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Uwe Schneider's Letters from Berlin 2004 January
There were two major premieres in Berlin in January; Korngold's Die tote Stadt at the Deutsche Oper and Claudio Monteverdi's L'Orfeo at the Staatsoper. The later, a co-production with the Innsbruck Festival, scored a huge success. Seven sold-out performances and an enthusiastic audience showed that a really great performance can be achieved without the need for 'so-called' stars.
Monteverdi’s 'favola in musica' of 1607 has been called the 'mother of all operas', and indeed its structure and its handling of musical dramaturgy and dramatic development provide an early blueprint for what we now know as ‘opera’. The Berlin production reworks and authenticates this in an exemplary way, especially on the musical side. René Jacobs and the extraordinary period instrument ensemble, the Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin, do magic with the material. Jacobs splits the orchestra into groups, two on the sides, one under the set and one in the back of the stage; they are joined from time to time by solo instruments placed around the auditorium. The effects are breathtaking, and some sounds are surprisingly modern. There is no hint of the deliberate, dull concepts of sound which characterised the modern period instrument movement, when it began some 40 years ago.
The soloists are first class as well. It is amazing how Jacobs finds those young talents for his productions almost every year. His selling point is not big names, but the energy, joy and - last but not least - artistic quality of an ensemble of young singers. French baritone Stéphane Degout, the spectacular Orfeo of this production, has a well-projected, flexible voice, with warm colours and excellent ornamentation technique. His Euridice, Spaniard Nuria Rial, is a perfect match for him. With her physical presence and a fresh and consistently lovely soprano, she creates a deep and inspiring character. Marie-Claude Chappuis, singing the parts of the Messagiera and Proserpina, impressed with her stylistic authority and the pure beauty of her voice. There are few productions with every role cast to such a high standard; few productions where it is so clear that everybody on stage knows exactly what he or she is doing. Paolo Battaglia (Creonte), Antonio Abete (Plutone), Carlos Mena (Speranza) and Topi Lehtippu (Apollo) cannot be praised highly enough for their insight into Monteverdi's art and their vivid musical portrayals of characters from a time gone by. This production seems a great and promising introduction to Jacobs’s Monteverdi cycle, which continues over the next few years.
There are some works with a popular appeal not matched by their frequency of performance - among them, Korngold's Die tote Stadt. Though there have been a number of notable performances in recent years, the opera has never gained a true foothold in the repertoire. It is therefore particularly gratifying that the Deutsche Oper Berlin brought the work to a major stage only ten months after a production at Zurich. Credit for this is due to Christian Thielemann, General Music Director of the Berlin House, conducting his first new production since May 2001.
As Marietta, the dazzling woman caught between reality and illusion, Silvana Dussmann was in constant eye contact with the conductor. She focused her full and expressive voice to try to get a balance between stage and pit , but her upper register drifted sharp and some rhythmic irregularities appeared. She was not unconvincing, but she had no opportunity of making anything of her 'Lied' with the famous tune 'Glück, das mir verblieb'. It was drowned out by some pseudo-Leharesque sound from the pit. This piece can only be a showstopper when it is delivered tenderly and intimately, slowly developing from a distant melancholy to a consciousness of the forces of love. The same went for her big opening scene in the third act.
It is a pity that David Pittman-Jennings had only three short scenes as Frank. By sticking to his own concept, he showed how much depth can be found in the vocal part of Korngold's composition. The highlight of the evening was the short song of Markus Brück's Fritz/Harlekin ('Mein Sehnen, mein Wähnen') who had the advantage of a very thin orchestral accompaniment and was therefore able to indicate some idea of how multi-coloured and original Korngold's music is. Music which, in an interview, Christian Thielemann had described as 'totally unfermented' ('unausgegoren') and a 'mixture of film music, operetta, Strauss, Mahler and Wagner'. © Uwe Schneider, 3 February 2004 February
The new management of the Dresden Semperoper is about to make us forget a decade of artistic insignificance and tourist-oriented productions. Gerd Uecker, the new General Manager, has come up with a clear concept of internationalisation, of filling gaps in the repertoire and of programmatic contexts. Concurrently, he has raised the quality of performance in the standard repertoire enormously, and is about to enjoy his first big success with the 'Dresden Festival - Music Theatre of the 20th Century'. Besides revivals of operas by Reimann, Ruzicka and Stravinsky, two new productions of works by Berg and Glass are being offered.
