Wagner - Siegfried (Berlin, 2022)

Richard Wagner - Siegfried

Staatsoper unter den Linden, Berlin - 2022

Christian Thielemann, Dmitri Tcherniakov, Andreas Schager, Stephan Rügamer, Michael Volle, Anja Kampe, Johannes Martin Kränzle, Peter Rose, Anna Kissjudit, Victoria Randem

ARTE Concert - October 2022

Up to this point, with Das Rheingold and Die Walküre, Dmitri Tcherniakov hasn't really revealed any compelling new insights or themes in his Berlin Staatsoper production of Der Ring des Nibelungen, which makes the prospect of what is to come in the remaining two parts feel something of a chore. Aside from the music, which can always reveal new facets and colour - and I have to say is well worth listening to under the musical direction of Christian Thielemann - it takes something creative to draw me into Siegfried. Heck, even Wagner decided he needed a break in the middle and embark on a couple of new projects before he could face going back to it. There are a few compensations in this production to make it worthwhile then, but as far as seeking to find a purpose to the cycle as a whole, there's not a great deal to grasp onto here.

Tcherniakov appears to struggle to find any way to make the exposition in the first act of Siegfried a little less tedious. If anything he makes it even more pedestrian. We remain in the same open framework of a room that is seen in the first two operas, where events/experiments are being observed by the watchful eye of Wotan, the Wanderer. Tcherniakov seems to just over-emphasise the rather heavy-handed exposition, already composed in this state by Wagner before he went back and wrote the operas for the backstory, by making Siegfried even more of a child, wearing a tracksuit in a room that is a playpen of colourful building blocks. By way of contrast, Mime and Wanderer look even more doddery old men in old man clothing, with whispy strands of remaining white hair. All of them have little to do but pace up and down.

Michael Volle of course puts heart and soul into it, but it's not enough. Andreas Schager sounds fine as Siegfried, but you get the impression that he is either pacing himself for the long haul or is not really engaged with the depiction of Siegfried he has been saddled with here. There is no forge, nothing to spark and enliven the scene, Siegfried taking a teddy bear and setting fire to the contents of a table top, before taking a sledgehammer to it and anything else within reach. It's almost like Tcherniakov is mocking the heroic fantasy of the work, but doesn't have anything useful to offer as a meaningful commentary on the content of this opera or its deeper purpose. Unless it's a willful expression of destruction of the old with the intent of building something new, including destroying old Wagnerian tropes and mannerisms in order to forge it anew, not unlike Katharina Wagner's controversial 2008 Bayreuth Die Meistersinger von Nürnburg.

That would also seem to be the intention, what little you can make of it, of his approach to the second act of Siegfried, where - reminding us that this is not reality taking place in a laboratory of some sort - we are advised that the next experiment is soon to commence. Siegfried is the subject of the experiment this time, the defeat of the 'dragon' Fafner (a demented inmate of the institution) which permits him to gain an insight into the secret hidden intentions and corruption of the older generation. (The Wanderer looks even more decrepit in this act, but still more stable than Alberich with his walking frame). He is given the opportunity to deal with them in a "realisation of unconscious desire", and clearly, he rejects their greed. Presumably though, from what we know of how events play out, he doesn't have the substance to make a better world.

Whatever you want to make of this, the second act is at least considerably more entertaining and engaging than the first act. It has a solid performance from Schager, and lovely singing from Victoria Randem as the Waldvogel, able to actually grace the stage thanks to this production's overturning of Wagner's stage directions, presumably as one of the lab assistants leading him through the path of the experiment. There is also excellent sparring between Michael Volle and Johannes Martin Kränzle as the doddery old Wanderer and Alberich. I also enjoyed what Stephan Rügamer brought to the second act as Mime, the combined singing performances along with Thielemann's musical direction ensuring that it was a livelier act than the previous one.

The third Act also gets off to a good start with a powerful scene between the aged Wanderer and Anna Kissjudit's Erda, which in the context here might be another behind-the-scenes image of Wotan discussing the project with the Erda as Project Manager. Who knows? Any desire to make an effort to make sense of this disappears when the Wanderer leads a laughing and joking Brünnhilde into a Sleep Laboratory as if to carry on the experiment between her and Siegfried. Bringing her cuddly toy Grane with her she draws flames on the glass walls with a marker. Siegfried soon gets in on the joke and he and Brünnhilde then break into laughter at the pomposity of it all, try to compose themselves and then act out the heroic romantic declamation with a twinkle in the eye and a wink.

That's all very well. We know that Tcherniakov can't possibly take the Wagnerian heroic fantasy elements seriously, as we've seen in his previous Wagner operas (Parsifal, Tristan und Isolde, Der fliegende Holländer), but this time it feels like he is mocking it without being able to offer any deeper insight into the underlying meaning in the work or find some human element worth drawing out. Admittedly Parsifal and Tristan und Isolde have far more intriguing philosophical and spiritual levels that present more opportunities for ideas to be explored, but it's as if the director is not really making any effort to make sense or provide consistency here. The silliness of the direction doesn't do Anja Kampe or Andreas Schager any favours as they struggle to make the high-flown sentiments sound meaningful, but it's still a vocal challenge that Kampe can't quite measure up to. Schager does well enough, but he is certainly tested.

Yet as absurd as it gets there are moments of sublimity to be found there, not least in the work's regretful, fearful moments, mainly between Wotan and Brünnhilde, and in the ever-intriguing score that Thielemann conducts, finding that deep seam of human feeling and impending tragedy that lies within. Dmitri Tcherniakov could surely be expected to do more with Siegfried and the Ring as a whole than merely subvert it, but perhaps in some way he is also finding or attempting to find a way to express the heart of the work without all the heroic and mythological embellishments. While there are good moments here, I'm not sure he really succeeds in whatever it is he is trying to achieve.

Links: Staatsoper unter den Linden, ARTE Concert

Wagner - Die Walküre (Berlin, 2022)

Richard Wagner - Die Walküre

Staatsoper unter den Linden, Berlin - 2022

Christian Thielemann, Dmitri Tcherniakov, Robert Watson, Vida Miknevičiūtė, Mika Kares, Michael Volle, Anja Kampe, Claudia Mahnke, Christiane Kohl, Clara Nadeshdin, Anna Samuil, Michal Doron, Natalia Skrycka, Karis Tucker, Anna Lapkovskaja, Alexandra Ionis

ARTE Concert - October 2022

Das Rheingold didn't offer up too many clues as to the direction it was going to take in the remaining parts of the tetralogy, other than being very much within the familiar operatic worldview and aesthetic of director Dmitri Tcherniakov. Die Walküre is a place where worlds come together, where there is a deeper delving into the past and a relationship established between the present and the future and it's more of a test of whether a director has any ideas that he wants to take forward in the remaining parts of the work. Unfortunately, it appears that if Tcherniakov has anything more to offer, he is still keeping his cards close to his chest at this stage. 

