Léirmheasanna Táirgeadh san am atá caite
3Zum Auftakt schwere Kost: Das Stadttheater zeigt Benjamin Brittens Kammeroper »The rape of Lucretia«. Es geht um Macht und Missbrauch, um die Herrschaft des Mannes über die Frau. Um jeden Preis. Die Oper ist zurück. Mit Kraft und Seele, mit Herz und Verstand. Der Pandemie zum Trotz wird wieder musiziert im Stadttheater. Doch auf dem Programm steht nichts Heiteres, Sinnentspannendes in heiklen Zeiten. Auf dem Programm steht ein Drama, eine Dystopie im Zeichen der Realität: die 1946 uraufgeführte Kammeroper »The rape of Lucretia« (Die Vergewaltigung der Lucretia) von Benjamin Britten. Sie handelt von Macht und Missbrauch, von der Herrschaft des Mannes über die Frau. Blut wird fließen. Regisseur Christian von Götz legt sein Kammerspiel auf zwei Ebenen an. Er kreiert vor dem eisernen Vorhang eine Mär als Therapieansatz und nutzt dafür die beiden Erzählerfiguren: den weiblichen und den männlichen Chor (ausdrucksstark: Sopranistin Anna Gabler und Tenor Bernhard Berchtold). Die Frau leidet unter einem Trauma, ihr Freund will ihr helfen, es zu überwinden. Die beiden schildern sich die Lucretia-Geschichte, greifen in die Handlung ein und manipulieren sie, ehe am Ende die Frau jene Lucretia in den Selbstmorddolch stößt und ihr Freund seine Erlöserpredigt anstimmt. Offenbar steht der Mensch seit Jahrtausenden am Abgrund. Zuvor hebt sich der eiserne Vorhang. Drei versoffene römische Generäle zerreißen sich im Feldlager das Maul über die mangelnde Treue der Frauen, während sie es nacheinander mit einer Professionellen treiben. General Junius behauptet: »Alle Frauen sind Huren.« Folglich sind alle Männer Vergewaltiger, teilen die Erzähler später mit. Diese Aussage hat das aus Männern bestehende Regie-Team ersonnen, damit ja keiner ohne Schuld davonkommt. Und natürlich gilt: »Wir sind Lucretia.« Die Details machen das Bild. Am Ende gibt es dafür am Premierensamstag vom Publikum langen Applaus für alle Beteiligten. Regisseur von Götz setzt auf stringente Personenführung und morbiden Humor, wenn er Junius mit Sonnenbrille und Blindenstock ausstaffiert. Er kann nichts sehen, wirft aber Pfeile auf eine Dartscheibe. In der nächsten Szene am Pissoir ist neuerlich Treffsicherheit gefragt. Tarquinius muss schließlich kotzen. Das Bild hellt sich, als die Drehbühne das Schlafzimmer der schwangeren Lucretia freigibt. Hier scheint die Welt in Ordnung. Doch hinter der Fassade mit Blumenschmuck und gespenstisch großem Bettlaken lauert das Grauen in Gestalt des Schänders Tarquinius. Im Original-Libretto ist Lucretia keineswegs guter Hoffnung. Von Götz vergrößert damit die Fallhöhe seiner Figur, wenn sie nach dem Missbrauch auch noch eine Fehlgeburt erleidet. Das Philharmonische Orchester Gießen spielt unter der Leitung seines Generalmusikdirektors Florian Ludwig. Suggestiv wirkt der farbige Sound der 14-köpfigen Besetzung, konzentriert und stilsicher. Die Harfe bezirzt, die Querflöten schmeicheln, das Englischhorn glänzt im Solo. Typisch Britten: Auch in seiner ersten Kammeroper landet er einen Hit. Das »Good night« am Schluss des ersten Akts strahlt in sensitiver Schönheit. Das Ambiente besticht ebenso. Die schwarz-weißen Räume von Ausstatter Lukas Noll atmen etwas Klaustrophobisches, die schlichten Kostüme verfehlen ihre Wirkung nicht. Die wenigen Farbtupfer erzeugen Stimmungen, auch und gerade dann, wenn die Charaktere über Dinge sinnieren, die in dieser Inszenierung nicht vorkommen - etwa über die Arbeit am Spinnrad, obwohl auf der Bühne gerade eine Babypuppe gewickelt wird. Statt »Regina« die »Lucretia« Eigentlich war die Sängerriege in der letzten Spielzeit für Lortzings »Regina« verpflichtet, die dann wegen der bundesweit hohen Inzidenzzahlen ins Wasser fiel. Da niemand wusste, wie sich Corona weiterentwickelt und die Proben für die erste Oper der neuen Saison vor der Sommerpause begannen, nahm das Theater ein Kammerspiel ins Visier. Das Personal der »Regina« entpuppt sich bei der »Lucretia« als Glücksfall. Alle singen auf hohem Niveau. Grga Peroš gibt den Tarquinius mit Inbrunst. Der Hausbariton hat stimmlich zugelegt. Christian Tschelebiew verleiht General Collatinus Format, Kay Stiefermann dem Junius. Altistin Evelyn Krahe in der Titelpartie ist der Star des Abends. Schon lange hat keine Frauenstimme mehr im Großen Haus derart abgründige Tiefen ausgelotet. Anna Magdalena Rauer (Dienerin Lucia) verfügt über brillante Momente, Sofia Pavone (Amme Bianca) steht ihr in nichts nach. Das herausragende Ensemble krönt eine vielschichtige Oper, die niemand verpassen sollte. Solange es noch geht.
