mindlessly heckling artists on a stage after viewing this is unconscionable.

It helps that musically this is a glorious affair. The influence of Wagner on the youthful Mahler is most pronounced in the considerable orchestral forces and choral arrangements employed in the service of emotional and dramatic content of Das Klagende Lied. The conducting of the works by Lorenzo Viotti also comes to the fore in Kindertotenlieder, with intense, heartfelt singing from Florian Boesch and Monika Bohinec. How much more alive does this become when such performances are aligned with visual imagery and artistic direction that meaningfully connects the work with reality, that doesn't sugarcoat it or diminish its sentiments, as some might be tempted to do with these two particular works. Welcome to the opera stage of the 21st century, Gustav Mahler.

Links: Wiener Staatsoper Live

Gounod - Faust (Vienna, 2021)

Charles Gounod - Faust

Wiener Staatsoper, 2021

Bertrand de Billy, Frank Castorf, Juan Diego Flórez, Nicole Car, Adam Palka, Étienne Dupuis, Martin Häßler, Kate Lindsey, Monika Bohinec

Wiener Staatsoper Live - 29 April 2021

It doesn't surprise me that some opera lovers would not be too fond of the directorial style of Frank Castorf. He certainly has his own unique approach to opera that is not to everyone's taste. Even if you are open to new ways of presenting opera, there's an awful lot thrown into a Castorf production; some of it obviously related to the work, other elements rather less so. It can be hard work and while you might want to put the effort in for something like Der Ring des Nibelungen, From The House of the Dead or Die Vögel, you might be less inclined to see all the Castorf tricks employed on something as popular as Gounod's Faust.

Opera however is a multi-faceted artform and the best works prove to be adaptable to renovation and reconsideration. Through its very nature Faust should provide not only plenty of entertaining songs, beautiful arias and dramatic situations for singing and dancing, but it should also be able to address other deeper elements in Dr Faustus's search for love, youth and the meaning of life. Entering into a pact with Satan in exchange for such knowledge inevitably brings up questions of morality, religion and war, which means there is plenty for a director like Frank Castorf to get his teeth into.

Castorf's approach is seemingly haphazard and random, a bit of a mess frankly on first viewing, particularly if you are looking for all the familiar situations and signposts. I mean, there are signposts up there pointing to Paris locations, but not the kind that help you find a direction through the drama. Rather than view the opera as a continuous narrative or, in the case of Gounod's opera, a series of separate scenes that build up into an overall work, Castorf goes for the holistic approach and puts everything on the stage all at once. And it's not just the sets all on a revolving platform and even piled on top of one another, but characters and separate incidents, unrelated to the main scene, are all shown simultaneously backstage, projected in live camera shots on screens. It's an awful lot to take in all at once.

So there on Aleksandar Denić's revolving set, you can see a condensed Paris, past and future all piled on top of one another, front and behind, interiors opening onto exteriors, with a cafe, a church, a butcher shop, the Folies Bergère, and residential apartments. It's dressed in typical Castorf fashion, with obscure movie posters, a telephone booth, a Coke machine. There's even a metro station recreated, the Stalingrad station, where Kate Lindsey's Siébel comes out wearing a desert combat military uniform, his feet bloodied.

With police and foreign legion soldiers in kepis, one of Castorf's targets here is at least clear enough. Valentin emerges out of the metro and paints the words "Algeria is French" on the wall, while additional texts and commentary point to a less idealistic view of Valentin's military exploits, De Gaulle and France's colonialist history and atrocities. The devil is indeed in the detail and there's no doubting the nature of Mephistopheles here. He's not some smooth businessman or smart-dressed nobleman. He comes complete with demonic accoutrements; hairy goat legs, horse tail and hooves. He's a voodoo practitioner, using live snakes, he's menacing and seductive. 

Having thrown all that onto the stage with not a great deal of rationale provided, there's little evidence either of much character development or direction of the singers. Juan Diego Flórez is allowed to stand and sing arias out directly to the audience in an arm waving concert performance delivery. Nicole Car likewise delivers arias outward, but makes up for this by appearing to be much more emotionally attuned to Marguerite and her sad fate. Here Marguerite is not the naive waif we are accustomed to, but since this is the 21st century (or 20th maybe) she is more worldly wise. She puffs on opium and has a good time, but is not fool enough to trust Faust and takes responsibility for her own mistakes.