Act I doesn't offer up much in the way of interest, either visually, in concept or in singing performances. Notionally, we are still within the human behavioural experiment laid out in Das Rheingold, the director here applying more relatable imagery to the pursuit of Siegmund as an escaped prisoner. Unfortunately Siegmund has inadvertently and unfortunately sought to seek shelter in the home of Hunding, who is a prison warder. If Das Rheingold went for the familiar Tcherniakov imagery of behavioural science and therapy in an enclosed world of high wooden walls (Carmen, Pelléas et Mélisande, Les Troyens), here the spaces are more open and exposed, like his Lulu, Hunding's home a framework of doorways in a modern house, with no sign of a sword in an ash tree. That's not a security camera though, Notung is buried up to the hilt in the ceiling.

It's not so much the modern setting that is out of place, as much as it's not entirely clear what Tcherniakov is trying to show us. It doesn't seem to relate in any meaningful way with what has come before, nor does it even seem to have any consistency within itself or in relation to the composer's original intentions. The clash with Wagner's sensibilities becomes more pronounced as the act progresses, as Siegmund and Sieglinde become enraptured in their joint destiny. It's not just that it diverges from Wagner's intentions, but it doesn't even fit in with the convict/prison officer concept. Unfortunately, the singing of Robert Watson and Vida Miknevičiūtė doesn't really make this any more convincing or give it the lift it needs.

One theme that is perhaps hinted at however is the wider idea of a surveillance society, of powers reaching into and controlling our everyday lives. This becomes more apparent when we get to Act II, but it's already suggested at the start of the opera where Wotan was seen observing what is going on from his window of office in Valhalla. It also has the benefit of blending the acts together as a way of creating a closer unity between the events in the distinct acts of this opera. Siegmund and Sieglinde run off at the start of Act II, leaving Wotan and Brünnhilde to walk through Hunding's home, unseen by the prison warder, the set rotating through to a Valhalla office room for the scene between Wotan and Fricka. Rotating shows that the actions of gods are not detached or unrelated from what is to play out, but exert control and direction towards consequences that might be unintended.

The folly of Wotan's actions are summed up in his admonishment towards Fricka in this vital Second Act that "You only grasp all that has been, whereas my mind longs to encompass what has not yet come to pass". If anything makes this feel as real, vital and foolhardy as it should be, it's Michael Volle's outstanding singing performance, but he is well matched with Claudia Mahnke's Fricka. Just as convincing is Christian Thielemann's musical direction, capturing the fluctuating moods, the depth of feeling, the import and foreboding at the heart of this act. For me the key to Die Walküre is what you can do with this scene, and there is at least a sense of purpose and urgency that comes across, even in the director's contextual setting of a business deal being hammered out between two high level executives with competing briefs.

Act III unfortunately doesn't find any real way of taking this forward. Returning to the forum of chairs where the Valkyrie are seated like junior executives talking up their gains of gathering dead heroes rather than actually doing anything. But no matter, there are still compensatory touches elsewhere. Vida Miknevičiūtė raises her game, gets in touch with Sieglinde's fate and her condition here and gives a fine performance. Anja Kampe is not quite up to the demands of Brünnhilde, a little light and airy of voice in places but plays the role sympathetically. Michael Volle more than makes up for any shortcomings in the dramaturgy for his Act III finale, conveying the depth of his displeasure with and banishment of his wayward daughter. Thielemann's direction of the Staatskapelle Berlin also lets this Act simmer and soar.

Unfortunately, the direction still feels inadequate, never really nailing down any ideas or extending the experiment concept for this Ring proposed in Das Rheingold. And even for a Die Walküre, viewed as a standalone opera, this just doesn't have the necessary impact. You might miss all the traditional scenes and spectacle of the mythology, not least the mockery of Loge's conflagration at the finale (Tcherniakov has a way of turning the intention of some works upside down - especially Wagner - and I expect more of this to come), but Michael Volle's masterclass Wotan is reason enough to be impressed with this production and still retain some expectations - if not exactly high hopes - for the remaining parts.

Links: Staatsoper unter den Linden, ARTE Concert

Wagner - Das Rheingold (Berlin, 2022)

Richard Wagner - Das Rheingold

Staatsoper unter den Linden, Berlin - 2022

Christian Thielemann, Dmitri Tcherniakov, Michael Volle, Claudia Mahnke, Vida Miknevičiūtė, Rolando Villazón, Johannes Martin Kränzle, Lauri Vasar, Siyabonga Maqungo, Stephan Rügamer, Mika Kares, Peter Rose, Anna Kissjudit, Evelin Novak, Natalia Skrycka, Anna Lapkovskaja

ARTE Concert - October 2022

Richard Wagner's use of mythology as a means of exploring the German psyche or defining a national identity has been exploited before, notably in Hans Neuenfels' notorious Bayreuth Lohengrin, but Dmitri Tcherniakov has also used many of his productions as a way of psychoanalysing the works in question and the mindsets behind them in productions like Carmen and Les Troyens). Not everyone likes this kind of approach, but for the most part, if not always fully (see his controversial Dialogues des Carmélites), he does so while at least still respecting the deeper intent of the works. His approach to Wagner varies, often overturning expectations, and judging from the opening prologue opera of Wagner's Das Ring des Nibelungen, it looks like following a very familiar pattern and aesthetic. Whether he continues to adhere to the underlying ideas and philosophy behind the work or not remains to be seen, but I suspect that Tcherniakov will find his own meaning in the tetraology as a whole.

Not unexpectedly then, but still finding a way to surprise, the Staatsoper unter den Linden production of Das Rheingold opens in a scientific research centre, a "Stress Laboratory", where Alberich is the subject of an experiment. The dwarf appears to be undergoing something similar to a virtual reality experience, although the period is 1960s or 70s and the method and equipment is cruder, sending signals directly into the brain. Three lab assistants taking notes play the Rhinemaidens to Alberich, which does reflect in its own way how Alberich is being toyed with. Inevitably it all goes horribly wrong.