Sebastian Baumgarten is one of the most interesting young German directors, an enfant terrible of the operatic stage. His way of reading a work shocks some of the audience. He ignores stage traditions and established readings and - most important of all - historical factors in themes and plots. Baumgarten is one of the few producers who will read a libretto carefully, then transform it from another era to the present demonstrating the timelessness of themes and problems, despite changes in society and aesthetics. His Wozzeck, which premiered on 21 February at the Semperoper Dresden, left the audience in stunned silence, perplexed about the immediacy of a story usually presented as a murder story from a bygone age.
Baumgarten's consequent reading and interpretations of this condition shows contemporary characters surrounded by a world of media, advertising, logos and consumption. A world in which the boundary between a quote from the Bible and a slogan for a garden centre has been erased. A world, where status symbols have become interchangeable. A world which Wozzeck can understand only in its literal meaning: "Better a knife in my body, than lay a hand on me" says Marie - and that's how it will end. The achievement of Baumgarten is that in transferring the work to our time, he resolves a problem Büchner and Berg had only stated. The unintelligible world after the explosions of knowledge after 1800, and again after 1900, have been major problems for the scientist. The writer Büchner and the musician Berg, who helped to create a new system of composition following new, logical rules did not fully capture the depth of the poverty they expressed.
Philip Glass's fascinating chamber opera In the Penal Colony, dating from 2000, opened at the Kleine Szene of the Semperoper Dresden, a little stage for studio productions. It is one of Glass's strongest scores for many years because he has found a way to integrate his minimalist accompaniment into the context of the subject that he is dealing with. The question of death and punishment underpinning the work (based on Franz Kafka's novel of the same title) is present in the music through fragments of (pseudo) quotations from the German romantic repertoire with death as one of its central themes. Glass's style unites Bach's handling of recitatives and Britten's approach to uniting text and music.
The Berlin Staatsoper revived its successful 2001 production of Franz Schreker's sultry and symbolistic 1912 opera Der ferne Klang (The Distant Sound). Schreker was among the most frequently performed composers in Germany until the Nazis banned his works as 'degenerate' in 1938. Some 25 years ago Schreker was 'rediscovered' thanks to such musicians as Michael Gielen, who also conducted the recent Berlin performances. His insight into Schreker's complex structures, sonority, inexorable development, and balance of orchestra with stage was extraordinary. The orchestral sound became an emotional event. The opera is about the search for the perfect sound - a cipher for the total harmony of human being and (artistic) perfection. Three stages in the lives of the two main protagonists, the composer Fritz and his love Grete, are presented. They lead to the mystical conclusion, that love, art and nature form a whole, and that any existing social conventions are counterproductive to realizing that unity.
Last November I reported on a promising, young tenor in the Leipzig production of Berlioz's Les Troyens. I spoke of his great lyrical qualities and extraordinary understanding of vocal lines. His name is Robert Chafin. A series of Jacques Offenbach's Les contes d'Hoffmann at the Oper Leipzig brought him back to the house in February. Again he was more than convincing, developing a real character through the voice.
© Uwe Schneider, 7 March 2004 March
The most anticipated new production of March in Berlin was Puccini's La fanciulla del West at the Deutsche Oper. It was the first staging of a Puccini opera conducted by Christian Thielemann since his youth. Thielemann, not particularly associated with the Italian repertoire, did so well that he even managed to surprise the growing ranks of his critics. Maybe it was the necessity of adhering more closely to the score in this unaccustomed repertoire that made him follow every detail, reflect on the structure of the work, and follow Puccini's instructions in an exemplary way. Nothing showed of his overbearing and authoritarian ego, which can make the orchestral part the principal, or only actor, in performances. Thielemann's interpretations of Wagner and Strauss can destroy the unity of stage and pit. Here in Puccini he and the orchestra discovered dazzling details, the intelligence and depth of Puccini's score, which too often is taken for kitsch. The string sections had a homogeneity seldom heard from this orchestra and the woodwinds and the brass were transparent, as if they were playing Mozart. The reading seemed to be inspired by ragtime and jazz, by impressionistic colours and the tradition of Puccini's own orchestral language; Wagnerian bombast was nowhere to be heard. This is the start of a Puccini cycle and Manon Lescaut will follow next season.
