Showing posts with label Walter Kobéra. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Walter Kobéra. Show all posts

Thursday, 1 May 2025

Einem - Der Prozess (Vienna, 2024)


Gottfried von Einem - Der Prozess

Theater an der Wien, Kammeroper Wien, 2024

Walter Kobéra, Stefan Herheim, Robert Murray, Anne-Fleur Werner, Alexander Grassauer, Timothy Connor, Leo Mignonneau, Valentino Blasina, Lukas Karzel, Philipp Schöllhorn, Fabian Tobias Huster

OperaVision - 12th December 2024

Kafka’s The Trial has remained not just a prescient work that looks like a nightmare that is increasingly becoming a reality, but it's also a book that has always been extraordinarily observant of human behaviour and its relationship to laws, regulations and conformity. Looked at dispassionately, the everyday rules and modes of behaviour that we accept as normal are anything but, and are in fact often contrary to human nature, controlling and restrictive. It's hard to look at that dispassionately however and at least as far as Kafka’s worldview of the arrest of Josef K. is concerned in The Trial, it can be seen rather as either completely absurd or quietly but deeply threatening. Or, since Kafka cannot be reduced to such simple analysis, it can be all of the above and quite a bit more besides.

Particularly when it comes to how a director like Stefan Herheim chooses to represent Kafka when faced with Gottfried von Einem’s 1953 opera version of Der Prozess. One thing Kafka's work is, for all the truth of its observations, is non-naturalistic. It, or indeed its lead figure Josef K., embraces the absurdity of the situation and takes it to extremes. Whether it's Josef K. who is guilty for whatever it is he has or hasn't done, whether it's the 'system' that is absurdly complicated by obscure, unnecessarily complex and sometimes contradictory rules, it's all part of the equation or unspoken contract that the citizen enters into in a kind of dance down a path that leaves no room for rational thought or individual discretion.

Herheim, in his usual metatheatrical way, take in the opera itself as means of showing the characters entering into a tightly choreographed predetermined progress through the drama. Set in Salzburg, presumably as the composer was Austrian, Josef K. - looking remarkably like the older white bearded and shock haired Gottfried von Einem - awakes to read in a book (presumably The Trial) and wonders why his normal routine has been disturbed, expecting - so the book says - that he expects to have his breakfast brought to him. This comes to the amusement of those, looking like younger replicas of himself, who have come to arrest him.

The indication - if you didn't know to expect this of director Stefan Herheim - is that we are in the mind of Gottfried von Einem as he considers how to put Der Prozess to music, and as he plays the role of the reluctant arrested man he even holds out a sheet of music as his identification papers. The main official who has advised him of his rights (or lack of them) is a bewigged conductor of the orchestra who are all outside his room, ready to lead him on merry dance through the proceedings.

It seems like absurdity is the direction that Herheim has chosen to present the situation of Josef K.'s trial, but there is a close attention to detail here, every bit of it striving to get to the heart of this curious situation - and curious opera evidently - and find out what it really says about the contract the individual believes they have entered into with society's expectations, laws and conventions. Josef K. is certain that he has committed no wrong, and since he lives in a civilised nation at peace where the rule of law holds sway, he will surely be believed and trusted by the state. They will surely see that there has been a mistake and he will be afforded treatment in accord with his human rights. And yet, he begins to doubt himself. If the state thinks he has done something wrong, well, surely it can't be for no reason?

It doesn't take a great deal of imagination to recognise this as the dilemma of many who have fallen foul of the state, of the authorities, of petty rule-enforcers. And, as is becoming increasingly evident, it's not just something that happens in nations under an impressive authoritarian rule (as we once perhaps naively thought, placing our trust in the rule of law), but that it seems to be the nature of the state (political leaders, parties) to seek to undermine, remove and destroy individual thought and dissent that might lead to their removal from power. It's a universal condition and one perhaps that needs to be recognised with the growing presence of generative AI that will eventually make many decisions for us in the future (sorry, I know it seems obligatory to shoehorn mention of AI into every review now).