Frank Castorf appears to be more in his element when he can abandon the limitations of the libretto and "surreptitiously" film Faust and Marguerite behind the scenes with handheld cameras in manufactured situations. This can be a little bit 'random' particularly when filming and developing the other characters Marthe and Siébel. If there is anything that helps guide you through Castorf's production, something compelling that holds like an anchoring point in all the madness, it's Nicole Car's performance that places Marguerite at the heart of Gounod's opera. It's an outstanding performance which could prove to be her defining role.

Juan Diego Flórez can hit the notes all right but his voice is a little too lightweight for Faust, when it needs more of an Alagna or Kaufmann. He doesn't make the same kind of impression that Car does, but aside from the operatic gesturing to the non-existent audience (the production here filmed during lockdown in an empty theatre), it's not a bad performance. Adam Palka is an excellent Mephistopheles, fully entering into the demonic nature of this version of the character and proving to be menacing in tone and performance. Bertrand de Billy conducted the work with a fullness of melody and drama.

I'm not so sure that Castorf really connects with Gounod's Faust or has anything insightful to say about it, but he certainly gives you plenty of opportunity to reconsider the work and see it in a new light. You can question the validity of that approach since for the most part that has less to do with the actual work than the peripheral action, in the additional behind the scenes projections and twists of characterisation. Whether it works or not, whether it's convincing or not isn't the point. You don't have to agree with his choices, but even that allows you to firm up your own convictions about the work. That, as far as I'm concerned, is certainly better than having nothing to contribute.

Links: Vienna State Opera, Wiener Staatsoper Live

Dvořák - Rusalka (Vienna, 2017)

Antonín Dvořák - Rusalka

Wiener Staatsoper, Vienna - 2017

Tomáš Hanus, Sven-Eric Bechtolf, Krassimira Stoyanova, Dmytro Popov, Elena Zhidkova, Jongmin Park, Monika Bohinec, Stephanie Houtzeel, Gabriel Bermúdez, Ileana Tonca, Ulrike Helzel, Margaret Plummer, Rafael Fingerlos

Staatsoper Live - 25th October 2017

Initially it doesn't look like there's much originality in Sven-Eric Bechtolf's production of Rusalka. It's all very much within the director's fairy-tale world, the frozen ice-palace worlds where his Pelléas et Mélisande takes place and Der Rosenkavalier (which is indeed a kind of fairy-tale. In the case of Rusalka, which really is a fairy-tale, it hardly seems the best way to tap into the darker undercurrents that run through the work, but they do seem to rise to the surface as the production progresses.

At the very least, the Glittenberg's set and costume designs are lovely to look at and they do seem to strike a good balance between abstract stylisation and the idea of a more traditional fairy-tale world. There are two levels representing the water goblin's world and the world of the humans, but the division isn't quite as strict as that and it tends to relate more to where Rusalka is and where she wants to be at any given time. At one point the other side represents her idealisation of the real world above and later it's the security of the water goblin's kingdom that she wants to return to.

The connections between the water kingdom and the "real" fairy-tale world, and between the creatures and humans who inhabit these places are beautifully realised. The Prince is seen floating dream-like in a pool and Jezibaba appears in a ball of fire, the sets seeming to respond to Rusalka's innocent impressions of the world. Those impressions change as she gets to know how men and women behave in the world, and the whole look and feel of this Rusalka changes with it.

If there's not really any other level to engage with it and no real world context to the fairy-tale imagery there is (always at Vienna I find) the compensatory delights of the singing and musical performances, and those are something quite special in Rusalka. Tomáš Hanus conducts an invigorating musical performance, alive to the joyous folk elements in the score as well as its whole Wagnerian Romantic sweep. More than just being a magical fairy-tale, you can hear how sensitive the score is to the light and dark of human emotions in this kind of presentation.

The singing performances are superb with the ever impressive Krassimira Stoyanova heading the cast. Never a great actress, the role works to Stoyanova's advantage as Rusalka is a simple water nymph and only half-human. Associated with pale blue moonlight, Rusalka drifts sleepwalking her way through the world, but mainly Stoyanova can get away with a less nuanced and engaged acting performance because her singing is just glorious. This is how Rusalka should be sung and all the expression it needs is there in the singing delivery.

The simplicity of the fairy-tale perspective on the world however changes as Rusalka engages with the Prince and his court, witnessing the cruelty of hunted animals and the reality of what takes place between men and women. Bechtolf depicts this wonderfully in a suggestive ballet sequence that contrasts with Rusalka's bed, wedding dress and flowers. The world outside, the water goblin visible behind through the frosted windows, help dispel Rusalka's idealised dream.

