Psychological thriller - Ernst Krenek Karl V, Bayerisches Staatsoper

Ernst Krenek's Karl V op 73 at the Bayerisches Staatsoper, with Bo Skovhus, conducted by Erik Nielsen, in a performance that reveals the genius of Krenek's masterpiece. Contemporary with Schreker's Die Gezeichneten, Schoenberg's Moses und Aron, Berg's Lulu, and Hindemith's Mathis der Maler, Krenek's Karl V is a metaphysical drama, exploring psychological territory with the possibilities opened by new musical form. Its descendants include Dusapin,BeatFurrer  and Ferneyhough. This opera and, indeed, most of Krenek's work before he left his roots, confronts the anguish of a world in chaos : the certainties of the Old Order replaced by unprecedented and often dangerous change.  After the end of the First World War, Austria was no longer part of an Empire, and Austrians, like Krenek, had to reconsider their place in the world.  Please also see my piece on Krenek's song cycle Reisebuch aus den österreichischen Alpen, where the composer assesses Lieder at a time when the Nazis were just coming to power.  Krenek's opera isn't an examination of the past but a commentary on his own times, and is still prescient in our own.

Krenek's Karl V is based on the last hours of the life of Charles V, Hapsburg King of Spain and the Americas, Holy Roman Emperor and conqueror of the Turks: the first multi -national world empire, which easily surpassed in scale the original Roman Empire.  It prospered through war and political intrigued, fuelled by the brutal exploitation of other empires across the world.  Yet., after a long and eventful reigh, Charles V has abdicated, of his own will, and retreated to the monastery San Jerónimo de Yuste. Yet he can find no peace.  Instead, he faces the greatest challenge of his life : how will he face his conscience before God ?

Krenek's Karl V isn't realistic narrative, but an ethical and philosophical exploration, with words and music. Structurally the opera operates on multiple levels and multiple dimensions, constantly moving back and forwards in time. Since Karl V predates Berg's Lulu by several years, Krenek could have invented opera as cinema. Certainly he, like Berg, was interested in modern art, modern ideas and the movies.  Just as in film, orchestral music  occurs mainly at critical junctures where voices are stilled, such as the beginning of the final act. Though Krenek uses dodecaphonic form, Karl V connects to devotional practice which would have been familiar to the devout.   Krenek also employs Sprechstimme throughout to emphasize philosophic ideas. Singing, in the normal sense, would distract, and normal speech would be too mundane.  Eventually your ears adjust and the Sprechstimme becomes effortlessly natural.

In his sanctuary, Charles hears the voice of God himself, calling him to account.  Thus Skovhus is costumed, in this Fura dels Baus productioned directed by Carlus Padrissa, costumes by Lita Cabellut, Skovhus is dressed not as a monarch but as a juggler whose cap has pointed horns on his head, like  a crown seen askew.  Before God, no mortal is mighty.Audiences   who insist that Karl should be dressed as a king just won't get that, but that's their loss. In Krenek's libretto (which he wrote himself), images of Time and Destiny recur : thus the images of clocks, globes, glass (strong but breakable) that inform the staging.  The opening sequence is astonishing -  the  acrobats and dancers that are La Fura dels Baus's forte, emerge from the darkness, moving, twisting and re-forming.  There is purpose behind this, almost impossible to achieve with quite the panache we saw here. This represents Titian's painting The Last Judgement, which Charles V treasured.  What could be more appropriate for Charles's own Judgement ?  If some modern audiences don't like cultural or intellectual references, maybe Art is beyond them. Or God, for that matter.  Significantly, Krenek mentions the painting in the libretto : it is the cohesive image that pulls everything together.

