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| Captain (Wolfgang-Ablinger Speerhacke) and Wozzeck (Leigh Melrose) Images: Belinda Lawley |
Royal Festival
Hall
Drum Major – Brandon Jovanovich
Marie – Gun-Brit Barkmin
Andres – Mauro Peter
Captain – Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke
Doctor – Lars Woldt
Margret – Irène Friedli
Apprentices – Pavel Daniluk, Cheyne Davidson
The Fool – Martin Zysset
Soldier – Tae-Jin Park
Marie’s Son – Laura Missuray
The greatest opera of the
twentieth century? Without a shadow of a doubt, which is strange, given a
century overflowing with operatic masterpieces. I have never been to a
performance of Wozzeck that has not
left me reeling, even when miserably conducted by Antonio Pappano; this visit
from the Zurich Opera, giving its new production in concert, was no exception.
It was, despite the indisposition of the anticipated Christian Gerhaher as
Wozzeck, at least as strongly cast as any I have heard, and benefited not only
from excellent playing from the Philharmonia Zurich but, of course, its
presence on stage rather than in the pit.
One reservation, which I shall
get out of the way first: the conducting of Fabio Luisi. Luisi’s career is a
mystery to me. I heard him once, as a short-notice stand-in for Christoph von
Dohnányi, give a truly excellent performance of Schubert’s ‘Great’ C major
Symphony; such success has never in my experience been repeated. (Perhaps it
was Dohnányi’s performance the orchestra was really giving?) Otherwise, it has
been workmanlike performances without exception. I suppose it takes some degree
of skill to have the audience in no doubt where every bar line falls, but Luisi’s
bar-to-bar approach and seeming inability to go beyond a purely literalist
communication of the notes on the page are really not enough for Wozzeck, not enough indeed for any
score.
That the orchestra’s playing
was of such a consistently high standard throughout, from cultivated
chamber-like playing to shattering climax (d-Moll!) offered considerable
compensation, not least because in such a concert setting, one appreciated Berg’s
closed forms and their astonishing musical invention all the more. That Wozzeck is, amongst so many other
things, as great a musical
masterpiece as Pierrot lunaire has
never, in my ‘live’ experience as opposed to studying the score and recordings at
home, been quite so utterly apparent. Indeed, I could not help but wonder
whether Stravinsky might just as readily have chosen Berg’s score as the ‘solar
plexus of twentieth-century music’. Nevertheless, it remained a pity not to
have a more imaginative, probing conductor, who could have turned the
musico-dramatic screws, or even shown some appreciation of what and where they
were.
The loss of Gerhaher turned out
to be no loss at all. Indeed, although I was certainly curious to hear what a
voice of such beauty would have made of the role, I cannot believe that the
dramatic achievement of Leigh Melrose’s portrayal could possibly have been
superseded. Melrose’s Wozzeck in English remains unforgettable, like much else
from ENO’s brilliant Carrie Cracknell production. Here, he showed that, in the
original language, his match of verbal and musical acuity with first-class acting
– yes, although this was a ‘concert’ performance, much of what we saw as well as heard was in character – could,
if anything, penetrate still deeper. Much nonsense has been spoken, probably
more often written, about Fischer-Dieskau’s allegedly too ‘intellectual’
assumption of the role. One needs a mind to be able to understand and to
communicate the darkest, most profound reaches of Berg’s – and of Wozzeck’s.
This Wozzeck was as thoughtful and as sensitive as he was downtrodden and,
ultimately, angered. Melrose’s appearance in Francesconi’s Quartett at the Linbury Theatre
also remains lodged in the memory; quite why Covent Garden does not offer him a
role on the main stage is a mystery to me.
Wozzeck’s final confrontation
with Marie was not the least of the moments when tears involuntarily came to my
eyes. (Inevitably, the final scene was the most gut-wrenching of all.) Gun-Brit
Barkmin offered an equally fine portrayal of her role. Her Chrysothemis in
Semyon Bychkov’s Proms Elektra last
year gave British audiences an inviting taste of her artistry. This
all-enveloping performance, from siren (anticipations, not least in the Louise
Brooks ‘look’, of Lulu?) to terrified, guilt-wracked victim, unabashed
sensuality and genuine maternal protectiveness in complex coexistence and
conflict, lived both in the moment and in Berg’s astonishing depth of character
development.
The cabaret-duo of Wolfgang Ablinger-Speerhacke’s Captain and Lars Woldt’s Doctor, high camp never at the expense of solid musical values, was at least as fine as any I have seen. They really should have their own ‘spin-off’ work. Brandon Jovanovich offered a Drum Major as repellent and yet as alluring in his masculinity as any I can recall too; the sheer power of his vocal delivery had all quake before him. Every member of the cast contributed to a greater whole; here, the advantages of having rehearsed and performed on stage prior to performance were abundantly clear. Last but not least, I must mention the astonishing heft and clarity of the choral performance, again doubtless benefiting from not being dispersed around the stage. Echoes of Weber, turned horribly sour, can rarely have been so disturbingly apparent.
