GAWD! WHAT HAPPENED?

TOSCA 21 January 2012
Deutsche Oper Berlin

© Sam H. Shirakawa

Klaus Florian Vogt

Gawd!  What happened?


It wasn’t until I heard the booing at the end of the performance that I believed what I had heard from the stage:  a Tosca at the Deutsche Oper Berlin in which the star tenor wasn’t concentrating, wasn’t prepared or just wasn’t there.

Klaus Florian Vogt is one of the great tenors of our time, but he apparently has a masochistic streak. And back-seat sadists were out en force to oblige him on 21 January.  Hate to say it, but he deserved the bird he got: gaffes, rhythmic vagaries, the anemic “Vittoria!” and so on.  Vogt -- a paragon of Wagner-lite and Strauss-medium -- has just started making forays into the basic Italian repertoire.  In my view, Cavaradosi is an ill-advised starting point for him. If he wants to jump out of the box going up against the spectres of de Stefano, Corelli, Pavarotti et al, I say, go for it.  But at least know the part backwards before entering a hornet’s nest like the Deutsche Oper Berlin.

Given some of the craven Cavaradossis I’ve endured, it wasn’t all bad or even that awful.  But place Vogt's virtual no-show against this background:  At Dussman, Berlin’s cultural supermarket in Friedrich Strasse, they’re adorning the windows with Vogt’s first big-label (Sony) recital disc.  He’ll be signing this weekend.  The posters trumpeting the CD with a ghastly image of Vogt gripping a Templar sword and sporting Grail drag are in your face all over town. He's been a star for nearly a decade, but he's really Big Time now -- joining Kaufmann and Grigolo at the head table. 


The timing couldn’t be more propitious: his appearance is set between two mega-events without competing with either one -- Berlin Fashion Week is just ending, while preps for the upcoming Berlin Film Festival are in full swing.  I don’t know if he’s making the rounds of the national breakfast shows, talking at TV anchors, most of whom have no idea who he is and couldn’t care less. But given what he perped last Saturday night, it would be fit penance if he did.


Come to think of it, it was that bad and worse than awful, because Vogt can deliver and did not.  He may not be suited for Cavaradossi, but he can make the role suit him.  Maybe he should try warming up with Pinkerton or Rinuccio.

Tatjana Serjan

George Gagnidze

What ameliorated a performance made nearly catastrophic by Vogt’s diffidence, were the incisive presences of Tatjana Serjan as Tosca and George Gagnidze as Scarpia.  Serjan rightly performed as though Vogt wasn’t there, but her Floria was nonetheless impassioned, focused and pitched perfectly.  Gagnidze was the perfect foil for them both.  He is a huge man with an outsized baritone that projected refined brutality and psychotic superiority in every phrase.

Matthias Foremny

Matthias Foremny had some interesting ideas, but his hands were full keeping the orchestra in sync with Vogt.

The Boleslaw Barlog production from 1969 is ideally set up to accommodate multiple cast changes.  It should never be replaced.

Having had my life enriched by the sound of many incredible voices, I’ve also become sensitized to the sound that audiences make when they respond to those voices. The quality of the booing Vogt received last Saturday is worrisome -- that sickly bovine moan of the accursed that’s heard with predictable regularity in every music mecca.  These booers travel in packs and have their favorite targets.  It would be a shame if Vogt became their new scapegoat.  Such pests tend to persist.

WAGNER BEFORE PRIME TIME

DAS LIEBESVERBOT          Richard Wagner                
New Production                  20 January 2012             
Meiningen                                                                 
© Sam H. Shirakawa

Roland Hartmann, Sonia Freitag 

In case you don’t know, Das Liebesverbot (The Ban on Love) was Richard Wagner’s second completed opera. Its premiere on 29 March 1836 in Magdaburg was a fiasco: with only ten days of rehearsal, the singers had had time to learn little more than 50 percent of their parts. The second performance was cancelled after a fight broke out backstage. It was never again mounted during Wagner’s lifetime.

In the past century, Liebesverbot has had a number of notable concert and stage revivals in Europe and America. Several recordings of live performances are currently available.

Dae-Hae Shin (Friedrich), Bettina Kampp (Isabella)

Most recently, the State Theater of Thuringia in Meiningen elected to celebrate the re-opening of its handsomely refurbished opera house, by presenting not only an apparently unabridged Liebesvebot, but also the work that inspired it: Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure a.k.a Maß für Maß. This nifty idea was the brainchild of intendant (General Manager) Ansgar Haag and the director of Maß für Maß Veit Güssow.

“The themes of justice and the double standards of the ruling class remain burning issues to us today as much as they were to Shakespeare and Wagner,” said Haag in a recent German News Agency interview. Haag, in fact, was so taken with the contemporary resonance of these works that he decided to stage Liebesverbot himself, and assign Shakespeare’s problem comedy to Güssow.