The other novelty of the evening was the direction of Vera Nemirova. A Romanian director in her early 30s, Nemirova grew up in Germany and regards Ruth Berghaus and Peter Konwitschny as her inspiration. Accordingly in her first production on a large stage, she offered a collection of familiar 'modern ideas': a video screen, acting from the auditorium, some stylistic elements from Brecht's theatre, some film quotations and the inevitable camera team with reporters. She had an interesting basic idea: the gold diggers of Puccini's Wild West were immigrants trying to find a better life in the Golden West. Still an actual problem of our time - and so as the curtain rises we see the immigrants in a holding camp. The Polka is a fast food diner; Minnie lives in a camper. Jack Rance is the camp security guard and Dick Johnson more a gentleman criminal than a murderer. But Nemirova's main idea is lost under all the 'regie'-things which she wants to present, so the final turns out to be not the intended utopia of economic migrants, but a troubled assortment of ideas which have lost contact with the work.
The singing was first-rate, with Paoletta Marrocu's dramatic Minnie a clear winner. Her intense voice, extending from wonderful tender moments to effective outbursts, has some minor problems with exposed notes, but she knows to convince with her enormous stage presence. Lado Ataneli's Jack Rance has a profound sonority and displays veristic colours. If his character lacked a bit of the demon, it was an ample counterpart to Marrocu's Minnie. Only Dario Volonté's beautifully-toned tenor seemed a bit wanting. His attacks could have had more heft and his projection was sometimes wanting. Nevertheless, this was a first class trio in the leading roles, supported by the vivid and very convincing ensemble of the Deutsche Oper.
The Komische Oper Berlin presented David Alden's new production of Handel's Alcina. Alden is one of the central figures in the renaissance of Handel's operas on stage. He has helped to free the opera seria from centuries of stiff, monotonous presentations; has rediscovered their dramaturgical vitality; and demonstrated that there is more to them than a succession of arias and recitatives. His Alcina is a realization of a utopia, an illusion like theatre itself. Except for Alcina herself, the principals are lost in this world, far away from their real domains. They are at sea in conflicts of the heart, in new orientations and even in questions of identity. Men become literally apes, when confronting utopian free love. The old story of the magician Alcina, who transfigures her lovers into animals, gets a whole new meaning. This subhuman life is as close to nature as possible.
Alden and his set designer Gideon Davey find wonderful and poetic pictures and metaphors for the inner conditions of the protagonists. Oversize figures of animals crowded the stage as well as symbols invoking the world of theatre and illusion. With stylistic methods, reaching from the tradition of grand opera to revue-like scenes and parody elements, the plot is deconstructed and interpreted in a theme of seeking fortunes in a world that is constrained by its own rules.
Paul McCreesh and the orchestra of the Komische Oper played on an exceptionally high level. Even compared to the many superb period ensembles to be heard regularly in Berlin, the results was breathtaking. McCreesh's concept was that of a total dramatic participation and a continuity of musical flow uninterrupted by the given caesuras of musical numbers. Geraldine McGreevy, who took over for an ill colleague only days before the premiere, sang a touching and dominant Alcina. Her clear intonation and brilliant technique gained her the biggest applause of the evening. Annette Markert's Ruggiero and Ewa Wolak's Bradamante both set vocal and acting standards. Annette Markert seemed more free in her presence and more vocally secure than before. The Morgana of Brigitte Geller was sung with a beautiful voice which may have been a shade too light for the role. Markus Schäfer as Oronte proved again that his tenor can be equal to more famous singers of his 'fach'. Though this uncut version runs about four hours, it proved an amusing and inspiring evening.
