Wagner - Tannhäuser (Venice, 2017)

Richard Wagner - Tannhäuser

Teatro la Fenice, Venice - 2017

Omer Meir Wellber, Calixto Bieito, Paul McNamara, Liene Kinča, Ausrine Stundyte, Christoph Pohl, Pavlo Balakin, Cameron Becker, Alessio Cacciamani, Paolo Antognetti, Mattia Denti, Chiara Cattelan

Culturebox - January 2017

There are a number of thoughts that come to mind as you try to figure out what the director Calixto Bieito is getting at in his 2017 production of Tannhäuser for La Fenice in Venice; few of them the kind of thing that usually comes to mind when watching this opera or even a Calixto Bieito production. As a director who usually takes a rather extreme reinterpretation of works, the minimalist expression of this Tannhäuser suggests either that he is seeking to strip back the work to its fundamental essence to see whether there's a deeper emotional truth to be found in it or else he is just lazy and running out of ideas.

And, as far as Tannhäuser is concerned, you wouldn't blame a director for thinking that everything that is to be said about the work has probably already been said. It's an early Wagner opera, one that was originally written in 1845 for Dresden, and continually revised by the composer through to its notorious performances at the Paris Opera in 1861. Wagner was never fully satisfied with the work and indeed some of the themes that run through it are revisited with considerably more insight, nuance, experience and ability in Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. Perhaps trying to find a coherent vision to work with, the Venice production takes Act I from the 1861 Paris version and Act II and III from the original revised Dresden version.

In comparison to Meistersinger, Tannhäuser is indeed somewhat heavy-handed in its treatment of the role of the artist in society, in the struggle between sacred and profane love, in the idea of the suffering artist achieving redemption for himself and furthering the progress of society. It certainly helps if you can find a way to express these ideas on the stage without all the high-flown poetic veneer that comes with the literal approach of Götz Friedrich. Robert Carsen, for example, would put the emphasis on the role of the conflicted artist by showing him as a painter rather than a singer in a Paris production. Claus Guth explored the idea of Wagner as Tannhäuser in Vienna, contrasting idealism with the reality. More recently, Sebastian Baumgarten's art-installation Bayreuth production explored art and the artist as the vital lifeblood of a fully functioning society.

The imperfection within the composition which lies partly within Wagner's blending of several different historical and mythological sources and a developing philosophy of his own, should nonetheless provide plenty of material for a director to work with. If nothing else, the viewpoints that Wagner expresses on the role of the artist within society can surely be tested for validity when exposed and contrasted with the present day. Calixto Bieito of course ditches the historical veneration of Wartburg, stripping it of any period costumes and elaborate realistic set designs and brings it into a more modern world setting. This time however he doesn't seem to impose any specific modern reading or context, but rather reduces it to its essence to see if it stands up and holds any truth or validity on its ideas alone.

Bieito's production of Tannhäuser then has more in common with his production of Halevy's La Juive for the Bayerische Staatsoper. There is something of a Grand Opéra aspect in common in the two works; a tendency towards overblown melodrama and musical overstatement that needs to be counteracted or viewed in a more modern light. There is also a religious sentiment in common in both works that Bieito seems to wish to avoid, at least in terms of conventional iconography, but still wishes to explore in terms of what it reveals about national character, fundamentalism and intolerance. As with La Juive however, it's debatable whether such an approach works or whether in fact it isn't actually missing the whole point of the works where the form is as much a part of the meaning as the content.

Still, it isn't too difficult to establish the contrasts between the three acts in fairly broad terms. Act I is hedonistic indulgence of the pleasures of the flesh; Act II is seeking to find an equivalent spiritual experience that serves a higher purpose; Act III is where the artist is able to reconcile the physical and spiritual sides of human nature and through them redeem society. Bieito's Venusberg in Act I, in contrast to the traditional idea of sinfulness and hedonistic indulgence, is seen rather more in terms of nature, with Venus wrapping herself sensuously in the hanging greenery that is just about the total extent of the scenery. The Wartburg of Act II and the singing contest is seen in a rather more rigid, structured form of frames. Act III's set is a combination of the previous two, but it's not a natural blend and rather seems to have destroyed society rather than united it. Perhaps the destruction of that society is necessary in order to rebuild.

