Niccolò Jommelli - Il Vologeso (Berenice, Queen of Armenia)
Oper Stuttgart, 2015
Gabriele Ferro, Jossi Wieler, Sergio Morabito, Sebastian Kohlhepp, Sophie Marilley, Ana Durlovski, Helene Schneiderman, Catriona Smith, Igor Durlovski
ARTE Concert - July 2015
You'd be forgiven for thinking you've seen this one before, but according to the Stuttgart Opera web site, the last performance of Jommelli's Il Vologeso was in Lisbon in 1769. Given that, you might think that it looks like it has been written from a Pietro Metastasio libretto and maybe you've heard a setting of the work by another composer, but the libretto was written by Guido Eustachio Luccarelli and other settings of the work are even more obscure than Jommelli's version. There's no question however that Il Vologeso follows a familiar opera seria structure and themes, but as seen in Stuttgart's delightful production, it is still something of a marvel and has undoubted qualities of its own.
The plot, the characters and the way they behave is however very familiar, so it almost seems superfluous to describe the plot, but it's worth it since a synopsis is hard to find elsewhere and it is instructive to note where the differences in Jommelli's treatment lie. There's always a backstory before such an opera starts and in the case of Il Vologeso, we're in Parthia just after it has been conquered by Lucius Verus, so that puts it at 166 AD, and the Parthian king Vologases (Il Vologeso) is believed to have been killed in combat. Berenice the Queen of Armenia and fiancée of Vologases is being held prisoner by Lucius Verus, who is in love with her.
As the opera opens, Berenice, believing that the King of Partha is dead, is readying herself to submit to the rule and the advances of the conqueror, Lucius. Vologases however is not dead and disguised as a servant he attempts to poison the Roman emperor. When Berenice attempts to drink the poison, Vologases has to admit to the plot and for his efforts is condemned to be thrown to the lions in the celebratory games. His true identity however is not uncovered, but Berenice sees something in his manner that gives her hope that Vologases might still be alive and gives her cause to hesitate (and sing long arias about her predicament) over whether to submit to the attentions of Lucius.
Lucius is forced to reconsider his plans as well when his financée, Lucilla arrives unexpectedly in Parthia. Lucilla is the sister of Marcus Aurelius, the joint-emperor of Rome, and Rome is suspicious of what Lucius Verus is up to in Parthia. Just to complicate matters further in the familiar love triangle scenario, Aniceto, Lucius's aide, is actually in love with Lucilla as well. As the various characters mull over their difficult positions in true opera seria fashion, the games commence and the game commences. When Berenice finds herself in danger of being mauled by one of the lions, Lucius lends his sword to the unidentified condemned man and in the process reveals his feelings for Berenice not only to Vologases, but to an aghast Lucilla as well.
If a lot of this sounds like standard Baroque opera material (there's even a 'throw him to the lions' scene in Pergolesi's La Salustia), the work is only as good as how the rough gem stone is cut and polished. In the case of Il Vologeso Jommelli proves to be a craftsman whose work here is given a sympathetic setting by the production team of Jossi Wieler and Sergio Morabito, and polished to near perfection by Gabriele Ferro and a fine cast. The production, despite the initially dark post-war setting, is bright, matching the light rhythms and clarity of the music. There's nothing heavy here; all the emotions are in full display - as you would expect from an opera seria - but the difference here is that all of them are motivated by love.
You could argue that this is the case with most opera seria - think of what motivates all the extreme sentiments even in the power struggles of Mozart's La Clemenza di Tito (now there's a composer who knows the infinite workings and expression of the human heart). In the case of Jommelli's bright and vivid score for Il Vologeso, it's much easier to feel sympathy for the predicament of all the characters, since the music makes it clear that they are ruled by their hearts. That's not to say that Jommelli's writing lacks variety of mood or expression. It's elegant, gentle, passionate, aching, furious, pained - every expression associated with their love for another, not just some effort to assert power or gain favour.
At least, it's given that expression in the performance of the ensemble of Staatsorchester Stuttgart musicians, who play with wonderful rhythm and precision, making the beauty of the music and its complex expression in relation to the drama clearly evident. It helps that there is an orchestral flow maintained that is not broken up by long sections of recitativo secco, but credit should also be given to the directors Jossi Wieler and Sergio Morabito (and unfortunately their contribution is usually overlooked or dismissed) who manage to keep a work like this visually and dramatically engaging.
Anna Viebrock's stage and costume designs present a semi-classical tableau (some cardboard figures from paintings are even brought on in the second half of the work) of pillars and ruins, but the background is slightly more modern, looking like a modern war-torn city in Balkans or the Ukraine. There is a slight effort in this to connect the modern world to the ancient story, the characters initially in modern casual tracksuits, dressing up to become the figures of Lucius, Vologases and Berenice, but for the main part of the drama - right up to the final moments when the shell-shocked refugees return to reality - it's played mainly period without clever references or anachronisms.