Xu Chang (Luzio), Bettina Kampp

Even a cursory reading of Wagner’s libretto reveals his potential as a theater genius, as he pares down and simplifies Shakespeare’s convoluted story, but a pithy tag line for the contents of the plot...? The action takes place in 16th century Sicily during Carnival -- the period preceding Lent. The king’s regent Friedrich issues a decree forbidding Carnival celebrations and all expressions of love on pain of death. Among those arrested and condemned: Claudio, a young nobleman, and his beloved Dorella, who has already borne him a child. Another nobleman and rabble rouser Luzio finds Claudio’s sister Isabella in a convent and entreats her to implore Friedrich for mercy. When she gains audience with Friedrich, he promises to pardon Claudio in exchange for a night in the sack.

Dae-Hae Shin

So what's a nun to do?

Wagner’s adaptation underscores his support of political/sexual freedom, and the work looks forward to his later operas in fits and starts.  Mostly fits.  Every now and then, sprouting amid the rushes of Beethoven-Weber based themes, you hear unmistakable statements of individuality that he later developed in Tannhäuser and Lohengrin. I found myself longing for more such passages as the parade of distended marches, ensembles, choruses and declamations began to wear on my ears. ‘Hey, listen to this!’ Wagner seems to be proclaiming with unremitting insistence.  But it all amounts to Wagner before prime time.  And though it's supposedly a comedy, it's no barrel of laughs.

Several factors make Meiningen’s production of Liebesverbot not merely tolerable but engaging. First a superbly drilled cast under the stewardship of chief conductor Philippe Bach and a big-voiced chorus led by Sierd Quaré. Bach’s pacing keeps a sometimes heavy ball bouncing up in the air throughout a rather long evening, while Quaré draws a broad pallate of colors from his chorus.

Theater Meiningen

All the more remarkable, because the ensemble on 20 January had to work around a last-minute indisposition of the tenor singing Claudio. Rodrigo Porras Garula was well enough to mime his part, but a hastily drafted tenor named Christian Brüggemann sang the role from a proscenium box.  Under the circumstances, Brüggeman did a yeoman job.

Among the the mostly yourthful principals, Bettina Kampp is a revelation as Isabella. She has the fire of Rysanek and the honeyed nuance of early Crespin. Her attacks on those clusters of high notes held no terror for her. Xu Chang as Luzio purveyed a characterful ping that could make him a powerful gift to any Infanta’s birthday party. Dae-Hae Shin is in posession of a persuasive dark baritone, but his Friedrich could use more Hunding-esque menace. Camila Ribero-Souza, Roland Hartmann, Sonia Freitag, Maximillian Argmann, Ernst Garstenauer, and Stan Meus completed a surprisingly hi-octane cast.

The Big Band from Martin-Polich-Gymnasium of nearby Mellrichstadt went through their paces in the Meyerbeer-instigated procession scene in the second half and made up for some absences in its ranks with discipline and energy.

Ansgar Haag’s staging animates Wagner’s call for spectacle, by effectively exploiting a newly installed concentric revolving stage, complete with a lift that can make Helge Ullman’s attractive sets appear and disappear, even as the turntable is spinning. (Ullmann also designed the sets for Maß für Maß.)

Theater Meiningen's box office beadle.

What is astonishing about this Liebesverbot is that such a polished and integrated production is taking place in a city that has little more than 20-thousand inhabitants. You would certainly expect elevated quality in a festival presentation, even if it’s happening in the middle of nowhere. But Meiningen, which is situated in the middle of Germany's midlands, is producing this rarely performed work at regular prices ($9-$43) as part of its seasonal subscription program of musical theater and plays.

The interior of the opera house, dating from 1909,  has been refurbished, closely following the designs of  architect Karl Behlert. On the stage (above) a concave, two-level colonnade rests on the outer ring of a concentric turntable, which also can elevate and lower sets while revolving. 

Not all that surprising, if you're aware that the standards of this opera house have been stamped by the likes of Richard Strauss, Hans von Bülow, the American-born Wilhelm Berger and Max Reger, all of whom served as music directors here. In the face of ever-dwindling state-subsidies, Theater Meiningen continues to draw loyal pan-demographic support from its patrons. On my way to the train station on the morning after the performance I attended, my taxi driver informed me he has two subscriptions and has many friends who frequent the theater here at least a couple times each season.

Hotel Schlundhaus

I’m convinced that Theater Meiningen continues to thrive in part because the city was spared crippling war damage. Also, there are no skyscrapers, and new construction is integrated into existing surroundings.

