MusikTheater an der Wien / Reviews

Punta di diamante di tutta la produzione è il magnifico Cublai di Carlo Lepore, attore smaliziato e disinvolto, cantante dalla voce ampia e solidissima, dal bel timbro scuro e sagomato, perfettamente controllato e piegato all’uso.

Annette, die Gattin des Bürgermeisters war bei Kaitrin Cunningham gut aufgehoben.

Den Komponisten auch szenisch in die Bühne mit einzubeziehen ist eine gängige Idee, wie man es ähnlich auch schon bei den Bayreuther Festspielen von Stefan Herheim oder Barrie Kosky gesehen hat. Indem Günther Groissböck in seiner Doppelrolle als Regisseur der Produktion auch zugleich szenisch den Laborleiter in Form des König Marke verkörpert, ist das Publikum vor die Frage der Identität des zeitgenössischen Musiktheaters gestellt. Denn hat sich König Marke hier sein Leid nicht selbst gewählt, gerade ihm stünde es als Regisseur doch frei, das Experiment zu seinen Gunsten ausfallen zu lassen? Wer außer dem Regisseur sollte dies denn sonst beeinflussen können? Oder ist die Problematik viel tiefgehender, lässt sich wahre Liebe selbst auf der Opernbühne nicht verheimlichen und auch der strengste Spielleiter ist machtlos gegenüber der transzendieren Kraft von Wagners Mythologie? Groissböck beantwortet diese Fragen in seiner Inszenierung nicht und überlässt es seinem Publikum, seine Gedankengänge zu Ende zu führen.

Jenůfa by Leoš Janáček is a remarkable work for a number of reasons. The opera, which premiered in 1904 under its Czech title, Její pastorkyňa (Her Stepdaughter), focuses completely on two women and their complex relationships – both with each other and the social network within which they are entangled. Not only is the storytelling emblematic of the realism/naturalism movement, laying bare the harsh realities of the common folk, but the libretto is notably in plain prose, a first in opera history. In addition, Janáček dispenses with all musical excess: there are no interludes or overtures and few drawn-out arias that do not move the plot relentlessly forward. A complex world and a devastating story of violence, love, infanticide and forgiveness are poignantly laid out in under two hours.

Benjamin Britten's first major opera Peter Grimes reflects the major themes of the composer's life - on the one hand being rooted in his homeland of Suffolk and on the other hand being an outsider as a homosexual at a time when living out these tendencies was still a punishable offense (from the way the Nazis treated gays at the time of its creation in 1944/45 not to mention).