Add to that some psychosexual impulses and religious guilt that pervade Josef K. or Kafka, a critique of bureaucracy as an end in itself, some self-hatred, insecurities and even a literal scene of self- flagellation and there is a lot to unpack here, without even getting into Herheim's metafictional and psychoanalytical treatment of it all. That element is even there in the original, in Josef K.'s dissatisfaction with how poorly the proceedings are being carried out and his belief that he could make a better job of his arrest and trial himself. That results here in the Einem figure turning into the lawyer half-way through. Well, he has been almost everyone else here, and since it operates with a kind of dream logic bordering on nightmare there are challenges in trying to tie The Trial down to any one simple rational reading, so better just embrace the absurdity of it all.

Of course that's just the kind of thing Stefan Herheim thrives on, bringing the creator and the creation into the mix as well as probing the undercurrents in the work and the creation. He has done so notably with Tchaikovsky (Eugene Onegin and The Queen of Spades for the Dutch National Opera) and with Wagner (Parsifal, Der Ring des Nibelungen), and successfully so, somehow grasping all the complexity and layers and yet making it readable and accessible (except to those expecting a conventional playing out of the original plot). He has plenty to work with in Einem's Der Prozess. It's a heck of a challenge, but typically Herheim manages to be faithful to the intent of the original, capturing the absurdity, the comedy, the psychological underpinning of fears and self-doubt, while turning the work inside out and offering his own unique visual style and interpretation with a reflection on the artistic act of musical creativity.

Composed in 1953, very much in the free all-embracing style of the contemporary music of the period, Eimens' music is wonderfully expressive and dynamic, performed here by the small but loud Klangforum Wien orchestra at the back of the An der Wien Kammeroper stage. The music jumps between short sections that capture the fast moving changes of the action and tone of the drama, with rhythmic pulses, marching arrangements, pumping brass and melodic woodwind playing and even hints of jazz. There is even a parody or reference to Puccini's Tosca for some unfathomable reason at one point (there is much in this work, in the music and the direction that is unfathomable). It reminds me of Prokofiev's playful approach to the developing absurdity of The Love of Three Oranges, and it works wonderfully for this work. Even those bits of Kafka that drag and frustrate the longer it goes on are mirrored here. 

It's debatable whether Herheim has anything to add to The Trial, but he certainly brings out certain elements well and gives much to think about. It's Einem however who pulls out all the stops in a musically rich and fascinating response to the work. Which means the orchestra compete to hold the attention with than the drama, and the superb musical direction of Walter Kobéra and the performance of the Klangforum Wien PPCM Academy of an arrangement of the score for chamber orchestra never ceases to impress. Combined with the busy activity on the small stage with a relatively large cast and Herheim adding additional figures, nothing is easy about this work, but the production design is marvellous at keeping it all together.

Although the production involves professional and students, everything about it is first-rate. In fact, it's the youthful element of the student singers that bring such an energy to the proceedings, working alongside and pushed by more experienced singers and musicians. Josef K. however would be a challenge for any singer, particularly faced with the layers and complexity that Herheim adds to the role, hence it has an experienced performer like Robert Murray taking the part. Anne-Fleur Werner has similar challenges having to play all the female singing roles (or single female in multiple Kafkaesque incarnations), many of them sexual situations, and she is excellent. But the rest of the cast similarly all have multiple roles and performance challenges and all are exceptionally good here. Ironically, for a work of literature that has the reputation of being intense and intimidating, Herheim and the cast - choosing not to execute Josef K. in this production - show that there is actually something liberating in the way Kafka's work opens up a new way of breaking the unspoken agreements and formal conventions between the individual and the state, and there is a similar sense of liberation in Einem's musical approach that is captured beautifully in the nature of this production.


External links: Theater an der Wien, OperaVision

Thursday, 27 November 2014

Birtwistle - Punch and Judy (Armel Opera Festival, 2014 - Webcast)

Harrison Birtwistle - Punch and Judy

Neue Oper Wien, 2014

Walter Kobéra, Leonard Prinsloo, Richard Rittelmann, Manuela Leonhartsberger, Till von Orlowsky, Jennifer Yoon, Lorin Wey, Johannes Schwendinger, Evamaria Mayer

Armel Opera Festival, ARTE Concert - 14 October 2014

With its Commedia dell' Arte origins and the violence of its content, the Punch and Judy English seaside puppet show was always a curious subject for a children's entertainment, but it's evident that the sinister nature of the show has inevitably had a marked impression on a generation of children. Much like the adult response now towards clowns, what once seemed like fun in a more innocent age now appears somewhat sinister and unsettling. Harrison Birtwistle's opera Punch and Judy takes advantage of all these connotations related to the origins and the nature of the work as well as what the appeal of it says about the English character.