If the scientific laboratory of the first scene is unusual, the visual appearance of Valhalla at least conforms to the current Tcherniakov aesthetic of plain boardroom oak wall panelling, the stage rotating or sliding between a sequence of boardrooms, offices and a forum-like arrangement of seating that sets this Wotan up in the manner of a businessman. Or, if not a businessman, someone with a great deal of power and influence, although his power is not infinite and he has to rely on a couple of dubious characters who are less giants than 'heavies' (although they are big as well) to help him maintain an suitable home for a man of his ambition. Wotan conducts them into the marble walled boardroom to conclude, or rather renege on their business agreement.

Loge recounts the tale of the folly of Alberich, who forsook a woman's love for the sake of gold, suggesting that there might be a solution to their current predicament to be found there, not realising that the error is about to be compounded. With that as a set-up it does appear that the anti-capitalist sentiments at the heart of Wagner's major work being the key motivating and destructive force behind the fall of the gods. It's definitely not an original viewpoint, and indeed it would be hard to see how this could be developed any further than it already has been with Frank Castorf's expansive take on the subject in the Bayreuth Ring still fresh in the memory (to the horror of some).

While that does seem to be an angle that can't be ignored, it does only seem to feature as a side element, or underlying theme that is already taken as read while Tcherniakov considers on a deeper level the impact, harm and damage that this has on people (in a scientific experimental way). Perhaps. It's too early at this stage to see where it might go, but it is at least wonderful to see the little subtle powerplays and personal conflicts against others' interests play out between all of the characters in this Das Rheingold. It feels much more meaningfully presented than it might if played straight as nothing more than a dispute between immortal beings. The only thing immortal here is the fact that the behaviours seems to be consistent in human nature throughout history.

The scientific exploration or "investigation of human behavioural models in a test group" continues with the deranged Alberich in Niebelheim exerting his power in a petty manner that leads Wotan and Loge to laugh and make fun at him. They have higher ambitions but at the same time he has something that they want, and they are prepared to exploit and cheat him - again an idea that fits in with Castorf's emphasis on the exploitation of the working classes. Whether you think this all comes together into something coherent  as an allegory (even Castorf's ideas were somewhat scattershot), we perhaps don't need to take it literally. If it's just about the curse of the lust for money and power corrupts those who long for it, it makes a point, if somewhat reductively. It's too early to expect it to express much more than that in the prologue to this huge work.

What seems less in doubt in this Berlin Staatsoper Ring is the quality of the musical and singing interpretation. This Das Rhinegold at least has a mighty performance from Michael Volle as Wotan. Johannes Martin Kränzle - who has already made a great impression as Alberich in the previous Berlin Staatsoper Guy Cassiers Ring cycle (also seen in Milan) - definitely has an interesting spin to take on the character in this production. I was also very impressed with Rolando Villazón moving into the Wagner repertoire, bringing a suitably sprightly mischievousness to the role of Loge.

All the roles here seem capably filled and the music direction undertaken by Christian Thielemann following the departure of the indisposed Daniel Barenboim is fine. There is nothing leaps out in either the concept or the performances here however, it's not entirely clear where it's going, but there are some nice touches in the direction, the musical approach and in the characterisation to suggest that it will be interesting to see where this one goes.

Links: Staatsoper unter den Linden, ARTE Concert

Wagner - Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (Bayreuth, 2017)

Richard Wagner - Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg

Bayreuther Festspiele, 2017

Philippe Jordan, Barrie Kosky, Michael Volle, Klaus Florian Vogt, Johannes Martin Kränzle, Daniel Behle, Anne Schwanewilms, Wiebke Lehmkuhl, Georg Zeppenfeld, Günther Groissböck, Tansel Akzeybek, Armin Kolarczyk, Daniel Schmutzhard, Paul Kaufmann, Christopher Kaplan, Stefan Heibach, Raimund Nolte, Andreas Hörl, Timo Riihonen

BR-Klassik - 25th July 2017

Barrie Kosky tones down his usual visual extravagances for his Bayreuth debut, but there's no shortage of spectacle, imagination and controversy in his production of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg premiered at the 2017 festival. The reason for the taking a little more of a low-key approach is that Kosky, as a Jewish director, has decided to tackle a rather difficult subject, and that's the longstanding question of Wagner's antisemitism and the alleged expression of it in this opera. You can hardly accuse Kosky then of reigning in his excesses out of reverence for the composer on his home turf, so to speak.

There's a case for challenging Wagner's beliefs around the questions of art, race and nationalism in his works, and certainly over the last decade Bayreuth has been at the forefront in addressing the difficult and troubling nationalistic elements in his works, particularly in Lohengrin and Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. Effectively putting the composer's great late masterpiece on trial for alleged antisemitism, there are initially some doubts about whether such an emphasis should be allowed to dominate over the whole of a work that has considerably more warmth, humanity and humour to it.

It certainly looks like Kosky is about to over-complicate and muddy the waters by inserting Wagner directly into the production, creating a tangled web around the work's composition, history, tradition and legacy. Act I recreates Wagner's Bayreuth mansion Haus Wahnfried, where the composer is showing off his latest creation to his family and friends. Franz Lizst, who evolves into Pogner, is there with his daughter Cosima, Wagner's wife, who in turn will transform into Eva in the opera. Wagner himself will of course transform into the wise Hans Sachs, but he also models a youthful version of himself as the spirit of Walther von Stolzing.

Perhaps most controversially, Hermann Levi, the Jewish conductor of the first performance of Parsifal, transforms into Beckmesser, who it has been said (but hardly definitively) is a Jewish caricature in the opera. In the traditional German craft of the Meistersingers, Beckmesser is the one who might aspire to compose great art, but he can never be truly German, and in the end is shown to imitate and steal the ideas of others to little authentic effect from one who is in closer contact with the nature of the land and has noble pure German blood running through his veins. And, of course, the people rise up and reject Beckmesser's poor and inauthentic efforts at German art, giving him a good kicking for his troubles in Act II.

Is this all that Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg is about? It is really an antisemitic work? The question is one worth addressing, particularly by the time you come to Act III of the work with its problematic concluding speech. Barrie Kosky fortunately proves to be more than capable of tackling some of those more troubling questions without neglecting all the other essential elements of the work. It might appear to be somewhat provocatively over-emphasising the matter, not to mention making a lazy reference to Nuremberg by placing the medieval citizens in a courtroom during war crime trials that took place in the city in 1945, but the validity of exploring the legacy of Meistersinger far beyond its own time is borne out by the almost prophetic words of Wagner's libretto.

