Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky - The Queen of Spades
Salzburg Festival, 2018
Mariss
Jansons, Hans Neuenfels, Brandon Jovanovich, Vladislav Sulimsky, Igor
Golovatenko, Evgenia Muraveva, Oksana Volkova, Hanna Schwarz, Alexander
Kravets, Stanislav Trofimov, Gleb Peryazev, Pavel Petrov, Margarita
Nekrasova, Oleg Zalytskiy, Vasilisa Berzhanskaya, Yulia Suleimanova,
Imola Kacso, Márton Gláser, Juan Aguila Cuevas
Medici.tv - 16 August 2018
No
matter how familiar you might be with an opera, there is always the
potential for a new production to bring something new out of it. Mariss Jansons exploring the richness Tchaikovsky is always a great
experience, finding a human warmth in it where other conductors find
Russian coldness and stiff formality. Both aspects are actually present
in The Queen of Spades and Jansons controls and paces wonderfully to
bring that out here in Salzburg, as he has done elsewhere.
A
good director can also find something new and surprising to explore in
the work of a great composer, and while he can be controversial and
somewhat 'out there' at times, the very least you can say about Hans Neuenfels is that he has a unique vision that will be quite unlike any
other interpretation of the work. Expectations and conventions must be
put aside as you never know what will come next, and it can be very
revealing to see a familiar work afresh, as it were, see it from a
different perspective. If a work is rich enough, it is capable of
endlessly revealing new truths and interpretations.
Even a
work that is ostensibly a ghost story? Yes,
certainly. Stefan Herheim most recently and convincingly demonstrated
how much of Tchaikovsky (it's a lot!) is in The Queen of Spades at the Dutch National Opera (soon to be transferring to the Royal Opera House),
again with Mariss Jansons conducting there. Hans Neuenfels not
unexpectedly has an entirely different outlook on the opera for the 2018
Salzburg production, but surprisingly, while abstraction holds out over
naturalism in the set designs, he sticks fairly closely to the stage
directions, finding other ways to delve deeply into the subject and
themes of the work.
And to some extent that is determined
by the variety of tones, by the hot and cold nature of the work itself
that Jansons brings out here, from the heat of passion to the chilling
cold-bloodedness of murder and ghostly revenge. As with his Lohengrin
for Bayreuth, those divisions are expressed visually in a
black-and-white manner, and the chorus also have an important role to
play in highlighting those extremes between the darkness of inner
torment and the longing for the light of purity and innocence.
That's
brought out right upfront in the opening scene of The Queen of Spades,
where the children's chorus are subjected to almost militaristic
control. It's always been a strange way to open and it doesn't seem to
have much direct relevance to anything else that develops in the opera
unless you contrast it with other parallel and equivalent scenes. For
Hans Neuenfels, that's a matter of setting things in black or white, so the
children are all dressed in white, while Liza, Pauline and her 'Circle
of Friends', in the following scene quite literally form a circle,
dressed in black like some kind of secret society. Pauline's song of
life's morning looking towards the grave certainly takes on a different
complexion here.
Quite what this contrast is precisely
trying to say is hard to pin down and it seems a little reductive - as
it often did in his Bayreuth Lohengrin - to mark divisions this way, but
it is effective and makes an impression that forces you to reconsider
how you look at the opera. What it does clearly mark out however is the
contrast between how Hermann (in red) and the Countess dress
colourfully in contrast to everyone else. The key to this can perhaps
be found in the nurses with the children and with Liza's governess's
words to her and her friends, that you must follow the "rules of
society", know what is "proper and right" and "observe the conventions".
Hermann and the Countess lie outside those strict black and white
principles.
The structure of the work and its music also
throws up such contrasts, from singing about happy days and enjoyment of
life to being besieged by sudden storms, and that is the kind of
emotional turmoil that Liza (who wears both black and white) seems to be
most susceptible to. Hermann is just another blazing, burning ember on
the fire of the confusion, uncertainty and naivety that lies with her,
attractive and exciting in how he acts and behaves in a way that lies
totally outside those normal rules of acceptable social behaviour.
If
Neuenfels breaks the work down into such abstract terms while still
holding to the familiar dramatic line, it's supported well by Jansons'
elegant and passionate response to the music, alive to the precision of
detail within it. The human element is brought out much more
effectively by the characterisation and performances of a cast that
boasts two exceptional leads in Brandon Jovanovich and Evgenia Muraveva
as Hermann and Liza. I've become too used to Misha Didyk monopolising
the role recently, but Jovanovich brings a much more lyrical and
sympathetic interpretation to the madness of Hermann. Muraveva brings
out Liza's innocence likewise in a sympathetic manner and sings
marvellously, her Act III aria on the bridge absolutely heart-breaking.
With
secondary roles all well cast and sung and a strong chorus that
expresses all the variety of colour in the work with its little
Pastorale and other diversions, this is an outstanding production at
Salzburg that dispenses with operatic mannerisms, touches on its deeper themes and makes the ghost story at the centre of the work feel real and truly tragic.
