Intermezzo

Munich Opera: the 2011-2012 season

The Bavarian State Opera in Munich announced their 2011-12 season at a press conference this morning. A novelty worth imitating - a live chat feature on their website allowed Intendant Klaus Bachler and Music Director Kent Nagano to answer audience questions as well.

The heart of the season is a new Ring cycle directed by Andreas Kriegenburg and conducted by Nagano. This begins in February 2012 and culminates in two full cycles during the annual Festival in July. Excellent casting includes Klaus Florian Vogt as Siegmund, Anja Kampe as Sieglinde, Johan Reuter and Juha Uusitalo as Wotan, Lance Ryan as Siegfried, Wolfgang Koch as Alberich and Nina Stemme as Brünnhilde.

There are just two additional premieres. The first is Les Contes d'Hoffmann conducted by Constantinos Carydis and directed by Richard Jones.  Rolando Villazón takes the title role and Diana Damrau all the female leads. According to the Munich website, this is an ENO co-production. though who knows if and when. And La Fura dels Baus produce a new Turandot with Jennifer Wilson as Turandot and Marco Berti as Calaf.

The rest of the season is not new, but it's strongly cast  - though it has to be admitted some of the productions are showing their age. Jürgen Rose's plain but serviceable Don Carlo is revived under the baton of Asher Fisch, with a starry cast including Jonas Kaufmann, René Pape, Mariusz Kwiecien and Anja Harteros.

Vesselina Kasarova joins Anna Netrebko in I Capuleti e i Montecchi. Konwitschny's dodgy 'spin-class' Der fliegende Holländer reappears with Anja Kampe as Senta and Klaus Florian Vogt as Erik. The annual Gruberova-fest showcases the ageless diva in Christof Loy's Roberto Devereux, with Joseph Calleja in the title role. And to round things off there's La Cenerentola with Joyce DiDonato.

Orchestra evacuate Royal Opera House

Orchestra of the Royal Opera House / Antonio Pappano / Thomas Hampson / Klaus Florian Vogt - Cadogan Hall, 27 February 2011

It's not often the worker bees of the Royal Opera House orchestra are released from their Covent Garden nest. It's not often either that the Cadogan Hall, despite its fine acoustic, hosts much worth listening to. But after Andres Orozco-Estrada's splendid Tonkünstler Orchestra they managed to pull a second terrific evening out of the bag.

Parsifal from Amsterdam - full video

Here's last Saturday's stunning concert version of Parsifal, which was broadcast live from the Concertgebouw, in full.

Jaap van Zweden conducted the Netherlands Radio Philharmonic Orchestra, and the soloists included Klaus Florian Vogt as Parsifal, Robert Holl as Gurnemanz, Falk Struckmann as Amfortas, Katarina Dalayman as Kundry, Ante Jerkunica as Titurel and Krister St.Hill as Klingsor.

If it doesn't work, try Dutch Radio 4's site, where an audio-only version is also available. Although the live streaming was interrupted in the first act, all the recordings are complete. There's also a repeat broadcast tonight 18 December at 19:00 CET (6pm in the UK). A CD will be released next year.

Oh Deer

Rusalka - Nationaltheater Munich, 23 October 2010

Martin Kušej's Rusalka is no fairy tale, though I wonder if that was made clear beforehand to the parents of the sweet little girls I saw in the foyer before the show, all done up in their party best. Let's just say that two hours of rape, incest and disembowelled animals later, they were nowhere to be seen.

Maybe it should carry a warning sticker, but Kušej's dark fable includes some of the most powerful and original work I've seen for some time. Like many an ambitious retelling, it doesn't quite entirely hang together, but it does reveal a weight and contemporary relevance that no mermaid story could.

 

shake those funky dreadlocks deutscher boy

From this 

to ~this~

Greeted by uniformly appalling reviews every year since it opened in 2007,  Katharina Wagner's Meistersinger production has been tarted up for this year's Bayreuth Festival.

The final act has been substantially revamped, the relationship between Sachs and Eva made more demonstrative, and for some reason Walther (Klaus Florian Vogt) now looks like Steffi Graf on a bad hair day.

Truly Dreadful.

More photos here.

 

coming up

A few events that may have slipped beneath your radar:

If you missed out in the ticket scrum for Esa-Pekka Salonen's Philharmonia Tristan und Isolde at the Royal Festival Hall with Gary Lehman and Violeta Urmana, you might consider travelling to Birmingham Symphony Hall (where the sound is also immeasurably better) on 23 September 2010 for the UK premiere.  Not many tickets left so don't hang around too long.

Birmingham is also the furthest south that Opera North will bring their new Das Rheingold (semi-staged) next summer. It's on 24 June 2011 and there are plenty of tickets left at the time of writing, though the best are going fast.

Antonio Pappano and the Royal Opera House orchestra take a rare step outside Covent Garden on 27 February 2011 when they perform at Cadogan Hall. Thomas Hampson and ~Klaus Florian Vogt~ join them for the chamber version of Das Lied von der Erde, with Wagner's Siegfried Idyll also on the bill. Tickets went on sale yesterday.

Lulu - rinse and repeat

Lulu - Royal Opera House, 8 June 2009

This was a lot better second time round. With the pressure of opening night behind her, Agneta Eichenholz sang cleanly and securely throughout, Klaus Florian Vogt was more focussed, and the action progressed more confidently. I didn't even notice any amplification on the speaking voices, which I guess means it was done more adeptly this time.

And was it my imagination, or was did the singers move downstage to sing more often? Evidently some changes had been made, because Alwa was murdered (as per Berg's stage directions) this time, instead of committing suicide as Loy had rewritten for the opening night.

There were certainly fewer inaudible episodes. That was partly down to Pappano, who sat on the orchestra every time a singer opened their mouth. Lulu is hardly a classic 'singers' opera' in the bel canto sense, but that's how Pappano treated it, with the orchestra alternately blooming forth gloriously and shrinking into a backing band. Most strange, and often at odds with the drama.