"How peacefully with its staunch customs, contented in deed and work, lies in the middle of Germany my dear Nuremberg", sings Hans Sachs about a place that embodies the spiritual heartland of Germany. And yet Wagner recognises that the same essential German qualities also contain within them an element of old madness that could come under the thrall of "a goblin" who could unravel the thread of madness that lies within it, and it's the role of a Hans Sachs "to guide the madness so as to perform a nobler work"; towards art. The Nuremberg trials setting is not arbitrary or gratuitous then, but it gives real meaning and force to Wagner's words and to the sentiments at the heart of Meistersinger.

Whether you agree with the premise and its execution, Kosky at least makes a meaningful connection between life and art by looking at the work through the prism of Wagner's own life and composition, a much more meaningful exploration than Stefan Herheim's half-hearted placement of Wagner into the opera in his 2013 Salzburg production of the same work. At the very least, Kosky keeps the stage interesting, full of movement, ideas and occasional eccentric little touches (the little phials of colour representing the chemistry of composition), but never going in the direction of campness or irreverence which this director is capable of but clearly finds inappropriate for this major work.

Thanks to Philippe Jordan's conducting and supporting the idea from the orchestra pit - the performance filled with warmth and a complementary blending of the complex moods and colours of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg - it's possible to enjoy the production without having to grasp all the historical references and controversies that have dogged the work throughout its lifetime. The singing, from an absolute A-list of Wagnerian singers, also truly brings out all the musical qualities of the work. It's a sheer delight to see them all combining to such remarkable effect on this great work.

The singing is exemplary, but it's more than just technical prowess being exhibited here. There's evidently a strong directorial hand in the characterisation which brings in full individual engagement and collaborative interaction between the performers. I don't think I've ever seen Klaus Florian Vogt perform better anywhere than he does with this Walther von Stolzing. His distinctive light youthfully lyrical tone is perfectly suited to the role, but in performance too he seems totally involved with the character, the drama and in reaction to the figures around him. Judging by the mixed reception at the curtain call, the casting of Anne Schwanewilms as Eva was a little more divisive, but personally I thought her performance was exceptionally good, her voice as distinctive as Vogt's, full of character and with extraordinary swoops and expressive detail.

Michael Volle and Johannes Martin Kränzle of course have a well-honed double act as Sachs and Beckmesser, but they adapt that well to the requirements of the production bringing even more depth to the interpretation and the characterisation. There is never a moment when they don't have you entirely in their spell, bringing nuance and complexity to the soul-searching explorations. Volle in particular gives a mighty performance, again the best I've ever seen from him or indeed from anyone in this role. When his Wagner/Sachs addresses the charges laid against him and fervently pleads his case from the Nuremberg witness stand asking "how can the art be unworthy which embraces such prizes?", there's not a jury in the land that would convict him.

Links: Bayreuther Festspiele, BR-Klassik

Wagner - Der fliegende Holländer (Vienna, 2015 - Webcast)

Richard Wagner - Der fliegende Holländer

Wiener Staatsoper, 2015

Peter Schneider, Christine Mielitz, Hans Peter König, Ricarda Merbeth, Herbert Lippert, Michael Volle, Thomas Ebenstein, Carole Wilson

Wiener Staatsoper Live at Home - 11 September 2015

Christine Mielitz's production of Der fliegende Holländer is not as conceptually abstract and modernised as her Parsifal for the Vienna State Opera, but then the questions of mythology and how they are applied are quite different in the two works that span the opposite ends of Wagner's 'mature' period. That's not to say that Der fliegende Holländer can't be radically re-interpreted - as in the recent Bayreuth production - but the 'meaning' or universal application that can be gleaned from such productions seems to be limited to central question of commerce versus the enduring place of myth and art.

Even in its recent half-way house production of the work at the Royal Opera House, Tim Albery's production was able to offer nothing new to those themes, but with Andris Nelsons conducting, it did at least recognise that there is potentially something more to be gained from a careful and close reading of the score. The true worth of Der fliegende Holländer as an opera is there to be found in its compositional structure and developing musical effects. Like all the best ghost-stories it's all about the way you tell it, and getting as close as possible to Wagner's voice is the surest way to successfully put across the work's use of myth and legend.

Which is good in the case of the 2015 performance of this production at the Wiener Staatsoper, because it has Peter Schneider at the helm of the Flying Dutchman. I've never heard Schneider attempt anything radical with Wagner - he doesn't for example have the personal flair that Christian Thielemann or Daniel Barenboim bring to the works - but in terms of how he understands the dynamic of Wagner's work and manages to bring out the full force of the traditional weight and colour of the score, I find Schneider most impressive. He always commands a terrific performance from the State Opera orchestra, and that's the case with this broadcast performance of Der fliegende Holländer.

Christine Mielitz's production seems to hold a similar view that there's nothing to be gained from working outside the traditional idiom with this particular Wagner opera. It appears to be determinedly old-fashioned and out-dated, and perhaps the work itself is somewhat old-fashioned. Wagner's first great breakthrough towards finding his own through compositional voice is a far cry from the Grand Opera stylings of Rienzi written in the same year, but with its use of mythology, its ghost story setting and its theme of Romantic yearning, it's rather more successful on an allegorical level than as a realistic drama. Arguably, the music can do allegorical here better than a stage production can.

If it looks a bit creaky then, that's how the imperfect work itself could be regarded, but the staging and direction are more than just functional. The all-purpose set for the through-composed version of the opera takes place entirely on the ship, its boards curling up at the edges of the stage. The Flying Dutchman is all-consuming as far as the opera goes, as much as its myth drives everyone 'on board'. The direction is not without its dramatic touches and, critically - for all the effect of a ghost-story - it gets them right in all in the key moments. The Dutchman's appearance with his ghost crew is appropriately spooky, and his other appearances are usually accompanied with eerie lighting streaming up from under the deck. Senta's presence, as during the duet with the Dutchman, brings other transformations, and her descent into the blazing fire in the hold at the conclusion is dramatically effective.

What you also have here in this 2015 production, and often reliably find at Vienna, is a good, solid singing cast, even if none of them bring any new dimension to the work or the characterisation. Michael Volle is a superb Dutchman; tormented and driven, he not only sings wonderfully, he also sustains the mood and drama convincingly right through to the conclusion. Hans Peter König is a deep, resonant and secure Daland; Ricarda Merbeth demonstrates great control, delivery and projection; Herbert Lippert impresses in the role of Eric and Carole Wilson is a fine Mary. As part of the Wiener Staatsoper's Live at Home programme, Der fliegende Holländer consequently comes across reasonably well on the screen, but I would imagine with this kind of production it would be much more effective experienced live in the theatre.