In non-German speaking countries, Carl Maria von Weber’s 1821 opera “Der Freischütz” is a bit of a seltener Vogel. In the past five years, apart from Matthias Hartmann’s memorable production at La Scala in 2017 and Mark Elder’s concert version at the Royal Festival Hall the year before, Anglophone audiences remain largely unexposed to this groundbreaking romantic German opera. The last staging at Covent Garden was 30 years ago. “Der Freischütz” at the Met is almost beyond living memory. Sir Colin Davis was a major proselytizer of the work having made two commercial recordings in 1990 and 2012. But without such a champion, Weber’s spooky Singspiel seems destined to remain unknown to Anglo audiences. Perhaps the lengthy dialogue is tiresome for non-German speakers but it’s inventive musical value is irrefutable. Remaining Faithful The Wiener Staasoper mounted a bizarre production last year by Christian Räth which apart from nearly sizzling Andreas Schager alive, must be the only staging of an opera explicitly about shooting to be entirely bereft of both blunderbusses and bullets. Just a hop, skip and a Sprung down the Linke Wienzeile, the Theater an der Wien recently presented a semi-staged version by Olivier Fredj which was much more faithful to Johann Friedrich Kind’s creepy folk-lore libretto. With limited set-structure, but utilizing period costumes and clever lighting, Anglo/French Fredj adroitly managed to capture the Satanic sorcery of the narrative with plenty of scary images plus hunting rifles which actually fired. The French connection continued with chef d’orchestre Laurence Equilbey and the Paris-based Insula Orchestra and Accentus Choir. With a total running time of just over two hours seven minutes, Equilbey was similar to Leopold Ludwig’s 1968 film version which also cut the Act three Entr’acte and following dialogue. Similarly, Equilbey went straight to Agathe’s melancholy “Ob die Wolke sie verhülle” cavatina. Wolf-Dieter Hauschild’s live recording in 1985 for the reopening of the Semper Oper in Dresden runs slightly longer and re-instates the short jerky orchestral passage. Carlos Kleiber’s definitive 1973 recording for Deutsche Grammophon makes similar restorations. The biggest variable is Johann Friedrich Kind’s lengthy dialogue, which being of sub-Schiller standard, does not really suffer from a visit to Madame La Guillotine. Fine Sturm und Drang Even if “Der Freischütz” in toto is often quarantined in the lands of Hölderlin and Hesse, its Overture is certainly no stranger to international concert halls. Equilbey led her original instrument Insula orchestra with a vivacity comparable to Davis or Janowski but not quite the manic intensity which Rafael Kubelik or Carlos Kleiber brought to the raucous curtain raiser. There was plenty of sturm und drang in the lower strings and the crescendo-diminuendo markings were scrupulously observed. Crisp attack and precise syncopation characterized the tutti passages. First clarinet was especially stellar and bassoon’s almost flatulent injections pithily pungent. The fortissimo conclusion was so fierce it would have frightened the foxes out of the Wolfsschlucht. As if to the böhmisches Herrenhaus born, Equilbey kept the rhythmic pulse taut throughout the performance. Considering the Insula ensemble and its founder are generally associated with early Mozart, the playing was a revelation. The heavy triple time Ländler peasant waltz was strident and stompy. Winds were reliably chirpy with some especially fine solos from first clarinet and flute. For an opera in which hunting predominates, good horns are a pre-requisite and the raspy Insular brass brought real fire and frisson to Weber’s fascinating score. The orchestra made a major contribution to the Wolf’s Glen scene with frenzied string-searing tremoli. There were also some finely controlled rubati such as the rallentando at “lebe wohl” and contrasting tender lyricism in the sentimental passages. The Accentus chorus sang with enthusiasm and gusto, although perhaps a tad more décontracté Boulogne-Billancourt than beer-sodden Böhmen. The four Brautjüngfern were suitably sweet although “Schöner grüner Jungfernkranz!” would have benefited from better diction. “Viktoria! Der Meister soll leben” had plenty of punch as did “Laßt lustig die Hörner erschallen!” The invisible spirits’ eerie “Uhui’s” with screeching winds in the Wolfsschlucht scene were Hitchcock horrifying. The Jägernchor “Was gleicht wohl auf Erden” with its endless “la la la’s” had plenty of macho testosterone although diction was less potent. “Schaut, o schaut!” when it seems Agathe got a bullet in the head as a bridal gift was more precise with correct modulations in dynamics. Getting Spooky “Der Freischütz” has eight singing roles and one spooky spoken part of the Black Hunter Samiel. The sinister soul-snatcher was played by dancer, circus performer, juggler and seemingly Gothic Ninja Clément Dazin who under Fredj’s inspired direction, brought palpably diavolo malignity to the part with assiduous physicality. Max’s taunter Kilian was adequately sung by Anas Séguin who displayed a strong top but not always the clearest intonation. “Schaut der Herr mich an als König” had boyish charm and some strong high E-naturals. Christian Immler was an appropriately omniscient mystic who also boomed the voice of Samiel over spectral amplification in the bullet-forging scene. “Er oder du” could have been Verdi’s Grand Inquisiteur. Bringing hermetic wisdom to determine Max’s fate, “Wer legt auf ihn so strengen Bann?” had dramatic gravitas with a resonant low B-flat. The Sarastro-like “Leicht kann des Frommen Herz” monologue had a Talvela-ish low A-natural and the fortissimo “Wer höb’ den ersten Stein wohl auf?” was redolent of Jim Bakker televangelist hectoring. Bringing Justice Like Don Fernando in “Fidelio,” Prince Ottokar appears in the dénouement to dispense justice and Samuel Hasselhorn brought an imposing stage presence to the role. The young German baritone has a rich, round color to the voice with a particularly strong low register and excellent projection. Hasselhorn’s intonation was generally secure and the low E-natural on “gestehn!” was especially refulgent. Only the semiquaver runs on “So eile, mein Gebiet zu meiden” were not so pristine with the top E-natural fractionally sharp. Obversely, “Nie, nie, empfängst du diese reine Hand!” had Telramund tenacity and the optional top G-natural on “Nein” showed real heldenbariton bravura. There was an impressive softening of color