There were, unusually, cameras at the front of the stalls as well as the back to capture this performance, presumably for future DVD release.The clarity of this simply-set production remains its strength, something I suspect will be even more obvious when it's seen on screen.

 

 

 

Lulu: Royal Opera House (nm)

Lulu - Royal Opera House, 4 June 2009 (first night)

What is it with opera directors and their fascination with film? Are they all frustrated Steven Spielbergs? Christof Loy isn't quite as nakedly entranced as the likes of Robert Lepage. His new Covent Garden Lulu foregoes the silent film traditionally played over the central interlude (per composer instructions). But the minimalist production embodies the dark tone and moral ambivalence of classic film noir in its laconic, stylised gestures and anonymous visuals. The set, nothing but a long sectioned wall that stretches across the stage like a length of film, underlines the point.

It's a workable concept, but it was a little lost in the vast expanse of the Covent Garden stage (fully visible from wings to flies thanks to unwaveringly stark lighting). With the cast clad in nineties office-wear and nothing but a chair on stage, it looked like a recently-burgled boardroom. Without scene changes or major lighting variations, it was hard to tell when time and location had changed. Some actions became downright incomprehensible - would anyone who didn't know the opera realise that when Alwa picked up an axe after the Painter's suicide he was breaking open an entirely non-existent door to reach the body? 

And the shortage of reverberant surfaces meant that even the most powerful voices disappeared as their owners moved upstage. Miking them for the spoken sections solved half the problem, but it created a grating disjunct with the singing. If only the budget had stretched to walls.

Clearly some of the audience were less than thrilled - unusually lukewarm applause for the production team even included a few boos, a real rarity here.

It left the cast an uphill task to create something more than a concert performance, but they largely succeeded. Clearly well-rehearsed and choreographed to the inch, movement and gesture were as spare as the set, but every one was telling. Apart from the shoes. Nobody wants to wear stilettos for three hours non stop, but what was with all the taking off and putting back on again?

At the centre, Agneta Eichenholz as Lulu was superb in her Covent Garden and role debut. This Lulu is no coquette. She's a beautiful enigma, objectified in the eyes of those who desire her, but incapable of reciprocating. Agneta Eichenholz may look like Jennifer Love Hewitt as Audrey Hepburn but her Lulu was lethally iced. She started so tentatively I seriously worried she might rush off in tears. But she pulled herself together and nailed the impossible, stratospheric coloratura with ever-increasing confidence. At the end, far from spent, she sounded ready to do it all over again.

Michael Volle's robust Dr Schön was the other big hit. An adventurous director's dream, he has a big, heroic sound, he can act, and he's happy to look a bit of a t1t in the service of Art. Quite handy when you're daubed with lipstick and greasepaint in emulation of the lady wife's stage make-up (another touch that eluded my comprehension).

The blindingly-toothed Jennifer Larmore gave a touching and intelligently-nuanced performance as Gräfin Geschwitz, the reverse-image of the iron-clad Lulu in her femininity and vulnerabilty.

Philip Langridge's sleazy, seedy final act Marquis was his third and finest creation of the evening, following an equally-detailed Prince and Manservant.

Some of the other character doublings weren't so clearly differentiated, particularly Will Hartmann's attractively-sung Painter/Negro and Michael Volle's Jack the Ripper. Perhaps this was intentional - they reappeared for the final act wearing the same bloodstained clothes they'd died in way back in Act I. But this would ignore one of the points Berg's doubling makes - not that these characters are reincarnated but that the same kind of people exist in respectable bourgeois society as the shadowy world of pimps and prostitutes. And instead of being murdered by these 'dead' clients, Loy has Alwa slit his own throat, and Geschwitz is allowed to live - more neatly symmetrical perhaps, but again missing the point that those who truly care for Lulu are in the end destroyed.

Peter Rose's bravely-exposed jelly-belly Athlete raised most of the scant laughs of the evening - for his appearance rather than his commanding singing I should add. Klaus Florian Vogt's Alwa swam disappointingly in and out of focus, though the climactic second act encounter with Lulu 'on the sofa where your father bled to death' was done to devastating effect.

The orchestra were clearly well prepared for their trials and played cleanly throughout. Thanks to a kindly benefactor I was sitting much closer to the stage than I usually do - close enough in fact to observe Pappano in action. I didn't realise quite how much noise he makes or how much energy he expends, huffing and grunting and scrabbling his paws like a Jack Russell dreaming of rabbits. Whether it's for the orchestra's benefit or his own is not clear. Balance was exemplary and there was some beautiful detailing here and there. But in making the singers' difficult job easier by holding back when he could have been powering forward, an efficient accompaniment too often substituted for real dramatic tension.

My close quarters also permitted me to note that a couple of times a singer who shall remain nameless unselfconsciously sent great volleys of saliva arcing into the pit as he blasted forth. My advice to the horn section - if you think the roof's leaking, don't stick your tongue out to check...

**************  curtain call photos on next page  **************

Nagano dissects Mahler in Paris

Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal - Salle Pleyel, Paris, 28 April 2009

The Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal haven't visited France for a while, which might account for a less than packed-out Salle Pleyel. Indeed the Salle Pleyel were marketing this concert largely on the back of soloist Klaus Florian Vogt's knockout performance in last year's Lohengrin.  But music director Kent Nagano's mission to raise the orchestra's international profile has resulted in a short European tour (the UK is off the list), of which this was the last but one date.

The result was taut and accomplished playing all round, ensemble sharpened by repeated performance. Details positively sparkled in the first two of Debussy's Nocturnes, Nuages and Fêtes.

Tan Dun's Orchestral Theatre 1:O followed. This 1990 composition is far more interesting than the tired oriental cliches he's been peddling recently. The O is for Origin, and the piece recreates a shamanic ritual symphonically with minimalist textures and odd sonorities evocative of traditional Chinese instruments. Col legno strings provide a rattling percussive backbone, and the orchestra sigh, shout and grunt en masse, an effect which provoked a few unsuppressable titters around me. Still, it was hypnotically fascinating, and very well-received.