March also brought a new production of Donizetti's farce Viva la Mamma! to the limited Italian repertoire of Dresden's Semperoper. This buffa is also known as 'Le convenienze ed inconvenienze teatrali' - and the variety of titles points to a major problem: there is no standard version. Donizetti himself reworked the opus several times and impresarios have followed suit. The Dresden version is based on the critical edition of 2003, but is just another compilation of 90 minutes of material from different sources. Alfred Kirchner's direction of the production is a reserved arrangement of the problems and affections which take place in this satirical and self-reflecting work, which deals with the rehearsal of a new opera. Kirchner avoids any slapstick or caricature and there was little laughter from the audience. Naturalistic and weighty direction combined with an uninspired and sterile set by Annette Murschetz to make for a dreary evening. The Dresden Staatskapelle played with precision and a certain beauty of sound, but Massimo Zanetti in the pit failed to bring the music to life. His rapid but monotonous tempi and consistently high volume failed to breathe transparency and italianità into the orchestra, which had played its last Donizetti some twenty years ago. The surprise of the evening was the Prima Donna of Marina Mescheriakova, a singer who is hardly connected with this repertoire. Her stunning piani, her legato singing and last but not least her coloratura took the audience by storm. Gilles Cachemaille in the travesty role of Mamm'Agata was the only singer on stage who exploited the parlando and vocal effects of a buffa, though his character - usually the centre of every performance of this opera - remained pale. This was certainly not his fault, but that of the direction which could not transfer the parody and satire to the stage. The rest of the ensemble consisted of members of the Semperoper. Markus Marquardt, a most promising singer who can be very convincing in the German repertoire, did himself no big favour by attempting an Italian buffo character. His diction did not find the Italian tone, and his technique collapsed in parlando passages. The Italian language was a problem for almost all the other singers as well: a work that is so dependent on the unity of language and music does not allow a phonetic reprise of a language but demands the qualities of native-language singers.
The Oper Leipzig, like the Semperoper Dresden, has been lacking in the Italian repertoire, a legacy of the problematic politics of the GDR. Verdi's Aida had not been performed for 21 years, and so a new production was eagerly anticipated. In short: Wolfgang Engel's production did not meet expectations, but was close to parody. The promised chamber play of a triangle relationship devolved to some sort of competition in standard operatic gestures. The chorus was helplessly immobile, face-to-face with the audience as if singing a Bach passion. © Uwe Schneider, 5 April 2004 April
This year's Easter festival, the 'Festtage', at the Berlin Staatsoper opened on 4 April with a new production of Arnold Schoenberg's 12-tone opera Moses und Aron. Schoenberg's uncompleted magnum opus is a challenge for any opera house. It demands not only excellent forces for its musical realization and a long period of rehearsals to learn the complex score, but also a penetrating vision to realize its religious and philosophical questions.
As unsatisfying as the dramatic side was, the musical one was exemplary. Daniel Barenboim celebrated the score with the transparency of chamber music. Melodic lines arose and rhythmic structures were released; in more romantic readings such as those of Solti or Levine, details were lost in orchestral excess. Barenboim organized the score in clear structures, precise and easy to follow. Even single notes were given a sudden meaning, as the composer clearly intended. This was not a mathematical demonstration of twelve-tone theory, but living music, touching and electrifying. Orchestra and chorus followed Schoenberg's detailed performance instructions with an enormous variety of expression. Willard White did not err by trying to sing his role, as others have. He concentrated on the precisely noted declamation, using his powerful voice as a contrast to the heldentenor of Thomas Moser as Aron. Moser needed some minutes to warm up, but than showed a stupendous presence and ease with the most exposed notes. Like Barenboim's Wozzeck some years ago, this Moses and Aron has set a musical standard for the work.
Jonathan Dove’s successful opera Flight dating from 1998 had its German premiere at the Oper Leipzig on 10 April 2004. Unfortunately this great and deep work about the meaning of life in a multicultural society was misunderstood as some entertaining soap opera. Dove’s aesthetic of melodic and entertaining music has a metaphysical substructure, which was not laid out at Leipzig. There is a cliché to the effect that the Germans have difficulty finding depth in entertainment. The Leipzig production testified to the truth of this. Ralf Nürnberger, who also wrote the silly translation used, did nothing but illustrate the obvious. The howlers and clumsy rhymes of his translation lost the philosophical questions about existence and relationships - the true subject of the opera - as much as his poor direction of the characters on stage did.
We saw opera singers who handled the opera like the graduates of a first-year acting class. Few of the wonderful, amusing musical numbers of the score were exploited, the climaxes of the big scenes fizzled out, and the direction of the arias and duets had the quality of a daily soap on TV. To read a text, to understand it and to interpret it seems to be an enormous challenge. In itself, the double meaning of the title ‘Flight’ should have been enough to inform the director.