and eloquent phrasing on “ich gehorsam gern” and “wie dich der Greis erfand” was mellifluous. Bass Thorsten Grümbel was a hearty Head Gamekeeper Kuno. As a native German speaker, he easily colloquialised the lengthy spoken narratives, especially in Act one. Having Osmin, Fasolt and Sarastro in his repertoire the deeper tessitura of the role held no terrors although the low A-natural on “Rohr” in the “O, diese Sonne” trio was surprisingly lacking in resonance. Leading the fugal “Er war von je ein Bösewicht!” Grümbel displayed strong vocal authority. Deal With the Devil There is nothing very nice about someone who makes a bargain to sell his soul to the Devil, but on having second thoughts, tries to dupe a chum into taking his place on the Cerberus Express. Bad guys seem to be Russian bass Vladimir Baykov’s speciality, having Klingsor and Gounod’s Méphistophélès also in the repertoire. Whilst his Kaspar was dramatically strong and snarly, intonation and phrasing could have been more accurate as exemplified by the muddied “Nur ein keckes Wagen ist’s” in the Act one trio. “Hier im ird’schen Jammertal” had a snide malignity but was musically unfocused and the top F-naturals pushed. “Schweig, schweig” continued the ranting rancor but with some particularly piercing D-naturals. This time the scale passages were even and low A-naturals solido con forza. The macarto minimums on “Nichts kann vom tiefen Fall dich retten” were full of heinous chutzpah. The repeated “Triumphs” mirror Don Pizzaro’s “Ha! Welch’ ein Augenblick!” with comparable malignity. Sadly Baykov’s final top E-natural on “Fluch dir!” was noticeably tentative and not held for the stipulated 4 beats. The Wolf’s Glen scene was much more successful with a barmy Baykov counting off the numbers as if Beelzebub running a bingo night in Hades. Out of Place Party-girl cousin Ännchen is as out of place in a Bohemian forest as a Cistercian nun would have been in “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Previous interpreters have included Edith Mathis and Rita Streich even though Ännchen’s persona is closer to Zerbinetta than Pamina. Swiss/Belgian lyric soprano Chiara Skerath not only fulfilled the dolcissima requirements but added impressive coloratura fireworks as well. The “Grillen sind mir böse Gäste!” duet with rapid semi-quaver runs was especially graziosa. “Kommt ein schlanker Bursch gegangen” was coquettishly delightful with pristine trills, an immaculate B-natural appoggiatura, exemplary diction and a scintillating vocal line reminiscent of Lisa Otto. The “Einst träumte meiner sel’gen Base” Romanza which Weber added specifically for Johanna Eunicke, displayed Skerath’s multiple word painting skills with a gutsy “Der Geist war” worthy of Leyla Gencer. “Trübe Augen, Liebchen, taugen” had the sparkle of vintage Krug with some scintillating roulades and playful interchange with first viola. A few top B-flats were effortlessly knocked off for good measure. Lost Lovers The role of the gullible young huntsman Max was sung by Finnish tenor Tuomas Katajala. Closer in vocal color to the more lyrical interpreters such as Gedda or Araiza than heavier heldentenors like Hopf or Seiffert, Katajala brought sensitive phrasing and commendable cantilena to the part. This is a very clean, forward placed voice with a tenore di grazia dulcet timbre. “O diese Sonne” sounded like René Kollo in his early Braunschweig days. Katajala is particularly strong in the E-natural to G-sharp range and there was lovely vocalization in the “Sonne” trio. “Durch di Wälder, durch die Auen” was beautifully phrased with consistent rhythmic lilt. Only the fff A-natural on “Gott” was slightly tentative. By contrast, Katajala’s fortissimo sustained G-natural on “Ha” in the Wolfsschlucht scene was as hefty as Hans Hopf. The decision to take the optional low C-natural on “Der Mond verliert von seinem Schein!” instead of the more comfortable higher G-natural was probably unwise. “Doch hast du auch vergeben” in the “Wie, was?” trio had a limpid Tamino-ish cantilena which was repeated in the touching “Herr, unwert bin ich Eurer Gnade” passage. Weber’s Agathe is hardly the most interesting role ever written for soprano. Even though she survives a painting falling on her head, then a bullet through the bridal wreath, the character remains a bit of a milquetoast maiden in an embryonic Elsa kind of way. From a musical point of view, it is a role which presents formidable vocal challenges and has attracted such major spintos as Janowitz, Behrens and even the incomparable Birgit Nilsson. Way back in the 1950’s Elisabeth Grümmer was the yardstick but young South African soprano Johanni van Oostrum raises the bar even higher, especially in terms of dramatic credibility. She was certainly much more impressive than Camilla Nyland at the Staatsoper last year. From the first rich creamy vocal palate in the duet with Ännchen, it was clear that van Oostrum was Königin der Jagd. A perfectly placed A-natural on “ahnungsvolle” could have been Irmgard Seefried in her prime. “Wie nahte mir der Schlummer” displayed a sensual mid-voice timbre and excellent breath control with dazzling F-sharp, G-natural and G-sharp fermate on “schöne”, “neu” and “Himmel” and a splendid pianissimo on “Zu dir wende Ich die Hände”. “Nachtigall und Grille” had the lightness of one of Max’s golden eagle’s feathers. The exhilarating “Süß entzückt entgegen ihm” motif was delivered with Janowitz precision but van Oostrum exuberance reaching a booming Brünnhilde B-natural on “entgegen”. The octave drop on “Dort in der Schreckensschlucht?” could have been Ortrud in high dudgeon. “Und ob die Wolke sie verhülle” was enhanced by a gorgeous cello obbligato and van Oostrum again displayed her velvety vocal colour, impeccable breath control and elegant phrasing. Fabulous floaty top A-flat fermate and downward scale passages on “aller” and “meiner” was Grümmer reincarnated. Another wonderful A-natural came in the closing scene when Agathe extols “O Max!” Bulls-eye for van Oostrum. Except for Kaspar who probably mutates into a very unfriendly ghost, “Der Freischütz” ends happily ever after. Johann Friedrich Kind’s final chorus proclaims “whoever is pure of heart and guiltless of life may, childlike, trust in the gentleness of the Father” which should warm the cockles of the hearts of any evangelist, TV or otherwise. It is surprising megachurch countries haven’t taken to “Der Freischütz” more enthusiastically. In the United States, the NRA would be an obvious sponsor.