The Chinese theme was picked up again in the second half with Das Lied von der Erde. The soloists were Christian Gerhaher and Klaus Florian Vogt, two singers I admire hugely, but very different from each other. Gerhaher is one of today's great lieder singers, with a rich colour palette and a fanatically detailed approach to text. Vogt on the other hand is pure sonority, a voice with the abstract qualities of a musical instrument. It was never clear quite what Nagano hoped to achieve from this odd marriage, apart from a clearly-delineated break between songs.

The Tan Dun piece proved a canny entrée, as Nagano's reflective reading underlined the novelty of Mahler's scoring. Carefully nuanced detail was laid out coolly and clearly - no red-blooded romanticism here. But Nagano wasn't afraid of unleashing the full power of the orchestra either, a little to the detriment of the first song, Das Trinklied, where a slightly tired-sounding Klaus Florian Vogt struggled to be heard. Neither this nor Der Trunkene im Frühling were ideally matched to his elevated qualities of luminous clarity and effortlessly exquisite tone. But his Von der Jugend was as near perfect as it gets.

A scarily intense Christian Gerhaher demonstrated the real reason this cycle is usually attemped by an alto rather than a baritone - it's simply too hard and too high. Gerhaher nailed every note perfectly, but it was touch and go, with the effort at the top particularly apparent. But this was another fine performance from him - always attentive to words, his immaculately-crafted phrasing was particularly telling in the lied-like Der Abschied.

It was overall an idiosyncratic reading that split the audience two ways - a minority of ostentatious coughers and fidgeters who dashed for the doors the minute Nagano's baton dropped, and a far greater number of enthusiasts whose applause brought conductor and soloists back to the stage at least six times - I lost count.

 Christian Gerhaher mit Mahler tribute haircut:
 

Klaus Florian Vogt:
 

 

Herheim's Berlin Lohengrin - more photos, more thoughts

Here are a few photos from Die Welt's review of Saturday night's Lohengrin premiere in Berlin (summary - Manuel Brug found the production confused and generally disappointing) and some more Staatsoper rehearsal shots. (Some earlier ones here).

Below those are a whole load more that I took at the curtain call.

The end of the Vorspiel - a silent Elsa (Dorothea Roschmann) appears with a dove projected behind. It flies up and away - a Parsifal reference:

Act I - the workers of the three Berlin opera companies unite:

Lohengrin (Klaus Florian Vogt) appears. Elsa whips off her clothes to reveal, like the rest of the cast, she's wearing a wood-grained body stocking. "I love you" sings Lohengrin before swiftly covering her with his cloak. The chorus shiver jealously: 

Ortrud and Telramund (Michaela Schuster and Gerd Grochowski):

I yam the White Goddess!  Ortrud (MIchaela Schuster) plots her revenge in Act II. A shadowy tree grows behind her:

 

Act II - Richard Wagner lookalikes control human marionettes:

The puppets turn the tables and the sticks become weapons of jeebus. A bit of a Ken Russell moment:

 

The second act sees the chorus all dressed as Richard Wagner. But without pants:

The bridal bed. Elsa is clearly up for it, but Lohengrin keeps going on about the perfumed night, etc. The conflict is subtly drawn:

Elsa regrets her impertinent question but it's too late:

The final curtain - Klaus Florian Vogt and Daniel Barenboim:

 

MORE MORE MORE over the page..................

Lohengrin in Berlin - first night - first report

Lohengrin - Staatsoper Unter den Linden, Berlin, 4 April 2009

Well, it turns out the uber-traditional rehearsal photos were a decoy. Or to be more accurate, they only tell part of the story. Stefan Herheim's new production is as subtly allusive and ultimately impenetrable as the music itself. There are so many ideas there - I'm not sure I even noticed, let alone understood everything - but then I don't know whether I really needed to.

Daniel Barenboim didn't carry out his threat to play the overture twice, though it sounded as if the extra rehearsal might have been useful - the overture was just the first instance of recurrently scrappy playing.

With the first notes, on came the first of the promised string puppets, a near-lifesize Richard Wagner, standing on a tree-stump 'conducting' the orchestra with a giant feather. Was that what really riled Barenboim?

The puppet disappeared, hauled slowly upwards through a giant shower curtain, lit blood-red. I mention all these details because just like the Wagner's musical themes, they reappeared later - the puppets throughout, the feather as Lohengrin's swan, the red curtain as the grail. Even puppet-Wagner's skyward exit was mirrored by Lohengrin's at the very end. The light changed to white, and a flying dove was projected. Parsifal ends, Lohengrin begins.

I'm generally with Barenboim on staged preludes. Usually they're dramatically redundant - servants scrubbing the steps and so on. Distracting and irrelevant. But this one was perfect and vital. Barenboim's complaint on principle alone seems to confirm Herheim's claim about his lack of interest in the staging and his reluctance to change any customary viewpoint. It would be impossible to make the parallel criticism of Herheim, who seemed to have absorbed, digested and reflected the musical themes and underlying structure to an extent I've never seen before in any opera production.

The spat at least underlined the foresight of Herheim's main setting - the Berlin Opera Wars circa 2009. The Saxons and Brabantines are replaced by opera workers, each wielding an alter-ego string puppet. Elsa is one of them, and she literally creates Lohengrin, who appears amongst the modern masses as a medieval knight - or at least a traditional opera producer's idea of one, in swan helmet and silver tights.

The modern characters turn into their traditionally-costumed puppet counterparts - all the chorus are Richard Wagners, Being John Malkovich style. They drop their trousers and everything else to reveal wood-grained body stockings, figleaf critically placed, like Cranach's Adam and Eve, and oddly asexual. There's even a Garden of Eden in the second act, where Elsa offers Ortrud one of the handily-fallen apples.