With his confessor Juan de Rega (Janus Torp) beside him, he examines his conscience through a series of vignettes, symbolized by key figures in his past.  His mother Juana (Okka von Dammerau) appears.  Though Juana was Queen of Castile and Aragon, she became insane : so much for wealth and power. Charles relives an event where he's given an apple, within which there is a worm : an allegory if ever there was one. Charles re-encounters Martin Luther (Michael Krauss) who defied the Pope.  The Reformation that followed was the beginning of the end for the Holy Roman Empire, and indeed of Hapsburg hegemony in the Netherlands and German-speaking countries.  Yet Charles did not condemn. In the opera, he refuses to desecrate Luther’s tomb.  Will this act of decency balance the damage ?  Charles is surrounded by enemies : from within the Church, from France and from the Turks.  His sister Elenore (Gun Brit-Barkmin) appears.  He arranged a dynastic marriage for her with Francis I  (Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke) of France, but it brought her sorrow, not happiness. It didn't bring peace, either. Francis made an alliance with Suleiman and the Turks against Austria. That, too, is on Charles's conscience, though Elenore later hints at another more secretive trauma : while in France, Charles had some kind ofvsexual encounter.  Since Charles had been devoted to his wife Isabella (Anne Schwanewilms) and esteemed chastity, that sin might have weighed more heavily on Charles than on other men, like the less moral Francis.  Charles responds tenderly to his vision of Isabella, but she's long dead, caged in a frame that suggests a skeleton. Pizarro ( Kevin Connors) returns with plunder from the Americas. Charles knows this gold was won by bloodshed. Could he have changed anything ? Another dilemma : wealth or guilt.  Finally, Charles cracks and has a seizure and the First Part is brought to an abrupt end.

In the Second Part, Charles lies in "The Vale of Tears", ie a coma, drifting ever further from reality.  Now Krenek's orchestration proves its value, commenting without words. Mysteriously beautiful, searching sounds suggest that, while Charles V's body is in a comatose state, his soul is traversing the universe : the spirit of religious music in modern abstraction.  All his life, Charles dedicated himself to the service of the Church but even that's imploding around him.  What hope has Charles of beating the Turks when he can't count on fellow Catholics? Treachery and intrigue everywhere, Moritz of Saxony, Charles's protégé, betrays him by leading  Protestant insurrection. Even on his deathbed, Charles is taunted by his supposed friend Francesco Borgia (Scott MacAllister).  Only Eleanor offers mercy.  Charles was vilified because few understood his motivations, which were ultimately altruistic. "I did not want to make the State a new tin God", he says, "True unity lies in a belief in the Eternal. Everything earthly is an elusive bond".  Does Charles, with his ideas of unity and fairness, live in a bygone age ?  But Krenek also adds the phrase "or maybe he lives 400 years in the future". The German choruses chant "We don't want to be citizens of the world!"   A Turkish astrologer sees a star disintegrate. "A good omen" chuckles the Sultan (Peter Lobert). "The people of Europe are free, and they will use this freedom to fight among themselves even more brutally."  The Three Ghosts (and the Three Clocks) appear as Charles's mind starts to disintegrate. Has he faced his conscience? Would he have been in any position to change what happened ?   Things might not have worked out but at least his intentions were good, and to that, he was true.

Though this new production might seem controversial, it is a lot closer to Krenek than the Bregenz production conducted by Lothar Koenigs and directed by Uwe Eric Laufenberg production with Dietrich Henschel, available on DVD.  Bo Skovhus is superb in the title role, expressing both the anguish and dignity in the role, carrying off the Sprechstimme with aplomb. The other roles are supportive, though critical.  Anne Schawnenwilms will draw international audiences. But Okka Van Dammerung  and Gun-Brit Barkmin are rising stars of their generation, well worth listening out for, both very impressive here.  Wolfgang Albinger-Sperrhacke shows why he's one of the great character tenors of our time, creating a Francis at one neurotic and majestic.In these times a more apocalyptic approach is valid. Thank goodness Krenek isn't still alive to see the world fall apart all over again !  And la Fura dels Baus make Titian come alive in all his swirling baroque glory, laced with menace.

Please read my other posts on Krenek, use the label below.