Pro doplnění je třeba ještě zmínit čtvrtou roli pro kontratenor a to „důvěrníka“ Cleopatry, Nirena. Role není velká, ale i tak mohl ukrajinský kontratenorista Konstantin Derri prokázat své kvality.

Ray Chenez tire habilement son épingle du jeu en Sorcière d’Endor moins inquiétante que ravissante.

Von der „Jenufa“ zu „L'Orfeo“, das ist ein gewaltiger Schritt vierhundert Jahre zurück in der Operngeschichte. Das Theater an der Wien lud zu einer konzertanten Aufführung mit dem Ensemble Europa Galante unter Fabo Biondi und mit Ian Bostridge in der Titelpartie.

Die Musik des rund einstündigen Werks, vom Wiener KammerOrchester unter der Leitung von Michael Zlabinger bravourös interpretiert, erinnert an Alban Berg: Die Instrumentalstimmen werden sparsam, aber sehr pointiert eingesetzt; Möwen rufen, das Meer rauscht und das "Gerichts"-Horn ertönt. Die Streicher sorgen für Krimi-Effekt. Auf der Bühne stehen drei Männer, die sowohl die Leuchtturmwächter als auch die Schiffsoffiziere verkörpern.

With its ghostly anti-hero, obsessive heroine and a plot littered with Freudian symbols, The Flying Dutchman is the ripest of Wagner’s early operas for a psychological deep dive. He may not show us a ship, a spinning wheel, or a portrait, but that is what Olivier Py does in this intellectual, brilliantly conceived, and occasionally baffling 2015 staging for Theater an der Wien. Py is working from Wagner’s 1841 Paris version. Senta’s father becomes Donald, her lover is called Georg, and crucially there is no “redemption” motif at the end of the overture or at the conclusion of the drama. His vision is supported by Marc Minkowski’s highly charged account of the score played by his excellent original instrument band Les Musiciens du Louvre. It’s a cracking reading with brilliantly incisive strings, lithe woodwind and not a bum note in sight from the brass. Py draws parallels between a theatre (Wagner’s natural domain) and a ship (not his natural domain), with sailors who resemble stagehands and a physical representation of the Dutchman’s nemesis Satan, here shown at the top of the show making up as an actor (although played by a dancer). At other points, Senta chalks “Erlösung” (Redemption) on the rear wall, the Spinning Chorus is sung by a women’s glee club and a naked girl cringes beneath a bed at the approach of the predatory Dutchman. Played out in stylish black and white on Pierre-André Weitz’s ingenious, frequently revolving set, actors and set elements come and go to sometimes dizzying effect. There’s a dreamlike quality to the action – something only has to be mentioned and it magically appears. The graveyard that springs up at the Dutchman’s feet, the waves that appear at the end, the skull and skeletons, are all theatrical coups. It’s sometimes brain-taxing, yet never less than theatrically engaging and dramatically compelling. As the Dutchman, Samuel Youn sings with incisive power and great attention to text. Ingela Brimberg’s Senta is viscerally felt with thrilling top notes, if occasionally strident, while Bernard Richter’s warm-toned tenor is spot on as Georg. Lars Woldt’s grasping bully of a Donald raises a nasty misogynist flag about the world in which his daughter is bartered and sold. François Roussillon’s astute video direction manages to focus the action without losing the appropriate sense of scale. Sound – especially orchestral detail – is excitingly meticulous.

Hingegen versprühte seine Bühnenpartnerin Giulia Semenzato mit jedem Ton, der ihre Kehle verließ, eine unwiderstehliche Mischung aus Liebreiz und List. Sie verlieh der Rolle mit karamelligem Timbre und technischer Souveränität neue Facetten und lief ihrem Figaro dabei mühelos den Rang als Hausintrigant ab.