The marionettes pop up again and again, their cross-stick controls raised here and there like swords, or more often like vampire-repelling crosses. As a shadowy projection of a tree grows behind the scheming Ortrud, we are reminded even more forcibly that Lohengrin is a parable for the victory of Christianity over nature-worshipping heathens.

But the finale, where the new king Gottfried is presented as a puppet Lohengrin shows us that in Brabant, as in the paralysed, self-destructive world of Berlin opera, that nothing ever really changes.

The only part that didn't really work was the first scene of the second act, where Ortrud and Telramund quarrel. Herheim seemed to have run out of ideas here, so we got an interminable argument punctuated by - o noes not again - a chair flung across the stage. Then a drag queen appeared with a live spaniel and water rained down from the flies. No it didn't, but you know what I mean.

The chorus, like the orchestra, seemed under-rehearsed. Too many lapses of ensemble and simple errors. Barenboim clearly managed to communicate what he wanted, though, and tempo and dynamics were superbly judged throughout.

And the individual performances could hardly be bettered.

Klaus Florian Vogt's bearded Viking Lohengrin was a perfect blend of spirituality and belligerence. What always amazes about his voice live - it's something recordings just don't pick up - is its sheer size, almost alarmingly beautiful in so delicate an instrument.

This was Dorothea Roschmann's first Elsa, and in the first act at least, it showed. But she improved, losing vibrato and gaining confidence. Although she never asserted herself quite as strongly as the production concept seemed to demand, at least she sang beautifully, never screeching or grabbing for notes at the top.

Michaela Schuster's panto Ortrud was a little over-the-top for my tastes, but again, it was hard to fault the sound she made. Late sub Kwangchul Youn flagged a little towards the end, but his Heinrich was powerful and authoritative, and I really didn't miss Rene Pape. Gerd Grochowski and Arttu Kataja as Telramund and Herald made less of an impact, but were fine too.

There was not much of the usual Berlin booing. Each act was greeted with massive applause, and at the end there was a standing ovation for Daniel Barenboim and the orchestra. Stefan Herheim was less warmly greeted, but the cheers far outweighed the negatives.

The crowned heads of opera were out in force, and not just the Royal Opera House representatives. Sitting next to Stefan Herheim in the centre of the stalls was the best-dressed man in the house, Rufus Wainwright, wearing black pants with mariachi-style sequinned musical symbols down each leg and (in the 70' heat) sweater and scarf beneath his jacket. I felt positively dowdy in comparison. He bravely stood to applaud Stefan Herheim at the end, the only one who did.

More and hopefully better photos in a few days, but here are a few to be going on with (the one at the top btw is a statue behind the LIndenoper - the bear being the symbol of Berlin. Are the teddies shagging or scrapping? Or is it all - just play?): 

 

New best mates:

Rumblings in Brabant - Klaus Florian Vogt is Berlin's new Lohengrin

From Per-Erik at WagnerOpera.net comes the fabulous almost too-good-to-be-true news that Klaus Florian Vogt will replace Burkhard Fritz as Lohengrin in Stefan Herheim's new production at Berlin's Staatsoper. And I has ticket!

Despite Rene Pape's recent pull-out, this is shaping up to be some production - the world's greatest Wagner conductor , one of the most fascinating, provocative (in a good way) directors around - and now every sane music-lover's favourite Lohengrin. Can't wait!

Royal Opera House Summer Season is on the way

Not long now till the Royal Opera House summer season opens for booking - 25 March for Friends and 28 April for the rest.

The highlight for me is Berg's Lulu, in a new production by Christof Loy, a director for whom drama is never confined to the stage. He famously (allegedly) sacked Tubby Voigt from his Ariadne in 2004, then walked out of his own production - La finta giardiniera - a couple of years later, citing Spinal Tap style "musical differences" with the conductor.

For his Lulu, newbie Agneta Eichenholz takes the title role, but more importantly, Klaus Florian Vogt makes his Covent Garden debut as Alwa. (Which means he'll be hanging around Covent Garden while Lohengrin's on, should either of the scheduled leads catch Netrebkoitis - we can but hope). A welcome return for Michael Volle (Dr Schön / Jack the Ripper) too. Pappano conducts.

Richard Eyre's beautifully coherent and underrated La traviata returns, this time with the cougarific pairing of Renee Fleming and Joseph Calleja in the leads. Will la Renee's unconcealable chemistry with Thomas Hampson (Germont) lend an 'interesting' dimension? Tony Pappano conducts this one too.

The hugely jolly if puddle-deep Leiser and Caurier Il barbiere di Siviglia gets an all-star cast this time round - Simon Keenlyside, Joyce DiDonato, Juan Diego Flórez, with the fabulous Alessandro Corbelli and the great Ferruccio Furlanetto the cream on top. More Pappano.

Bryn Terfel is the main attraction in Jonathan Kent's tourist-friendly Tosca. Marcello Giordani attempts to fill the shoes last worn by Jonas Kaufmann and Deborah Voigt displays her slimmed-down talents. Jacques Lacombe conducts.

I can't get too excited about Un ballo in maschera with Ramón Vargas and Angela Marambio, though I look forward to Anna Christy's ROH debut as Oscar.

The Mariinsky's summer Ring Cycle is also booking - no casting yet announced. I don't know whether that's good or bad news. But given that the company harbours everything from wet-behind-the-ears teens to world-class soloists, we can only hope for the best. Check out the ticket prices carefully before you book - there are very few cheap seats, even in the amphitheatre.

Gambling types may grab a ticket for Rolando Villazón's recital with Tony Pappano on 24 June.  'Mixed form' doesn't begin to describe Rolando's recent performances, but at least with the opportunity to pick and fine-tune his programme, we may see him at his best.

Finally, the Jette Parker Young Artists Summer Concert on 19 July is an opportunity to hear more from the company's walk-on specialists.