Brain-free Smetana Die Verkaufte Braut - Bayerische Staatsoper

Bedřich Smetana Die verkaufte Braut (the Bartered Bride) livestreamed by the Bayerische Staatsoper.   German language versions of this opera have been around for over 100 years, andd some have been very good indeed.  So no reason to dismiss this on language grounds.  With a strong cast headed by Pavol Breslik, Günther Groissböck, Selene Zanetti and Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke this should have been a treat !  Deprived of real music during the Christmas-New Year season, I was so looking forward to this.  The singing was fine, especially the principals, and Tomáš Hanus is a good conductor.  But this was disappointing because of the production, directed by David Bösch.  This is the sort of vision-free mishmash that happens with the new fashion for performance that doesn't make us listen or think.  But it would give pleasure to those who take delight in knocking all productions on principle, without really engaging with what a production might have to say about the music. So we end up with the worst of worlds, a production that doesn't stimulate thought but reinforces non-thought. 
Nothing wrong with setting the scene in an industrial farm : that's the premise behind the opera, that people can be sold and bred like animals.  Those who think in such terms have ugly minds, so if the set was prettied up, it would only weaken the drama.  The key, I think, is to take the cue from the music - listen to that Overture ! Of course Smetana uses speech patterns and roughly "folk" allusion, but what makes the music work with the drama is its energy and vigour.  Farmers grow crops, they live in tune with Nature or they don't survive. Fertility means renewal : people get married to propagate.  Marie's love for Hans is natural genetic selection.  Hans, an outsider, represents hybrid vigour, while Wenzel's probably inbred.   Love and fidelity do matter, but   no smart farmer can ignore practical things. Hans turns out to be rich after all.  And fertility, in humans, means sex. hence the thrusting, spiky rhythms in the music and its bouncy liveliness.  Making the erotic elements in the opera more explicit would not bea mistake  , even if modern audiences aren't grown enough anymore to deal with it.  A really strong orchestral performance can create the right atmsphere. Hanus is good enough but wasn't really on fire.  I enjoyed listening to the main singers - Breslik's naturally sexy, Groissböck a born actor and Ablinger-Sperrhacke one of the finest character singers in the business.   But something is wrong when you get distracted by the live pig snuffling about in the background, presumably gobbling treats hidden in the clutter on stage.  Or maybe that's a metaphor for fashionable taste. 

The Undead ! Janáček Aus dem Totenhaus, Bayerische Staatsoper

all photos : © Wilfried Hösl

 Leoš Janáček From the House of the Dead, (Aus dem Totenhaus) from the Bayerisches Staatsoper, Munich,. Unlike Frank Castorf’s Ring for Bayreuth, whose import escaped me,  here he keeps much tighter forcus on the opera itself, with strong results.  The staging reflects the music remarkably well  and the visual details amplify meaning.  Janáček's opera isn't "realistic". The prisoners are trapped in claustrophobc dystopia. Their minds take flight when they're given a chance to stage an entertanment. Nothing is logical. Gorjančikov, the politcal prisoner, is presumably most dangerous to the regime, yet suddenly he's freed, and the Major falls over himself to pretend the beatings didn't matter. When things are upside down, naturalism takes second place to artistic expression.  Janáček's  music is astonishingly innovative, especially in this new performing edition by John Tyrell. The story begins and ends with Gorjančikov, who's middle class and intellectual : he doesn't belong and doesn't do much.

 The strongest characterizations are given to the other prisoners, nobodies whose tales are told in a series of vignettes that seem to unfold in parallel. Gorjančikov, leaves, but perhaps the others remain eternally in limbo, their stories repeated by thousands of others.  Years before Berg created Lulu  Janáček is writing an opera that moves like cinema, where things operate on simultaneous levels and time frames. Bear this in mind regardiung the set design (Aleksandar Denić) comprised of enclosed spaces, like the prison itself, which allow changes of focus.  That's why there's a caneraman wandering among the crowd. What he's filming is shown close up on a large screen behind the main action.  

Castorf’s focus on meaning emphasizes the Eagle, the "Tsar of the Forest" brought wounded into the gulag and set free at the end.  As a device, it's rather too obvious, but blame Dostoyevsky, not Janáček or Castorf.  Some productions treat the Eagle as the symbol it is, but Castorf and the  dramaturgist develop it as a fully fledged character on its own terms. They use a dancer,  garbed in brightly coloured exotic feathers, at once an object of fantasy and a real personality.  To complicate matters,the Eagle seems to be played by the same woman (Evgeniya Sotnikova) who sings Aljeja and the Prostitute and plays Akulka, the woman Luka loved and Šiškov murdered.  This might seem confusing but is in fact consistent with several underlying themes in the opera, so we'd do well to pay attention.   The prison is all-male. a reversal of the natural order.  The strage play the prisoners put on for entertainment unleashes dark memories : women are brutalized because they're thought unfaithful. Women have no status other than as projections of male insecurity.  They're all prostitutes,  even if they're innocent virgins.  This is a perceptive insight into Janáček and his relationships with women.  He felt imprisoned by Zdenka, and liberated by Kamila Stösslová, the modern "new" woman who made her own rules. (Please see my article Janáček's  Dangerous Women from 2010.

