Erich Wolfgang Korngold - Die tote Stadt
RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra, 2019
Patrik Ringborn, John McKeown, Celine Byrne, Charles Workman, Ben McAteer, Katharine Goeldner, Julian Hubbard, Clare Presland, Susanna Fairbairn, Alan Leech
National Concert Hall, Dublin - 12 April 2019
You don't get many opportunities to see a Korngold opera in Ireland, so when even a concert performance of Die tote Stadt comes up it's an event that can't be missed. In fact, a concert version comes with the additional benefit of putting the orchestra up on the stage with the performers and when you have a master orchestrator like Korngold, even at 23 years old when he composed his most famous opera, you really get a unique chance to experience the intricacy, beauty and power of the work.
Like Debussy's Pelléas et Mélisande or Schreker's Die Gezeichneten, the lush orchestration of Korngold's Die tote Stadt has a dreamy seductive quality that when combined with the nightmarish qualities of a Symbolist-influenced text that has undertones of decay and decadence, creates an atmosphere of gathering unease. In Pelléas et Mélisande there's no musical way out of the nightmare and you remain trapped within it, with Die Gezeichneten the illusion eventually comes crumbling down, revealing the true horror underneath.
With Die tote Stadt ('The Dead City'), Korngold's orchestral crescendos are more ambiguous; in some way they seem to break the illusion, but in others, they just seem to enforce how strong the madness lies within Paul's delusion that his dead wife Marie has been revived, reincarnated or reproduced in some way in the form of Marietta.
That certainly came across forcefully in the performance of the RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra under the baton of the Swedish guest conductor, Patrik Ringborn. Not only did we have the luxury of hearing Die tote Stadt performed in all its glory in concert performance, but the performance was also able to take advantage of the National Concert Hall's pipe organ that emphasise the eerie climactic moments of mad love.
We were also fortunate that Celine Byrne and Julian Hubbard had extended their stay in Dublin after their stint on Madama Butterfly for Irish National Opera a few weeks ago, and having seen thought that both were phenomenal in that, a concert performance of Die tote Stadt was surely going to be a treat. And of course it was.
I hadn't realised how difficult a role Marietta is, or I had forgotten, but Celine Byrne demonstrated the kind of voice needed to not just reach and sustain its tricky heights and German cadences, but how important it is to bring an expressive lyricism to Marietta's predicament and a cool authority to the ghostly spirit and allure of Marie. Whether it's a more challenging role than Madama Butterfly or it's a case of different challenges that depend on voice type I'm no expert, but Byrne grew magnificently into the role, or perhaps it's Marietta who gradually grows and asserts her own personality away from the pull of Paul's dangerous obsession to transform her into a dead woman.
Whether I overlooked it or there was no information on the performers when I booked my ticket for this, I was delighted to find Charles Workman cast in the role of Paul. Workman is one of my favourite tenors in early twentieth-century repertoire of this kind, works like Jenůfa and Die Gezeichneten, and this is a gift of a role for him. With that lyrical voice he could just glide softly and beautifully around such lush orchestration, but he is more than capable of rising above it and against it with expression and force, particularly in the jarring behaviour of Paul. It's marvellous to hear him sing and perform in this context in a concert performance, and particularly when he is a perfect match for Celia Byrne. The duet between Paul and Marietta's (or is she the dead Marie in Paul's dream?) at the end of Act II was one of the highlights of the performance.
Also terrifically impressive in concert performance is Northern Ireland baritone Ben McAteer. His Frank provides a wonderful contrast and balance to the richness of the voices that accompany Korngold's orchestration. There was a wonderful clarity to Julian Hubbard's singing, although that fared better as Victorin from the front of the stage that trying to soar above the orchestra from the back of the choir as Gaston. Katharine Goeldner made Brigitta's role significant, and there was lovely support from Clare Presland, Susanna Fairbairn and Alan Leech as Marietta's lively singing colleagues, all contributing to the richness of the score, the performances and the surreal madness that Die tote Stadt is capable of attaining.
A live stream of this concert was recorded for RTÉ Lyric FM
Links: National Concert Hall
Richard Strauss - Salome
English National Opera, London - 2018
Martyn
Brabbins, Adena Jacobs, Allison Cook, David Soar, Michael Colvin, Susan
Bickley, Stuart Jackson, Clare Presland, Trevor Eliot Bowes, Ceferina
Penny, Simon Shibambu, Ronald Nairne, Daniel Norman, Christopher Turner,
Amar Muchhala, Alun Rhys-Jenkins, Jonathan Lemalu, Robert Winslade
Anderson, Adam Sullivan
The Coliseum, London - 12 October 2018
The
English National Opera has been struggling to establish an identity in
recent years (amongst other financial, artistic and personnel problems), so it was interesting to see that
the current new season would have a strong female perspective with
works that would "explore and examine some of the patriarchal
structures, relationships and roles of masculinity within our society."
The first production of the season, Richard Strauss's Salome directed
by Adena Jacobs, an Australian theatre director working in opera for the
first time, might not entirely fulfil the remit, but offers some new
outlooks on a surprisingly adaptable text and score.