No place to stick a swan - Lohengrin in Vienna mit Klaus Florian Vogt

Lohengrin - Wien Staatsoper, 22 and 25 May 2008

There are two sorts of bad Wagner productions - wrong and dumb - and given the choice, I prefer the first. At least they give you something to think about. Vienna's Lohengrin, like Covent Garden's recent Parsifal, falls into the second category. Barrie Kosky has chosen to ignore brain-straining questions like, oh, what it's about, what it says about its composer and the time it was written, and what it might have to say to us. Instead he provides a backdrop of ugly and banal imagery in tarmac black and safety-jacket yellow. In essence it's a decorated concert performance, brought alive only by the most basic stagecraft and the dramatic skills of the singers.

Unnecessary details are added (what's with the omnipresent toy truck ?). Vital elements are omitted (teh swan! where is my swan!?).  Whether your swan is an actual swan or a dead cat on a stick doesn't matter too much, but the important thing is it forms a link between Lohengrin's entrance and his exit, which is also the return (and return to human life) of the true prince, Elsa's brother.

Kosky passes a gigantic yellow chain from chorus hand to hand for the entrance (a 'golden' chain, rite), but for the second appearance he has instead a suspended glass bubble (containing a singularly ugly ET/homunculus creature). Structural repetition is ignored in favour of tired theatrical effects. Sticking a toy swan in the second act's garden pool simply betrays ignorance about the purpose of the imagery.

And here's his most bizarre and pointless touch of all - Elsa is blind. This befuddled far more times than it illuminated. It's sort of fun when she can't see Ortrud and Telramund plotting right in front of her, but there are so many references to seeing things, and so many actions which are responses to what she sees, that it just doesn't make sense. Angela Denoke wisely made as little of it as she possibly could.

Having griped at length, it's an irritating production for sure, but not really an obstructive one. That's the advantage of a producer with no ideas - there's nothing to get in the way of the music.

And eyeball-searing stupidities aside, it really was a fabulous performance, both nights I saw it (yes,I needed moarrr). The one on the 22nd, the first night of this revival (and not uncoincidentally Wagner's birthday) perhaps marginally shaded it, and certainly got a more vociferous audience reaction (I lost count of the curtain calls - ten?)

Peter Schneider conducted with his customary authority and refinement. There were no cheap thrills or overplayed dramatics, just an exemplary balance and pacing. The preludes, played mostly to curtain, were in many respects the highlights of the performances, and not just because the hideous scenery was concealed. Their website claims that this is the best opera orchestra in the world, and it's impossible to disagree when they play like this.

And Klaus Florian Vogt is probably the best Lohengrin in the world. The voice has tremendous heft behind its beautiful tone, and in this very human, down to earth characterisation of Lohengrin, a great deal more variety of colour than might be apparent from the Nagano/Lehnoff version he recorded.

The role of Elsa is not a perfect glove-like fit for Angela Denoke's voice. Her first act intonation was frightening, and the high notes pushed her to the limit. But she has that vital white steel power and purity, and dramatically she didn't put a foot wrong.

Falk Struckmann gave a marvellously detailed performance as Telramund, understanding him as not just a two-dimensional bad guy, but a fundamentally honourable man transformed into the helpless tool of his own wife by his disastrous lust. Every note, every move was considered. Vienna are so lucky to have him - he has the ability to make even the most cretinous of productions appear rational and intelligent for the brief time he's on stage (casts mind back to Covent Garden's recent Parsifal, and his exemplary wooden-armed Amfortas.....)

Janina Baechle's Ortrud was mostly convincing when she shared the stage with Struckmann, but dissolved in a routine library of traffic cop signalling manoeuvres when she was left to her own devices. It's partly her size - while not quite as immobile as certain larger singers, there are some things that physically she just can't manage. She has an attractive velvety voice, but summoning the power to push it out over the orchestra tended to rob it of colour and inflection, so it was all a bit monotone.

Kwangchul Youn's King Heinrich was curiously inconsequential, despite the strength of his voice. It was largely the fault of the production, which placed everyone in modern suits. What was perhaps intended as regal detachment came across as merely businesslike.

The production did Markus Eiche's Herald no favours either. He has a warm and powerful baritone, but the part is dramatically superfluous, and Kosky made no attempt either to integrate it into the action or to make a virtue of its narrative aspect by setting it decisively apart. Like Youn, Eiche was obliged to wander in, sing his bit, and wander off again.

It was the sort of production where you take bets on when the giant spaceship is going to appear. And, yes, the final cliche hove into view above the stage shortly before the end. With anything less than the immaculate musical performance it received, this production would have the audience rolling in aisles, let alone booing. It is greatly to the credit of everyone involved in this current run that the silliness passes by almost unnoticed.

I understand Christian Thielemann has refused to conduct this production. He certainly doesn't need to explain why.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Die tote Stadt in Vienna

Die tote Stadt - Wiener Staatsoper, 2 May 2008
and
Die Korngolds - Jüdisches Museum Wien

To Vienna for Willy Decker's production of Korngold's Die tote Stadt, first seen at the 2004 Salzburg Festival, and shortly to be shipped over to the Royal Opera House in 2009 - amazingly the UK debut for this nearly 90 year old masterpiece.

I prepped myself with an afternoon at the Jewish Museum's Korngolds exhibition, which looks at Erich Korngold's career with a particular emphasis on his father Julius's influence/interference/involvement, hence the plural title. There are photographs, manuscripts and a few artifacts in the museum's tiny rooms (pic left is the Hollywood section), but the music is the real draw. A wide selection is available to listen to, including some fascinating obscurities amongst the better known opera and film music.

The exhibition ends on 18 May, but a catalogue is available (price 22€), in German with English translation. Attached is a 16 track CD, also available separately (12€), which includes this 1952 recording of Elizabeth Schwarzkopf singing Glück das mir verblieb from Die tote Stadt:

Die tote Stadt is centred round an extended dream sequence which makes Paul, obsessed by memories of his dead wife Marie and wanting to believe she has been reincarnated as the dancer Marietta, finally realise that he needs to leave the past behind and move on with his life.

