Der fliegende Holländer, Bayreuth Festival, July 2012

The 2012 Wagner festival at Bayreuth started in dramatic fashion when the singer in the title role for a new production of The Flying Dutchman suddenly pulled out. Evgeny Nikitin, covered in body-tattoos from his former career as a heavy-metal singer, found himself the focus of attention, and although claims of a swastika seem unfounded, his presence became a hot issue and he withdrew. The festival administration, once run by Hitler admirer Winifred Wagner, took no chances on that score, but all turned out well, and Samuel Youn, who replaced Nikitin, fell to his knees at the end, gratefully accepting thunderous applause for a powerfully sung performance. Adrianne Pieczonka sang a glorious Senta, and her father Daland was warmly portrayed by Franz-Josef Selig as a suave, lightly-bearded character in a double-breasted suit. Benjamin Bruns delivered a beautifully sung helmsman, and Michael König a passionate Erik.

Daland and Dutchman, all images Bayreuther Festspiele/ Enrico Nawrath

The singers, including the fine chorus, were superbly supported by Christian Thielemann, hidden away in the covered orchestra pit of this extraordinary opera house. As one of today’s greatest Wagner interpreters, he gave the music huge excitement, starting with the overture, which brought out and contrasted the elemental power of wind and sea with the plaintive call of the woodwind.

Senta and her toys

The Dutchman roams the seas, halting every seven years to seek redemption through true love, yet this production contains no ships, save a small dinghy at the beginning seating the sea captain Daland and his helmsman. When the Dutchman arrives with his tiny suitcase and strange skin condition, a girl in sexy lingerie tries her luck, but he rejects her. Daland then offers his daughter Senta, whose conventional world is represented as a factory packing electric fans into cardboard boxes. Her yearning to get away is hardly surprising, and her red dress is the only real dash of colour in this dull environment, apart from her cardboard toys splashed with red paint.

Senta’s simple environment contrasts with the hugely elaborate set at the start, showing an alien, electronic world from which the Dutchman emerges, yet the studied uniformity in both worlds emphasises Senta as the one who is different. Subtlety and irony are absent, and for his first production at Bayreuth, 30-year old theatre director Jan Philipp Gloger may have underestimated the power and clarity of Wagner’s music to such a sophisticated audience. After the stamping and cheering for singers and conductor, his production team was greeted with a barrage of boos.

Senta and her Dutchman

In a question and answer session the following day, the director apparently gave clear and reasonable explanations of his interpretation. For example when the Dutchman first arrives he rolls up his sleeve and appears to stab himself in the arm. To the audience this looks rather as if he were giving himself an injection, but in fact it demonstrates that he does bleed when wounded. Later in the opera when he has fallen for Senta his arm bleeds, showing he has become flesh and blood. Such explanations are obviously helpful, but the production should not need them.

Apparently Herr Gloger could relate details of his production to the music itself, which may help explain why the conductor, Christian Thielemann — a great Wagnerian — endorsed him so clearly during the curtain calls, despite the adverse audience reaction.

Performances of Dutchman continue until August 24 — for details click here.

Die Zauberflöte, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, February 2011

Mozart’s Magic Flute can be both magical and portentous, and this production by David McVicar gives us both. As the overture starts, a smartly dressed young man in eighteenth century costume climbs over the Stalls Circle and onto the front of the stage. This is Tamino, whose entrance is followed by dark figures entering the auditorium at all levels, from Stalls to Amphi, carrying lights.

Royal Opera House photos by Mike Hoban

When the curtain opens a huge serpent appears on stage, which Christopher Maltman, as a very engaging Papageno, later claims to have killed. His body language confirms that the ladies of the night are right to gag him for his lies, and his attitudes provide an excellent contrast to the noble Tamino, beautifully sung by Joseph Kaiser.

Maltman as Papageno

This was a super cast, with Kate Royal as a lovely Pamina in her princess-like dress, made dowdy by her captivity, while Anna Devin was a captivatingly sexy Papagena in her short, tight skirts and bright colours. Franz-Josef Selig was a commanding Sarastro, and Jessica Pratt a fierce queen of the night, if somewhat harsh of tone in Act I. The German diction was excellent from most of the singers; Christopher Maltman was particularly good in his delivery, as was  Donald Maxwell as Second Priest — I heard every word with clarity.

The designs by John Macfarlane work very well, giving the three boys a scruffy appearance with dirty legs and old-fashioned shorts and jumpers, and showing splashes of bird droppings on the back of Papageno’s cheap suit. The death-like armour and cloaks for the two men who come on in Act 2 give an appearance of great power as they sing, “Der, welcher wandert diese Strasse voll Beschwerden/ Wird rein durch Feuer, Wasser, Luft und Erden/. . .” (He who walks this path heavy with cares, will be purified by fire, water, air and earth . . .). “Mich schreckt kein Tod . . .” (Death doesn’t frighten me) responds Tamino, and we are engaged by his strength of purpose in seeking enlightenment, unlike the happy Papageno who merely wants a wife and family.

Royal and Selig as Pamina and Sarastro

Incidentally, the Papageno in 1791 at the first performance in Vienna was the librettist, Schikaneder. He and Mozart were both freemasons, which at the time had slightly different connotations from what it has today. This was the age of Enlightenment when reason was seen as an ideal that should underlie legitimacy and authority, embodied here by Sarastro, and opposed by the Queen of the Night.

Finale

It was a treat to have Colin Davis in the pit, giving the singers his full support, and in this dress rehearsal helping the boys to keep on track at one point.

Further performances are scheduled until February 24, with David Syrus conducting the final two — for more details click here.

Das Rheingold, Metropolitan Opera live relay, October 2010

Building a glorious monument with borrowed money is a dangerous business, as many of our politicians have now realised. It’s a lesson they could have learned from Wagner’s Rheingold whose consequences lead to three more operas in the Ring cycle. When the two brothers get their payment for the elaborate folly of Valhalla one kills the other to take the powerful ring, reminding me of recent events in British politics. The brother giants get their payment in treasure stolen from Alberich by Wotan, but Alberich in turn stole it from the Rheinmaidens who were guarding it in the river Rhein. There’s word play in German between Rhein and rein (pure), and although one might regard the Rheinmaidens as pure they are not unsullied by very human failings, and it’s their teasing rejection of Alberich that causes him to forswear love, a necessary precondition for creating the ring from the gold.

 

Giants and Gods, all photos by Ken Howard

 

One cannot help feeling sympathy with Alberich as he cries out, “O Schmerz!” (What pain!), and Eric Owens sang and acted the role brilliantly. His dark, rich voice expressed his anguish and determination, and my only quibble — a really minor one — is that he looked such a nice guy! Truly he was the star of the show, along with Bryn Terfel as Wotan, who managed to look ruthless and show fierce determination to retain the ring after stealing it, until Patricia Bardon as Erda warned him off such nonsense. She was terrific in that small role, looking and singing like a goddess.

 

In Niebelheim, Alberich transformed as a dragon

 

As that other goddess, Wotan’s wife Fricka, Stephanie Blythe sang strongly and gave a warmly human portrayal. Loge, whose schemes let Wotan off the hook he’s made for himself, was well sung by Richard Croft, and I liked the costume and the lighting for him. In fact the whole production, by Robert Lepage, was very well lit by Etienne Boucher with good costume designs by Francois St-Aubin, including those for the giants who were made to look large without using stilts or artificial heads. Franz-Josef Selig and Hans-Peter König as Fasolt and Fafner both gave fine portrayals of these giants, and I loved the way Fasolt turned his head sympathetically as Fricka sang of a woman’s value, Weibes Wonne und Wert.  Fafner was thoroughly menacing, and we shall presumably hear him again in his transformation as the dragon in Siegfried.  Carl Fillion’s set design, with multiple strips of wood that could tilt at various angles was certainly clever, and I liked the placing of the giants at a higher level, and loved the rainbow bridge at the end. This high-tech production sets a standard that will be hard for other opera houses to beat, and I look forward to the broadcast of Walküre next May.

 

Gods ascend the rainbow bridge

 

As to the conducting, it was wonderful to have James Levine back in the pit, and the orchestra played beautifully under his direction.