It takes a little more than that, but all the angles are covered in the characterisation with singing performances to match. Dmytro Popov is a lovely lyrical Prince and Elena Zhidkova a suitably formidable - but not necessarily vindictive - foreign Princess. Their mistreatment of Rusalka is more of an inability to relate and an inability to see love as something more spiritual the way Rusalka sees it. Or at least in the Prince's case, not until it is too late, which is of course the tragedy of the opera. Jongmin Park and Monika Bohinec also give strong performances with a similar level of nuance - sympathetic yet menacing - as Water Goblin and Jezibaba.

There might not be any great real world context in this Sven-Eric Bechtolf production and certainly nothing in the manner of a Martin Kušej or a Stefan Herheim-like psychological and gender-studies analylsis of its undercurrents, but the essence of Rusalka is all there in the designs, the music and the singing performances. The alternative to a watery-grave for the Prince is beautiful and heartbreaking - two words that should always be associated with Rusalka and the Vienna production achieves that.

Links: Wiener Staatsoper, Wiener Staatsoper Live

Verdi - Nabucco (Vienna, 2015 - Webcast)

Giuseppe Verdi - Nabucco

Wiener Staatsoper, 2015

Jesús López Cobos, Günter Krämer, Željko Lučić, Jinxu Xiahou, Carlos Osuna, Michele Pertusi, Maria Guleghina, Monika Bohinec, Il Hong, Simina Ivan

Wiener Staatsoper Live at Home - 14 May 2015

As it often does with early Verdi works, Nabucco is an opera where situation counts for more than either plot or characterisation. The situation here is one where a people are oppressed, struggling under a tyrannical regime, their beliefs and identity suppressed. That's something that the composer would have been able to identify with far more than Nabucco's Biblical setting and the personal investment consequently comes through here more clearly than in any of Verdi's early works. It's that element that a director has to find to present the work well, but rather more important is the choral nature of Nabucco. Both happily are well covered in the Vienna State Opera production.

It's Verdi's choral writing that contains all the emotions that are at the heart of the work, and Nabucco contains some of Verdi's most memorable melodies, full of noble sentiments of pride for one's homeland and one's people. This takes in questions of love, of family and duty, and Verdi's writing is masterful in how he binds up all these elements into the most stirring arrangements. It's a lot less convincing on individual motivations and characterisation and, for all the drama involved, Nabucco is not terribly strong on pacing and plot.

That's the main problem that a director has to face when presenting this Verdi opera on the stage. Initially, you don't have to worry about it too much, certainly not in the opening scenes of the work. For the first twenty minutes or so the audience isn't going to care a whole lot about the where and the why. You can feel everything you need to know in the beautiful choral arrangements and the oratorio-like expression of the Hebrew High Priest Zaccaria. Whether it's well-developed or not, the plot however is far from meaningless, and these are not generic sentiments.

There gravity of the situation is established through a forbidden love affair between Ismaele, the nephew of the King of Jerusalem, and Fenena, the daughter of Nabucco (Nebuchadnezzar), the King of Babylon and the oppressor of the Israelites, who has sacrilegiously declared himself the one god and forbidden the worship of idols. Family matters come to the fore when Nabucco's other daughter Abigaille, who is also in love with Ismaele, discovers the truth of her origin as the daughter of a slave, and she challenges the authority of Nabucco when through Fenena's influence, he attempts to free the captive Israelite prisoners.

The sentiments between love, family and duty are scarcely comprehensible however and far from credibly developed. The problem is lack of compatibility, the conflation of all these situations of family, duty and romance pushing the whole thing over into melodrama, particularly when some of them (the Fenena-Ismaele-Abgaille love triangle for example) have been inadequately developed. Verdi is ambitiously striving for a 'King Lear' here, but is not equipped to tackle a work of Shakespearean complexity. If Lear continued to elude him, he would do a similar plot much better in Aida in his later years, but in Nabucco at least there is a youthful fire, as well as some degree of sensitivity and intelligence in the scoring.