During my short stay, I learned that the recipe for Thuringer Dumpling, a regional delicacy, is said to have originated at the Schlundhaus Hotel, where I stayed.  An order of these delectable diet busters is alone worth a four hour-plus trip from the Rhineland. As you walk your meal off through the narrow bending streets that open out into spacious squares, where inhabitants still do their marketing, you grasp a sense of cultural continuity now lost in most urban environments.

Meiningen's market square

I don’t know what plans are afoot to keep Meiningen’s cultural inventiveness going, but all intendants in Germany must be aware that 2012 marks the centenery of the original version of Ariadne auf Naxos, which Richard Strauss and Hugo von Hofmannstahl conceived as a companion piece to the latter’s translation of Moliere’s Le Bougeois Gentilhomme. Angsar Haag certainly has the forces at his disposal to present both works on separate days early next season.  It would be a coup indeed if he could pull it off.

Production Photographs: Foto-ed Meiningen
Other photographs: Sam H. Shirakawa

A STAR IS BORN

NORMA (in Concert)         Cologne Opera
18 January 2012                                   

© Sam H. Shirakawa

Edita Gruberova

It was one of those spangled nights. A star was born.

The audience attending the first of two sold-out concert performances of Norma this season at the Cologne Opera were in a win-win situation. Edita Gruberova, arguably the last genuine primadonna of our time, was, at the age of 65, singing the title role. If she finished the evening still standing, the audience would have received what it paid for. If not, a golden opportunity for sneering with civil leer.

By the end of the performance, though, the audience had gotten far more than its money’s worth. Not only was Gruberova in sublime form, but mezzo-soprano Regina Richter, singing Adalgisa, had burst forth as a singer to reckon with.

Regina Richter

How can I be so sure? I can’t. No one can. But I’ll say this much: I’ve seen it happen like this before: Anybody remember that fabled Met performance of Die Frau ohne Schatten, when Eva Marton was heard singing even louder than Birgit Nilsson? (I’ll come back to this in a moment.)

Richter is currently a contract player at the Cologne Opera.  She has always distinguished herself at the many performances I have seen her give -- most recently as the Composer; also as Princess Bolonskaya (War and Peace), as well as doing bit parts that contract singers are obliged to fulfill. Legions of singers at German opera houses get that far and are content to settle for what ever assignments come their way.  Some are fabulous artists, but they don't draw the limelight for any number of reasons, both professional and personal.

What put Richter on the map on 18 January was going toe-to-toe with Gruberova in the big duets, especially in “Mira, O Norma.” During these moments, the agility, size, beauty and energy of her instrument set themselves in bold relief against the amplitude of Gruberova’s thrilling sound.

These passages brought to mind that legendary evening at the Met in 1981, when Eva Marton squared off with Birgit Nilsson in Die Frau ohne Schatten. Most informed opera-goers knew that Marton had a big voice, but few until that night were aware of just how big. When they appeared together for a curtain call, Nilsson whispered in Marton's ear and yielded the stage. Later, in separate interviews I conducted with them both, they corroborated what Nilsson had said: “This is your future.”

Richter’s future looks a lot more upwardly mobile now than it did just a few days ago, meaning she can probably drop Waltraute in Walküre and pick up Waltraute in Götterdämmerung.  She is classed as a mezzo, but the hue of her voice conjures warm bister rather than hot amber; it channels Stignani rather than Horne, Troyanos rather than Obraztsova. Her line, in common with the above-mentioned ladies, is firmly butressed from register to register, and she projects Adalgisa’s anguish through purely vocal means without resorting to bristling textual accents. She had, however, some pallid moments in the second act, which could use some juicing. My hope for Richter is that she heeds Leontyne Price’s maxim and sings on the interest her voice has begun to generate in triple digits, not on the principal. Now that she’s been outed in the opera world, she needs to continue coming out.

While one reviewer off-handedly wrote that this Norma would probably be among Gruberova’s last, I doubt whether she will be retiring either the role or herself in the near future. Her vocal estate, on her good nights, is still very much in ship-shape condition. Like any singer in any age bracket, she has spates of could-sound-better. (Her Norma in Brussels two seasons ago, for instance.) But she remains a force of nature, and has become de facto a geriatric phenomenon. She is also among that rare group of opera singers who has improved with age. Her fiortitura is now more incisive and telling than ever before. Her acrobatics with dynamics may strike some as showy, but the way she flaunts her technique is a compelling performance unto itself, impossible to dismiss as mere display. Her intake of breath is oddly more audible these days, but her sovereignty in making those endless stretches of legato appear seamless quite simply beggars belief.

What is even more astonishing is that the character of her instrument has not changed significantly since I first heard her as Zerbinetta in 1979. She maintains her signature brilliance-cum-warmth at the top and projects a rotund middle. Her lower register was always shallow, and so it remains, though it has become a bit louder.

