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| Tannhäuser (Peter Seiffert) and dancers in the Venusberg |
Schiller Theater
Hermann, Landgrave of
Thuringia – Kwangchul Youn
Tannhäuser – Peter SeiffertWolfram von Eschenbach – Christian Gerhaher
Walther von der Wogelweide – Peter Soon
Biterolf – Tobias Schabel
Heinrich der Schreiber – Florian Hoffmann
Reinmar von Zweter – Jan Martiník
Elisabeth – Ann Petersen
Venus – Marina Prudenskaya
Young Shepherd – Sónia Grané
Four Pages – Julia Mencke, Regina Köstler-Motz, Antje Bahr-Molitor, Verena Allertz
Sasha Waltz (director,
choreography, designs)
Pia-Maier-Schreier (designs)Bernd Skodzig (costumes)
David Finn (lighting)
Jens Schroth, Jochen Sandig
(dramaturgy)
First, the bad news. Sasha
Waltz’s production – if one can call it that – of Tannhäuser has not improved over the year since it was first
staged. Last time around, I wrote, with undue hesitation, that I ‘could not help but
wonder whether she would have been better engaged simply as choreographer’. The
idea that, because an opera contains a ballet, it might be better staged by a choreographer
is a very odd one. That is not, of course, to say that someone cannot do both,
likewise a film director, or indeed anyone else. However, the mania of some
opera houses to enlist almost anyone but an experienced opera director is odd,
to say the least, and more often than not, misguided. A year ago, I wrote: Insofar
as there is a concept, it seems to be to present some sort of dialogue between
opera house and opera, the designs for the song contest mirroring, subtly
rather than gaudily, aspects of the Schiller Theater: for instance, the seats
and the colour of the wood. Unfortunately, little is done with an idea of not
inconsiderable metatheatrical promise.’ That is to perhaps to have put it
mildly. Now, whether on account of modification, or the loss even of
anticipation, dance – needless to say, far too readily present – seems all the
more invasive. It is all well done on its own terms, and I mean no disrespect
to the dancers, but I found myself wishing they would leave the singers alone.
(Apologies if that makes me sound like an operatic reactionary, but here I
stand…) As so often, attempts to mix the two troupes – Ariadne, anyone? – do not come off happily. It is perfectly clear
who is who, and the singers’ moves inevitably appear for the most part leaden
by comparison. Moreover, we really do not need the end of the first act to be
danced by all concerned; still less, do we need male dancers exaggeratedly to
shape their female partners’ breasts during the Song Contest. It is again more
or less impossible to suppress a smile as Peter Seiffert’s less than balletic
Tannhäuser awkwardly slides down to join the Bacchanale dancers. The Benny Hill shows unintentionally
evoked, at least our hero seems to be having a good time. Seriously though, if
dance and opera are to be combined or indeed placed in context, it needs to be
done with greater thought than this.
The other news, however, is
unambiguously good. If Daniel Barenboim’s conducting and the orchestral playing
did not perhaps quite reach the heights of last year’s superlative performance –
this was, after all, a revival, and more time will have been allocated to Parsifal,
to Boulez,
etc. – then this remained a performance that would have done enormous credit to
any house. (Whether it meshed so well with the dance is another matter, but in
the circumstances, that would have been an impossible dream to chase.) I wrote
in some detail on Barenboim and the Staatskapelle Berlin last year; suffice it to say that, save for Barenboim’s unaccountable favouring
of the Dresden version with Paris Bacchanale, no one would have been
disappointed if he or she closed his eyes. This remains one of the world’s
greatest Wagner orchestras – and, it hardly needs to be said, perhaps the world’s
greatest Wagner conductor. Line never deserted him, but nor did the ‘French’
ear for colour on which I have often had cause to remark. Debussyan and indeed
Boulezian lessons have long been learned and internalised. What we hear is a
Wagner full of possibilities: the Wagner so hated by those who claim to ‘protect’
him from indecent, ‘modern’ influences.
Bar a
certain, perfectly understandable tiredness at the end of the second act, Seiffert
offered a triumphant sung portrayal of Tannhäuser. His sheer volume often
astounded, but that is not to say that his singing was crude. Yet again, we can
only be thankful that there is someone who can sing this cruel role. Ann
Petersen offered a beautifully sung, properly human Elisabeth; we seem, let us
be thankful, to have moved decisively away from the days of the blandly
virginal. Moreover, her way with Wagner's words delved far deeper than anything we
saw on stage. Last year, I wrote: ‘Having heard Christian Gerhaher at Covent
Garden, I feared that every subsequent Wolfram would disappoint. I am not sure
that Peter Mattei’s performance did not prove Gerhaher’s equal.’ This year, I
am not sure that Gerhaher did not even improve upon himself. The sheer beauty
of his voice is something truly to be treasured; so too is the ability to
combine the best of both Lieder and
operatic worlds. Kwangchul Youn’s Landgrave was no match for 2014’s René Pape
in terms of vocal beauty, but his was a thoughtful reading, clearly springing
from the poem. The dramatic commitment of Marina Prudenskaya’s Venus was
undimmed, her lower range especially rich. Once again, the chorus proved the
equal of any starrier participant – well, perhaps with the exception of
Gerhaher. Chorus master, Martin Wright has accomplished his task very well; if
only our director had approached him, let alone Barenboim.
