Nationaltheater
Images: Wilfried Hösl |
Minnie – Anja Kampe
Dick Johnson – Brandon
Jovanovich
Jack Rance – John Lundgren
Nick – Kevin Conners
Ashby – Bálint Szabó
Sonora – Tim Kuypers
Tim – Manuel Günther
Sid – Alexander Milev
Bello – Justin Austin
Harry – Galeano Salas
Joe – Freddie De Tomasso
Happy – Christian Rieger
Jim Larkens – Norman Garrett
Billy Jackrabbit – Oleg Davydov
Wowkle – Noa Beinart
Jake Wallace – Sean Michael
Plumb
José Castro – Oğucan Yilmaz
Pony Express Rider – Ulrich Reß
Andreas Dresen (director)
Mathias Fischer-Dieskau (set
designs)
Sabine Greunig (costumes)
Michael Bauer (lighting)
Rainer Karlitschek, Lukas
Leipfinger (dramaturgy)
Bavarian State Opera Chorus
(chorus master: Stellario Fagone)
Bavarian State Orchestra
James Gaffigan (conductor)
Many Puccini cognoscenti will
speak of La fanciulla del West as
Puccini’s finest opera – or at least his most musically interesting. In the
latter case, I think I can hear what they mean, even if I do not agree. I
continue to struggle, with the former claim, although this performance at the
Munich Opera Festival made the most convincing case I have yet heard for the
work. Its virtues were predominantly musical, in keeping with the work’s
general valuation.
Whether in the pit or on stage,
we were in hands far better, far more musical, than ‘safe’. One would have to
travel far and wide to hear superior orchestral playing in Puccini, or indeed
anything else, than from the Bavarian State Orchestra – and even then, one
might well fail. Its lengthy experience in Wagner truly paid off, the composer’s
renewed – not that it ever really vanishes – fascination with Tristan und Isolde there for all to
hear: not just as superficial similarity, but as something more generative. For
that and much else, the incisive, comprehending conducting of James Gaffigan
deserves high praise indeed. Equally apparent here, especially in darker
passages, was the related yet distinct haunting of Pelléas et Mélisande and,
more broadly, Debussy’s music. It was Allemonde above all, though, that seemed
to inspire the (apparent) workings of fate. Gaffigan captured to a tee the ‘American’,
almost Gershwin-like character of the opening bars, proving himself – and the
orchestra – distinguished guides to all of the score’s twists, turns, and
transformations in between.
The principal trio of singers
proved equally distinguished, unquestionably Wagnerian guides to the work’s
course. Anja Kampe was, thank goodness, no goodie-two-shoes Minnie. In a more
flesh-and-blood portrayal than I recall, this was a conflicted woman with, yes,
much good in her, but also a beating heart that could take her to places
unsafe, unwise, maybe even unwarranted. More than once, I was put in mind of
her Kundry (with
Daniel Barenboim, in Dmitri Tcherniakov’s magnificent production). I seem
endlessly to repeat myself when it comes to performances from Brandon
Jovanovich. I am certainly not prepared, however, to vary just for the sake of
variation. His performance as Dick Johnson was everything we have come to
expect from this intelligent, committed artist, as dramatically powerful as it
was verbally acute, as sweet-toned as it was virile. John Lundgren’s Jack Rance
was just as impressive: dark, malign, but also comprehensible, no
cardboard-cut-out villain. From a fine supporting cast, I should single out Tim
Kuypers’s Sonora. I do not think it is just the human agency of the role that
has me do so; Kuypers made one feel there was considerably more to it than
that.
Andreas Dresen’s production of La fanciulla del West premiered in March
this year. (The opera’s first Munich outing, intriguingly, came in 1934, the
city by then well and truly the Hauptstadt
der Bewegung.) It does not do anything especially interesting with the
work, but nor is it unthinkingly ‘traditional’, for want of a better word. A
darker setting – literally, as well as metaphorically – is provided for the
action, perhaps most notably for the first act at the Polka Bar. Mathias
Fischer-Dieskau’s set designs, Sabine Greuning’s costumes, and Michael Bauer’s
lighting are very much part of this. There were times when I wished for
something more probing, more critical, but at least Dresen steers well clear of
the folkloric. For my reservations remain
concerning the work itself, more precisely its dramaturgy, and I cannot help
but wonder whether a director might fruitfully contribute something more here.
Some are doubtless more
important than others. One can get worked up about the racism. It is well-nigh
impossible for a thinking person in 2019 not at least to cringe. But I am not
sure that it especially helps, unless one childishly rejects all art of the
past on the grounds that it is not of the present. Perhaps, though, something
more might be done to address the issue. It certainly is not here – but then,
alas, Puccini tends more than any other opera composer of stature to suffer
from a lack of critical stagings. The somewhat sprawling nature of the first
act perhaps invites greater intervention than we found here.
It is the close, however, that
seems most urgently to invite a more critical stance. If I find the happy
ending unconvincing – Puccini is surely better dealing with tragedy, and that
includes the hollowest of victories in Turandot
– then that must, at least in part, pay tribute to the expectations the
composer has set up and indeed to his playing with them. I wish Dresen had donea
little more with the possibility of undermining that ending. Jack’s fumbling
reach for his gun is at best half-hearted; then the curtain comes down,
separating Minnie and Dick from the rest. Nor do I think the score escapes
charges of sentimentality here. No matter: it is what it is, and perhaps one
day I shall come to appreciate it as many others clearly do. For now, the
magnificently vile sadism of Turandot
will continue to work its magic. Puccini’s wish for a ‘second
Bohème, only stronger, bolder, and
more spacious,’ seems to me unrealised. Fanciulla
is perhaps bolder, if only in aspiration; it is certainly more spacious, if not
to its benefit; it is hardly stronger. There was no doubting, however, the
strength of these musical performances; in many respects, that was enough for
now.