Der fliegende Holländer was broadcast live from the Vienna State Opera as part of their Live at Home programme. The next live broadcast is Lev Dodin's production of Mussorgsky's KHOVANSHCHINA on 27th September (reviewed here in 2014). Details of how to view these productions live at home can be found in the links below.

Links: Wiener Staatsoper Live Streaming programme; Staatsoper Live at Home video

Wagner - Parsifal (Vienna, 2015 - Webcast)

Richard Wagner - Parsifal

Wiener Staatsoper, 2015

Adam Fischer, Christine Mielitz, Michael Volle, Stephen Milling, Johan Botha, Angela Denoke, Ryan Speedo Green, Boaz Daniel, Catherine Trottmann, Hyuna Ko, Jason Bridges, Peter Jelosits, Michael Roider, Ileana Tonca

Wiener Staatsoper Live at Home - 5 April 2015
 
It strikes me that there are broadly three ways to approach a staging of Parsifal. You can do it straight traditional with knights in helmets, you can try to impose a more abstract interpretation of the meaning of the work, or you can try to find some middle way that is more attuned to the mood of the piece rather than the letter of it. None of these ways is the 'right' way, none of them are entirely satisfactory, but all of them have something to offer. Such is the nature of Wagner's last opera, Parsifal, neither real world, fantasy nor purely conceptual either. Even 'opera' is an inadequate a word for it.

A consistent approach is made all the more difficult through the way that each of the three acts of the opera has its own distinct tone, each of the acts are linked, but there is no consistent narrative arc or even an underlying conceptual theme or philosophy that brings them together in any meaningful way. It's possible to impose one, highlighting the Christian imagery or looking for the sexual symbolism that runs through the work, but that usually runs into difficulties when it comes to purposefully tying it all together. It's probably better to take each of the three acts individually, find the precise tone that each of them require, and try to let that stand on its own terms.

You could, for example in the case of the Vienna State Opera production of Parsifal, spend a long time trying to work out what the purpose or meaning of the setting is in Act I alone. Monsalvat, the domain of the Grail, looks here like a fencing school where the knights hone their sword skills. Act II leaves that world behind for a living room where a rather less than demonic Klingsor lounges around on a sofa rather than directing forces against Parsifal from his tower. The domain of the Grail in Act III is a different place from the one in Act I, but much has changed in-between, even if we haven't followed it through in a straightforward linear narrative way. Time really has no meaning here.

What does have meaning here is the notion of a journey. Each Act is a stage along that journey, and, much like the three ways you can approach Wagner's opera itself, it makes a journey from real-world, to concept, to myth. Pinning those three stages down to any one interpretation or description isn't particularly helpful, and you could just as easily describe the journey across the three acts as one of innocence through reason leading to enlightenment; sin through repentance leading to salvation; birth through love leading to death (with rebirth implicit); or in its most simple form as waiting through action leading to an outcome. None of these holds true with any consistency or purity of purpose, but the pattern should emerge - and in Christine Mielitz's production it does so very clearly - even if the words/concepts used to describe it will be different for everyone.

Even within each of those individual three acts however, a similar three-stage pattern can be discerned, and the director here finds a way of emphasising and drawing that out, without necessarily imposing a reading on the audience. In Act I alone, for example, the slow opening clearly shows a world in waiting, its people in pain, the knights seeking purpose, gearing themselves for action. Whether you find it meaningful or not, a fencing school does at least give this sense of preparation, of the young knights seeking the wisdom of its elders like Gurnemanz. Interestingly, fitting in with the whole nature of the contradictions within Wagner's philosophical outlook, the spur to action here comes from a holy fool, an innocent who sins in the killing of a swan.

The key moment in Act I however is the leap taken to the third stage - myth, enlightenment, transformation, death - whatever you want to call it. It occurs in Parsifal when Gurnemanz invites him to take that extraordinary journey through time and space. In Christine Mielitz's production, the Christian symbolism is used to spark off recognition of the mystery of transubstantiation, the knights physical needs met through the dispensing of bread, their spiritual strength found in the sight of the grail (deliberately not made visible as a physical object as such here), their fight to continue with their purpose both a literal and a symbolic one. Parsifal is profoundly affected by his witnessing this act of faith and mystery, and Wagner's scoring of it is just some of the most extraordinary music ever composed.

The impact and importance of the act, and the patterns within it, is brilliantly established in this first Act in the Vienna production. Similar attention is given to the respective journeys in Act II (Kundry - 'Bekenntnis wird Schuld in Reue enden, Erkenntnis in Sinn die Torheit wenden' - 'Confession will end guilt with remorse, And the knowledge will turn folly into sense') and in Act III, cumulatively building towards the End itself with its gravity, quiet glory and transcendental healing redemption in death with the promise of rebirth in a dimension beyond time and space. Even as it finds a concrete form to express the action of each of the three acts, in as far as any of them have any real action, the direction leaves interpretation open. You settle on one interpretation to the exclusion of others and to the loss of the totality and the enduring mystery of Parsifal as a whole.

I don't know if the staging and direction are the determining factors here, or how much of a part Adam Fischer's soaring musical direction of the work plays, but this was a different kind of performance from Johan Botha from the other Parsifals I've heard him sing. His voice has darkened somewhat, there's more gravity in his delivery, and a greater engagement with the character in his demeanour. Botha is never a strong actor, but the director seems to be able to work to his strengths by not getting him to act at all. With this voice, he doesn't need to. Angela Denoke is much the same here as in her other performances of Kundry, scarcely able to keep her slight slip on as usual, fiercely committed in her performance, but inconsistent in her singing. Her pitch becomes increasingly wayward as Act II progresses, but Denoke never fails to bring a sense of compassion (another important characteristic for Parsifal) to Kundry in the third act.

We had another familiar and capable Parsifal performer in Stephen Milling's Gurnemanz, while Michael Volle impressively adds another Wagnerian role to to his recent Hans Sachs in the Met's Die Meistersinger von Nürnburg, with a notable Amfortas. Klingsor needs a little more drama and force than Daniel Boaz can manage, but there was little else wrong with his performance. This was a strong, experienced cast who seemed to adapt well to the considered direction of Christine Mielitz, and with Adam Fischer managing Wagner's sublime score masterfully from the pit, this was every bit as warm and uplifting as an Easter Parsifal should be.