At least the ten vocal soloists were wonderful. They were led by countertenor David Cordier who has a wonderfully fluent and pleasant voice, as well as a brilliant technique. The colours and shades of his voice sang of the tragic aspects of a lost soul, which Nürnberger had not seen. Julia Borchert’s Flight Controller had startling coloratura, but was too often placed in positions where she was nearly inaudible. The young couple trying to save their marriage was intensely sung by the vivid Marika Schönberg and Torsten Sürig. Everyone in the ensemble was convincing, Therese Renick’s portrayal of the Old woman and Anne-Marie Seager’s Stewardess need to be singled out even in such fine company. The Leipzig Gewandhaus orchestra under John Axelrod played Dove’s clever score competently, but seemed to be a bit handicapped by the missing wit and intelligence on stage. This chance of gaining a place in the repertoire for an entertaining and (elsewhere) successful contemporary work was carelessly missed.
Finally, after an absence of 60 years, Richard Wagner’s tetralogy Der Ring des Nibelungen has returned to the stage of the Semperoper Dresden. The East German regime had political problems with Wagner’s mystic and metaphysical utopia and only Leipzig had a complete Ring in the 1970s in a production which anticipated many of Patrice Chereau’s Bayreuth ideas. May
Wozzeck is being produced throughout Germany this year. The Komische Oper Berlin provided a successful and highly acclaimed production by Richard Jones for its first presentation of Berg’s opera. The action has been transferred to a factory canning beans. The costumes are stylized uniforms; Wozzeck works on the assembly line, controlling the flow of cans and eating beans as the doctor has ordered. With a few symbols, Jones develops a world of production and work, of social dependence and of intellectual poverty, making clear the irrelevance of a subjective life. The great coup of Richard Jones’ concept is that it shows Wozzeck as 'everyman', not as a unique figure of his society. He is, like all other persons on stage, part of a uniform and unspectacular society - and all this is accomplished without altering the libretto.
Gary Magee gives this Wozzeck an introverted voice, singing the part with warm flowing phrases and avoiding cheap vocal characterization. His Marie, expressively and sincerely drawn by Gun-Brit Barkmin, is a self-confident contrast. The drum-major (Jürgen Müller with forceful tenor) is more seduced than seducer. He works on the executive floor of the factory, like the doctor (Carsten Sabrowski) and the captain (Andreas Conrad). Each shows that Berg’s complicated vocal lines can be wonderfully sung while allowing each word to be understood. Andreas Conrad in particular makes a singing role of one which is often squeaked, as Wolfgang Schmidt did at Dresden a few weeks ago. Similarly, Sabrowski's clear diction and fluent bass should serve as a lesson to Johan Till at Dresden who tried to survive by singing gibberish.
The last new opera production of the season at Dresden’s Semperoper proved to be very special: Wie liegt die Stadt so wüste, die voll Volkes war ('How deserted this city lies, once so populous'). Not an opera in the classic sense, but a scenic compilation of sacred vocal music by Heinrich Schütz, Matthias Weckmann and Giovanni Gabrieli. This production had its world premiere at Basel, Switzerland in 1999. It is one of the last and most celebrated productions of Herbert Wernicke. The piece has no plot, using images and situations of the aftermath of war: homeless people, fugitives, the wounded, sorrow and grief, death and survival. Christian symbols silently comment or give transcendent comfort. It is at once an evening of warning and a 'memento mori'.
Schütz composed in the aftermath of the Thirty Years War; much of it at Dresden, where he was composer to the court. The same city which was so badly bombed in the last days of the Second World War and still celebrates its wounds with annual, self-serving memorial events. Yet Wernicke's production, sold out 14 times in a row at Basel, fell on deaf ears at Dresden. The performances were so badly attended, that two had to be changed to those of Die Zauberflöte. It was Dresden's loss.
