Lohengrin, Oper Leipzig, 18 December 2009

Pictures © Andreas Birkigt

Leipzig Opera House

Herald – Jürgen Kurth
Elsa – Gun-Brit Barkmin
Friedrich von Telramund – Hans-Joachim Ketelsen
King Henry the Fowler – James Moellenhoff
Lohengrin – Stefan Vinke
Ortrud – Gabriele Schnaut
Brabantian Nobles – Tommaso Randazzo, Timothy Fallon, Tomas Möwes, Miklós Sebestyén
Pages – Hitomi Okuzumi, Haike Hauptmann, Cornelia Röser, Claudia Schwarzmann
Gottfried – Lukas Vinke
King’s Trumpeters – Sebastian Taubert, Wilfried Thoß, Alexander Pfeifer, Robert Wintzen

Peter Konwitschny (director)
Wolfgang Bücker (stage rehearsal)
Helmut Brade (designs)
Helmut Brade, Inga von Bredow (costumes)

Leipzig Opera Chorus (chorus master: Sören Eckhoff)
Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra
Ulf Schirmer (conductor)

Peter Konwitschny’s production of Lohengrin has become quite celebrated, but this was the first time I had seen it, whether in the theatre or on DVD. It has many strengths, though there are sections, especially earlier on during the third act, which transfer less well to the schoolroom setting. (A wedding is one thing, but preparations for a wedding night? Laying out of the marital bed is a strange form of sex education for what appears to be a rather old-fashioned kind of establishment, however universal the acclaim for Lohengrin as leader.) Clearly, someone who cavils at the very idea of relocating will immediately object here, but Konwitschny’s production is not one of those translations to a Stevenage multi-storey car park for the sake of it.

Issues of leadership, exclusion, (forbidden) knowledge, and sexual politics can be illuminated by this particular setting – and in many ways are. Lord of the Flies springs to mind more than once in the fickleness of the mob and the way it turns upon Telramund and Ortrud. Helmut Brade’s designs and costumes, the latter in collaboration with Inga von Bredow, successfully evoke both conformity and individual characterisation.

Here, as much as in Stefan Herheim’s superlative Berlin production, any black-and-white sense of ‘rightness’ concerning Lohengrin’s cause is rendered untenable. Lohengrin’s charismatic power is more potent than the traditional, legal forms pertaining to King Henry – it was unclear to me whether he was prefect, master, or something else – but it is inherently unstable. The road to 1933 is one of Konwitschny’s concerns: a thorny issue, to put it mildly, but failing to address it at all leaves the road clear for those who misunderstand or misrepresent. There is something undeniably chilling in this context to hear the words with which Lohengrin introduces Gottfried: ‘Seht da den Herzog von Brabant! Zum Führer sei er euch ernannt!’ However, the appearance of a boy with a machine gun might go too far for some, arguably too far for the parameters of the production. What, after all, is the alternative? Ortrud? There were a good few boos for the production team at the end, though wild enthusiasm was more common.

The production has lighter touches, wittier than one might have expected. Whether or no it actually ‘meant’ anything, I liked Ortrud’s dispatching of the girl organist at the end of the second act, so that she could assume the role for herself. Keen observation of the dynamics between individual members of the chorus heightens dramatic credibility.

The Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra was on excellent form: if not quite so traditional in sound as, say, the state orchestras of Berlin or Dresden, then still recognisably of that ilk, doubtless a consequence of East German shelter from international homogenisation. Gleaming strings from the first act Prelude continued to glow, whilst the third act’s brass fanfares from around the theatre provided a magnificent yet frightening premonition of militarism: excitement, rejoicing, hubris, and calamity. The Leipzig Opera Chorus was equally impressive, solidly prepared by Sören Eckhoff and well directed on stage. Ulf Schirmer’s conducting did not draw attention to itself, yet it was a signal achievement to serve both score and production with no apparent discrepancy. Such could only result from thorough grounding in this challengingly transitional score – how far to ‘music drama’? – and ability to communicate that understanding.

Stefan Vinke, whom I had previously admired in Oper Leipzig’s production of Parsifal, proved an excellent Lohengrin. If Klaus Florian Vogt remains hors concours amongst contemporary exponents, Vinke stands closer to traditional expectations. Initially, I wondered whether he might prove a little too baritonal, but fine command of line and tone put paid to such concerns. I should be keen to hear his Rienzi, another of his Leipzig roles. As Telramund, Hans-Joachim Ketelsen struck the right balance – shifting, as it must – between confidence and insecurity, the latter dramatically rather than technically speaking. Gun-Brit Barkmin, however, was a variable Elsa. Despite occasions when she attained a radiant lyricism, she audibly struggled elsewhere. Moreover, she lacked the purity of tone the role really demands – arguably less of a problem in this production than it would have been in many others. Then there was Gabriele Schnaut, a late replacement for Susan Maclean, who was still due to sing Ortrud for subsequent performances. Schnaut can act, and threw her all into the role, yet her vibrato is now so all-encompassing that pitch was often highly uncertain – or plain wrong. I was disappointed by the King Henry of James Moellenhoff, recently an impressive Hagen at Covent Garden; his voice seemed to have been sapped.