Parsifal was broadcast live on Easter Sunday from the Vienna State Opera as part of their Live at Home programme. This month sees a new production of ELEKTRA with Nina Stemme on the 11th April, Elīna Garanča in DER ROSENKAVALIER on the 12th April and L'ITALIANA IN ALGERI on the 30th April. May sees Juan Diego Flórez in DON PASQUALE, Plácido Domingo in NABUCCO and the beginning of Sven-Eric Bechtolf's production of DER RING DES NIEBELUNGEN, conducted by Simon Rattle. Details of how to view these productions live at home can be found in the links below.

Links: Wiener Staatsoper Live Streaming programme; Staatsoper Live at Home video

Wagner - Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (Met 2014 - HD-Live)

Richard Wagner - Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg

Metropolitan Opera, 2014

James Levine, Otto Schenk, Annette Dasch, Karen Cargill, Johan Botha, Paul Appleby, Michael Volle, Johannes Martin Kränzle, Martin Gantner, Hans-Peter König, Matthew Rose

Met Live in HD - 13 December 2014

There's been quite a contrast between how New York's Metropolitan Opera present a mixture of modern and classic traditional Wagner productions. On the one hand you have the abstract otherworldly modernisations of Parsifal and the high-tech concepts of their Ring cycle, and on the other you have literal realism of the Otto Schenk's twenty year old production of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. It demonstrates how opera tastes and approaches to production design and direction have changed over the years, but what hasn't changed (in my view anyway), and specifically in relation to Wagner's operas, is that they each in their own way seek to represent the essence of Wagner's music on the stage, as well as the literal narrative depiction of the drama.

Although the approach is quite different then, and the subjects evidently are as far apart as you can get on the Wagner scale, the Otto Schenk's production of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg and the Robert Lepage's Ring cycle for the Met both adopt the necessary approaches that they find best convey the qualities of the work. And, inevitably, both in their own way are doomed to fail to cover the totality of what is in each of those respective works, but that's the challenge you face when taking on works of such enormous richness and complexity. It's precisely because there is so much to be gained from those works that Wagner's music-dramas continue to inspire new ideas and radically different approaches and interpretations.

Despite the differences in the content and length, Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg is indeed a work that is just as rich and expansive in its outlook as the combined works of the Ring cycle. One specific common aspect of the Met's Ring and their Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg that serves as the backbone for each of the productions, is the necessary impression of solidity and firmness of purpose. That of course ought to be there, as it reflects the muscular complexity of the music score, which in turn serves to reflect the enduring universality of the subject - whether that be the nature of the gods in one or the nature of being human in the other. The Met's Machine gives a firm and consistent foundation to explore the Ring, while the detailed wood and stone structures for the set for Schenk's production give a little more of a human presence, one that is perhaps no less enduring, but also subject to change. The period setting for Meistersinger and the universality of the situations within it reminds us of that fact.

Aside from the strictly literal depiction of Nuremburg in the 16th century and the impressive visual impact of seeing whole streets, houses and workshops recreated in meticulously realistic detail and scale, the sets for Schenk's production fulfil another vital aspect of the work - the question of community. Whether you want to see the humanity within the work as Christian in nature - the opera even opening with a mass scene - other elements suggest that it's the community aspect that is what really matters. That's retained in the context of the period here, in the Christian worship and in the religious subjects that are the basis for the Meistersinger's songs. This of course is challenged by the youthful irreverence of Von Stolzing, but he is cautioned and coached by Hans Sachs not just in the rules of being a Meistersinger, but also how to respect the traditions and the values that underpin them. The community and the rules that govern it might seem restrictive, but - as the inclusion of the watchman suggests - it provides order and protection from, well... let's just for the purposes of this review politely call them "outside threats" to our way of life.

The Met's sets hold all this together, as well as being simply perfect for the functional demands of how the stage is used and filled by the huge choruses. Everything that occurs in Die Meistersinger is designed towards bringing about a showpiece conclusion that has real impact and meaning, and everything should lead towards this. The community and the values they hold are all there in the church setting of Act I, in the craft of the Meistersinger's trades, in the whole street scenes of Act II, in the setting of St John's Eve and the twilight evening, and in the honest labour of Hans Sachs' workshop where von Stolzing learns the value of the song. Act III's conclusion then is everything it ought to be, gathering together the youth and experience, the wisdom and folly, the generosity and the mean-spiritedness of the preceding acts into one glorious celebration of life.

If it's difficult to put all that humanity into the production design (even as it remains one of those challenges that will always attract ambitious directors like Stefan Herheim), the direction of the orchestra and the singing performances are there to bring in that very necessary dimension, and the Met's production consequently does that tremendously well. Principally, it's Levine's conducting of the work that brings all the human colour and nuance out of the score and it's representation of so many facets of the human condition that are there in Die Meistersinger. It is a glorious work, expressing a warmth, a humour and a human sensitivity that does not exist in quite the same way in any other Wagner opera. And although it exalts the qualities and capabilities that love brings to human existence, Wagner also recognises - intentionally I believe - the flaws, the meanness, pettiness and the vainglorious side of human nature that is there in Hans Sachs and Walther von Stolzing as much as in Sixtus Beckmesser. Maybe I'm being overly generous in that view.

Levine's conducting brings all those elements out, but not in isolation. He's clearly working with what is depicted on the stage and is sensitive also to the nature and characteristics of the individual singers. You would expect nothing less from James Levine, but in the context of this particular work, it's more important than ever, and the rewards it yields are even greater. The measure and the pacing through Acts I and II are delightful, revealing the beautiful flow of this work through to its epic conclusion, but with wonderful attention to detail in individual instruments - the individual or the artist's contribution in the harmony of the whole being part of what this work is about. Levine's conducting makes this aspect beautifully meaningful and relevant.

The singing is not quite as nuanced as Levine's contribution - I suspect a lack of direction in this revival - but all of the performances supported the work as a whole. There was perhaps not as much warmth and humanity in Michael Volle's Hans Sachs as you might like, and you didn't really get the sense of what he and Eva meant to each other, but he was drafted in at short notice and his singing was nonetheless marvellous. There's brightness and life in the timbre of his voice, his line was assured, and he has all the ability and charisma required to carry such a role. Johan Botha was perhaps not as strong in the role of Walther von Stolzing as he might have been in the past or in other Wagner roles, but if there is any decline in performance it's minor. Annette Dasch might have had one or two moments of unsteadiness but was a good Eva, although again failing to exude any warmth or character. This production's Beckmesser was more of an amiable blustering buffoon, posing no real threat to the "natural order", but whatever way it's played, Johannes Martin Kränzle experience of this role injects it with the good-natured humour and humanity that is lacking elsewhere.