Links: Salzburg Festspiele
Richard Strauss - Elektra
Opernhaus Zürich, 2015
Lothar Koenigs, Martin Kušej, Hanna Schwarz, Evelyn Herlitzius, Emily Magee, Michael Laurenz, Christof Fischesser, Reinhard Mayr, Hamida Kristoffersen, Alexandra Tarniceru, Iain Milne, Marion Ammann, Judit Kutasi, Julia Riley, Irène Friedli, Sen Guo, Ivana Rusko
Zurich - 3 July 2015
I had already seen Martin Kušej's production of Elektra for the Zurich Opera House on BD, and I've heard Evelyn Herlitzius sing the leading role impressively in Patrice Chereau's production for Aix-en-Provence in 2013, so I thought I had a good indication of what to expect viewing from this performance at the 2015 Festspiele Zurich. The introduction of Herlitzius into the production, some minor adjustments to the direction, and Lothar Koenigs' conducting of the Zurich orchestra however changed everything.
Well, perhaps not everything, but there was a considerable adjustment of emphasis that changed the whole tone and mood of the production. What I recall principally from the BD recording of the Zurich Elektra in 2005 is Eva Johansson's characterisation of Electra as a moody teenager. She might be slight in stature, but that kind of characterisation was never going to work with the rather more intense kind of performance that Evelyn Herlitzius brings to this role. The moody teenager in the yellow hoodie is replaced by a more sinister edge of dark violence in the 2015 revival of the production.
I've seen Elektra performed many times and have often been struck by the sheer force of the score, particularly in a live environment, but until now I don't think I realised just how dark a work it can really be. In Elektra, Richard Strauss has surely composed some of the most violent music ever written. Other than Reimann's Lear, I can't think of anything else that compares. That wasn't what I expected from this particular production, but under Lothar Koenigs' direction, you could feel it reverberate right through to the bone. What is there in the music and in its performance however has to be matched on the stage in order for that kind of impact to be fully felt.
I've seen Herlitzius sing Elektra before and I've heard Herlitzius sing live before, but I've never heard her sing Electra before in live performance. I've never noticed her vibrato so pronounced as it appeared when she sings her first lines in the opera. It's not so noticeable when it's more fully enveloped in Strauss's score, and when it is the combination of her voice with the score creates an extraordinarily powerful, chilling and almost terrifying expression of potential violence.
Expressionistic it might be, but Elektra is far from abstract in its violent intent, and that needs to be reflected in the direction. In this revival, Martin Kušej's direction becomes one that sheds a light on the pervading madness. That's there in the set design to some extent, in the undulating ground, in the masses of semi-naked figures twitching like inmates of an asylum, and in the padded doors that open to let the light flood into those dark corners. Padded on the outside however, this is not just a representation of the inner mind of Electra. What comes out more clearly in this revival is that the madness extends to her murderous, tormented family.
Such is the intensity of Electra's desire for revenge on the murder of Agamemnon that you almost think that the arrival of her brother Orestes is a necessary delusion, one that comes as she topples over the edge into her dance of madness. You soon realise however that there's just as much dysfunction between Chrysothemis and Electra, between Clytemnestra and Aegisthus and between Electra and Orestes. They way they behave with each other is all wrong, there's something dark and twisted in each of them that is emphasised and brought out strongly in the score. You look at this production and it really brings it home. What a family!
Evelyn Herlitzius is utterly convincing. The way she pushes the pitch and climbs to those high notes isn't the prettiest, but the torment of Electra's condition isn't the prettiest either. A measure of that, and of the emphasis that it is given to the family relationships in the production, is with the intensity of how she cries out the names of Agamemnon and Orestes. You can almost feel her cries pinning the audience back in their seats. She sustains that performance consistently in line with the intent of the production throughout, and it's just gripping.
Hanna Schwarz shows that there is some vulnerability in the domineering Clytemnestra, and Emily Magee sings Chrysothemis in a way that indicates that she is no voice of reason. With equally intense, disturbing interpretations by Christof Fischesser as Orestes and Michael Laurenz as Aegisthus, this was a very strong cast that played to Lothar Koenigs' conduction with maximum impact, with not even the Brazilian dance troupe lessening the crushing inevitability of all of them heading to their destruction.
Links: Opernhaus Zürich
Leoš Janáček - Jenůfa
Deutsche Oper Berlin, 2014
Donald Runnicles, Christof Loy, Michaela Kaune, Jennifer Larmore, Hanna Schwarz, Will Hartmann, Ladislav Elgr, Simon Pauly, Stephen Bronk, Nadine Secunde, Martina Welschenbach, Fionnuala McCarthy, Jana Kurucová, Alexandra Hutton
Arthaus Musik - Blu-ray
Christof Loy's strength as a director, as he demonstrates here to remarkable effect in the Deutsche Oper's production of Janáček's Jenůfa, is the depth of characterisation he brings to the drama. It's never an imposed reading, but one that can be found in the music itself - no more so than in Janáček's extraordinary score for this work. The setting in Loy's productions might not always conform to the letter of the libretto, but he nonetheless invariably creates a strong environment for the characters to work in and reveal their inner lives. He has a lot to work with in Jenůfa, and with some equally strong musical and singing performances, the full power of Janáček's work is there for all to hear and see.