Oscar
Wilde's original play can hardly be seen as a feminist work and hardly
presents its female characters in the most flattering light, but it is
very much a work that explores sexual desire and power, challenges social attitudes and gives
it a very strong female focus. Wilde's concerns would be very much
personal ones of course, to do with unspoken and unspeakable lusts and
the danger of exposing them to a hypocritical society that is fascinated
by but represses such urges, or at least the public expression of them.
Coming from a woman, as it does in Salome, is even more challenging and
daring.
Given voice through Wilde's decadent poetic
reverie and imagery through a woman, Salome can still shock and make an impact
100 years after it was composed and still challenge conventional
morality, social inequalities and gender issues, not least in Richard
Strauss's extraordinary tone poem score for the work, a score that also
pushed the boundaries of musical expression. While Salome's actions are hardly
flattering towards the female sex, they have been twisted on one side
by exposure to the corruption and vice of the court of Herod, the
Tetrarch, and struggle on the other with the condemnation of religious authorities
represented by Jokanaan. It's in highlighting how female expression
is crushed between such "patriarchal structures" that Jacobs' production
is at least partially successful.
Considering that Salome
is a one-act opera that takes place in a single location, the
production design at least manages to be varied and expressive of more
than just the physical location, attempting rather to illustrate the
very intense interior drama that takes place in the mind of Salome.
Taken on those terms - and Wilde's use of symbolism in his text would
certainly tend to lead it in that direction - it might excuse some of
the more random and expressionistic touches applied. Herod in
particular is rather grotesquely presented in a bathrobe, glittery vest
and undershorts and wallows around in the disturbingly large amount of
blood spilled by the suicide of Salome's guard and silent admirer
Narraboth. As an expression of the corruption and hypocrisy of the court of the Tetrarch, it makes its point.
That's
one side of the oppressive force in the society that Salome has been
brought up in. The other is the religious moralising of the prophet
Jokanaan, whose mystical imagery and phrasing presents an authoritative
and attractive alternative, but Salome comes to find it also
prohibitive. Disdainful of the earthly treasures promised by Herod,
attracted to the condemnation of her despised step-father and his
corrupt, vice-ridden world, and aroused by the alluring promises of
Jokanaan (something that is very much brought out in the resonant bass
register of the role), Salome reacts violently when neither of these
patriarchal structures offer her any personal expression or freedom, but rather
seek to further enslave her and any like-minded women with their own strong sense of
identity and desires.
The imagery that Adena Jacobs uses
in the ENO production can be somewhat obvious, but it least it doesn't
need to rely on the sometimes obvious symbolism and imagery that Wilde
has provided (the moon, blood, ripe fruit). Some of it is more
successful than others; the moon inverted into a black hole surrounded
by flowers for the concluding scene of Salome with the head of Jokanaan
is striking as a visual representation of Salome's dark desire. The
backdrop of a woman with a blindfold not so meaningful - blind desire, abused woman kept in the dark or something else, take your choice.
Elsewhere the use of live cameras didn't offer anything more to the
intensity of the work, one camera affixed to a muzzle over the mouth of
Jokanaan, another seemed to be carried by Narraboth watching Salome, but
since nothing was shown of the latter, I presume the camera malfunctioned
at the performance I attended.
Much, but probably not as
much as you think, can rest on the centrepiece of the Dance of the
Seven Veils. Here, to be frank, it was a bit of a mess. Salome was
presented as a joggers-wearing teenager, the dance performed mostly
around the decapitated and spilled guts of a giant pink My Little Pony
by a team of twerking backing dancers that you would see for an artist like Beyoncé. Beyoncé may
be seen in some circles as the representation of female empowerment, but
by others she is nothing more than a money-making product and business woman in a
(patriarchal) music industry. If there was any female empowerment done
it wasn't here but perhaps more in Salome getting dirty with herself in
her earlier encounter with Jokanaan.
Whether Jacobs'
production and direction brings anything new out of the work, whether it
succeeds in tapping into female desire any more than Wilde and Strauss
is debatable, but it was at least someway successful in harnessing the
unquestionable power of the work. Far more was done on that front
however by Martyn Brabbins conducting of the English National Opera
Orchestra, sensitive to the light and shade of the work and its fluid
dynamic, a little muddy in places, but breathtakingly thunderous in the
impact and punctuation of the thematic motifs that accompany the action.
The musical pleasures were supplemented by some good
singing and dramatic performances. Allison Cook wasn't strong all the
way across the formidable range of Salome, but her delivery of the high
end was chilling and precision powered, particularly in the calling for
the head of Jokanaan. David Soar's bass had a persuasive warmth and
authoritative allure as Jokanaan (supplemented of course by Strauss's
majestic brass fanfares). Michael Colvin has the right kind of fragile
seediness as Herod and was perfectly accompanied by Susan Bickley's
Herodias. There were fine performances also from Stuart Jackson as Narraboth and Clare Presland's Page. The quality of the
singing and the delivery of Strauss's remarkable score went some way to
salvaging a rather messy production that nonetheless had some
interesting points of character and distinction.
