Showing posts with label Matthias Hölle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matthias Hölle. Show all posts

Friday, 12 June 2015

Wagner - Parsifal (Berlin, 2015 - Webcast)

Richard Wagner - Parsifal

Staatsoper Unter den Linden, Berlin, 2015

Daniel Barenboim, Dmitri Tcherniakov, Wolfgang Koch, René Pape, Andreas Schager, Thómas Thómasson, Anja Kampe, Matthias Hölle, Sonia Grané, Annika Schlicht, Stephen Chambers, Jonathan Winell, Paul O’Neil, Grigory Shkarupa, Julia Novikova, Adriane Queiroz, Sonia Grané, Narine Yeghiyan, Annika Schlicht, Anja Schlosser

Culturebox - 18 April 2015


So where does Dmitri Tcherniakov's production of Parsifal fit into the literal, conceptual or interpretative ways of presenting Wagner's final enigmatic opera? Not surprisingly, Tcherniakov places the work in a modern-day setting rather than in some ancient, mythological fantasy location, but what is surprising is how faithful and literal the controversial director actually remains to the letter of the libretto. There are few of the usual shock elements that the director is known for, revisions that have been known to completely overturn the original intentions of some operas. Tcherniakov's production of Parsifal even uses an actual chalice as a Grail (when was the last time you saw that?) and is almost reverential in its treatment. Well, up to a certain point, at least.

As far as the modern-day setting goes however, there is little here that feels out of place in relation to the context and the spirit of Parsifal. Tcherniakov's idea of modern is very much a stripped back one, the bearded Knights of the Grail shabbily dressed in loose woollen jumpers, wearing woollen hats, looking rather like they've just been released from imprisonment in a gulag. It's a familiar deglamourised look that you'll see in other Tcherniakov productions, in the populace of Macbeth, in the citizens of the Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh, the Knights forming a fraternal parallel with the committee of nuns in the controversial Paris Dialogues des Carmélites.

The intention appears to be not so much to 'deglamourise' as 'humanise'. Whereas the lush swathes of music in Carmélites, in Kitezh and in Parsifal are essential to the spiritual side of the work, Tcherniakov clearly wants to relate it to a recognisable human condition. It seems reasonable to expect that a survivalist cult living in the woods might indeed look exactly as the shabby tramps do here in Act I, Gurnemanz relating the history of their charismatic elder Amfortas through a slideshow projection (it could have been a PowerPoint presentation if Tcherniakov really wanted to ruffle feathers). This works, but the challenge of updating the dark fantasy elements of Klingsor in Act II to a modern-day setting is rather more difficult.




This Klingsor is far from the familiar presentation and image we have of him. In the 2015 Berlin production he looks like a nerdy schoolteacher in a baggy jumper, wearing spectacles and slicked-back hair. His 'flowermaidens' are less sirens than schoolgirls of differing ages in flowery summer dresses. Is this teacher a threat because he is offering knowledge in place of the Knights' superstition, or are there more sinister motives at play? Parsifal's entry to Klingsor's kingdom is not over battlements, but through a window, wearing shorts and a hoodie, carrying a backpack, descending into the classroom where the benches are arrayed in a circle (in an echo of the seating arrangements in the castle of Monsalvat).

If Tcherniakov determinedly rejects the religious imagery and fantasy elements of the work with such an approach, it's not entirely neglectful or disrespectful of the deeper spiritual undercurrents in the work, and not entirely without a conceptual side either. In Act II indeed it all becomes a little Herheim, but only for a moment in a flashback scene where a young boy Parsifal is introduced in a scene of sexual awakening with a young girl. The intention would seem to be to have this stand in for the idea of the loss of innocence, of shame at being discovered by his mother bringing with it all sorts of psychological implications. It's a minor diversion from the script, briefly returned to in Act III with a doll and a toy knight on a horse, but despite a charged performance from Shager and Kampe as Parsifal and Kundry, it doesn't really succeed in its attempt to touch on the human nature of the sentiments here.

It's a difficult balance to achieve, and in some ways Tcherniakov's production does go a little too far in 'demystifying' the work. It's also difficult to determine where the emphasis is terms of the weighing placed on the characters. Is this Parsifal centred around Kundry, Parsifal or Amfortas? What exactly is Gurnemanz's role in this version of the work? The balance between the characters actually seems fairly even, not highlighting the experience or the suffering of one above the others. There's no wild interpretations or unusual characterisation, the relating of the work uncomplicated, holding close to the intent of the original.



It's only right at the end of the work that Tcherniakov's individual interpretation comes into play and that the relationship of Amfortas and Kundry is seen as one of the more significant aspects of the work. Whether the right spirit of forgiveness is met in Gurnemanz's actions - stabbing Kundry in her embrace with Amfortas on the final notes of the opera - or whether it is a valid reaction to the treatment of women within the work as a whole, it at least sees Tcherniakov at his controversial best, making a valid commentary on the work. There's no question that this ending clearly makes a powerful impact.