Oper Leipzig's last new production of the season was Bellini’s I Capuleti e i Montecchi in a vocally pleasing evening. Except for the tenor, Giorgio Casciarri as Tebaldo, all singers came from the young ensemble of the Oper Leipzig. Casciarri presented his forceful tenor with ringing top notes and fine phrasing; his Tebaldo balanced the other singers, not merely the tenor who contrasted with the female voices. Both Tumas Pursios and Ain Aigner displayed well-trained voices and a sense of the sensitivity of their parts
Korean soprano Eun Yee You, who has been singing high soprano parts at Leipzig since 2001, sang Giulietta with an almost perfect technique. She had charming piani, a secure top register and was pleasantly free of artificial gimmicks. However it was more a case of singing notes than making music. Kathrin Göring’s Romeo on the other hand was full of expression and passion. In her first big role she convinced with engagement and vocal daring. Lacking a rich palette of vocal colours, she may not have a typical Italian timbre to her voice, but she knows how to energize and make the phrases bloom, and to build climaxes. Both principals enlivened the ensembles and created a touching final duet.
Frank Beerman, who led the Gewandhausorchester, did not manage to reach this level of empathy with the music. His conducting was breakneck and stiff; the overture suggested a Prussian march. He may have worked with the singers and the orchestra on details but the big line was missing, buried under a dominant sound of winds and kettledrum. Beermann spoke of the quality of Bellini’s score, which in his opinion is too often taken as simple accompaniment. He seemed unaware of the efforts of the last two decades or perhaps he was trying to prepare a reception for his own conducting. The result in any case did not demonstrate Bellini‘s clever handling of the orchestra.
An event of almost historic significance was one of the highlights of Prague's centenary celebrations of Antonin Dvorak’s death: the first staged performance, in almost 80 years, of his monumental, reconstructed opera Vanda (written in 1875) at the National Theatre. This five act opera, similar to the grand operas of Meyerbeer and Wagner, deals with the old Polish legend of Queen Vanda who sacrificed her love and her life to save her country. Fulfilling her oath to the gods she hurls herself into a river and her soul ascends to the sky. It is a typical heroic 19th-century drama, with patriotism, romance and opportunities for mass scenes and ensembles.
The music of Dvorak’s score is rich, maybe even too rich to make a permanent impression. One orchestral highlight follows another; melodic invention is so rich that in the end none persists; the climaxes, especially in the ensemble scenes, are too frequent to establish a clear structure. Despite the beauty of the music, it gives the impression of being a 19th-century dinosaur. Dvorak’s second attempt of writing a big opera, Dimitrij (of 1882/84), proved much more convincing and works better on stage.
The two principals, Olga Romanko as Vanda and tenor Valentin Prolat as Slavoj gave outstanding performances. Romanko mastered her demanding part with ease and breathtaking outbursts. Her always secure intonation, even in extreme vocal positions, proved her to be one of today's most exciting dramatic sopranos. Czech tenor Prolat has a well projected, lyrical tenor with heroic qualities and a great understanding of phrasing. His solos reminded this listener of the young Peter Dvorsky. The high-quality cast also offered Ivan Kusnjer as aggressor Roderich. His character brought harsher colours to the score. Kusnjer succeeded with his dark tone and his ability to characterize with his voice. Only the High Priest of bass Oleg Korotkov could have used some more power and emphasis, his character remained pale. © Uwe Schneider, 30 May 2004 June
Imagine an opera with the following plot: a ruler has bought two women in a slave market; he and his henchman hold them against their will, doing everything to obtain their love. They threaten the women with violence and torture. Finally the women are rescued by a hero, but before they can escape they are caught and will be brought to justice - their captors' justice! This opera exists but it is usually presented as a fairy tale with harmless old-fashioned jokes and cartoon-like action. It is by Mozart and called 'The Abduction from the Seraglio', or in the original German Die Entführung aus dem Serail.
The sensationalist Berlin press started a campaign against this production days before the premiere, printing headlines such as 'sexual orgies on stage'. Other media followed their lead. So the atmosphere of the first night was laden with both expectations and prejudices. However as responsible newspapers reported after the premiere, most of the audience found it a triumph and the show is still selling out. As the papers reported there were disruptions, with people shouting protests about decadence, but in fact most of the audience laughed them off. The production is radical and controversial; it makes people think (and talk) about opera and music, about the limits of art and the influence of direction, about modernism and tradition, about the necessity of reviewing classic works. Suddenly, after years of discussions of commercialism, dwindling, the necessity of reforms, and the appeal of certain conductors, it was at last opera itself, which dominated conversations. What greater compliment could a production get?