War reigns between Romans and Greeks and between the sexes. Benjamin Britten's chamber opera The Rape of Lucretia, which premiered in 1946, begins in Gießen with an army camp scene soaked in testosterone and alcohol, where all women are considered whores. Later we read that all men are rapists and that we are all Lucretia. In the end, however, Christian love domesticates archaic violence. The stage staff is reduced to four female and four male male singers - two of whom represent the ancient choir. The orchestra is an ensemble of soloists. Christian von Götz' stages the post-war work plausibly and impressively as a therapeutic event: the figure of the Female Chorus (Anna Gabler) negotiates a trauma with the Male Chorus (Bernhard Berchtold), and Lucretia (Evelyn Krahe) has to die so that the figure of the Female Chorus can live on. For the question of why Lucretia dies, although no one doubts her virtue even after her rape, he finds the solution of a pregnancy - not intended by Britten - and its bloody end through rape. Lukas Noll's stage design consists of variations of Lucretia's bedroom, with black Art Nouveau ornaments on white walls. The strict color scheme is rarely broken. There is no escape from this room, the place of rape is a murky everywhere. The army camp is also located there, a small (green) tent marks the outdoor situation. Under the direction of Florian Ludwig, the cast of the Giessen Philharmonic Orchestra, reduced to 14 musicians, delivers an impressive design work. Britten's music always knows more than the characters on stage, is dramatically wide awake and differentiated, accompanies, pointedly and interprets the action with clear impulses and movement patterns, quotes - approvingly or ironically - role models and is transparently omnipresent. The small body of sound in the pit stays in close contact with the action with dynamic sensitivity and precise tempo. The vocal parts are excellently cast, the ensemble plays and sings at an extremely competent and haunting level. Anna Gabler's expressive emotionality and Bernhard Berchtold's clearly commenting tenor steer the action and the audience's attention. Evelyn Krahe gives her versatile alto voice warm, melancholic, later pale colors of hysterical intensity. The fact that Britten wants to interpret the Roman Republic myth as the prehistory of reconciling Christianity makes the staging plausible in the character of the rapist Tarquinius (Grga Peroš) with a hyper-virile, expressive baritone. In an impressively static scene, he looks at the object of his desire as an ancient combination of Minotaur and Medusa: the god of terror demands his sacrifice. But sacrifice will conquer him. Sometime. The fight goes on.
A little over four years ago we witnessed a fascinating performance of Carlo Coccia's Caterina di Guisa by I Virtuosi ambulanti at the Komödienhaus Wilhelmsbad in Hanau. The members of the Camerata Mainzer Virtuosi sat in the cramped orchestra pit, a total of only five strings and ten wind instruments, plus a harpist. I remembered that when I read the announcement of the Stadttheater Giessen for its production of Zaira: "The orchestration by Herbert Gietzen, which was specially created for Giessen, guarantees a sound pattern that does justice to Bellini's style". Gietzen, composer and arranger, explains his concept as follows: "My musical approach is not only practical [corona sends greetings], but also historically justified: a few decades before the premiere of Zaira, the secco recitatives - as for the most part in my arrangement - yes, accompanied by piano plus solo cello”. And so we find thirteen musicians in the Giessen orchestra pit alongside the conductor: in addition to a "string quartet" consisting of two violins, violoncello and double bass, there are oboe (English horn ad lib.), flute, clarinet, horn, bassoon and percussion and, as a "joker", piano, Harmonium and harp involved. This works, but gives the sound a rhythmic hardness and reaches its limits in the choir and ensemble scenes. The fact that Bellini's fifth opera was a failure when it premiered on May 16, 1829 in the newly opened Teatro Ducale in Parma (today's Teatro Regio) is well known, even if it has not been fully clarified. The dramaturg Samuel C. Zinsli accompanying this production has written an informative and entertaining contribution in the program booklet. One of these complex attempts at analysis is certainly the remark made by the librettist Felice Romani in his “Foreword by the Author”, in which he criticizes his own weaknesses in his work (style, unnecessary repetitions) and then summarily states that “poetry and music in were written in less than a month". Bellini reacted to this failure in his career by adopting essential building blocks and melodies in his next opera. His latest work, I Capuleti ei Montecchi, saw the light of the stage less than a year later and was an immediate success. The mostly only partially "parodied" pieces include Corasmino's Cavatina, Zaira's Cavatina and Cabaletta, the duet Zaira/Nerestano (all in the 1st act); Nerestano's Rondo and Cabaletta, Zaira's