If Tcherniakov runs the risk of demystifying the spiritual side of Parsifal, that side is fortunately more than adequately catered for in Daniel Barenboim's conducting of the Staatskapelle Berlin. The score is delivered in a more spirited fashion than some somnolent interpretations that have been heard recently, reflecting strongly the fury that is there in the work in the key Act II scene between Kundry and Parsifal. Singing too has a large part to play in the humanising of these characters and their journey to transcendental redemption, and this production might not have been quite as successful were it not for some truly outstanding singing performances.

In a uniformly strong interpretation, it's hard to single out one performer above another, however it's worth noting that René Pape continues to impress and establish himself as perhaps the finest Gurnemanz in the world today, improving with each production of this work that I see him perform. His Gurnemanz is authoritative, gentle, lyrical and resonant, his sentiments appearing to come from the deep emotional core of his character's faith and beliefs. It's only if you can sing it like this that you can really carry off the twist that Tcherniakov pulls at the last moment. Thómas Thómasson has similar challenges in his characterisation of Klingsor, but it's beautifully sung, exuding an indefinable edge of danger. Wolfgang Koch looks every part the tortured, charismatic cult leader, driven wild-eyed and crazy through his own personal torments and responsibilities. It's not uncommon to see such an agonised Amfortas, but it's rare to his pain and blood so greedily exploited by the knights.




While all those roles are very much contributory to the whole fabric and tenor of Parsifal, the success of any production traditionally rests on the performances and the interaction between Parsifal and Kundry. The Andreas Schager/Anja Kampe pairing here is fascinating, energising and compelling to watch. Schager is a powerful, lyrical heldentenor, almost perfect for the role. He's perhaps not yet the finished article as far as stage presence goes, but this is still an impressive performance that holds a great deal of future promise. Anja Kampe continues to impress, reaching a new level in completeness of performance in a role that offers so much. This is a finely pitched Kundry, appropriately restained but powerful. All the passion is there but contained and controlled, only hinting at the inexpressible depths beneath, but when she allows you to catch a glimpse of them at the right moments, it's hugely impressive.

Not everyone will find Tcherniakov's interpretation of Parsifal to their taste, but it works hand in hand with Barenboim (continuing a long and successful collaboration between the two in Berlin) in a way that explores the big themes of Wagner's final work. There is emphasis on role of the true artist to suffer for their art and nourish his followers and humanity through the giving of their own life-blood, compassion through suffering leading to healing and redemption for the masses. There's a danger that such sentiments can be overpowering, overblown and detached from reality, but the Berlin Staatsoper's production provides a very human, real and personal interpretation of what Wagner's final work really means.