Still, even when singing did not match orchestra and production, it barely detracted from an extremely powerful dramatic experience. Konwitschny’s tenure as direction of productions in Leipzig bids fair to court controversy and acclaim, with good reason for both.

Munich Opera Festival: Das Gehege and Salome, 26 July 2008

Nationaltheater, Munich

Die Frau – Gabriele Schnaut
Der Adler – Steven Barrett

Herod – Wolfgang Schmidt
Herodias – Iris Vermillion
Salome – Angela Denoke
Jochanaan – Alan Held
Narraboth – Wookyung Kim
Ein Page der Herodias – Daniela Sindram
Erster Jude – Ulrich Reß
Zweiter Jude – Kenneth Roberson
Dritter Jude – Tommaso Randazzo
Vierter Jude – Kevin Conners
Fünfter Jude – Alfred Kuhn
Erster Nazarener – Christian Rieger
Zweiter Nazarener – Markus Herzog
Erster Soldat – Steven Humes
Zweiter Soldat – Andreas Kohn
Ein Cappadocier – Rüdiger Trebes
Eine Sklavin – Stephanie Hampl
Engel des Todes – Steven Barrett

William Friedkin (director)
Hans Schavernoch (designs)
Petra Reinhardt (costumes)
Mark Jonathan (lighting)
David Bridel (choreographer)

Bavarian State Orchestra
Kent Nagano (conductor)

And so, ‘Richard Strauss Woche’ concluded with Salome, the first Strauss operatic masterpiece. In 2006, this double-bill with Wolfgang Rihm’s Das Gehege (‘The Enclosure’) had inaugurated Kent Nagano’s music directorship. I thought it a reasonable performance, more so in musical than stage terms, but nowhere near so good as the festival’s superlative Ariadne auf Naxos.

It was certainly interesting to make the acquaintance of Das Gehege. Based upon a story extracted from Botho Strauss, the action runs as follows (I quote from the programme synopsis):

A woman comes out of the darkness. It is night and the woman is alone. She arrives at the zoo. She speaks to the golden eagle in his aviary, takes a knife, frees the bird and admires the eagle’s body. She challenges the eagle to attack her. She mocks it. The more she irritates the eagle, the closer it comes to her. When the woman realises how old and powerless the bird is, she feels superior to it. The eagle pounces on her; she kills it.

The eagle’s is an unspoken part, so this is essentially a Schoenbergian monodrama. Gabriele Schnaut, creator of the role, was certainly more suited to it than she had been to that of Elektra. The vocalism remained flawed but her prowess as a singing actress was generally compensation enough. Nagano and the Bavarian State Orchestra sounded fully at home with Rihm’s language, which, the odd instance of extended instrumental technique notwithstanding, should not frighten away anyone who has come to terms with Berg. The composer can certainly write for orchestra, evincing an almost Henze-like fluency in that respect, replete with reminiscences and evocations of the dance and of the natural world. He also plots a convincing vocal-dramatic line. There are inevitably shades of Erwartung, although I do not think the newer work would come off so well in a straight comparison, for Schoenberg’s score is infinitely more complex. Rihm’s broader brush strokes might well seem a little too obvious – and generalised. William Friedkin’s production emphasised the psychological rather than the political. This seemed something of a missed opportunity, given the original play’s status as something of a commentary upon the fall of the Berlin Wall and reunification. In Germany, an eagle will rarely if ever just be an eagle. The production was unexceptionable on its own terms, although the stage direction itself seemed uninspired and unduly reliant upon Schnaut’s charisma; it is unclear that a concert performance would have been in any sense inferior. As a companion piece for Salome, Rihm’s piece works well enough, although I see no reason why it should be restricted to this role.

Nagano’s reading of Strauss's score lacked the magical delight of his Ariadne. It was an analytical account, bringing certain neglected lines to the fore, but at times a little deficient in dramatic thrust. Still, the orchestra sounded excellent on his terms. I had expected great things of Angela Denoke as Salome. Judging by the audience’s reaction, it believed it had heard them; however, I was less sure. Although she is possessed of a great stage presence and certainly used it on this occasion, there were times when she sounded vocally overwhelmed. I was delighted that she did not merely belt out the part after the all-too-approximate manner of Schnaut as Elektra, yet equally – and perhaps surprisingly – the Marschallin had seemed more suited to her. There was intelligent shading but sometimes a lack not only of power but also of sustained line. Alan Held passed muster as John the Baptist but did little more than that. Wolfgang Schmidt, whom I had last heard as a none-too-successful Siegfried, presented a somewhat caricatured but nevertheless perfectly reasonable Herod. Iris Vermillion sounded a bit out of sorts as his consort, although she certainly looked the part. Daniela Sindram was a truly excellent page to her. As Narraboth, Wookyung Kim wooed with his voice, but seemed a little at sea as an actor. The Jews and Nazarenes were an impressive bunch, both individually and as a whole, although Friedkin seemed to think them more important than they were. His would-be provocateur ‘Angel of Death’, the same actor and costume as the Eagle, was little more than a visual irritant.