Links: English National Opera
Dmitri Shostakovich - Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk
Opéra de Lyon, 2016
Kazushi Ono, Dmitri Tcherniakov, Ausrine Stundyte, Vladimir Ognovenko, Peter Hoare, John Daszak, Gennady Bezzubenkov, Almas Svilpa, Jeff Martin, Michaela Selinger, Clare Presland, Jeff Martin, Kwang Soun Kim
Culturebox - 4 February 2016
He remains a controversial and divisive figure in the opera world, but Dmitri Tcherniakov is nonetheless always an interesting director. In particular his work is often inspired when he is working in the Russian repertoire; opening up a whole new way of looking on works that are rarely performed and insufficiently explored. His production of Shostakovich's Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, recently seen at the English National Opera but now transferred to Lyon and sung in its native language with Russian leads, is a typically strong reading of the work that has many of the director's familiar techniques. In fact, it would at first appear that there's not much the director has to offer a work that is surrounded in enough controversy of its own. The touches Tcherniakov introduces here however are subtle and achieve maximum impact.
For a while at least, it seems like business as usual. There are no unexpected twists that subvert the material, nothing too challenging or unexpected. It's updated evidently, but not in an extravagant way to make any obvious contemporary reference. Instead of being a wealthy flour merchant, Boris Timofeyevich Izmailov here runs a more modern warehouse, with workers in hi-vis jackets operating forklift trucks, with a row of secretaries in the office and employees all wearing security passes around their necks. Even from the point of view of merely indicating the banality of business interests and the uniformity of the modern workplace, and in how it pertains to the relative positions of men and women within it, Tcherniakov has it down to a tee.
The background setting is an important matter in the opera, but still, it's not anything that you wouldn't see in any other Tcherniakov production. This one doesn't look that much different from his productions of The Tsar's Bride or Verdi's Macbeth, and if that means that it's not quite as radical as the updating of those works were, Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk already has all the sex and violence it needs. What becomes apparent then is not that Tcherniakov's approach is in any way 'tamer' here, or that he has run out of original ideas, as much as Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk may be the definitive Tcherniakov opera. It's as if the director has taken all the boldness, the shock and the impact of this opera and used it as a model that all other operas ought to aspire to match. Tcherniakov seems to want to bring the inner Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk out of every opera he works on.
In as far as dealing with the subjects that Shostakovich depicted in his version of Nikolai Leskov's work, there are certainly other levels that could be emphasised in the opera - and it seems amazing that the composer himself seemed to be unaware of how that might would play out to the Soviet censor - but Tcherniakov is not particularly concerned with those. The wider view of the Russian character, the implications of corruption within the system and the impact that has on a woman living within a male-dominated society are all still there as part of the wider canvas that Shostakovich paints so vividly in his score, but Tcherniakov recognises that there is also an attention in the music to the individual, and in this case that's evidently the 'Lady Macbeth' of the work, Katerina Lvovna Izmailova.
Having established the context only as far as it necessary, without any unnecessary emphasis or distortion, Tcherniakov's focus is almost wholly on Katia. The director often reduces the scene down to the small room where the wife of the boss's son is mostly confined. It's a warmly-lit room decorated with rugs covering the walls, Katia moreover dressed in a more 'traditional' way that emphasises the extent to which she is cut off and set apart from the rest of the world. She daren't venture too far out of that room, and when she does - in the only way that would be possible for a woman in her position - she's soon put back in her place. Her form of liberty eventually leads Katerina and her lover Sergei being arrested and sent to Siberia. As this just closes down her world further, Tcherniakov chooses to depict all the horror that follows within the confines of a small cell rather than on a forced march in the open outdoors.
Closing down the stage in this way, reducing it to a small block, allows Tcherniakov to work in closer detail, more like a film director than a stage director. There is even a fixed camera placed high within Katia's bedroom for the sake of the video recording of the performance in Lyon that allows the level of detail, nuance and intimacy created to be seen, but clearly the impact is felt even at the back of the theatre. Tcherniakov knows he doesn't have to make grand gestures because they are already there in the music and in the subject, and he focuses instead on the performers, on what their characters feel and endure. Even on that level, there's a huge range to cover in the vivid personalities of Katia, Boris, Sergei and Zynovny, to say nothing of the colourful secondary characters. Tcherniakov's direction of the performers is superb, making them and their actions feel utterly real, and it makes all the difference in this work.
The simmering passions and explosions of violence and aggressive sexual behaviour are all fully scored by Shostakovich and brought out in all their wonderful, lurid glory by Kazushi Ono and the orchestra of the Opéra de Lyon. It really is a wonderful account that makes no attempt to play down those verismo characteristics that are what gives the work such an impact. A few of the English cast remain here - John Daszak and Peter Hoare superbly reprising the roles of Sergei and Zynovny - but the Russian production of the opera undoubtedly benefits from having singers like Ausrine Stundyte and Vladimir Ognovenko play Katarina and Boris. Stundyte is exceptionally good in an understated but compelling performance that simmers with the underlying strength of Katia's passions and her capacity to love as violently as she kills.
Links: Culturebox, Opéra de Lyon
