Intermezzo

the other Lohengrin

Lohengrin - National Theatre Munich, 25 July 2010

There were two Lohengrins in Bavaria on Sunday. I was at the other one. I had time to take in only the first act of the new Bayreuth one (sounded pretty good) on the radio before setting off for another look at Munich's version. I didn't care much for the production itself last year. Richard Jones's silly lego house and class conflict twaddle was if anything even more irritating second time round. It can't help the performers when the audience are tittering away at inappropriate moments, but when Lohengrin arrives with a nodding swan tucked under his arm, or kills Telramund with a wave of his arm, what can you expect?

Not another election - Die Meistersinger in Zurich

Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg - Opernhaus Zürich, 8 May 2010

A good opera production should acknowledge the period of the work's setting, the composer's own times, and the modern day - or so the maxim goes. It seems for this 2003 production Nikolaus Lehnhoff took the advice literally. So his first act is set in a jerkin-riddled Nuremberg that Dürer might recognise, the second in a misty Victorian dreamscape and the last as a contemporary village pageant.

a basting for Christian Thielemann's seasonal chunks

Munich Philharmonic / Christian Thielemann / Robert Dean Smith - Gasteig Munich, 31 December 2009

Leonard Bernstein said "burn it", Riccardo Muti refuses to conduct there, Mariss Jansons is campaigning for its replacement. Surprising as it may seem, there's a music venue with worse looks than the Barbican and worse sound than the Royal Festival Hall - Munich's municipal monstrosity the ghastly Gasteig and its orange clam of a concert hall, the Philharmonie.

It's the home of the Munich Philharmonic, whose New Year's Eve concert started at the early hour of 5pm to allow time for the the traditional fun and fireworks later. Christian Thielemann seemed keenest of all to get out and play with his sparklers and marzipan pigs - racing on and off the platform and visibly impatient with applause.

Thielemann's reputation led to high expectations for the all-Wagner first half, immediately dashed by the opening Lohengrin first act prelude. I can't recall when I last heard a professional orchestra play so badly. To be fair on the majority of the musicians, problems were mostly confined to a few violinists. But that hovering billow of strings, so sensitive to the least error, exposed inexcusable inconsistencies in dynamics, intonation and phrasing. Had there been any rehearsals? Some simply seemed incapable of sustaining a pianissimo; it wobbled out of its misery to a tremulous, jazz-pitched halt.

The rest wasn't quite that bad, but the assorted bits of Lohengrin, Die Walküre and Die Meistersinger never really came to life, Thielemann's undoubted dramatic sensitivity never on display. Not bleeding chunks, just bloody offal.

Ben Heppner was the originally-announced soloist, but it was hardly a surprise to learn that once again illness had snatched him from the stage, a switch made in time for the programmes to include full details of his replacement Robert Dean Smith. Smith may not be a charismatic or characterful singer, but he's musically intelligent and his technique is sound. He wobbled bravely through Lohengrin's Gralserzählung, a cruel start to any singer's evening with its punishing tessitura. Siegmund's first act monologue from Die Walküre and Walther's Preislied from Die Meistersinger were an improvement, but only the touching encore, Rienzi's prayer Allmächtger Vater, demonstrated real engagement with the text.

The second half was so much better it could have been a different orchestra. And perhaps it was - there seemed to be fewer on the platform. Had the offending fiddlers been taken behind the stables and shot?

In any case, Mendelssohn's Hebrides Overture just swept me away, as if everything that was missing from the Wagner had been bottled up and unleashed. Wagner didn't care to admit Mendelssohn's influence on his music, but Thielemann lays it bare. It was an exhilarating journey, easily the greatest Mendelssohn performance I've heard all this anniversary year. Interestingly, the only other really good one was also German, from Daniel Barenboim and his chamber buddies in Berlin. Is it only in England that the criticisms of Mendelssohn as sentimental, superficial and reactionary are taken as a performance blueprint?

The two outer movements of the Italian Symphony were just as powerful, though Thielemann sometimes struggled to keep the boisterous orchestra on a tight enough leash to illuminate the dynamic contrasts. But the reflective second and third bowed under the weight of Wagnerisms, more ponderous than pensive.
  
 


 New year celebrations in Munich:
 
  

Tristan, Isolde and Vladimir

London Philharmonic Orchestra / Jurowski - Royal Festival Hall, 13 December 2008

As Glyndebourne's house band, the LPO have played a fair few Tristan und Isoldes, no doubt one factor tonight in their polished concert performance of the second act.

The other factor was Vladimir Jurowski, who buffs their sound to a sheen few others can achieve. Not just well-rehearsed, it was well-planned too. The offstage horns at the start were perfectly integrated, and Brangäne's distant warning to the secret lovers, delivered from the choir stalls, sounded truly faraway. But the flipside of forethought is caution. I could admire Jurowski's lucid phrasing and transparent textures. As in the Adagio from Mahler's Tenth which opened the evening, there were moments I heard things that had never struck me before.

But it was too delicately nuanced for any telling dramatic effect, not to mention curiously amorphous overall, the narrative arch sacrificed in favour of the pointed detail. Contrasts were underplayed, and, in the sterile acoustics of the Royal Festival Hall, much left me cold. As an exploration of erotic abandon, it had the nagging undercurrent of a gynecological exam. The foundations are there, but though I always will Jurowski to impress, it's not yet a great interpretation.

The most moving moments of the night came from Laszlo Polgar as King Marke. Despite (or perhaps because of) a bad cold that gave him a few cracking issues, his Tatest Du's wirklich? had real pathos, his bottomless bass hollow with the dignified resignation of a man already dead inside.

Sarah Connolly's Brangäne - her first Wagner role ever, I think - was a great success, too. Concern and worldly wisdom blended in her rich and surprisingly powerful voice. But the Ikea duvet cover dress was not a flattering choice. Stephen Gadd, doubling up as Melot and Kurwenal, also gave a strong if brief performance. 

As for Tristan and Isolde themselves, there are probably no singers around today who can fill the roles entirely satisfactorily.

Robert Dean Smith has on his side a lyrical voice and buckets of stamina. He also knows the role backwards. He never strained or shouted. But there was minimal characterisation -  he sang the part rather than playing it. I'd also prefer to hear a heftier voice in this role.

Anja Kampe has all the makings of a good Isolde. She tends to excessive vibrato, but her voice has strength and warmth and projects well. She also looks the part, and I know from previous exposure what a great actress she is. But at the moment she doesn't seem to know quite who Isolde is. Either that or she was too busy concentrating on getting the basics right (both she and Sarah Connolly used scores) to characterise her interpretation to her fullest ability. She tackles the role in full for the first time at Glyndebourne next summer, so there's plenty of time to work it out.

The Royal Festival Hall certainly knows how to fill a Saturday night; after the concert it was downstairs for more music, this time the London Sinfonietta's 40th birthday celebrations (recorded live for Radio 3 and available for the next few days here). It's a tiring life.