If there is any sign of erosion, it is detectable in occasional lapses of pitch. But Gruberova is in august company: Nilsson, Sutherland, te Kanawa, Elias, Rysanek, Olivero -- just a few of the better known veterans whose instincts for slam-dunking every note (has) faltered with advancing age, while their voices remained essentially reliable. Unlike most of them, however, Gruberova has neither downsized nor cross-graded her repertoire as the years have gone by. Edie, babe, you rock!

Almost lost in the hullabaloo, the estimable contributions of Zoran Todorovich and Andriy Yurkevych.

Zoran Todorovich

Todorovich is one of the most versatile and appealing sock-it-to-me tenors making the rounds these days, but for some reason, he has yet to be “discovered.” Portraying a prick like Pollione isn’t helping his cause, even if he sang with surprising musical imagination and dramatic flair -- more than standing up to the challenges thrown down by his distaff colleagues.

Yurkevich may be a Ukrainian, but he is to the Italian manner born. Rarely have I heard such measured tempi at a live Norma, but Yurkevich drew out lines close to the snapping point without making the pace appear lugubrious. He also revealed some wonderful ideas in Bellini’s score that I’ve never heard before. The house chorus and the Gürzenich Orchester were up for the occasion.

Andriy Yurkevych

Rounding out the no-fault cast, Nikolai Didenko as Orvoreso, Machiko Obata as Clothilde and Jeonki Cho as Flavio.

The second and last performance of this Norma takes place 23 January. If there’s any way you can make it to the cancellation queue, go. You might get lucky.

CRAZY 4 U

DIE GÄRTNERIN AUS LIEBE New Production

Wuppertal 14 January 2012

© Sam H. Shirakawa

Christian Sturm, Banu Böke

Mozart composed his dark lyric comedy La finta Giardinera for Munich’s Salvator Theater in 1775. It was a resounding success. Five years later, he reworked it as a Singspiel under the title Die Gärtnerin aus Liebe, but the original Italian-language score went missing for 200 years. Rediscovered in the 1970s, Die Gärnterin aus Liebe has since been performed with increasing frequency, sung mostly in Italian under its Italian title.

Just another evening with the folks.

Its climb in popularity, though, could be hindered by its complicated libretto, generally ascribed to Giuseppe Petrosellini. Count Belfiore and the Marchinioness Violante (disguised as a gardner) find themselves under the same roof on the eve of his marriage to Arminda, niece of the town mayor Don Anchise. Belfiore and Violante were lovers before he stabbed her during a quarrel and left her for dead. Violante still wants him back, so she's had herself employed as a gardner at Mayor Anchiuse’s estate in order to nab Belfiore before he weds Arminda.

Is that nutty? You ain't seen nutty yet.  By the time Violante drops her disguise and bags her former squeeze, the audience is treated to five other members of the wedding, who all take their parts in sundry episodes of kidnapping, intrigue and outright madness. Just another evening at home with the folks.

Susanne Blattert, Boris Leisenheimer, Miljan Milovic

In a program note, Tilman Hecker credits Marcel Proust (specifically Swann’s Way) as the flash point for his production at Wuppertal Stages. Indeed, his staging reflects Proust’s creepy elegance, as the characters enter and exit through shifting doors, wearing Lisa Kentner’s couture-conscious costumes, and tread Moritz Nitsche’s flying stairways which usually lead nowhere. All against a stage-wide soundless video scrim that projects the characters pursuing each other in the same setting but in mute states of being.

Clever. But Hecker’s gilded vignettes revealing the comings and, uh, comings of a decadent society struck me as more inclined toward evoking the queasy giddiness aroused by films of the French New Wave such as Last Year at Marienbad: did you/can you really kill your one true love?

Banu Böke, Arantza Ezenarro

The disturbing dream milieu into which Hecker submerges his cast imposes no impediments; the ensemble keeps a grip on the beat and offers some lively singing. Foremost among the resident vocalists: the ever-astounding Banu Böke, who, as Violante, scales Mozart’s flights of angst-ridden ups and downs with the same aplomb she brought to her sagacious Arabella last season. Not to be out-done, Christian Sturm continues to expand his talents stylishly as Count Belfiore. He is that most blessed of creatures, making even more of his heaven-sent gifts every time he turns up.

Christian Sturm

Arantza Ezenaro purveys a strong Arminda. Boris Leisenheimer had issues finding his focus as Arminda’s uncle at the premiere, but he finished satisfactorily.  Miljan Milovic, Suzanne Blattert and Julia Klein round out the superb cast.

Florian Flannek led a cohesive performance, drawing a big bracing sound from the orchestra.

Needless to add, Die Gärtnerin aus Liebe is one of Mozart’s most sombre works for the stage -- a soap opera full of dirty laundry. All the more curious because he was only 18 when he composed it and 23 when he revised it. Imagine how Dark Wave his revisions might be, had he lived past 35...