Director Günter Krämer's handling of the material for the Vienna State Opera production isn't entirely confident either. There's a determination to remove the Biblical context, but not really anything offered in its place. There are no thunderbolts and no idols worshipped; miracles are not divine ones, but carried out by human hands and direct intervention. The struggle is clearly still that of the Jewish people being oppressed (there's no Risorgimento parallel attempted here for example), the production aiming instead for an indeterminate but more recognisable 20th century setting. That sits fairly well as a human drama, but without any real context, the plot doesn't gain any greater credibility.

There is room within for greater credibility to be found within the generous emotional richness of Verdi's score, but although the individual singers all perform rather well, there's no effort either to develop characters and relationships on a surer footing. Željko Lučić replaced an indisposed Plácido Domingo (he hasn't been having a good run of health recently) so we at least have a strong, lyrical, authentic baritone in the role of Nabucco. If the singing is wonderful, Lučić doesn't have the same presence or the critical regal bearing that Domingo might have brought to the role in the seeming absence of character direction and the indeterminate setting.

Maria Guleghina had to take on the role of Abigaille, one of those frankly terrifying roles that Verdi would compose for soprano in his early works (in Oberto, in Attila). If you have a Verdi soprano of real character and stature, such roles can be impressive, but there are few dramatic sopranos of that type around nowadays, and if there's any weakness, it really shows. Guleghina is a little unsteady in pitch and the high notes are not the kindest to the ear, but she's every bit as fiery and formidable as the role demands. It's not enough however to make this Nabucco fly, nor are the rather thankless characterisation and writing for Carlos Osuna's Ismaele, Michele Pertusi Zaccharia or Monika Bohinec's Fenena. Jesús López Cobos however led the orchestra through the score with surprising warmth and sensitivity, and the chorus were outstanding. If you've got that much at least, you've got a fine Nabucco. Expecting anything more from this particular Verdi work is perhaps asking for a little too much.

Nabucco was broadcast live from the Vienna State Opera as part of their Live at Home programme. The next broadcast is Sven-Eric Bechtolf's production of DAS RHEINGOLD on 30 May and DIE WALKURE on 31 May. Both are conducted by Simon Rattle. Details of how to view these productions live at home can be found in the links below.

Links: Wiener Staatsoper Live Streaming programme; Staatsoper Live at Home video

Strauss - Elektra (Vienna, 2015 - Webcast)

Richard Strauss - Elektra

Wiener Staatsoper, 2015

Mikko Franck, Uwe Eric Laufenberg, Nina Stemme, Anna Larsson, Gun-Brit Barkmin, Monika Bohinec, Norbert Ernst, Falk Struckmann, Wolfgang Bankl, Simina Ivan, Aura Twarowski, Thomas Ebenstein, Marcus Pelz, Donna Ellen, Ilseyar Khayrullova, Ulrike Helzel, Caroline Wenborne, Ildikó Raimondi

Wiener Staatsoper Live at Home - 11 April 2015
 
The Vienna State Opera's new production of Richard Strauss's Elektra opens in silence at the rise of the curtain. A group of naked women cower in the corner of a filthy shower, are manhandled and hosed down by the maids of the royal house of Clytemnestra and Aegisthus. It's a stark image, the women presumably slaves of the household, the maids dressed like prison camp attendants, merely following orders. They even brutally beat one of their own, the fifth maid who dares challenge their authority, authority they believe they have even above the Princess Elektra whose increasingly unstable behaviour they maliciously mock.

It's a powerful and effective scene that establishes the situation that Elektra finds herself in, and communicates it well to an audience. It's much more effective, for example, than a setting in Greek antiquity that would likely have less of the recognisable imagery of a brutal and hated regime. It's also a more objective look than we often find in productions of Elektra, the director Uwe Eric Laufenberg avoiding the more familiar subjective expressionistic depiction of the world from the view of Elektra's deranged mindset. It's set in a townhouse in Vienna, but the basement does indeed resemble "a dungeon" as Chrysothemis describes it, a dark place with a pile of coal in the background and wall-barrier slabs of concrete.

Visually, it's highly effective, particularly when a series of lifts are revealed coming up and down from the palace like a dumb-waiter. One of the lifts conveys Clytemnestra, worn down by her dreams and nightmares, fearful and paranoid. The stage for the one-act performance is well divided then, providing ambience and space for each of the characters to envelop themselves in the varying moods (increasingly tense and desperate) of the score and the expression of the singing. The space is well used, and the singing is superb, but dramatically it remains inert, and in this work, the main part of the dramatic intensity must be carried by Elektra.