Jenůfa is a simple story, but it shows how terrible things can happen to anyone, accidentally, through no fault of their own. The consequences of these events and the responsibilities it confers on people can be an unendurable burden, causing great suffering and misery. As a humanist however, Janáček recognises the truth that beauty can flourish even in the worst of situations, and that happiness is always a possibility. This note of hope that he introduces in the almost impossibly beautiful epilogue to Jenůfa is one of the greatest moments in all of opera. Christof Loy shows the truth of this in the Deutsche Oper production, but in order to reach that moment of near-transcendence, he also has to show the full horror of what leads up to it.
What Loy achieves so well in Act I is the sense of urgency and anticipation, the rush of emotions, the implied threats of violence and the conflict of sentiments that are going to set off a tragic series of events. It's a perfect match for the complex, urgent rhythms of Janáček's weaving, rolling and menacing score. There's Jenůfa's fear of her cousin Števa being conscripted into the army, her concern heightened by the fear that she will have to face the anger of the community alone, since she knows she is unmarried and pregnant by him. Her stepmother, Kostelnicka, unaware of her condition, dislikes Števa, her own experience leading her to conclude that he is a drunken good-for-nothing who is unsuitable for marriage. Laca is in love with Jenůfa and, jealous of the concern she shows for Števa, glowers and roars, ready to explode in a fit of jealous rage. Add Števa, stupid, drunk and celebrating, a misplaced knife and a crowd and there will inevitably be trouble, but this is only the beginning of a series of terrible events.
The fact that those actions are going to have grave consequences has however already been indicated right from the outset in a silent scene that shows Kostelnicka brought into an interrogation room. As well as setting her up as a key figure in what is to follow, Loy also shows his ability to look beyond the surface drama into the real heart of what makes Janáček's Jenůfa beat. Understanding Kostelnicka's motivations is important, but it has to be seen in the context, attitudes and morals of the Moravian village community in which the opera is set. That means much more than just using regionally appropriate costumes and backdrops, and for Loy all is needed is plain costumes and an austere white box with sliding panels that open up and close Jenůfa off from the community outside.
That fully creates the occasion for Jenůfa to be a victim of circumstance, her nature and instincts bent to conform to the pressures of society and the community. In terms of laying out the tragedy and the part that Kostelnicka and Laca play in it, Loy not only sets down strong characterisation, but he has two fine singers who are capable of drawing every ounce of character that is inherently there in the drama and the music. Jennifer Larmore in particular is one of the best Kostelnicka's I've ever come across. The scene where she resolves to remove the baby from the picture is chilling and credible, as is how she remains affected and weighted down later as a consequence of her actions. As a singing performance, Larmore's performance is simply outstanding and everything it ought to be, but there's real personality and meaning given to the words and how they manifest in her actions.
Laca's role is a dual one that is rather more complex than the character's simplicity of expression would suggest, but all the contradictions and their implications are fully brought out in Loy's staging and in the performance by Will Hartmann. From one perspective, Laca's accidental scarring of Jenůfa is the single most significant episode that sets off a chain of tragic events, but it is also significant that he also brings about the resolution to them. Loy ensures not only that the actions of the others are fully weighed for the impact they have in what occurs - the villagers, Števa, Kostelnicka and even Jenůfa herself - but that the sense of love, repentance, forgiveness and reconciliation that comes about arises out of the tragedy is even greater. Laca is an important part of this, and Hartmann not only captures that stupid blind, jealous rage of the character, but also his sensitivity and the depths of his feelings for Jenůfa, unconditionally defending her from the community outrage.
There's a danger that Jenůfa could remain a passive figure in the opera with no ability to direct her own fortune, her own passions subject to the actions, whims and projections of others. Her beauty and the purity of her feelings is important however and that comes through intact, if scarred. Michaela Kaune isn't as strong an actor as Larman, but the expression of the essence of Jenůfa is all there in her singing and performance and she clearly puts everything into the role. The same sense of commitment is applied to the characterisation and the performances elsewhere. Even Števa has real personality. He's not just a drunken good-for-nothing or cowardly, but just a boy. He's passionate and clearly loves Jenůfa but he's not grown-up enough to take on the responsibilities of a disfigured wife, a child and making a home, but he is just too weak to stand up to the more forceful female personalities around him.
Similar attention is applied even to secondary roles, but none of Loy's ideas or interpretations exist in isolation or are created out of nothing. All of this is there in the libretto and in the score itself and Donald Runnicles ensures that the precision of the rhythms and their emotional undercurrents all perfectly match the composer's intentions as well as what is happening on the stage. On BD/DVD, Brian Large elects to cut out the audience applause between acts, allowing the force of the drama to playing the drama straight through, and it does make a significant impact, Loy's direction and the acting performances drawing you right in. There are no extra features on the BD50 disc, and the image and audio are reasonably good, but not exceptional. Subtitles (which can only be selected from remote or pop-up while playing) are in English, German, French, Spanish, Italian, Korean and Japanese.
Links: Deutsche Oper Berlin