Photos: Uwe Stratmann

Meistersinger @ Nuremberg

DIE MEISTERSINGER New Production

Nuremberg 23 December 2011

© Sam H. Shirakawa

Trial by song: Albert Pesendorf (left), Michael Putsch (right)

I’ve never made a secret of it: a performance of Meistersinger is for me always special. But how to celebrate what I believe is my 50th live performance of Wagner’s finest work?

Hear it in Nuremberg!

I happened to be in Nuremberg in time for the penultimate performance of Staatstheater Nürnberg’s new production, so I went, albeit unwillingly. Unwillingly, because the live broadcast of the premiere struck me as lacking lustre. The production looked pasty pop art, the musical pacing sounded rushed, the video direction seemed workaday, the performances standard issue and in some instances sub-standard.

Albert Pesendorfer, Michaela Maria Mayer, Jochen Kupfer

I’m glad I went because I learned a couple of things. First, never judge a production of any kind by its telecast. Second, try to avoid seeing the telecast before you see the production live -- you enter the theater severely prejudiced. Third, and possibly most important, don’t evaluate vocal quality from a broadcast. You can discern pitch issues, though even that can be fixed these days, but not much else. Everybody sounds equally loud or soft. Visually, video directors usually have their cameras pointed in the right direction, but their calls for close-ups largely are distracting, even disgusting. Let’s face it -- most singers under pressure -- bulging eyes, sweaty brows, gaping quivering jaws -- look in close-ups like they’re undergoing a rectal probe.

Leila Pfister, Guido Jentjens, Michaela Maria Mayer

In the opera house, though, that separation between spectacle and spectator puts all that grimacing into acceptable perspective. And you get to choose the close-ups. Which brings me to David Mouchtar-Samorai’s fluid production, evolving constantly between the broad strokes of spectacle and the tiny grains of telling details in the intimate exchanges of the second act and the first scene of the third. And how much better the graphics-savvy sets by Heinz Hauser work when framed by the proscenium instead of the tyrannous 16:9 video ratio in every shot. Urte Eicker’s contemporary costumes also look prettier live.

The Quintet: (left to right) Albert Pesendorfer, Michael Bosch, Tilman Lichdi, Leila Pfister, Michaela Maria Mayer
Photo: Arte

Even in the theater, Marcus Bosch’s tempi were a tad too swift for my taste, but he drew some lovely moments in the prelude to the Third Act as well as numerous details from his outstanding house orchestra and augmented chorus, the latter under the supervision of Tarmo Vaask. Too often the work of the harpists in Tannhäuser and Meistersinger go for granted. As a recovering harpist, it would be remiss of me to forego saluting Lilo Klaus, who made the treacherous switch between her grand full size Obermayer-Horngacher and the custom-made Beckmesser harp (conceived by Wagner) sound effortless. Few in any audience attending Meistersinger have any notion of the difficulties confronting every musician playing this opera.

Now for the cast, drawn mostly from the company’s ranks. I found it hard to believe that the Michael Putsch I heard as Walther von Stolzing was the same singer as the tenor I heard on TV. Live, he was singing with a cold, according to the announcement from the stage at the start of the third act. But he sounded better than he sang on the broadcast -- warmer, entirely focused, with slender vibrato. May he always have the sniffles.
Of the 30-odd Beckmesser’s I’ve heard live, Jochen Kupfer is about the most agreeably irritating. For once, I found myself thoroughly enjoying this notary making an utter fool of himself. If Guido Jentjens is in part Italian, his elegantly sonorous Veit Pogner owes much to his Latin genes. It quickened the pulse to anticipate his entrances, and his closures induced regret. To look at Martin Berner, you’d tend to think croupier rather than Kothner, but his frizzy Fritz was all the more surprising with his aspirant-free coloratura in reciting the Master’s Riot Act.

Act III finale: Albert Pesendorfer and friends  

If handsome is as handsome does, Albert Pesendorfer proves that tall is towering in both physical and vocal stature. His Sachs is not the most moving I’ve heard, but it is certainly the most imposing in decency, directness and implicit wisdom. Again, TV does nothing to suggest Pesendorfer’s sheer height. What a Godunov he might be...

Michaela Maria Mayer is still developing her prowess as an artist, but hers is a sweet, evenly modulated Eva, whose outburst at “O Sachs, mein Freund!” has yet to find its hoch-dramatisch footing. Still, she more than held her own in Eva’s contribution to the Quintet. It’s hard to say where Leila Pfister’s Magdalena will take her, but she possesses the kind of mezzo voice that can be a lively Lola as well as an alluring Laura.