Having established an understanding of the concept in broad terms, Bieito doesn't seem particularly concerned with imposing any other reading or emphasis on the work. Tannhäuser is no gentle work however and there is already emphasis aplenty within the conflicts of opposing natures and ideologies. It's here that Bieito lets the emphasis rest, rather than in some manufactured situation or in some elaborate scenery. Venus's sensual passions are seductively exaggerated by Ausrine Stundyte, Elizabeth's goodness and suffering is expressed fervently by Liene Kinča, leading to Wolfram inexplicably almost choking her in the third act, but primarily all of the conflict and passions and suffering have to be collectively absorbed and then transformed by Paul McNamara's intense Heinrich.

Tannhäuser takes his pleasures and his duties seriously throughout the opera. He indulges in physical love in Venusberg in Act I to such an extent that his willingness to submit to the demands placed on him by his minstrels of Wartburg is equally and wholeheartedly enthusiastic. There are no half-measures in Heinrich's world. In Bieito's direction, there is very much a sense that Heinrich believes that his self-mortification is a necessary stage that the artist must endure. He must suffer for his art just as he reveled in pleasure if he wants to fully explore the limits of being human and use the knowledge gained to question society and challenge its rules. These extreme views are not tolerated willingly by society when Tannhäuser expresses what he has learned in the singing contest of Act II. Nor are they tolerated by religion, as he finds when he submits to another 'trial' and undertakes his pilgrimage to Rome.

Act III then, following all the ferocious clashes of firmly held beliefs and ideologies, has wrought destruction on the once solid foundations of society, and Elizabeth's innocence is the price that has to be paid for it. With Wolfram and Elizabeth making wild empty gestures like they are in death throes, there's a post-apocalyptic feel then to this Act III of Tannhäuser that is less celebratory of the religious mysticism that is more commonly found there. Played this way, with the musical direction under Omer Meir Wellber slowing things down to an almost funereal pace, the tone felt closer to the final Act of Parsifal, emphasising similarities in the redemptive conclusions between the two works that I had never noticed before.

If that's the only revelation produced by Calixto Bieito's production then I suppose there is some method to the direction, even as it seems to work against the nature of Wagner's intent, if not so much the word. I think it might have been more successful an endeavour if it had singers of greater force of delivery than those cast for the La Fenice performances. It's not the kind of full-power singing you normally associate with the work, but the expression is nonetheless all there. Paul McNamara is mostly up to the challenge of the main role, performing with intensity and clarity. Liene Kinča's is equally as intense and gives an impassioned performance as Elizabeth. Ausrine Stundyte isn't quite up to the demands of Venus and struggles noticeably in her Act III scene. I thought I detected some murmuring of discontent from the audience at the proceedings of the first two acts (which wouldn't be unusual for this director), the production and performers are well received at the conclusion, so there's a sense that the power of Bieito's direction hit its mark.

Links: La Fenice, Culturebox

Wagner - The Flying Dutchman

Richard Wagner - The Flying Dutchman

NI Opera, 2013

Nicholas Chalmers, Oliver Mears, Bruno Caproni, Giselle Allen, Stephen Richardson, Paul McNamara, Adrian Dwyer, Doreen Curran

Grand Opera House, Belfast, 15th & 17th February 2013


The outcome was never really in doubt.  NI Opera's award-winning track record has been impressive since their inception two years ago, the scale and calibre of the works presented increasingly ambitious, from Menotti's The Medium and Puccini's site-specific Tosca in Derry through to newly commissioned work for NI Opera Shorts and a production of Noye's Fludde that travelled to Beijing.  Putting on a Wagner opera however is a challenge on another scale entirely.  Even if Der Fliegende Holländer is one of the composer's shorter works, it is scarcely any less demanding in the very specific orchestral and singing requirements that are quite different from the popular aria-driven Italian opera.

Admittedly however, while the First Act of the English language version of The Flying Dutchman was capably performed here at the Grand Opera House in Belfast - the first ever fully-staged performance of the work in Northern Ireland - it did feel a little flat.  Something was missing.  Still, no cause for immediate concern.  The First Act of The Flying Dutchman is quite difficult, the stormy overture a prelude to a gloom-laden hour of long passages of deep, grave male singing - mostly basses and baritones - as the dark figure of the Dutchman recounts the horror of his curse, doomed to sail the seas for eternity, finding land again after seven years in the vain hope that the love of a good and faithful woman will set him free.  There's not a whole lot of light and shade here, much less dramatic action and, even with the familiarity now of Wagner's brilliant leitmotifs and their hints of what is to come, it's always been a fairly demanding opening sequence.