The production is designed around a simple uncluttered set, a room in Paul's house, just walls, chairs and a giant portrait of Marie (actually the blown-up face from John Singer Sargent's portrait of Miss Elsie Palmer, left).

As Paul falls asleep, the back wall disappears to reveal an identical room behind, with another Paul sitting there. Walls and floors slide around drunkenly as the dream progresses, but it's always anchored in the details of reality. This is no escapist fantasy but Paul's critical examination of his daily life through the liberating medium of the dream - psychoanalysis without the couch. The portrait pops up again and again, as does Paul's other precious relic of his wife, the dead Marie's 'braid' - here, presumably for the benefit of the back rows, a huge blonde tranny wig. It's all brilliantly simple - by homing in on a few key images, the fiddly hallucinatory details flash past and momentum is maintained.

Philippe Auguin's Vienna conducting debut hardly set the place alight, but it was solid enough, if rather stodgy, though he did manage some translucency in the densely textured scoring. His big mistake was to misjudge the acoustic. Vienna's shallow pit spreads and magnifies the sound, and he simply allowed the orchestra to play too loud too often, overwhelming every single one of the singers at various points. My own ears were physically hurting through most of the first scene, though I was halfway back, so I can only imagine the musicians were either earplugged or already half-deaf.

Even Klaus Florian Vogt, who normally powers through anything like a drill, struggled to be heard at times. His lyrical and enigmatic Paul anchored the production, unflagging despite his near-constant presence on stage. The tone was unfailingly beautiful, barely shaded - but perhaps a result of the passive characterisation imposed by the production. And if you want to know why most of my Vogt photos are fuzzy, it's because the floor was shaking with the applause at every curtain call he took.

In the triple role of the virtuous Marie, the carefree flapper 'real' Marietta and the monstrous 'dream/nightmare' Marietta, Angela Denoke proved what a wonderful and versatile actress she is. Not to mention fearless and completely lacking in vanity - she spent most of the evening bald, after throwing her blonde wig in Paul's face, a rebuke to his obsession with Marie's braid. Vocally, she had more power than sheer beauty, but this was no disadvantage with Auguin's ear-bending volume. She convinced dramatically and nailed all the notes, which was as much as could be asked of her in the circumstances.

Markus Eiche, Paul's friend Frank, had the smallest voice, and suffered most from the aural assault. He was more audible in his dream-sequence alterego of Fritz the Pierrot - so much so that I wonder if the set for the opening and closing scenes had some sort of sound-absorbing effect that accentuated M.Auguin's heavy metal approach. Janina Baechle's solid Brigitta was yet another impressive performance.

Whether next year's Covent Garden cast slot quite as perfectly into their roles remains to be seen, but with Ingo Metzmacher scheduled to conduct, maybe at least they'll be audible.

This is the Staatsoper's promo video - featuring the previous cast, which included Angela Denoke.

Parsifal in Dresden raises a yawn

Parsifal - Semperoper, Dresden, 21 March 2008

It's hard to imagine any sort of modern production in the gilt-barnacled meringue of Dresden Semperoper, a temple to unfettered retro maximalism. Theo Adam's 1988 Parsifal, here revived for the 99th (whatevs...) time, and faithful pretty much to the letter of Wagner's original directions, seems entirely in keeping with its surroundings.

It's not bad looking considering its age, and there's DDR charm in the slightly crude and creaky set, with its Dr Who plastic rocks and its suspended tree trunks swinging like ribbons across the stage. The chainmail and nightie costumes complement Semper's neo-Renaissance decor - though Parsifal himself is updated with Grizzly Adams leathers, and Kundry gets a Liz Taylor caftan.

With a seasoned cast - no superstars, but better than you'd get on a typical night at Bayreuth these days - and a seasoned conductor, it promised much. The giveaway phrase I should have read more closely was 'Inszenierung - nach Theo Adam'. In other words, no director named. This became painfully obvious within the first few minutes, as I watched the usually estimable Kurt Rydl (Gurnemanz) pairing his frigid posturing with a few stock gesticulations. I'd even doubt if, well-drilled chorus aside, there were any rehearsals either. Anything other than just standing there and belting it out was an option only for the brave.

The nadir came with Klingsor's death, a scene potholed with traps for even the best-planned production. Parsifal is supposed to catch the spear Klingsor has thrown at him when it suddenly comes to a stop over his head. It's usually done with two spears, a lighting trick, and a little sleight of hand. Given the general fidelity of this production to time-worn tradition, I expect that was the intent here, too.

Instead, while Egils Silins (Klingsor) was singing his way up, spear in hand, to the big moment, a second spear suddenly rose up vertically from a trap in front of an alarmed-looking Klaus Florian Vogt (Parsifal), a few feet away. First he shuffled across a bit to conceal it. Then he picked it up and held it aloft. This is still a good few seconds before he's supposed to catch Klingsor's spear. I'm guessing the lights should have done something here, a bit of flashing maybe? So now they were both armed with twin spears. Silins, fully spotlit, now let his spear drop as nonchalantly as possible behind him, as if he was dumping a cig butt in front of a no-litter sign. What a mess.

There was a half-heartedness in the performances, too. Only Katarina Dalayman (Kundry) really gave her all consistently. She was forceful and assured, making up in power and stamina what she lacked in subtlety. But the lack of complexity in her interpretation was ultimately disengaging.

As Gurnemanz, Kurt Rydl's stage-filling presence wasn't quite enough to compensate for the lack of direction and pedestrian accompaniment. He tried hard, but the long narrative passages dragged forever, and he sounded tired and desiccated at the top.

Klaus Florian Vogt's Parsifal was solid, but no more. There were a few focussed and even beautiful moments, but he seemed to be taking it line by line, and failed to bowl me over as he has done on previous occasions. I think anyone who hadn't heard him before would be impressed (he certainly got a big hand at the end). But, based on previous performances, I now (OK, unreasonably) expect him to redefine every role he performs, and that just wasn't the case tonight.