What did Bieito do? He based Mozart's Abduction in reality: men (Bassa Selim, Osmin) dominate women using restraint, torture and sexual abuse. Bieito choose the symbol of a bordello to show his timeless tableau. The characters sing (and speak) incessantly of love and sex, of power and compulsion. When Osmin sings of hanging and torturing, his sexual (sado-masochistic) context is clear. Force and sexuality are complimentary. Freedom is a utopia. The abduction in which Belmonte frees his beloved from slavery is a bloody, 'pulp-fiction' massacre. The language and imagery are those of popular cinema, so why shouldn't they not be used in opera?
The musical side of the performance was excellent and integral with the production. Kirill Petrenko in the pit conducted a rhythmic, accentuated, clearly structured reading of the score, finding a wonderful balance for the 'Janitscharenmusik'. The soloists in the orchestra proved both brilliant and responsive. Maria Bengtson's Konstanze excelled in intimate lyrical passages and her sensual, blooming voice illustrated her despair and her inner life. She was not a diva with irrelevant coloratura, but a credible, suffering person whose brilliant high notes realized her characterisation and dramatic affection. A revelation!
On the other side of town, at the Deutsche Oper, a more conventional production had its Berlin premiere: Nikolaus Lehnhoff's successful 1995 production of Leos Janacek's The Makropulos Affair (Vec Makropulos) from Glyndebourne. Lehnhoff's direction is naturalistic; the characters act as expected; there are no surprises, not even in Lehnhoff's conceit in the final scene of leaving the stage empty except for Emilia Marty, the rest of the cast being heard from behind the sets. The audience was pleased by the simple arrangements, obvious symbols like a huge sand-glass and Lehnhoff's only original idea, constantly and imperceptibly moving furniture about on stage - effective at first, but irrelevant for the rest of the evening.
Were it not for the first-class cast and the solid orchestra under Marc Albrecht, this production might have proved boring. But it was Anja Silja's night. As she has acknowledged, the unreal and complex character of Emilia Marty is the role of her life. Silja, now in her mid 60s, commands the attention of the audience from her entry. Every gesture, every step has meaning. She is never a diva but always an artist, serving the work and adding her unique, personal touch. Her voice is in such good shape that many of her much younger colleagues must wonder whether they can ever reach her level of technique, phrasing and intonation. By the end, Silja and Emilia Marty melt into one another - old-fashioned scenery and predictable production become irrelevant. Her triumph at the curtain calls was matchless - to remain in the memory of everyone who attended the performances. Silja was in fine company. Pär Lindskog sang Albert Gregor with power and his shining tenor added wonderful emotional phrases to the ensemble, Steven Page's Prus had weight, hitting the conversational tone as convincingly as his outbursts with Silja. The tender and precise intonation of Jessica Miller as Krista, and the light but well-projected tenor of Yosep Kang as Janek, maintained that vocal standard. Ryland Davies made a showpiece out of his Hauk-Sendorf and Lenus Carlson was convincing in the small, but important part of Kolenaty. Marc Albrecht, hot candidate for the post of the General Music Director at the Deutsche Oper, provided a clear and sonorous accompaniment, which could have been more vivid, but was always full of beauty and transparency.
The studio stage of the Semperoper, the Kleine Szene, saw Dresden's last premiere of the season. Two members of the ensemble performed Karl-Heinz Stockhausen's 1972 Indianerlieder (American Indian Songs) in a simple but effective scenic arrangement by Sandra Leupold. The "mixture of poems, onomapoetical sounds, 'strange sounds' which are to be chosen freely by the performer, and 'various names'" (Stockhausen) explore elementary human situations: love, death, dreams, war, nature, etc. The composition follows mathematical principles. Dynamic and rhythmic structures are given, but there are also many free passages for the singers.
