Deutsche Oper, Berlin
Amfortas – Bo Skovhus
Titurel – Tobias Kehrer
Gurnemanz – Hans-Peter König
Parsifal – Stefan Vinke
Kundry – Evelyn Herlitzius
Klingsor – Bastiaan Everink
Knights of the Grail –
Burkhard Ulrich, Andrew Harris
Esquires – Siobhan Stagg,
Christine Sidak, Paul Kaufmann, Alvaro Zambrano
Flowermaidens – Siobhan
Stagg, Martina Welschenbach, Katarina Bradic, Elena Tsallagova, Christina
Sidak, Dana Beth Miller
Voice from Above – Dana Beth
Miller
Philipp Stölzl (director)
Mara Kurotschka (co-director)
Conrad Moritz Reinhardt,
Philipp Stölzl (set designs)
Kathi Maurer (costumes)
Günther Kittler (video)
Ulrich Niepel (lighting)
Philipp Stölzl’s Deutsche
Oper production of Parsifal replaced
Gotz Friedrich’s offering from 1998 last season; I was able, in a feat of
Wagnerian dedication unusual even for me, to see it revived just three days
after Leipzig’s Good Friday staging of the Bühnenweihfestspiel. The opening might have made still
stronger an impression on Good Friday: a depiction of what might be considered
the work’s foundational myth, the Crucifixion, as the first-act Prelude offered
musical and philosophical explanation as to why it might have been necessary –
or, alternatively, why, in Michael Tanner’s analysis, following that of Robert
Raphael, it might be necessary to stop Christ ascending the Cross.
In a sense, Stölzl concurs; in a sense he does not. It might be necessary, but
in the sorry consequences lain out, there is no chance of accomplishing such a
need, whether symbolised by Parsifal or otherwise. What we see is one of the most
accomplished and indeed extreme stagings I have yet witnessed from a school
which, doubtless partially but not entirely unreasonably, understands Monsalvat
as a religious community that has gone horribly, in this case irredeemably,
wrong. In this Hell-on-Earth – is Hell not where Christ Himself sojourned
before rising on Easter morning? – of religious fanaticism, lascivious, Opus
Dei-tinged relish is taken in self-chastisement prior to continual re-enactment
of deicide. Unable to look beyond the tableaux vivants which just about keep
the community alive, its members re-present kitsch, yes, but deadly kitsch. Carl Dahlhaus's observation regarding the action's characterisation by 'inclination towards ritual and tableau' reveals, perhaps obsessively but certainly with conviction, a darker side indeed.
Stölzl’s creation is not
merely anti-Christian, more anti-religious, perhaps with respect both to
organised religion and to transcendence. The Flowermaidens are initially more
geological than blooming, seemingly hewn from the rock of Klingsor’s Tora
Bora-like lair, before their brief moment of colour. Likewise, Kundry’s
burqa-clad appearance – interestingly, quite unsensationalised – makes its
point before her unveiling. All the while, the second act proceedings, perhaps
an Orientalist ‘other’ to the sick ritualism of Monsalvat, are haunted by the
sacrifice of a comely knight who has, perhaps tired of his moribund community,
repeated Amfortas’s temptation and fall. Even when the would-be Crusader Parsifal
is acclaimed, Resurrection never comes. At the moment of what would be healing,
Amfortas impales himself upon the proffered spear: a way out, perhaps, but not
that envisaged either by the Church or by Wagner. Perhaps Stölzl heeds John
Deathridge’s warning of resolution in 'high-minded kitsch'. It is not how we should always
wish to experience the work, and the redemption of redemption, above all in
music, achieved by, Stefan Herheim is unavailable in a staging that pursues one
concept single-mindedly rather than having them dialectically interact as
Wagner himself did. There is room for both.
Axel Kober led the fine
Deutsche Oper Orchestra, which put not a foot wrong, in an honest, sensitive
account, which, if it neither scaled the Boulezian dramatic heights nor plumbed the
Gattian religious depths, told Wagner’s musical story well. Stefan Vinke’s
proved untiring in the title role, though there were times when his vocal
stridency proved a little too much. If the Knights had compared his tone with
the warmth and humanity of Hans-Peter König’s Gurnemanz, they might have
decided to enthrone the latter instead. Evelyn Herlitzius offered a duly
committed performance as Kundry; her vocal wildness might have benefited from taming
earlier in the second act, for there were undeniable passages of questionable
intonation, but her wounded-animal reaction to Parsifal’s rejection offered a
great musico-dramatic experience. Bo Skovhus’s detailed attention towards
music, words, gesture, and their interaction was highly to be commended as
Amfortas. Moreover, Tobias Kehrer made more of a mark than many as a
deep-voiced Titurel. Knights, esquires, and Flowermaidens were of a
consistently high standard, a credit to the company as a whole, likewise the
truly excellent singing from William Spaulding’s chorus, its movement blocked with equal excellence. This was a Parsifal demanding both to be seen and
to be heard.