Indeed, the greatest failing lay with the production. It sounds all too predictable to say this, but Friedkin seemed constrained by cinematic thinking, unable to accept the suggestive possibilities of the stage. Scene changes were all too frequent and all too pseudo-realistic. The Personenregie seemed almost quaint, reliant upon hammy stock gestures, that is, when it was not merely absent. Despite the partial nudity of Salome from her dance onwards, there was nary a trace of the erotic. For that, one had to turn, sometimes more successfully than others, to the pit. Nagano is on record as saying, quite rightly, that opera is first and foremost musical theatre, but I cannot believe that he meant this should be by default. For an example of theatre truly growing out of the music – and a tremendous musical performance – turn to Ariadne instead.

Munich Opera Festival: Elektra, 25 July 2008

Nationaltheater, Munich

Klytämnestra – Agnes Baltsa
Elektra – Gabriele Schnaut
Chrysothemis – Eva-Maria Westbroek
Aegisth – Reiner Goldberg
Orest – Gerd Grochowski
Der Pfleger des Orest – Steven Humes
Die Vertraute – Anita Berry
Ein junger Diener – Kenneth Roberson
Ein alter Diener – Rüdiger Trebes
Die Schleppträgerin – Elif Aytekin
Die Aufseherin – Yvonne Wiedstruck
Erste Magd – Cynthia Jansen
Zweite Magd –Anaïk Morel
Dritte Magd – Heike Grötzinger
Vierte Magd – Lana Kos
Fünfte Magd – Aga Mikolaj

Herbert Wernicke (director, designs, costumes, lighting)

Chorus of the Bavarian State Opera (Opera (chorus master: Andrés Maspéro)
Bavarian State Orchestra
Johannes Debus (conductor)

The late Herbert Wernicke’s Elektra is a fine production, similar in its colour abstraction to his Tristan und Isolde for Covent Garden. The starkness of its simple yet never simplistic sets and lighting packs a considerable visual and dramatic punch, quite distant from but probably more powerful than the gore and hysteria one might expect in this work. In a programme note, Wernicke commented that in an age of banal soap operas and family dramas, the last thing we required was more of the same. I am not sure that I agree: a quasi-realistic portrayal of the travails of the house of Atreus could readily point the way to something more profound. Regardless of the validity of alternative approaches, this production, hauntingly redolent of and yet alienated from Sophocles, worked very well. A splendid nod to location was presented by the regal red of Klytämnestra’s cloak – all the more remarkable given the monochrome austerity of the set – cut from the same cloth as the Nationaltheater’s stage curtain. This would subsequently be won, in chilling triumph, by Orest. Elektra’s dance, founded more upon her swinging of the axe than upon any other movement, was appropriately unhinged; I was slightly concerned that she might actually let go of the axe and hurl it into the audience.

Johannes Debus is evidently a talented conductor and acquitted himself well in this fearsome score. His approach was often somewhat pictorial: one could hear and almost see the horses’ gallop. If this occasionally detracted from a greater symphonic unity, I should not wish to exaggerate, for the form was generally clear. Debus stressed the music’s Wagnerian inheritance rather than its expressionistic tendencies. I should have preferred more of the latter but again this should not be exaggerated. My only real criticism was a stridency from the brass at its most aggressive: more Solti than Karajan or Böhm, it did not quite fit with the rest of the interpretation. That said, the orchestra sounded excellent on the whole and, one or two minor slips aside, was clearly doing whatever was asked of it. The chorus, brief though its intervention may be, was on magnificent form.

In Eva-Marie Westbroek, Munich boasted an excellent Chrysothemis. She injected, where possible, a haunting beauty to her role. Her lines were impeccably shaped and recognisably part of a greater whole. As her mother, Agnes Baltsa showed that, the occasional, almost irrelevant, vocal frailty aside, she can still command the stage and can make every word, indeed every spitted syllable, count.. She truly looked the part too. Gerd Grochowski was not the most memorable Orest, lacking conquering charisma, but he did nothing especially wrong. Reiner Goldberg was an impressive Aegisth. The problem, sadly, lay with Gabriele Schnaut in the title role. I can only assume, given her ecstatic reception, that the good burghers of Munich had heard a different performance from that at which I had been present. She had her moments, I admit, albeit in a generalised mature-Brünnhilde fashion. Yet, quite apart from the issue of her maturity – she looked and sounded more like Chrysothemis’s mother or even grandmother than her sister – there was simply too much vocal imprecision, whether arising from her omnipresent wobble or from straightforwardly poor tuning and diction. (Contrast her either with Baltsa or with Jeanne-Michèle Charbonnet as Elektra for the Deutsche Oper.) Schnaut clearly threw her all into the role, but it is time that she turned to more appropriate parts. Her performance as Agave in The Bassarids showed that she is perfectly capable of impressing in the right roles; Elektra, however, is no longer one of them.