Like much of Wagner though you just have to bear with it, as the forthcoming rewards more often than not merit the long drawn-out pacing and slow development of situations.  (And yes, I realise that this review seems to be adopting the same principle - long-windedly positing doom and gloom with the promise of redemption to come).  That's because Wagner has a secret weapon in reserve for the Second Act, which is the arrival of Senta.  It's a device that Wagner would unleash in a more fluid manner in the revised version of the opera - played straight through with linking sections and no breaks between acts - but if you listen carefully she's there in a leitmotif during the Vorspiel to Act One.  Recognising this, NI Opera's production did indeed effectively and with musical validity try to lift the First Act by bringing forward Senta's first appearance to the dreamily melancholic Senta leitmotif in the overture, the young woman walking across a stormy shoreline as the snow starts to fall.  And it even sounded to me like conductor Nicholas Chalmers wrung an extra ounce of romantic sensitivity out of the Ulster Orchestra during this sequence.  Despite the dramatic shortcomings then and musical unevenness of the weighty first Act (Daland and the Dutchman's duet sounding like something that has wandered in from an Italian opera) with a staging was unable to give it any kind of boost, this nonetheless boded promisingly for what was to come.

We had to wait until after the interval then for the deployment of Wagner's incendiary device, but NI Opera clearly also had one or two secret weapons of their own in their armoury to ensure that this Dutchman took flight.  One was the remarkable performance of Giselle Allen as Senta, the other was the energetic drive and virtuosity of the Ulster Orchestra.  OK, nothing there that will really come as any great surprise to those of us familiar with the qualities Northern Ireland's finest, but the way they were brought into play was impressive nonetheless.  You could virtually hear a sigh of relief from the audience as the curtain lifted on what looked like a church assembly hall in the 1970s - a bright, colourful scene-shift from the gloom of Act One - where the ladies sat spinning at their Singer sewing machines, the beauty of the assembled female voices soaring with optimism and hope that the sea would deliver the safe return of their men.

Doreen Curran's glowering Mary wonderfully kept the proceedings from getting too cheery, but it was of course the ringing tones of Giselle Allen's Senta whose romantic spinning of the tale of the cursed captain and his crew dominated and directed the whole tone of the Second Act.  Responding to the urgings of her fellow seamstresses, this Senta did indeed seem to be possessed by a demon, sitting down and seeming to slip into a trance as she recounted the myth of the Flying Dutchman.  Much as Chalmers managed to place some emphasis on the Vorspiel's dreamy Senta leitmotif, stage director Oliver Mears similarly allowed Senta's romanticism to invade the whole work whenever she was present, allowing the necessary spell to be woven that would make the Dutchman's arrival - and the long silent gaze that lies between them - all the more dramatic.  Retaking the same positions into this locked gaze after their duet, it was as if the romanticism of the encounter takes place in more in Senta's head than in reality.

Dramatically then, as well as in the all-important delivery of the exceptional singing demands that are necessary to make this work convincingly, NI Opera's The Flying Dutchman succeeded at least in finding the right tone.  It even allowed for one or two moments of humour to sit well alongside all the weighty recounting of ancient legends, such as Senta's father Daland approving of the couple making each other's acquaintance while they are in the middle of a hot-and-heavy, passionate, sweeping-everything-off-the-table kind of entanglement on the nearest available substitute for a bed.  Quite why the setting of the seventies was chosen however wasn't entirely clear.  There didn't appear to be any real attempt to connect the legend of the Dutchman to the Troubles, even if there is a certain amount of recognition of Belfast's history as a port and ship-building city.  There's no obligation of course for NI Opera to make every local production site-specific, and attempting to do so with Wagner could lead to some ill-advised and ill-fitting parallels that would never work convincingly (Senta a militant activist waiting for the delivery of an arms shipment?  The homeless "Dutchman" seeking to rid himself of the curse of his nation's occupation?), so perhaps allowing the work to speak for itself in the 70s is enough.  It certainly worked on those terms alone.

Well, not quite alone.  Both the male and the female choruses were in wonderful voice and with the driving accompaniment of the orchestra, their powerful contribution to the impact of the overall work was well directed and delivered.  Crucially however there were also solid performances from the main roles in Bruno Caproni's brooding Dutchman and Giselle Allen's obsessive Senta.  The Belfast soprano sustained a magnificent tension right the second act and the close of the third, a veritable Senta-bomb that exploded on the stage of the Grand Opera House in a blood-drenched death scene climax of nerve-shattering high notes.  If my own reaction is anything to go by, the audience were surely gasping for breath by that point.  If you can't achieve that kind of impact doing Wagner though, there's really no point even attempting it, but when you have Giselle Allen and the Ulster Orchestra at your disposal and operating on the kind of form shown here, there was never likely to be any serious concern about the outcome.