Franz Grundheber's Amfortas wasn't quite imposing enough, but there was a tragic dignity in his world-weary tone and intelligent reading of the lines.

Peter Schneider drew a dull performance from the orchestra, with some scrappy playing here and there. To his credit, he avoided disaster in the trickiest sections (perhaps the only parts fully rehearsed....?), and the singers were handled sensitively, but there was never any sense of unity or structure to his interpretation.

At least the offstage performances were exceptionally well-coordinated, and the choirs singing from the balconies sounded several times more competent than their Paris counterparts did a couple of weeks ago. If only the rest of the performance could have been pulled together to that sort of standard.

The only entirely satisfying experience of the evening came in the interval at the basement bar, where I enjoyed their fabulous open sandwiches, a mountain of dill-sprinkled smoked salmon heaped on the merest gesture of bread - and only 3.50€.

 

No swan required - Lohengrin in concert, in Paris

Lohengrin - Salle Pleyel, Paris, 5 February 2008

Jaap van Zweden / Klaus Florian Vogt / Anne Schwanewilms / Netherlands Radio Choir / Nederlands Radio Filharmonisch Orkest

Wagner is no less popular in Paris than anywhere else, so it was a bit surprising to see a couple of hundred empty seats at this concert performance of Lohengrin. Of course the Nederlands Radio Filharmonisch Orkest is hardly a name to draw a crowd, and it was a wet, wet night.

But the 8pm start (or more accurately, the 12.30am finish) seemed to be the root of most grumbles on the night. Several people left (reluctantly) at the intervals, more (irritatingly) during the quietest parts of the last act, and there was a mad dash for the doors at the end.

The Salle Pleyel is a starchy, institutional-looking cavern with a correspondingly big, boomy acoustic. The empty seats must have accentuated this. The hall is noted for the projection it can bring to even the smallest of ensembles. Stick 200-odd musicians on stage and imagine how that effect is magnified. Not quite surround-sound, but I was in the middle of the stalls and could close my eyes and imagine I was in the centre of an orchestra pit. It made this the perfect venue to experience Lohengrin, which really benefits texturally more from the dense tapestry rather than the filgree web approach.

The Nederlands Radio Filharmonisch may not be the most refined of orchestras, but their energy and enthusiasm go a long way, and they were focussed and attentive towards conductor Jaap von Zweden, a small purposeful-looking man resembling a stray Nibelung.

They tore into the Vorspiel like wild dogs on a rabbit, an indication of what was to come. Shimmeringly radiant strings be damned, brute strength seemed to be the template. Like many in the audience, I was taken aback by the sheer force of their delivery, magnified by Jaap von Zweden's megadecibel Motorhead dynamics. This was one night when I wouldn't have noticed if any mobile phones went off. My neighbours' conversations were completely inaudible beneath the wall of sound. 

But it was a power harnessed with great discipline, not an uncontrolled rampage. He was attentive to the demands of the score, and could turn the volume right down too. Crucially, he controlled the orchestral balance, and never drowned out the singers, even the delicate-voiced Anne Schwanewilms.

The exceptional all-round quality of the singing was the real highlight of this concert though. No Wagnerian elephants bellowing at each other across the vast plains of the stage tonight. Their classic concert positioning in front of the orchestra permitted greater subtlety for one thing.

Klaus Florian Vogt's unusual combination of strength and purity makes him surely the greatest Lohengrin around right now. It's a role he's so familiar with that he was the only one of tonight's cast who performed without a score.

His charismatic performance, unwaveringly direct and honest, flawlessly precise, was simply astounding, and the stadium-sized cheer he got at the end was no surprise. Definitely worth a visit to Vienna for in May.

Anne Schwanewilms gave me some doubts to begin with. It took her a long, long time to settle in and stop pecking cautiously at notes before landing on them. But she has a sweet, silvery innocence to her voice that makes her a delightfully girlish Elsa, even if her diction is not as clear as it might be.

Her deep red velvet frock lent a bit of medieval flavour amongst all the tailcoats, but what was with the 1€ plastic butterfly clip in her hair? Why do so many singers wear these gorgeous, pricy dresses, then go and pluck their hair accessories from the bargain bin at Douglas?

Eike Wilm Schulte and Marianne Cornetti were the bad guys, Telramund and Ortrud, and a very effective couple they made. Physically as well as vocally they were perfectly (mis)matched - I would love to see these two together on stage.

Schulte was a bit shouty, which at times rather obscured otherwise very fine singing. Maybe he thought he needed to throw his voice over the orchestra, but Zweden was in fact hugely considerate of his singers, and I didn't notice any overwhelming orchestral waves.

With her Cruella de Vil dip-dyed hair - blonde at the front, flaming red at the back - and her swirling black velvet cloak, Cornetti looked more sinister than she sounded.

A wide vibrato took a while to settle, but it was her Italianate delivery, unexpected in this part and initially jarring, which proved one of the most inspired and revelatory aspects of her casting. Richly dramatic, powerful yet polished to a dark sheen, it was stunningly effective laid next to Anne Schwanewilms' ethereal lustre.

Ronnie Johansen as King Heinrich and Geert Smits as the Herald proved competent and reliable, if not as dazzling as the rest of the cast. And the Netherlands Radio Choir, all 100-ish of them, provided an incredibly high standard of support all round, with a power to match the orchestra's and an assured, accurate delivery. Presumably they had a five hour road trip straight after the concert; there was a fleet of Dutch coaches with engines running outside the Salle Pleyel when I emerged at half past midnight.

As mentioned earlier, there's a full video recording available here of the same concert as given in Amsterdam a couple of days earlier. It doesn't have the overwhelming visceral force of the live experience that makes me soooooooo glad I got to see the real thing, but at least it gives a good idea of how incredible the singing was.

 

    

Sometimes it's the background that makes the picture.....^ and v .....