Links: Culturebox, Staatsoper Under den Linden

Saturday, 4 August 2012

Mozart - Don Giovanni


GiovanniWolfgang Amadeus Mozart - Don Giovanni
Oper Stuttgart, 2012
Antony Hermus, Andrea Moses, Shigeo Ishino, Simone Schneider, Atalla Ayan, Matthias Hölle, André Morsch, Rebecca von Lipinski, Pumeza Matshikiza, Ronan Collett 
ARTE Internet streaming - 25 July 2012
You’ve got quite a few masterpieces to choose from - Die Zauberflöte and Le Nozze di Figaro to name the two most likely candidates - but in Don Giovanni I think you have perhaps Mozart’s richest work of opera. Musically and in terms of the range of characters and the arias composed for them, it’s certainly one of Mozart’s strongest compositions. Added to that, Lorenzo da Ponte’s libretto is one of the most brilliant, containing universal sentiments in witty yet incisive writing and strong psychological observations. A ‘dramma giocoso‘, the opera is however much wider in its reach, comedy and tragedy, love and lust, cynicism and romanticism all coexisting in the work without conflicting, expressing so many different and contrasting facets of human nature. This is why Don Giovanni is the one Mozart work most amenable to variations of interpretation and modernisation. The 2012 Stuttgart production - broadcast on television, to outdoor screens and via internet streaming in a new initiative to reach out to a wider audience - isn’t the most consistent of concepts, but it’s strong and ambitious enough to meet that outreach, and it comes through most successfully through some fine singing performances.
By and large, the setting developed by Andrea Moses for the Stuttgart State Opera is modern present-day. The set, designed by Christian Wiehle, is based around a hotel owned by Don Giovanni - one that seems to be going through difficult times in the current economic climate, with a Sale sign stuck up in what appears to be his own personal living room. The hotel proves to be a good all-purpose set for the opera, with its compartmentalised spaces and, crucially, bedrooms. There’s also a bar there where Don Giovanni can pick up Donna Anna during the opera’s overture, leaving Leporello to get her fiancé Don Ottavio drunk while he attempts to have his way with her. The modern touch is used also when the uninvited guests come to Don Giovanni’s party wearing sunglasses instead of masks, but it’s most effective in Leporello’s use of a smartphone to catalogue his master’s conquests, the images projected on a backdrop for Donna Elvira.
For most of the characters, the dress is also fairly generic modern, the wealthier characters of Donna Elvira and Donna Anna wear designer dresses, Don Ottavio is always seen in a smart suit, while the lower classes wear modern casual, Leporello in jeans and a leather cap, Masetto and Zerlina in more glitzy urban street clothes, Masetto in a Puffa body-warmer and with lightning-strike tattoos down his arm. The one exception to the modern-style dress is Don Giovanni, who wears a white suit with panama hat and fur coat and carries a gun, looking like a gangster from the 1930s, and with his unreconstructed attitudes, it is perhaps intentional that he appears to be an anachronism in this world. The distinction between the class of the characters is a feature in the opera - not an important feature, but it has relevance in a work where the sentiments of love, betrayal and revenge are shown as universal.
Distinctions of class however mean something different to Don Giovanni, who doesn’t care whether he beds a servant or a countess, as long as they are female. It’s his position however as a nobleman - or in this case, a gangster who owns his own hotel - that allows him to abuse his position of authority. There’s that and there’s the actual magnetic charm of his personality itself, which allows him to get away with much more, though perhaps not murder. This production however doesn’t seek to place too much emphasis on a traditional interpretation of Don Giovanni. It neither characterises him as a heartless demon or a misunderstood romantic seeking love and affection but unable to commit to just one woman. What does come through uniquely here, mainly through the performance and the singing, is the idea of Don Giovanni as the complete egotist. He’s not interested in the social class or distinctions of personality in who he beds, he’s only interested in what he can get for himself. As we well know from his behaviour towards his faithful servant Leporello.
It’s the betrayal of this relationship and Don Giovanni’s egotistical self-importance to the exclusion of the feelings of everyone else that play an important part then in how the normal course of events play out in this Stuttgart production. The Commendatore isn’t actually killed here by Don Giovanni in the opening scene then, but wounded and pulled aside by Leporello who uses him to get his own back on his boss after more grievous mistreatment that almost gets him lynched. There’s no talking statue here then either, but rather an attempt to put the fear of God into Don Giovanni for his crimes, Leporello ensures that Don Giovanni is quite drunk when the apparition appears. The complete egotism of the Don is carried through brilliantly. There’s no wavering of doubt, no remorse, no fear of retribution in the afterlife - he’s above it all. What appears to be some regret over his treatment of Donna Elvira, pointing a gun at his head while he uses Leporello to seduce here again, is nothing more than his own self-pity, and it’s appropriate then that his death at the finale is by his own hand. It’s a smart interpretation that works well, with enough ambiguity to leave it open to other interpretations.
It’s the performances however that are crucial to making this work, particularly the principal role of Don Giovanni. Shigeo Ishino is simply terrific, singing marvellously, credibly presenting an air of complete arrogance and self-importance that is based on Don Giovanni’s justifiable sense of self-belief. There’s never a waver in the voice or the characterisation. André Morsch isn’t quite as strong of voice, but fills the role of Leporello appropriately. There are good performances also from Pumeza Matshikiza as Zerlina and Ronan Collett as Masetto, but Matthias Hölle’s Commendatore is rather weaker than he should be, particularly in this context where he is very much alive. Other than the Don, the strengths in the casting are best placed in the roles of the three avenging angels, and all are excellent here. Simone Schneider is an outstanding Donna Anna. She has a lovely tone of voice that is able to push her character’s anger to the limit with strength and conviction yet still retain a melodic quality that reflects the purity of her nature. That’s not something that is always taken for granted with this character (does she lead the Don on in Act I or is her naivety taken advantage of?), but it’s emphasised here in her relationship with Don Ottavio. Atalla Ayan is also strongly characterised and well sung so as not to appear the weak figure that he is often portrayed as being. Rebecca von Lipinski ’s Donna Elvira remains a worthy opponent for Don Giovanni, although she’s not quite as strong a character here as the production’s Donna Anna.
Conducted by Antony Hermus, the Staatsorchester Stuttgart give a fine account of Mozart’s scintillating score that hits all the emotional and virtuoistic high points of the work, the pace and tone suiting the production and supporting the singing very well. In every respect, this was a production that rose to the challenges of Mozart’s great work, finding something new to draw from its rich endless source of inspiration, while at the same time making sure that the wider audience it was reaching out towards would find plenty that was memorable and entertaining in its traditional musical and dramatic strengths.
The production reviewed here was viewed via Internet streaming on the ARTE WebLive site but was only made available for viewing for a week after the live broadcast.