Led by Levine, it was the underlying humanity that shone out of this production of Wagner's Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg and that's what marks it as one of the greatest operas ever written. It's remarkable that it takes six hours to perform this work, but there's nothing you would have taken out or reduced, nothing that seems too much or unnecessary. The impression you should be left with rather is that everything feels absolutely right. The genius of Wagner's Die Meistersinger is that it leaves you with a sense of wonder and satisfaction that there may indeed be purpose, order and meaning to life that is within our grasp. In Die Meistersinger, art is the force that elevates humanity, demonstrates man's capacity to express and endure their condition and achieve their potential. It's a philosophy that lies at the heart of all Wagner's work, and it's recognised and brought out marvellously in this New York Met production.

Puccini - Tosca (Staatsoper Berlin, 2014 - Berlin)

Giacomo Puccini - Tosca

Staatsoper Berlin, 2014

Daniel Barenboim, Alvis Hermanis, Anja Kampe, Fabio Sartori, Michael Volle, Tobias Schabel, Jan Martiník, Florian Hoffmann, Maximilian Krummen, Grigory Shkarupa, Jakob Buschermöhle

Staatsoper am Schiller Theater, Berlin - 16 October 2014

The most notable point about the Staatsoper Berlin's new production of Tosca is that it marks the first time that Daniel Barenboim has conducted a Puccini opera. As interesting as that might be - and it did prove to be a fascinating reading of a very familiar work - it was just as intriguing to see how Barenboim's Tosca worked with the vision of Latvian director Alvis Hermanis. I don't think anyone would have known quite what to expect from this pairing, much less predict just how complementary the end result might be.

Relatively new to the opera world, the Hermanis productions that I have seen (Jenůfa for La Monnaie and Il Trovatore for Salzburg) have tended to be rather elegant, painterly and even 'flowery' in a way that would seem ill-suited to a verismo opera. In both those previous productions however there was a recognition of the harsher reality of stories that on the surface are given a somewhat romantic edge through a narrative structure that is enhanced by some beautiful melodies. There was also a very clear division in the Berlin Staatsoper's production between the familiar romanticised version of Puccini's Tosca as it is more often depicted and the rather brutal reality of its verismo subject.

There's is another 'painterly' approach used in this production. In fact, the entire opera is told in painted storybook form played out on a large screen that is built into the set. It's a cleverly all-purpose design that functions with some minor changes to represent the pillars and a wall for Cavaradossi's to paint in the Sant' Andrea della Valle church in Act I; it's imposing as a wall with a balcony in Scarpia's office at the Palazzo Farnese in Act II; and it acts as a backdrop to a wall of a prison cell on the Castel Sant' Angelo for Act III. Except it doesn't attempt to actually recreate the real-life locations in the way that so many other productions do in their attempt to inject realism into this opera.

And it doesn't need to. The Berlin production emphasises the realism by contrasting the action on the stage with the Napoleonic period storybook paintings projected on the screen. If you want to see Tosca as it is traditionally done, with wigs, candles and photo-realistic backgrounds of the real-life Rome locations, it's all up there on the screen. On the stage, the costumes are closer to the actual period of the work's early twentieth-century composition. (In their smart suits and moustaches, Scarpia's henchmen Spoletta and Sciarroni even look like Puccini as he is seen in those familiar photographs). There doesn't appear to be any attempt to tie the work to anything specific in Puccini's time, but it's sufficiently different to make it distinct from the period glamour without imposing another reading on the work.

No matter what the set designs show and no matter what period it's set in, what is of primary importance is the way a director handles the opera's key scenes. Despite the beauty of the melodies and the fact that they are two of the most memorable arias ever written in Italian opera, 'Vissi d'arte' and 'È lucevan le stelle' are not to be sung as bel canto, but must be depicted as verismo. Here, Anja Kampe doesn't step forward and sing Tosca's aria to the audience, she sings it as a means of seducing Scarpia with the false promise that she might have more to offer him in return for releasing Cavaradossi. There's no diva performance here, it's solid and dramatic with flashes of fire and brilliance. The curtain falls at the end of Act II with Tosca sinking into a chair in a state of shock at what she has done. That's verismo.

The same sense of aligning those those arias and key scenes to a purposeful dramatic context is also evident in the casting of Fabio Sartori for Cavaradossi. As a counterbalance to the cool but dark undercurrents that characterise Tosca and Scarpia, as Italian tenor is probably essential to stir up the passion and fire that Cavaradossi represents. Sartori brings this out superbly. I've found the tenor to be a bit hit and miss in the past in his Verdi singing, but his Puccini is impeccable, particularly when he's well directed. The singing is heartfelt and passionate, his 'È lucevan le stelle' finishing not with an eye towards applause, but caught up in his dark reflection on life and it coming to an end.

Michael Volle brought an unexpected lyricism to this production's Scarpia. Like Anja Kampe's Tosca, it was interesting to see the role played with a more Wagnerian tone, or in Volle's case, Wagnerian with a softer timbre and a Strauss-like beauty. It didn't exactly make Scarpia any more sympathetic, but it did make him much more human than this villainous character or the caricature of it is more often played, and indeed scored. I don't think this kind of casting and contrasting of voices comes about by chance either. It's clearly been carefully thought through for the impact that is required for the purposes of this production, and in particular for the manner in which it is conducted by Daniel Barenboim.

It was Barenboim's conducting of the Staatskapelle Berlin orchestra through his first Puccini opera that really hammered home the verismo aspects of the work. Anyone still subscribing to Kerman's outdated view that Tosca is a 'shabby little shocker' or a tawdry Italian melodrama would have been surprised by the human and the dramatic qualities that Barenboim found in the work. The conductor never let Puccini's lyricism and sense of melody get in the way of the aching and painful sentiments that underlie their superficial beauty. There was no bombast either in those moments of high melodrama, the horns blasting out a jarring dissonance in the crashes of those soaring crescendos, shaking the audience to the core.

With Barenboim conducting the Staatskapelle this way, there was no need for Tosca's leap at that famous conclusion, even though it was depicted in all its glamorous glory in the painted version of the story. The jarring reality and mounting horror of what has transpired over the three acts is all there in the music as the opera reaches its climax. The only option that is left open to Tosca needs no further spelling out, leaving Kampe to merely hold her arms out wide and walk towards the front of the stage as the curtain falls. The impact on the audience was palpable.