Where's the Swan? Free Lohengrin streaming

Where am I today? Here's a clue:

and why? Another clue:

Tonight the Salle Pleyel in Paris presents a concert version of Lohengrin, from Jaap van Zweden and the Netherlands Radio Orchestra, with the fabulous Klaus Florian Vogt as Lohengrin and ginger singer Anne Schwanewilms as Elsa. And I'll be there.

I arranged this a while ago, and had I known an enterprising Dutch broadcaster would record the same concert in Amsterdam on Saturday and stream it for free, I'm not sure I'd have made the trip. Still, it's given me the chance to stock up on stinky cheese and Petit Bateau t-shirts.

Go here to find high quality video streaming of the full opera, audio-only alternative, interviews, libretto, full score, blog, chocolate biscuits, etc. They've really thought of everything. Except a translation - it's all in Dutch, but not too hard to follow.

***UPDATE 6/2*** - a wonderful, amazing, concert in Paris. More with pics to follow tomorrow (must get some sleep now....)

Klaus Florian Vogt goes down well in Munich

Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg - Bayerische Staatsoper, Nationaltheater, Munich, 31 July 2007
(Münchner Opernfestspiele 2007)

This was Klaus Florian Vogt's night. The last time a performance took my breath away the way this one did was - last time I saw Klaus Florian Vogt actually. In Lohengrin at the Met last May he stunned with the choirboy purity of his voice, its simple beauty. Tonight, the voice was rather different - or maybe he'd adapted his performance to suit his role of Stolzing, which is generally a little lower-lying anyway. Whatever, it retains that remarkable clarity, but the innocent, otherworldly air is replaced by a more centred and inflected delivery. The power is incredible - the voice is so clean, but it slices through the orchestra even when he's not pushing it. When he ups the volume it's simply majestic. It wasn't an entirely perfect performance - he slipped out of focus now and again, but he didn't fail on the big arias.

The audience was a mixture of hardened Wagnerites and night-outers but I think everyone could feel how the atmosphere changed when he sang. He got the most enormous ovation at the curtain call - even he was surprised - the whole place shook with the cheering and stamping.

Ending the Munich Opera Festival with Die Meistersinger is a tradition going back many years. Only the one performance is given each year, so there's no opportunity for the cast to refine their technique. The current production was introduced in 2004. It's framed in simple, fairly literal sets. That's budget-simple, not chic-minimalist simple. Curved walls are turned round to become interiors, plain chairs and tables serve as furniture, props are few. It has a plain, timeless quality that should serve this production well for years to come.

Costumes are modern. Well, modern-ish. This production's Nuremberg is a town through which the winds of fashion have not blown since about 1987. Klaus Florian Vogt is given a ghastly winged and lacquered Lady Di blowdry, which thankfully collapses into waves by the last act. It is complemented by some criminal attire - an Alagna-fest of cuban heels, pleated pants, leather jerkin, and bolo tie. Suprisingly, his hawtness is only lightly compromised by these disasters. His Eva, Camilla Nylund, doesn't notice. She's got her own mullet, airhostess suit and Queen Mother shoes to worry about. The Meistersingers escape lightly with a variety of elegant suits, though David (Kevin Conners) must endure a few teenage styles.

On to the music. What can I say? For most it is not Wagner's finest moment, and there are a few longueurs, but the orchestra under Peter Schneider were magnificent and invested the whole five hours with remarkable purpose and energy.

There were no duds amongst the singers either. It must help that this production sets their characterisations very traditionally. A few modern props are introduced - the scoring of Stolzing's first try-out is done on a powerpoint presentation, Beckmesser accompanies himself for his contest song using a sort of portable beatbox round his neck - but these don't stray far from what was originally intended.

Kevin Conners is perhaps a little on the old side to play the apprentice David, but the voice is a perenially youthful one, and he has the physical lightness and dexterity to make the most of his comic moments.

The other great comedy role of the piece is of course Beckmesser. Here the short and stout Eike Wilm Schulte had us even before he opened his mouth with his strutting goggle-eyed physical characterisation. His full sonorous voice was a joy to the ear. His 'bad' singing was superbly nuanced - without missing a note or hamming it up he managed to be as exquisitely awful as the role demanded.

Matti Salminen was back for his third opera in as many nights, this time as Pogner. He did sound a little tired now and then, but generally it was a fine, dignified performance.

Jan-Hendrik Rootering as Sachs disappointed slightly. Sachs is of necessity the still, quiet centre of the piece, around whom the dramas rage. But he's also the motor for change in the community so the part needs a certain vitality. Rootering though went for virtual immobility. With a build that could stop a pig in a corridor, perhaps, like Pavarotti, this was something of a necessity. The vocal performance lacked colour too, though, not to mention reach and power. It wasn't a terrible performance, but next to the other principals, his star inevitably shone less brightly.

Camilla Nylund too lacked impact. Again there was nothing particularly wrong with her performance, but her voice is too shrill to be appealing, and she was frosty and uninvolved.

There are few experiences less pleasant than a long Wagner done badly. But done well, the hours just disappear without you noticing. Today's performance started at 4pm, and when we came out at 10, it was shock to see it was dark. That's how good it was. I practically had to mortgage my ovaries to get the great seat I had tonight, but it was more than worth it.

(More photos here.)

   

KFV 2B MIA :(

I suppose I should be grateful that the Bavarian State Opera actually bother (unlike the Royal Opera House) to announce cast changes on their website a bit sooner than the day before the performance.

But it's disappointing nobody twigged earlier that Klaus Florian Vogt might have trouble following a six hour slog through the Bayreuth Meistersinger this Wednesday with a Fliegende Holländer in Munich the very next day. Not to mention co-ordinating rehearsal times. Quite understandably, he's pulled out of the Munich performance.

I was lucky enough to catch his weirdly fabulous Lohengrin in New York last year (surely the Met debut of the season). So I was looking forward to seeing what he'd make of Der Fliegende Holländer's Erik. But that will have to wait until next February, when he tackles it in Vienna.

At least he's still on the list for Munich's own Meistersinger next week. For now.

KFV reinvents Lohengrin on DVD: