Haus für Mozart
Fiordiligi – Malin Hartelius
Dorabella – Marie-Claude
Chappius
Despina – Martina Janková
Ferrando – Martin Mitterrutzner
Guglielmo – Luca Pisaroni
Don Alfonso – Gerald Finley
Sven-Erik Bechtolf
(director)
Rolf Glittenberg (set
designs)
Marianne Glittenberg
(costumes)
Jürgen Hofmann (lighting)
Ronny Dietrich (dramaturgy)
Concert Association of the Vienna State Opera Chorus (chorus master: Ernst Raffelsberger)
Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra
Christoph Eschenbach (conductor)
 |
Images © Michael Pöhn
Ferrando (Martin Mitterrutzner), Gerald Finley (Don Alfonso), Guglielmo (Luca Pisaroni) |
I have scrupulously avoided
reviews of the opening night of Salzburg’s new Così fan tutte before writing this review (of the second night:
well, afternoon, the performance beginning at the very odd time of 1 p.m.).
However, news filtered through to me that it was universally execrated –
perhaps an exaggeration, but we shall see – and indeed that Christoph
Eschenbach had been booed. I have never held the highest opinion of newspaper
journalists, though there are many honourable exceptions; ‘some of my best
friends...’ etc. In this case, however, all I can say that either I have been
misinformed, or the second night was entirely different from the first
(possible), or journalists deserve to sink lower still in our imagination.
Whilst this was not the finest Cosi I
have heard, or indeed seen, it was superior to many others, and such a
reaction, especially when apparently universal – which should perhaps always
make one suspicious, were the idea of a Franz Welser-Möst claque not so
inherently ridiculous – seems straightforwardly incomprehensible.
Let us start with the
conductor and orchestra, then. Welser-Möst had made a great song and dance
about withdrawing not only from this production, but the projected Da Ponte
cycle (Don Giovanni next year, Figaro and the cycle as a whole in
2015), allegedly on behalf of the Vienna Philharmonic, yet the claims of unacceptable
rehearsal schedules lose all credibility when any comparison is made with the
typical state of affairs ‘at home’, at the Vienna State Opera. Eschenbach’s
appointment as replacement seemed at the time to me an interesting and indeed
hopeful sign, indicative of Alexander Pereira’s laudable determination, voiced
in a press conference I attended in London, that Mozart should not now fall
victim to what he all too accurately, if all too tragically, termed the ‘Bach
problem’, namely that Mozart should not also fall victim to capture by the ‘authenticke’
brigade and its fellow-travellers. (Having Nikolaus Harnoncourt conduct The Magic Flute last year with the
Concentus musicus Wien may sit oddly with that, but may simply betoken genuine open-mindedness.
Stranger things have happened. Allegedly.) If this were not a performance with
the depth of insight, and indeed of life-long immersion, of the
late Sir Colin Davis, or Karl Böhm (how glorious the years in which
Salzburg effectively designated Così
as his province must have been!), it was far more than efficient. Tempi were
convincingly if not always conventionally chosen; even if there were a few occasions
when pit and stage lost touch – for some reason, a surprisingly common occurrence
in this opera – they were swiftly corrected. Most impressive was Eschenbach’s
sense of chiaroscuro, for which the VPO must also of course share praise. There
was not a single ugly sound – perhaps the critics were longing for some of
Harnoncourt’s ‘abrasiveness’, the most diplomatic term I can offer – but this
was not bland. Lightness of touch did not preclude emotional and, on a few
occasions, sonorous profundity. I had expected Eschenbach that would use a
larger orchestra; the VPO was essentially reduced to a chamber band, yet that
reduction did not entail the clattering of Meissen china. Eschenbach, to my
surprise, opted for a fortepiano continuo. It is strange how conductors – and indeed
pianists – who would never consider using the period instrument for solo work
opt for it as continuo instrument; Riccardo Muti is another example. Quite what
the problem with a modern piano is held to be I am not sure, but Enrico Maria
Cacciari’s playing was alert and stylish, without exhibitionism, much like the
orchestra as a whole.
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| Dorabella (Marie-Claude Chappuis), Fiordiligi (Malin Hartelius), Don Alfonso, Despina (Martina Janková), Guglielmo |
The cast on the whole impressed
too, though there was some unevenness. Gerald Finley though was a masterly and masterful
– for once the oft-confused words both apply here – Don Alfonso, making his
mark through authority and quicksilver response to text and situation, a worthy
successor to Sir
Thomas Allen, whom I heard more than once in that role here in Salzburg.
Luca Pisaroni proved just as distinguished a Guglielmo as he had a Figaro in Claus
Guth’s excellent Salzburg staging. Suavely and darkly attractive of voice
and presence, his attentiveness to the text was every bit the equal of Finley’s,
suggesting the truth of Stanley Sadie’s oft-repeated remark that the presence
of an Italian native speaker in a Mozart cast lifted the general level of
responsiveness to the libretto. Both singers can act too – and did. Martin
Mitterrutzner often sang attractively as Ferrando, but sounded parted by the
role a little too often; whether this were just an off-day, or a more general
problem, I cannot say. He is certainly an eager stage animal. Malin Hartelius
sometimes experienced problems with her coloratura, but by the same token,
there was much to enjoy, and her performance improved as it progressed. Mozart,
the cruellest of musical masters, if the most necessary for vocal (and
instrumental) health and flexibility, of course offers nowhere to hide.
Marie-Claude Chappuis offered proper vocal contrast, attractively despatched in
vocal and stage terms, as Dorabella, and Martina Janková offered a more
musical, less caricatured Despina than most we endure. Choral singing was of a
notably high standard, even though there is not that much of it.
Bechtolf’s staging may not
have been the most radical the work has experienced; I retain fond memories of
Hans Neuenfels’s 2000 Salzburg staging, the first time I saw the work in the
theatre, though sometimes I seem to be the only one who does. But Bechtolf’s
staging makes a strong, rather than lazy, case for setting the work in a
contemporary setting – contemporary, that is, to Mozart and Da Ponte, as – at the
time – it was ‘intended’. It is not set in Naples, but then it is in no sense
whatsoever ‘about’ Naples. Indeed, its siting there was probably a matter of
evading the censor, who may have disapproved of the work’s ‘immorality’ being
set too close to home, as in the alleged ‘true story’ from the Wiener Neustadt –
‘Nea polis’. At any rate, a handsome eighteenth-century setting, with a fine
sense of the cusp between Enlightenment reason and proto-Romantic sensibility,
was not there to flatter audience members who simply wished to sigh at pretty
frocks; it served a dramatic purpose. Sometimes the conflict between those two
opposing, or at least not identical, forces is more convincing than at other
points. The spa/hot-house setting works well, I think, and put me in mind –
though I doubt that this were the intention – of the relationship I have long
pondered between Così and the Treibhaus
of Tristan. However, the drunkenness
of the sisters at the beginning of the second act seems a mistake, exaggerated
for effect, and trespassing upon the music, even if it were ‘only’ recitative. There
is nothing other, though, that I should describe as un-musical, which again
marks a refreshing contrast with many opera stagings, of whatever hue. Don
Alfonso’s drinking of poison at the end is surprising, though again it made me consider
complement and contradiction to Tristan.
Perhaps Bechtolf was suggesting that Così
is not quite so clear-eyed and unflinching with regard to the illusions and delusions
of ‘romantic’ and ‘Romantic’ love, or perhaps he was saying the opposite; at
the very least, it made me think.