The performers all sing and play out the intense drama with single-minded involvement for the nature and predicaments of their characters, ensuring that there is not one weak element. Dramatically little new happens in the second half of the work - there's a lot more to-and-fro wavering, appeals and rejections - to such an extent that there seems no way out of it. Their problems seem insurmountable, but their love drives them on, and love does eventually conquer all. Ana Durlovski's wonderfully rounded and intense Berenice has the most extreme anguish and rage as her beloved Vologases dies, returns, is executed, is reprieved. Unable to face yet another horror, she seems to submit to taking poison but her fate - returning to the real world - seems to be left open in this production.
Links: ARTE Concert, Oper Stuttgart
Richard Strauss - Feuersnot
Teatro Massimo, Palermo - 2014
Gabriele Ferro, Emma Dante, Nicola Beller Carbone, Dietrich Henschel, Alex Wawiloff, Rubén Amoretti, Christine Knorren, Chiara Fracasso, Anna Maria Sarra, Michail Ryssov, Nicolò Ceriani, Paolo Battaglia
Arthaus Musik - Blu-ray
History hasn't been kind to Richard Strauss's first two operas Guntram (1894) and Feuersnot (1901), both of them better known now by reputation than through actual performance. It's common knowledge then that the influence of Wagner was still very present in Strauss's early operas, slavishly so in Guntram, self-consciously in Feuersnot. That would change definitively in the operas that follow, Strauss finding his own voice in Salome, Elektra and Der Rosenkavalier, but that doesn't mean that there aren't traces and roots of classic Strauss in those earlier works. Feuersnot, in particular, demonstrates much of what would become great in later Strauss operas.
Not that you would have had much of an opportunity to reevaluate those early Strauss operas, with any performances of Guntram and Feuersnot, even in the year of the Richard Strauss centenary, tending to be concert performances. One welcome exception, thankfully recorded and preserved for release on Blu-ray, is the rare staging of Feuersnot at the Teatro Massino in Palermo in 2014. Directed by Emma Dante and conducted by Gabriele Ferro, it's a thoughtful and entertaining production that plays to the strengths of the work, at the same time as it manages to overcome many of the problems that might prevent it being staged more often.
The main problem with staging Feuersnot, I imagine, is that it's hard to know quite how to pitch Strauss's undoubtedly self-indulgent attempt at parody in the work, and actually make it entertaining. It's difficult to judge and pitch the work as a Strauss opera when it is so self-consciously Wagnerian. The danger is that you will think that Strauss is being far too clever for his own good, a bit of a show-off, immodestly writing a work on the model of Die Meistersinger von Nürnburg in which he sets himself up as the "true heir" to Wagner, as well as regarding himself as a bit of a stud. Emma Dante finds a very good way of bringing these ambitions a little more down to earth in her production for the Teatro Massimo.
Feuersnot is a played out as a medieval legend based in a village near Munich. There an apprentice sorcerer, Sir Kunrad, based on Strauss himself, takes his revenge on the people who fail to recognise his talent and his rightful position as the successor to the great Master magician Reichhart Wag'ner, whose great genius also wasn't sufficiently recognised in his own time. Slighted by the people of the village who don't recognise the merit of his powers and his right to express his libidinous urges in public - stealing a kiss from the mayor's daughter Diemut - Kunrad calls a fire famine upon the village during the feast of the Summer Solstice, when the children are preparing to set their celebratory bonfires alight.
Strauss isn't exactly obscure about his intentions in how he sets himself up as the successor to Wagner, but it's hard to know whether he is being either tongue-in-cheek or just immodesty secure of his own talent. Musically, Feuersnot is so cleverly constructed and brilliantly composed that you'd have a hard time denying the evident skill with which Strauss weaves his way through Wagner references and places his own spin on them. That spin, taking Wagner's mythic spiritualism and giving it a more earthy sensuality, could be considered vulgar, but this is entirely in keeping with other Strauss works of this time (Ein Heldenleben in 1898 and Symphonia Domestica in 1903) that would elevate the personal and the domestic to grandiose levels. Or simply find them subjects more worthy and relevant to the general public.
However we regard such behaviour, the brilliance of Strauss' technique and its dramatic application in an opera is plainly evident. It does however lead to a provocative conclusion in Feuersnot that might still be problematic and controversial. Having been subjected to Kunrad's fire famine, the terrified people of the village, and even her own father, urge Diemut to put aside her maidenly honour and get jiggy with Kunrad so that they can rekindle the fire on this Midsummer Night. She and Kunrad do the deed - Strauss bringing a more sensuous physicality to the music than you would find with Wagner - and Diemut, impressed by the prowess of the magician, acknowledges his place as her true master.
The 'legend' of Feuersnot is a thin one, even for a one-act opera (a 'Singgedicht in one act'), with little dramatic drive. Emma Dante however recognises that it's about music and not magic, and brings that not terribly well concealed subtext out in a number of ways. She also attempts to capture the huge variety and dynamic that lies within the score and represent that on the stage with circus acts and dancers to give an impression of constant colour and movement. This can be entertaining and sometimes annoying, but it does certainly bring some liveliness and a certain tongue-in-cheek irreverence that adds to tone and enlivens a staging of work. The final 'fire dance' scene in particular more than justifies the approach, finding a colourful and meaningful way to represent the otherwise problematic ending.
The musical performances all contribute to making this an 'illuminating' production of a rare Strauss opera. Gabriele Ferro underplays the Wagner and emphasises more of the familiar later Strauss characteristics in the score. Nicola Beller Carbone has Wagnerian strength aplenty in the role of Diemut, and although Dietrich Henschel doesn't quite have the force or the volume for a 'heldenbaritone' he sings and plays the role of Kunrad with a mischievous sparkle and verve. None of this is perhaps enough to see Feuersnot reconsidered as canonical Strauss, but it is unquestionably Strauss, and presented in the best possible light here.
The 2014 Teatro Massimo production of Feuersnot is released on Bluray by Arthaus Musik, and it looks and sounds terrific in High Definition. The BD has a 12-minute 'Making Of' that gives some insights into the work and the approach to it, and there is also an informative essay on the work in the enclosed booklet. The disc is region-free, but subtitles are in English, German and Korean only.
Leoš Janáček - Věc Makropulos
La Fenice di Venezia, 2013
Gabriele Ferro, Robert Carsen, Ángeles Blancas Gulín, Ladislav Elgr, Andreas Jäggi, Enric Martínez-Castignani, Martin Bárta, Enrico Casari, Guy De Mey, Leonardo Cortellazzi, Judita Nagyová, Leona Pelešková
Teatro La Fenice, Venice, 15 March 2013
Although it would be surpassed by the musical progression in From the House of the Dead, Leoš Janáček at the time considered Věc Makropulos (The Makropolus Case, 1926) as his greatest work to date. In many ways, Věc Makropulos is the one where many of the themes in Janáček's previous works come together. The contemplation on the passing of time, the renewal of life, death as a necessary and intrinsic part of existence are perhaps at their most beautiful in The Cunning Little Vixen, while other aspects of living in difficult circumstances, making choices and dealing with adversity in a wider social context can be found in Jenůfa and in Katya Kabanova. There is something beautifully expressive in the freshness of those earlier works, but the sophisticated arrangements of Věc Makropulos are much more ambitious without losing any of the concision of expression that is so characteristic of the composer.
That concision reduces some of the social context found in the original 1922 play of the same name by the celebrated Czech science-fiction author Karol Capek (the man credited with inventing the term "robot"), but Janáček's focus - as indicated by letters he wrote at the time - was very much on the question of the question of eternal youth as a personal burden on its main character Emilia Marty or Elina Makropulos as she was originally known. Very little of socialist leanings of Vitek remain in the opera, the lawyer's clerk in the original work believing it would earn man the right to elevate himself and the condition of humanity, while his employer Kolenatý can only see the destruction of social institutions that are based on life being short. Who for example would want to be married to the same person for 300 years? Janáček's own libretto however reworks the story slightly to consider the question of life only having meaning when it has an end.
Canadian director Robert Carsen's designs for the La Fenice production of Věc Makropulos in Venice then is fairly straightforward and traditional in its 1920s period setting, but he does find something interesting to play with in the theatrical nature of Emilia Marty being an opera singer. A parallel on the question of identity is drawn immediately in the repetitions of the theme in the Overture (the only overture written for any Janáček opera), where a series of rapid backstage costume changes reflect the fact of Emilia Marty has played many opera roles and at the same time taken on many identities in her 327 years of existence. Following in such quick succession, you also get the sense of her weariness of living such a life for such a long time.
Opera also plays a major part in the backstage setting of Act II, Carson choosing Puccini's near contemporary Turandot as the opera backdrop, a choice that works well with the unfeeling ice-queen personality that Emilia has developed over the years, showing little concern for the lives or deaths of other lesser beings. Elsewhere however, Carsen's staging is fairly traditional and the sets by Radu Boruzescu are not as stylised or high-concept as you would more often find with Carsen's productions. It many not be as visually impressive either, but judging by how strong his presentation of the characters is and the overall success of the production, it is however clearly a thoughtful and appropriate reading of the work.
What is rather more crucial in determining the success of a production of Věc Makropulos - or indeed any Janáček opera - is in how it captures the rhythm of the music, the flow of the singing and the whole essence of life that lies within it. Conducted by Gabriele Ferro, that was achieved marvellously by the orchestra of La Fenice, the score performed with verve and drive, vividly describing the wonderful details in the use of instruments that make the work so unique and expressive. No less important to the rhythmic flow are the inflections of the Czech voice and the singing was strong across all the main roles here. Spanish soprano Ángeles Blancas Gulín sang Emilia Marty wonderfully with the necessary command, particularly for the way that the diva role was played in this production, her death on the stage, alone under the spotlight, making the work all the more poignant.