Tilman Lichdi

Tilman Lichdi looked and sounded okay as David on the broadcast. But in the theater, he hands-down stole the show. Starting with a masterful “Mein Herr! Der Singer Meisterschlag” in the first act, he made every succeeding moment on stage into an opportunity for further developing his somewhat uppity character without ever appearing to make the effort. Lichdi has recently made successful debuts in New York and Chicago and he stands on the threshold of a topline career. There is clearly a future for him in musicals too; he has cheeky charm reminiscent of Jim Dale and Aaron Tveit and Michael Crawford’s riveting physical dexterity. God forbid, this guy should chuck it all for a doll.


Joshua Monten’s break-dancing accented choreography seemed plain silly on the tube, but looked inevitable and right on stage.

Despite drizzly weather, the Old City of Nuremberg provided an atmospheric backdrop to the opera worthy of Joseph Urban. The stalls in the expanded Christmas Market were bustling with activity, as vendors hawked last-minute bargains and fresh home-made delicacies in the final hours before all Germany snapped shut like a collective clam, making way to observe the second most important event on the Christian calander.

St. Katharina ruins: summer open air concerts still take place here.
Photo: Google Photos

The weather was too overcast to take photos, but I managed a brief pilgrimage to St. Katharina, also located in the Old City, where Wagner set the first act of Meistersinger. All that remains of the church today are the outer walls, one of the few visible scars left from Allied shelling as World War II drew closer to its denouement. St. Katharina was gutted by a direct hit during an air raid on 2 January 1945, exactly 67 years to the day before this report is being posted. But the spirit of the Master Singers who assembled here during the 17th and 18th centuries lives on today: the open-air space is used in summer for concerts and recitals.
All is far from well with the world as we enter the New Year, but as long as there are artists gifted enough to bring Meistersinger to life in Nuremberg and elsewhere, and a public to experience it anywhere, the outlook can be no less than good.

Photos (unless otherwise noted): Ludwig Olah

T'is the Spielzeit

OTELLO (New Production)

15 December 2011

EIN WALZERTRAUM (New Production)

16 December 2011

OPER GRAZ

Sam H. Shirakawa

James Rutherford, Frank van Aken

T’is now the season to be jolly in the Judeo-Christian world, even as we hunt grimly for post-Santa bargains, exchange unwanted presents with malevolent zeal and coldly cash in those gift certificates. At Oper Graz recently, t’was also the season to be madly jealous.


Director Stephen Lawless certainly anticipated the holiday mood with hardly an agenbite of inwyt when his shrewd new production of Verdi’s Otello opened back in September: his Iago as embodied by James Rutherford is a bearish clown -- Rigoletto re-risen. But this time, no more Mister Victim. Iago’s jester costume may provoke nervy jollies, but it conceals a seething well of loathing, whose vampiric imprint ultimately scrags his employer through Verdi’s opulent, insidious melodies.


Otello is performed as often as there are lead tenors game enough to gamble the longevity of their voices. Both tenors and those who know are aware of what kind of voice Verdi wanted for his Moor. Tenors who could measure up to Francesco Tamagno’s leonine anguish have been relatively few.

Recently several tenors of note have been trying their luck at Otello, among them Ray M. Wade, Jr. and Frank van Aken. As far as I can tell, Wade has had no engagements since he sang the role in Heidelberg earlier this year. Frank van Aken, meanwhile, has taken the Moor to Frankfurt, Graz and who-knows-where-else.


Van Aken is still finding his way around this exhausting role. But performing Otello more than a dozen times this autumn is exposing him to risk. The voice is showing signs of strain. Nonetheless, it’s a thrill to hear a singer with the requisite oomph for the part commit himself from start to finish with such passion.

Gal James

Gal James as Desdemona had intermittent pitch issues at the start of the first act Duet, but she went on to produce a warm effulgent sound, culminating ultimately in an elegiac Willow Song and heartfelt Prayer. The Big Leagues are certainly in the cards for her; shucking a few kilos could hasten her chances.

If kilos could measure voice size, the aforementioned James Rutherford would be as much a vocal heavyweight as he is physically. But his voice is accruing overtones, giving the impression at times, that his voice is unfocused. It took some concentrated listening to filter out the intrusives, but the voice found its center, and Rutherford turned out to become an unusually arresting villain.


Johannes Fritsche led a lively performance despite occasionally ragged ensemble in the orchestra.

Lawless’ production, designed by Frank Philipp Schlößmann, is distinguished by a platform that tilts alarmingly forward at times, summoning a rocky world, subject to earthquakes and sudden catastrophes.

The performance I caught was the last in the series for this season. The production deserves to be revived, and soon.

Ein Walzertraum: Act II (Sets and Costumes Rainer Sellmaier

On the following evening, Oper Graz offered Oscar Straus’ rarely performed Ein Walzertraum, a more suitable presentation for the Yuletide season, perhaps, than a tale of miscegenation heading south. Ein Walzertraum or The Waltz Dream, which received its premiere in 1907 at the Carl Theater in Vienna, was a breakthrough for Straus [no relation, by the way, to either Richard Strauss or Johann Strauß)]. Opening on the heels of Franz Lehar’s Merry Widow two seasons earlier, Straus’ work raised hopes for a long Silver Age of operetta. The composer chalked up several hits over a long career, notably The Merry Nibelungs, The Chocolate Soldier and Die Teresina, but Walzertraum achieved a level of critical and international public acclaim that none of his other works attained.

Edward Johnson as Niki in The Waltz Dream, Broadway version (1908)

Incidentally, the Broadway version (1908) headlined tenor Edward Johnson, future General Manager of the Metropolitan Opera (1935-1950). Apart from productions in London and other theatrical capitals, the work also has had several film interpretations, including The Smiling Lieutenant (1931) starring Maurice Chevalier, Claudette Colbert and Miriam Hopkins -- all in irresistible form, directed by none less than Ernst Lubitsch.  Straus added new numbers with lyrics in English by the composer, actor and two-time bobsleigh Olympic gold medalist Clifford Grey.   Surrounded by such a confluence of genial energy, Straus couldn't help but produce a finer score than his original.  Still, this operetta is, in my view, a gem.

Many variations of Walzertraum have sprung up in the Post-War period, among them a broadcast iteration in 1954, assembled at Nordwestdeutscher Rundfunk Cologne (NWDR) under conductor Franz Marszalak.  The so-called Rogati Adaptation dating from the 1950s was used by the current revival's conductor Marius Burkert several years ago.  In a program note, Burkert says that he felt the idioms in this version were growing dated. So he went to some lengths to secure the original version, replete with ballet music from that production, which presumably has not been performed for decades.

Change partners? Margareta Klobucar (Princess Helena)  Thomas Sigwald (Niki) and Sieglinde Feldhofer (Franzi)

While Walzertraum caused almost as much excitement throughout the world as Lustige Witwe at the time of their premieres, the latter has thrived, while the former has barely survived outside Austria. A pity because Walzertraum has some gorgeous music. Its theme has been recorded by countless singers and the Waltz still turns up now and then in films and on television.

Both works have several societal concerns in common -- primarily because these issues are layered into most operettas of the Golden and Silver Ages: class distinction, hypocrisy, money versus rank, aching nostalgia, etc. But Walzertraum’s popularity problem may lie in the outcome of the plot: Handsome, eligible, but demotic Lieutenent Niki is caught between his crush on working-girl band leader Franzi and the affections of royally rich Princess Helene. The ending is happy but not especially satisfying. And therein lies the rub: Niki the Lieutenent must awaken from his waltzy dream and dine in; Hanna and Danilo will always breakfast at Maxim’s -- somehow.

Oper Graz’ new production may achieve some endurance, thanks to Michael Schilhan’s well-paced direction and lots of eye candy provided by Rainer Sellmaier’s sets and costumes, especially in the beer garden scene of the second act. More arabesques are provided by choreographer Allen Yu and a lineup of superb dancers, who give lift and verve to the newly unearthed ballet music.

Michál Zabavik and ballet ensemble

Among the principals, Thomas Sigwald (Niki), Margareta Klobucar (Princess Helena) and Sieglinde Feldhofer (Franzi) all are in full control of requisite operetta voices and make their understanding of the Viennese operetta tradition work to their advantage. The entire cast, among them Janos Mischuretz (Montschi), Fran Lubahn (Fredericke), Götz Zenman (Joachim), Martin Fournier (Lothar), was in good shape, but they all occasionally lagged a speck behind the beat. Hard to fathom because Marius Burkert’s baton punctuated cues with crystal clarity.  If this irritating occurrence is a latter-day take on old-time Viennese schmaltz, it comes off schleppy and day-old provençal.  Catch up, Liebchens.  On the other hand, the orchestra and chorus performed with concentration and heart.

The portico was rebuilt in a simplified design following war damage.

Oper Graz remains one of the foremost lyric theaters in northern Europe, to which the current productions of Otello and Walzertraum give ample evidence.  It is also one of the most handsome opera houses on the Continent, and steady upkeep from a 1980s renovation program preserves its physical as well as acoustical opulence.

Completed in 1899 in the late rococo style, the house has nearly 1,300 seats distributed over a rectangular parquet, two steeply raked balconies and 40 boxes. Surfaces are lavishly appointed with gold-leaf molding and marble statuaries. Judicious use of wood and plaster amplify the vocalists, while enriching the reverb from both stage and pit. I sat in four  locations over the course of the two performances I attended and found the sonorities surprisingly uniform and “natural” at every vantage point.