The work caused a bit of a stir when it was premiered in 1968, with Benjamin Britten reportedly walking out of a performance of the work at Aldeburgh. Since Britten himself had a somewhat conflicted and critical view of the nature of the English society in his opera works, it's hard to imagine that he found the subject of Punch and Judy entirely unappealing, although it does admittedly push violence much further and take what appears to be a more extreme cartoonish view of character than anything in Britten's work. I would think that Britten's difficulty with Birtwistle's opera (if it's even true), may however lie in the unsettling nature of the music.

Even now at the age of 80, with several major celebrations this year to mark the occasion, Harrison Birtwistle has never been an accepted part of the musical establishment. His work can be difficult to listen to and challenging of conventions. Punch and Judy, amongst all the other reasons why the subject might be distasteful and vaguely disturbing, uses musical ideas, structures and dissonance in a way that is similar to, or perhaps even intentionally evokes resonances with Berg's treatments of the dark, violent subjects of Lulu and Wozzeck. With a fine libretto by Stephen Pruslin that perfectly suits Birtwistle's intent and structural methods, the work uses cyclical repetition and subtle subversion of musical and text motifs for impact.

The story of Punch and Judy is a familiar one, although over the years it has evolved its own pantomime conventions and characters. Punch, derived form the Commedia dell' Arte character Pulcinella, is a mean and violent trickster. The story itself has become a by-word for marital strife of a particularly violent nature. In Punch and Judy, Punch, disappointed with family life and attracted to the unattainable beauty of Pretty Polly, casually throws his baby in the fire, and when his wife discovers what he has done he brutally stabs her to death. Punch's efforts to win over Pretty Polly drive him to further crimes and murders of a doctor, a lawyer and his friend Choregos.



A grotesque parody of Commedia dell' Arte archetypes combined with some theatre of the absurd mannerisms; a satire of the English character as exemplified by life in seaside towns; Punch and Judy is a study of misery and malevolence that recognises some very disturbing as well as familiar character traits. Birtwistle's music and Pruslin's libretto don't so much expand on the character of Punch as take it out further into the world and consider it in the greater scheme of things. This Punch is geographically, astrologically, mathematically, musically, seasonally and colourfully located on his journey of destruction and mindless violence, and he wreaks havoc over the whole spectrum of human endeavour.

The only way the work can be any more sinister and disturbing is when it is staged, and the Neue Oper Wien production, performed at the Armel Opera Festival in Budapest, is truly the stuff of nightmares. "The bitterness of this moment is undeniably sweet/ The sweetness of this moment is undeniably bitter" is one of the recurrent phrases and motifs in the work, and that's the tone a staging of the work has to aim for. Leonard Prinsloo's direction for the Neue Oper Wien and Monika Biegler's set and costume design resembles something from Terry Gilliam or Tim Burton's worst nightmares.

That comparison suggests stylisation, but Punch and Judy should be aiming for archetypal rather than realism, and it has that here with an extra bite of grit and shadowy mystery. If you could imagine Burton or Gilliam directing Wozzeck, it might look something like this, but there are other operatic references worth considering in this field including Prokofiev's Love for Three Oranges and even Offenbach's Tales of Hoffmann. Pretty Polly, the unattainable object of Punch's desires, would appear to be very much modelled on Olympia, the mechanical doll of Hoffmann's somewhat disturbing and illicit fascination. Pretty Polly even has the same high-end soprano range - even more exaggerated here - and it's sung marvellously by Jennifer Yoon in the production performed here at the Armel Opera Festival.

All of the roles however call for very specific voice ranges, and the casting elsewhere is impressive. There was an extraordinary power and beauty to mezzo-soprano Manuela Leonhartsberger's Judy/Fortune Teller, and Till von Orlowsky also impressed as Choregos. The principal role however, and the competition role for the festival was Hungarian Richard Rittelmann who handled the high baritone range of Punch very well. There's nothing easy about Birtwistle's writing for the voice and the role is also a physical one in a one-act opera that is almost two hours long, but like the rest of the cast, Rittlemann just threw himself into the madness of it all. That's the way to do it.

Links: ARTE ConcertArmel Opera Festival