It's true that the nature of the opera doesn't allow for great drama, at least not up until the final explosion of violence and its sense of cathartic release. A singer of great stamina and force is needed to carry a role like Elektra, and ther's no question that Nina Stemme is well qualified in that respect, her voice deep, resonant, and well-balanced across the range. The role however needs rather more drive and personality and Stemme can't quite fill out that aspect in her acting. She hits all the notes, but doesn't seem to be alert to the minute detail of Strauss's score, and it's hard to get the sense that she is driven, deranged, vengeful and truly despairing as the nature of her predicament and the conflicting news of the fate of Orestes swing her mind from one extreme to the next.

If Stemme isn't able to fully inhabit the character (and I don't blame anyone for not wanting to go to those very dark places that Strauss has scored in one of the most disturbing characters of any opera), the characterisation as far as the direction and the other members of the cast go is clearly well established and brilliantly performed. Gun-Brit Barkmin in particular is an outstanding Chrysothemis. This is a character who can be a little wishy-washy in comparison to the more powerful women all around her, but here Chyrsothemis seems even more driven than Elektra. Or if perhaps not driven, since she can't be spurred into action, at least much more conflicted and disturbed by the situation she and her sister find themselves in. Barkmin's singing is also wonderfully expressive, cutting clear and bright, bringing out the qualities of how her character is scored better than anyone else I've heard in the role and making it really count.

Anna Larsson likewise also brings detail and nuance to Clytemnestra. She's not imperious here or a monster, but a rather broken figure, destroyed by her own actions, hounded by nightmares, a true figure from a Greek tragedy. That's expressed as much in her appearance, in her gestures as in her singing. There's defiance here in her confrontation with Elektra that still holds the daughter at bay, but the fraying at the edges is starting to show. Elektra might sometimes appear to be a one-woman show, but the contributions of Larsson and Barkmin show how important it is to have strongly defined characters in those other key roles. Orestes and Aegisthus have lesser roles to play certainly - though they can also be developed further - and they are taken well here by Falk Struckmann and Norbert Ernst.

The manner in which the three women are developed however pays dividends at the conclusion of this Elektra. In contrast to the enhanced realism established in the earlier scenes, the set starts to reflect the horror of the madness and the violence that has been built-up and finally unleashed. The imagery has something of the Overlook Hotel in Stanley Kubrick's 'The Shining', the implications similarly that of a household where all the accumulated abuse and horrors that have taken place within its walls starts to seep out. The dumb waiter starts to bring down a sequence of horrors from the upper levels of the palace, mostly unidentified, but among them certainly the executed Clytemnestra. Elektra leads an exultant dance in which she is joined by a team of dancers dressed like something out of a 50s' prom (like the ball in 'The Shining'), and is swallowed up in the celebration, leaving a shocked Chrysothemis to contemplate the horror of it all.

Elektra was broadcast from the Vienna State Opera as part of their Live at Home programme. The next broadcast is DON PASQUALE on 8 May with Juan Diego Flórez. Also in May, Plácido Domingo stars in NABUCCO on 14 May and Sven-Eric Bechtolf's production of DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN, conducted by Simon Rattle begins with DAS RHEINGOLD on 30 May and DIE WALKURE on 31 May. Details of how to view these productions live at home can be found in the links below.

Links: Wiener Staatsoper Live Streaming programme; Staatsoper Live at Home video

Donizetti - Roberto Devereux (Wiener Staatsoper, 2014 - Webcast)

Gaetano Donizetti - Roberto Devereux

Wiener Staatsoper, 2014

Andriy Yurkevych, Silviu Purcarete, Edita Gruberova, Paolo Rumetz, Monika Bohinec, Celso Albelo, Peter Jelosits, Marcus Pelz, Hacik Bayvertian, Johannes Gisser

Wiener Staatsoper Live Streaming - 17 October 2014

Donizetti's Roberto Devereux is perhaps not the strongest of the composer's trilogy of Tudor operas, but it has similar characteristics and plot devices that, with some good direction and a star performer in the principal female role, can put it up onto the same level as Anna Bolena and Maria Stuarda. In Roberto Devereux the significant role is Queen Elizabeth I, and it's played here at the Vienna State Opera by Edita Gruberova. The principal role might be in experienced hands then, but the work itself still needs a stronger sense of purpose and direction than it gets in this production.