Courtesy: Oper Graz

What late Wagner and Richard Strauss sound like in this theater is good reason to return to Graz, but suffice it to say, Strauss found the acoustical conditions sufficiently sufficient to take the podium here at the Austrian premiere of his Salome [The reported list of attendees at this event may be partly apocryphal, but can you imagine being an autograph hound on that warm May night in 1906? -- stalking Gustav, Alma, Arnold, his disciples, Giacomo, and that pubescent monorchid with the Chaplin moustache for their John Hancocks...]

Richard Strauss himself conducted the Austrian premiere of Salome at Oper Graz.

Graz has also been a proving ground for numerous musical artists who have gone on to win  world fame, among them Marianne Brandt (the first Götterdämmerung Waltraute), Ernestine Schumann-Heink, Friedrich Schorr; more recently Gundula Janowitz, Heinz Zednik, Angelika Kirchslager and, not least, native son Karl Böhm, who made his conducting debut at this theater at age 23 in 1917.

Photos:

Otello: Werner Kmetitsch
Walzertraum: Dimo Dimov
Edward Johnson: Public Domain
Oper Graz exterior, foyer and Karl Böhm: Sam H. Shirakawa

Sleeping with the Enemy

NORMA (New Production)

Krefeld 3 December 2011

© Sam H. Shirakawa

Barbara Dobrzanska (Norma) Kairschan Scholdybajew (Pollione)

How is it possible to be a Druid priestess in the wide open spaces of ancient Stonehenge and keep such secrets as having two children by an enemy soldier? It’s one of the don’t-ask issues I’ve always had with Bellini’s otherwise supernal opera Norma.

The question recurred to me at the premiere of Krefeld Stages’ new production under the direction of Thomas Wünsch. He’s shifted the scene from the green open plains of southern England to the grey claustrophobic environs of a 20th century ghetto designed by Heiko Mönnich -- presumably an eastern European enclave, given the absence of Third World n’er-do-wells.

Why a ghetto? In an interview found in the program booklet, Wünsch says, he wanted to put in bold relief the isolation of the British aborigines as an occupied people. [The Roman occupation of Britain lasted for nearly 300 years, beginning in 43 AD.] Further, he was inspired by Roberto Rosellini’s Rome -- Open City and by Pasolini’s Mamma Roma, both of which, as Wünsch notes, starred that most operatic of cinema icons Anna Magnani.  In the former, latter day Romans face off against the occupying Nazis. In the latter the denizens of the Eternal City find no liberation from the ensuing peace-time occupation of the Allied Forces, despite the desultory efforts of some, namely the younger generation.  

If Norma the opera is viewed through these filters, Norma the Druid priestess apparently copes with the condition in which she finds herself, by sleeping with the enemy, embodied by Pollione, and bearing him two children, whose fate as ethnic half-breeds could prove seminal for the plot of another opera. Especially in view of the fact that Pollione is having it off with a temple novitiate, Adalgisa. My, those Druid lassies were a randy bunch!  

Anna meets Babs

But it’s the song that matters, isn’t it? And the singing for the most part is surprisingly grand.

Barbara Dobrzanska bears a faint but agreeable resemblance to Magnani, and her sound evokes images of Anna’s deeply felt tragic gestures. I’ve heard Dobrzanska before, and she’s always stepped up to the plate. This time, she steps out. Her coloratura may eschew Sutherland’s bravura and Caballe’s lapidary incision, but she stamps her own vigorous personality on the role with her clarion roulades and seamless legato, combined with heartfelt articulation. A welcome surprise: a vocal discovery in... Krefeld?

Janet Bartolova holds her own as Adalgisa, though her voice is bereft of the darker hues usually assigned to the role. After the holidays, she and Dobrzanska reportedly are switching roles on successive performances. Should be interesting.

Kairschan Scholdybajew, who sang Pollione, had a cold. In fitter shape, he might have had a triumph. His somewhat nasal production takes some getting used-to, but his tenor is well suited to the part. His acting, though, could use more flexibility.

Andrew Nolan was serviceable in the thankless role of Oroveso.

Clothilde was a breakthrough of sorts for Sutherland. Whether the role opens horizons for Lilla Tripodi remains to be heard.

Andreas Fellner led a lively reading and drew disciplined response from the chorus, drilled by Maria Benyumova. The orchestra was in outstanding form.  

(Right) Janet Bartolova

Net-net: Wünsch has come up with an heuristic concept. But it ultimately is unfocused and distracting. Bellini and his librettist Felice Romani certainly were caught up in the dust winds of politics as they prepared to bring Norma (1831) to La Scala for the first time, but their primary concerns were romantic.  The opera, in my view, has held the imagination of the public for 200 years because of a love triangle that audiences of any era can and do relate to.