© Uwe Schneider, 3 July 2004 August Operatic life in Germany during the summer is limited, with the exception of the Munich Opera Festival in July and the Bayreuth Wagner Festival in August. Alhough Berlin has three major opera houses, no operas are performed there between the middle of July and September. This is the price to be paid for a system that offers an abundance of performances during the rest of the year.The German system is different from that in Italy, France, Spain, England etc. One advantage is that the repertoire is much bigger. Each house has an ensemble of permanently-engaged singers capable of reviving a production with much less rehearsal time than a company with guest singers for each production. Prospects for the 2004-05 Berlin season are promising, though not spectacular. Some question marks lie over the Deutsche Oper Berlin. After the premature departure of Christian Thielemann last season, two new productions, of Puccini’s Manon Lescaut and Janacek’s From the House of Dead, are still lacking a conductor. It is too early for the new intendant of the Deutsche Oper, Kirsten Harms, to take responsibility for them, because most of the season was planned before she was appointed. It will take at least two or three seasons for her to estabish herself. She will have to find a successor to Thielemann willing to conduct regular performances, which Thielemann was not. However her first announcements have been promising, pointing the way to a new profile for the company, indispensable in a city with three major houses. Forgotten works will be one focus of her work. The Staatsoper Berlin have announced a variety of new productions, from Monteverdi’s Il ritorno d'Ulisse in patria under René Jacobs to an evening of music by Takemitsu under Kent Nagano, and the world premiere of a new opera by Hans Zender. Parsifal, directed by film maker Bernd Eichinger is planned for March. Bizet's Carmen, Rossini's L'Italiana in Algeri and Janacek's Kát'a Kabanová will complete the series of new productions. The Komische Oper, in this reviewer's opinion the most exciting of the three houses last season, will start with a new production of Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd. An old German 'enfant terrible', Hans Neuenfels, will direct Shostakovich’s Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin, Mozart's Le nozze di Figaro and Britten's Albert Herring will follow, was well as Don Quichotte, another opera by Hans Zender. Judging from the names of the directors, the range of the productions will again cover most trends in European theatre. The new direction of the Semperoper Dresden is busy filling gaps in the repertoire, caused by the poor planning of the last intendant. Carmen, Turandot and Salome will be three popular new works in the repertoire, completed with Cleofide, a baroque opera by Hasse, a contemporary one by Adriana Hölzky, and Weill’s Mahagonny in a Harry Kupfer production. Some Italian belcanto is brought to Dresden by Edita Gruberova, who will be heard in three concert performances of Bellini’s I puritani. Two rarities will be performed at Leipzig: Johann Christian Bach’s Temistocle under the baton of Rousset and the first modern staged production of Meyerbeer’s Margherita d’Anjou. Smaller houses dig out works like Humperdinck’s Königskinder at Cottbus, Schumann’s Genoveva and Kienzl’s Der Evangelimann at Chemnitz, and Lortzing’s last opera Rolands Knappen at Freiberg. The Semperoper Dresden was the first major house to start the new season. A Liederabend by German soprano Christine Schäfer was presented at the end of August. Schäfer framed her recital with two beautiful songs by Henry Purcell, praising the divinity of music. Twelve selected songs from Hugo Wolf’s Spanish Songbook, before the intermission, left the surprising impression that she had lost many of her former qualities as a recitalist. Her articulation had become imprecise and in places it was impossible to understand the words. Lower passages were almost spoken and her upper register had lost the blooming qualities which made her Lulu so fascinating. Not that she had problems with intonation or phrasing, but the voice somehow did not open with the clarity known from earlier recitals. After the intermission, Wagner’s Wesendonck Lieder was more an intimate study than an emotionally felt outburst. Schäfer’s voice simply is not big enough for those songs (despite talk that she soon will sing Isolde in a period-instrument concert performance of Act Two of Wagner’s opera). Her partner at the piano, Eric Schneider, gave the impression of playing a solo recital most of the evening; there was little interaction between the two artists. Finally, an encore by George Crumb showed her true qualities: the flexibility of her light soprano, her secure intonation, the ability to produce projecting pianos and her impressive technique in higher passages. © Uwe Schneider, 31 August 2004 Uwe Schneider is a lecturer in German Literature at the University of Dresden. He was born in Munich in 1965, and from an early age was a regular visitor to the Bavarian State Opera. He is now working on a new edition of Wedekind. His interests in the humanities are reflected in a wide range of publications on literature and culture. He is a collector of live opera recordings, and a specialist in sound restoration and editing. See also Letters from Berlin 2003 and 2004 |
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