Like Donizetti's other two Tudor operas, Roberto Devereux has the same advantages of romantic intrigue in a royal and political setting that raises the stakes of jealousy, rivalry, intrigue while at the same time putting a human face on historical affairs. This particular libretto however is contrived and fairly poor at humanising the characters. It's full of romantic declarations and dire pronouncements of the 'alas, woe is me', 'heavens, I have been betrayed' type. The plot is contrived, but it's the kind of material that would nonetheless give Donizetti tremendous scope for a score of stirring passions. Musically, and in terms of how the score has been written specifically for those human elements to be expressed in the singing, Roberto Devereux can be a thrilling experience.

Dramatically however, it needs a little extra effort. Roberto Devereux's fate and sentence of death for his actions in Ireland rest on the decision of a queen who feels that she has trifled with her affections, and that he loves another. Devereux however is determined that he will die before he reveals that his secret lover is Sara, the wife of the Duke of Nottingham. The contrivance rests on whether Devereux will save himself by presenting to the Queen a ring she has promised will always permit clemency towards him, but the ring is in Sara's hands. The Duchess of Nottingham has however been locked up ever since her husband's suspicions have been confirmed, recognising a misplaced scarf belonging to her. Even if she were able to deliver the ring to the Queen, it would reveal that she is her love rival. Oh, what a bind...

As melodramatic as the plot and the arch pronouncements might be, there's good symbolic use of objects in the opera - a scarf, a ring - to forge connection between characters and instigate revelations about their inner natures. If highlighted in the direction, they can be an effective visual hook to help move things along, unless a director has other ideas. Silviu Purcarete doesn't make a big deal of these contrivances, but he doesn't appear to have much else to contribute in its place to aid the dramatic progression. Costumes are mostly stage period with Elizabeth I in her familiar traditional costume and wig. The backdrop used throughout appears to be a row of opera boxes with the royal box tier slightly askew.

It's more than adequate as a set for representation of the locations, but the problem with the direction is that there'd not much thought given to getting across the heart of the work as a drama of extreme passions and historical adventure. Most of the acting and delivery of the arias within it is fairly static. Donizetti brings good dramatic tension in his score, and it's given a strong account under the direction of Andriy Yurkevych, but on stage, too much relies on the singers to make the deficiencies of the romantic declarations in the libretto credible and the give the characters a real human dimension. To their credit, the cast are all very good, but only one or two of them manage to rise above the limitations of the direction to this level.

The strongest singing performance here is Monika Bohinec's Sara. The Duchess of Nottingham has a substantial role in terms of the range of expression that Donizetti writes for the role. Bohinec expresses all the anguish and repressed feelings in her singing, and it's a good voice, undaunted by the high coloratura. She's a good actress too, but she's not given much direction and falls back consequently on traditional operatic gestures and delivery. Her confrontation scenes with Nottingham could be much more intense, but Paolo Rumetz is too static and, although very capable in the singing of the role, rather one-note in delivery. There's not enough to spark their scene to life. Celso Abelo sings well too as Devereux. He has a fine voice and good technique that carries some weight in an aria like 'come uno spirto angelico' as he vows to take his secret to the grave, but elsewhere he's not terribly exciting.

Edita Gruberova is however in a league of her own. As far as the Vienna Staatsoper's 2014 production of Roberto Devereux goes, she's the chief attraction and everything rests on her performance. Unquestionably one of the finest singers in the world in this kind of role, Gruberova has however been there for a long time now. When I last saw her perform in person in La Straniera in Zurich last year, I thought that her voice wasn't quite as steady and sure as it once was, becoming a little piercing and forced on those challenging top notes, but Gruberova was still capable and still had the presence and personality to fill a role like that. That assessment holds true of her Elizabeth I for Vienna's Roberto Devereux.

Gruberova might no longer be in her prime and might not have much in the way of direction to work with, but she has the experience to take this role and run with it herself. She understands the character, knows how she feels and knows exactly how to pitch her response to events. There's a little retained here from Christoph Loy's production of Roberto Devereux, with Elizabeth removing her wig, divesting herself of her public face to show her human vulnerability, but it doesn't have the same impact when there isn't the same consistency to the production as a whole. Even despite that, Edita Gruberova has the star quality to make this ending as bring-the-house-down compelling as it ought to be. No allowances need be made when you have that.

The Vienna Staatsoper have an ambitious and impressive programme of pay-per-view live performances being streamed this season. See the Live Programme on their website for details.

Links: Wiener Staatsoper Live Streaming programme; Staatsoper Live at Home video