Evangelist – Kieran Carrel
Jesus – Padraic Rowan
Bass – Joel Allison
Tenor, False Witness – Kangyoon Shine Lee
Petrus, High Priest, Pontifex II – Youngkwang Oh
Pilatus, Judas, Pontifex I – Artur Garbas
Soprano, First Maid – Siobhan Stagg
Alto, False Witness, Second Maid – Annika Schlicht
Girl – Zoé Höchse
Friend – Selina Nüsse
Director – Benedikt von Peter
Revival directors – Eva-Maria Abelein, Matteo Marziano Graziano
Set designs – Natascha von Steiger
Costumes – Lene Schwind
Video – Bert Zander
Lighting – Roland Edrich
Dramaturgy – Dorothea Hartmann
Children’s and Youth Choirs of the Deutsche Oper (director: Christian Lindhorst)
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| Images: Marcus Lieberenz |
Had someone told me I should be attending performances of the two Bach Passions on consecutive evenings, Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, in Leipzig and Berlin, my first reaction might have been of scepticism, followed by reflection that this could not fail to be a Holy Week to remember. And indeed, it has not failed, neither in that nor in any other respect. However, had I then been told that I should find a staged performance in an opera house considerably more involving, not only thought-provoking, than a concert in the Thomaskirche, my reaction might have turned to something a little stronger than scepticism. Yet so it came to pass. I had little idea what to expect, though memories of Deborah Warner’s Messiah for the English National Opera (remember them?) continue to cast a baleful shadow. There might have been common ground, in that the Deutsche Oper’s production claimed to share a concern for ‘community’. Yet whereas, in London, that had been an unfortunate buzzword, here community involvement, not only from five choirs, amateur and professional, but also from a Berlin (and beyond) public that seemed to go beyond the typical, nonetheless broad opera audience, as well as both intelligently considering what community the work might construct and questioning what that might mean in an increasingly secular society.
Benedikt
von Peter’s staging, a co-production with Theater Basel, was first seen in
Berlin last year. Here, in one of its first revival performances, it attracted
a large audience both in the traditional auditorium and in additional seating onstage.
Or perhaps that should be congregation, as we were addressed in the titles; we
were given the music for two chorales to sing too: ‘Was mein Gott will,’ and ‘O
Haupt von Blut und Wunden’. The production is in many ways, especially during
the first part, quite straightforward. That works to its advantage once
critical possibilities are voiced; they are grounded in something that has
arisen, it seems, rather than having arisen from initial antagonism. Its
spatial-conceptual framework would seem to have developed collaboratively from
discussions between the director and conductor Alessandro De Marchi, doubtless
dramaturge Dorothea Hartmann too. The two orchestras are on stage, either side
of the space in which the production plays out. The conductor is at the front
of the stalls, and the choirs are positioned around the auditorium in the shape
of the Cross, an arrangement, we are told, modelled on an expansion of the
separation of forces between altar and ‘swallow’s nest’ gallery. It certainly
helps break boundaries between performers and audience, rendering us all in
some sense congregants—whilst maintaining the possibility of different levels
of engagement according to belief or inclination.
Members
of the Children’s Choir of the Deutsche Oper carry the Cross onstage in the
monumental opening chorus. I have heard it both more and less monumental. This
was not, thank God, a dogmatic performance, De Marchi showing himself
commendably pragmatic: all too much a rarity, alas, in today’s ‘authenticke’
world. If its tempo was fast, at least to my ears, it was not absurdly so; nor
was there whining rigidity. Klemperer’s approach would, after all, neither have
suited the occasion and forces, nor doubtless the conductor’s inclination, any
more than something more objectionable. Once past a little discrepancy between
orchestras – eminently forgivable in the circumstances – one felt drawn in to
the greatest of all (music) dramas: visually, aurally, aesthetically, and yes
observantly. Children act out the Passion, with overtones of Oberammergau, as
it is musically enacted by the adults, the Evangelist in particular assuming
the role of their instructor. Thus we see ‘disciples’ leave a little boy alone,
tied and blindfolded—as indeed we hear that. But I have missed a stage: before
that first chorus, a little girl has read to us from the Book of Isaiah. She
appears to be simply reading a lesson, but becomes an increasingly critical
voice, shouting to the deserting disciples, albeit to no avail. At the close of
the first part, she frees Jesus: out of humanity, not necessarily faith. Indeed,
elements of faith continue to trouble her, unable to reconcile her ethics with
the economy of salvation. Having been freed, Jesus runs off to join the others,
those who had captured him, rather than be comforted by his liberator: a
difficult, hurtful act, rich in symbolism. After all, he must; he has no choice
in any of this. She returns to the Bible, to read, learn, and think though not
necessarily in the way her instructors intend.
In the second part, the girl (Zoé Höchse) returns, ever more ‘troublesome’ to the forces of organised religion. She cannot accept what is happening and is eventually banished by the Evangelist. (There is, I think, more than a dash of Greta Thunberg to her.) So too is her friend, and so too are some of the other children, convinced by the rebels’ arguments and understandably unwilling simply to do as they are told. Disturbingly, having remained separate following his trial, Christus briefly takes part in these expulsions too, but we can find ample Scriptural warrant for that, should we wish. By contrast, some of the ‘remaining’ children are elevated to sung as well as visual participation: a couple of them highly impressive as well as touching. As not only tragedy becomes clear but also its truer theological, sacrificial meaning – that of the Cross in whose form the entire drama unfolds – the children who cannot accept it invade the stage with their own, unresolved questions as placards. Epic theatre meets Christian ritual, and ultimately it us for us to decide (or not). Questioning a Bach Passion may seem odd, indeed unwelcome, to many, and surely it would be in a church. In an opera house, though, things are different. It might well not have worked, but it did.
That was
due in no small part, of course, to Da Marchi and his musical forces. The
Orchestra of the Deutsche Oper played with great style and sensitivity: not
trying to be something they were not, but engaging in a recreation of Bach for
today, without ever suggesting they might prefer to be playing Wagner. Indeed,
in their obbligato roles, one sensed a moment of musical liberation: how
wonderful, it seemed, that for once they could not only play this repertoire,
but engage in music theatre of their own. Likewise the massed choral forces, used
sparingly together, but voicing drama and reflection from around us, evoking a
great basilica as much as Stockhausen. All involved in their direction deserve
credit, pastorally as well as musically, this mirroring work and production in
practice. One can question some of the musical choices, but that will always be
the case in such music; one can still learn from the choices made. I might not
choose to use lutes for the continuo, but I greatly appreciated their
contribution.
Kieran
Carrel proved an excellent Evangelist. It is at the best of times a
considerable task, emotionally as well as vocally; with additional ‘dramatic’
duties, it became all the more so. Carrel’s understanding and communication of
that understanding seemed to gain depth from those challenges, fully engaging
with circumstances and their conceptual framework. The same might be said of
Padraic Rowan’s Christus, darkly beautiful: strangely, properly remote yet also
approachable. The other vocal soloists also all impressed. Battling a cold,
Joel Allison nonetheless offered moving accounts of the bass arias; there were
only a few occasions when one could tell. Tenor Kangyoon Shine Lee proved at
least his match in the tenor arias, finely sculpted line and tone at the
service of the text. Siobhan Stagg, Annika Schlicht complemented each other
well as soprano and mezzo, offering performances both considered and, so it
seemed, dramatically spontaneous. Youngkwang Oh and Artur Garbas impressed
similarly in their parts. There really was no weak link, but rather in a true
sense a musical community that both constructed and was constructed by Bach’s
great Passion and its particular enactment.