Aria and Cabaletta (all in Act II). Bellini himself summed up this procedure in the words: "Zaira has been avenged by I Capuleti ei Montecchi." The source for Romani's libretto was Voltaire's five-act tragedy Zaire, written in 1732, which was to become the basis for a total of 13 operas, the best-known of which, alongside Bellini's failure, is perhaps Mercadante's melodrama tragico of the same name from 1831 with a largely identical libretto by Felice Romani. Excerpts from this could be heard in concert form in 2006 in Gelsenkirchen's Musiktheater im Revier. Romani also emphasizes in his "Proemio dell'autore" that - despite the generic term tragedia lirica - Zaira is not a tragedy but a melodrama. He also set aside the display of philosophical themes current at the time of the writing of Voltaire's Zaire in favor of the language of passion. How much this piece meant to the French Enlightener - he called it "the only tender tragedy that I have written" - became visible in Giessen through the successful repeated appearance of the aging Voltaire as a puppet (Francesco Rescio), whose original texts were recited from the off, whose translation projected onto curtains clarified the plot background. The fact that this performance was also a feast for the eyes was due to the magnificent stage design by Lukas Noll, who is also responsible for the stylish, magnificent costumes (including golden brocade fabrics). Supported by video technology and enhanced with mirror effects, oriental patterns and pointed arches as well as colorful ornaments dominate the sultan's palace, which is occupied on two levels with a multitude of small chambers nested into each other (from Corasmino's office to the prison). The dramatic final scene, introduced by a beautiful oboe solo, is all the more gripping when, on an empty, completely dark stage, the protagonists, accompanied by cones of light, almost statically evoke the tragic end in a quintet. Director Dominik Wilgenbus decided to that Orosmane did not take his own life after the murder of his beloved, but – deviating from the libretto text – had to live with this guilt – perhaps a worse fate!? So he ended up sitting there like a heap of misery, with Zaira's wedding dress in his hands. This theater of images and the solo arias, duets and tableaus tell us the story and emotional surges surrounding this ultimately failed love between the Muslim Sultan Orosmane and his Christian slave Zaira at the time of the Crusades. A more moving and precise character guidance isn't really missing, and one doesn't mind the now and then blatantly presented ramp singing, when the vocal performances are as impressive as they are this evening. The title role, which was extremely demanding in terms of length and tessitura, was sung by Naroa Intxausti, who has already been heard in Giessen as the enchanting Linda di Chamounix. Safe in coloratura, she offered an excellent performance overall, even if a certain sharpness could not be overheard in the high notes. Leonardo Ferrando (Corasmino) shone in his high-lying tenor role as vizier and intriguing advisor to the Sultan from the start: in his entrance aria (with a brilliant final acuto) as well as in his coloratura duet with Sultan Orosmane. In this role as a liberal-tolerant Muslim ruler, the wonderfully powerful bass-baritone Marcell Bakonyi convinced with flexible voice leading. A real discovery for me was the mezzo-soprano Na'ama Goldman, enthusiastically celebrated by the audience, as Zaira's brother and supposed lover, with warm-sounding depths as well as dramatic outbursts in the high notes. The only historically tangible figure in the dramatic event is Lusignano – Guy de Lusignan, the former Christian king of Jerusalem who died in 1194 – impressively performed by bassist Kouta Räsänen. Zaira's Christian slave friend and critical admonisher Fatima convincingly sang and played Sofia Pavone, and other supporting roles included Kornel Maciejowski as the French knight Castiglione and Josua Bernbeck as Meledor, the Sultan's official. Both are members of the choir rehearsed by Jan Hoffmann, who sang magnificently and powerfully with his 14 singers. His appearance in Scene 3 of Act 2, one of Bellini's finest choral melodies (originally composed for Bianca e Fernando and then used again in Norma), was a feast for the ears. Jan Hoffmann was also a prudent conductor of this small cast in the orchestra pit and provided the Belcante-esque tonal magic of the Bellini melodies. The fiasco of the premiere of Zaira had direct consequences insofar as after the scheduled subsequent performances only performances took place in Florence in 1836. 140 years later there was the first modern revival in Catania, which was followed by further productions there (1990) as well as in Gelsenkirchen (2006), Montpellier (2009) and Martina Franca (2016). After this brilliant performance at the Stadttheater Giessen, another pearl in his chain of bel canto rarities, it is to be hoped that this older sister of I Capuleti ei Montecchi will soon enrich the repertoire of other stages, also because of her subject matter.