Rossini - Guillaume Tell (Bayerische Staatsoper 2014 - Webcast)

Gioachino Rossini - Guillaume Tell

Bayerische Staatsoper, Munich - 2014

Dan Ettinger, Antú Romero Nunes, Michael Volle, Bryan Hymel, Marina Rebeka, Evgeniya Sotnikova, Günther Groissböck, Jennifer Johnston, Goran Jurić, Christoph Stephinger, Kevin Conners, Enea Scala, Christian Rieger

Staatsoper.tv Live Web streaming - 28 June 2014

The qualities of Rossini's musical composition and the measure of how advanced his dramatic writing is in comparison to his earlier works, is clearly evident in his prematurely final work for the Paris Opera, Guillaume Tell. In part, that's much to do with the quality of the orchestra that Rossini had at his disposal, but there's clearly ambition on the part of the composer to move away from the standard number opera towards a more dramatic musical expression. In many ways, even though it is largely through-composed, Guillaume Tell points the way towards the grand opéra tradition, even as it looks back and retains a sense of the opera seria.

In both respects, whether it adheres towards one style or other, Rossini's final opera is a virtuoso work that requires performers of an extremely high calibre. It's a long work, almost four hours without cuts, with challenging vocal lines that push one tenor role to deliver fifteen high-Cs, many of them late in the second Act. The challenges extend to the staging of the dramatic action. Other than providing a sense of location for the Swiss Lake Lucerne setting, there aren't any conventionally difficult scenes to stage (other than an archer shooting an apple off a boy's head evidently!), but the real challenge lies rather in finding a way to make the staging visually and dramatically interesting. Without proper direction there can be a lot of opera seria-like standing around singing out one's emotional conflict to the audience.

Consequently, Guillaume Tell is not a work that is performed very often, but if the considerable musical and dramatic challenges can be overcome, there are great rewards to be found in this remarkable opera. Set during the Swiss revolt against the Austrian Hapsburg occupation in the thirteenth century and even managing to tie a doomed love affair into the storyline, there is at least a strong dramatic situation in Guillaume Tell. It's the kind of scenario that Verdi would come to specialise in, and Rossini's writing here sets a high bar for his successor to aspire to and eventually surpass. An oppressed nation under a hated foreign rule, stirrings of revolution and expressions of patriotic fervour, there's even a romantic situation of lovers torn in a conflict of love and duty to one's country.

The sense of the kind of passions that underlie Guillaume Tell are exemplified by the action that opens the opera. Leuthold, angry at an assault committed by Austria troops in his village, brutally attacks and kills the soldier responsible for the abduction of his daughter. This scene is shown silently before the opera starts, but rather than choose to follow this with the traditional overture, Act I of this production launches straight into the action with the village wedding celebrations that are soon to be interrupted by news of the Austrian governor Gessler's reprisals. The dropping the overture (or moving it, as it transpires, since cutting it would be unforgivable), and even the tone of the wedding celebrations indicate that this is going to be a production that emphasises the darker side of Guillaume Tell. And, being Munich, it's an abstract and modernised staging as well, looking like it is set sometime in the 1970s.

Instead of anything like traditional backdrops or even a sense of the setting even being anywhere in Switzerland, the production relies mainly on a layered series of columns on a darkened stage, the long tubular shapes rising and falling, symbolising or at least effectively evoking a sense of crushing oppression. In other scenes, the pillars float, revolve and strike angular positions, always matching the tone of the scene, whether it's a love scene or one of conflict. Or both, as is the case with Arnold Melcthal and his love for Mathilde, a Hapsburg princess whose life he once saved from an avalanche. On hearing that his father has been executed by Gessler, Arnold however has no choice but to join the call to arms that the intrepid archer William Tell is advocating against the oppressors.

Advocating, that is, with a gun rather than a traditional bow and arrow. Following the absence of the overture, this could lead the audience to wonder whether the director hasn't gone too far in taking Guillaume Tell away from the crowd-pleasing elements that contribute to its musical and dramatic greatness. That proves not to actually be the case. The shooting of the apple from Jemmy's head it staged with a crossbow and has full dramatic impact at the end of Act I, while the overture is reinstated after the interval before the start of the second act, a place where - arguably of course - it fits in well. It's not so much delayed gratification as using the melancholy tone of the solo viola to reflect Jemmy's sense of impending death - one that is populated it seems by fantasy figures from 'Where The Wild Things Are' - exploding into the famous march as the success of Tell's shot is seen to be sure and his turning on Gessler provokes the people to rise up in rebellion.

The Bayerische Staatsoper are of course well-known for taking on challenging works as well as for the experimental stylisations they take in their approach to opera stagings. For a work that is rarely staged which and has as many challenges as Guillaume Tell, the obvious approach would be stick with a familiar traditional period production, but playing it safe is never an option for the Munich opera company. Not that they get any thanks for it. The mindless booing that greeted Antú Romero Nunes and his team at the curtain call was inevitable then, but Munich should continue to pursue this kind of approach undaunted. It might infuriate a small section of the audience, but Nunes' approach succeeded in projecting a suitable tone for Rossini's opera, the measure of its success being plainly that the force of the work and the sentiments it expresses were fully achieved. I'm not sure why anyone would think the wearing of lederhosen and a few painted backdrops of the Alps would have improved it greatly.

There could however be little anyone would find lacking in the musical performance or the singing. Dan Ettinger finds a lush romanticism in the score, quite different from the familiar Rossinian romp, that drives the sweep of the drama wonderfully. The structure of the work is likewise tied more to dramatic requirements than to providing tailor-made roles to either showcase the performers' talents or spare their energies. It's a good hour and a half for example before the arch-villain Gessler even makes an appearance. Günther Groissböck doesn't quite have the depth of bass for a commanding governor, but donning a bull's head mask he presents a fearsome enough figure for Tell to defy. It was Marina Rebeka however who won most of the applause at the end of Act I for her Mathilde, and deservedly so.

Michael Volle and Bryan Hymel's Act I contributions were also acknowledged, but they really came into their own in Act II. Volle was as solid and reliable as ever as Tell, but it was Hymel who really impressed here. You have to give credit to any tenor who can hit all Arnold's high-Cs, but Hymel took them all effortlessly through a smooth vocal line and timbre that now seems more natural for Rossini than the heavy dramatic requirements of Verdi and Grand Opera. Evgeniya Sotnikova made the role of Jemmy count with a clear and expressive delivery, as did Jennifer Johnston as Hedwige.

Links: Bayerische Staatsoper.tv