So the conflation between The Eagle and the female presences (not all of them actual roles)  in this opera makes sense. It al;so makes sense then that Gorjančikov wants to take Aljeja under his wing not just from idealism but because he's as beautiful as a girl, and pure.  In an age when we know about sexual abuse and sexual bullying in prisons, the idea that Gorjančikov should grope Aljeja should come as no surprise. Quite possibly Gorjančikov isn't a nice guy even if he's a prisoner.  There were some less effective moments like the screens with text,  the Spanish monolgue, and skeleton costumes that suggested the Mexican Day of the Dead. This opera is plenty enough macabre without needing camp.  But the emphasis on tattoos worked fine: all these people carry stories and tattoos are often the literature of the dispossessed   And there's a chicken coop on stage,   a reference to the hens in Cunning Little Vixen. 

Veteran Peter Rose made a fine Gorjančikov, and Evgeniya Sotnikova desrevs special praise for her efforts above and beyond the usual range of Aljeja. Aleš Briscein always impresses so his Luka (Filka) was very good.  Bo Skovhus was a very good Šiškov.  Charles Workman was Skuratov, and the supporting cast and chorus solid. A word of praise for Simone Young, the conductor.  She's generally been more reliable than inspired but here she was passionately on message, shaping Janáček's craggy angulars while also letting the quieter melodies fly.

Mad Scientist Oberon ? Weber, Bayerische Staatsoper

Carl Maria von Weber Oberon the King of the Elves at the Bayerisches Staatsoper, Munich.  With its bizarre mix of Shakespeare, the supernatural, medievalism and exotic settings, Oberon is almost impossible to stage. The secret, perhaps, is to recognize that realism in opera is really only very recent. Modern audiences don't realize that "tradition" in opera is not tradition at all.  Literalism didn't exist before TV and movies.  Real "tradition" meant painted flats, improbable devices and stylized non-realism.  Oberon is a work of the imagination, so  it needs a staging that stimulates the mind.

Shakespeare depicted Oberon as arch-manipulator, a being who controls everyone around him by playing manipulative games. Nothing sweet and cuddly about this fairy!  He is a creature of  the night, and of the subconscious, not a Disney cartoon.  This Munich production (Nikolaus Habjan, director)  uses puppet figures, behind which some of the singers sing.  Fanciful, yes, but a nod to the real traditions of theatre. Oberon is as much Singspiele as opera, and connects to other forms of music theatre popular in the early 19th century, where puppets were often employed.   The puppets here are so ingenious that they might at first seem confusing, but after a few minutes, you enter into the vibe.  Even more inventive is that Oberon himself is depicted as a giant puppet, dwarfing the singer, Julian Prégardien.  Like the Wizard of Oz, another masterpiece of fantasy,  Oberon is all front: the person behind the mask is an ordinary-looking nobody (who happens to sing rather well).  Who's manipulating whom?  Oberon and his Queen, Titania (Alyona Abramowa), are depicted much in the way that scientists in science fiction movies are seen, studying sub-species, detached from ethics or morality.  How true! As long as someone wears thick glasses and a lab coat, they "must" be right, huh?   Though odd at first, the concept is utterly valid.

Like mad scientists, Oberon and Titania don't do human emotion, so they play around with  mortals who do. In a bizarre conflation of fantasy and history, the plot switches to the Court of Charlemagne, where the Knight Sir Huon (Brendan Gunnell) is sent on a mission to the Sultan of Baghdad.  Two great empires, the Franks and the "Turks", as alien  to each other as Elves and mortals, but such contac6s did happen, though Huon of Bordeaux existed only in fiction.  The Sultan's daughter, Rezia (Annette Dasch), lives in fantasy too, dreaming of an ideal lover she's never met.  Huon fits the bill, and the pair fall instantly in love. A delusion, if ever there was one. They have to escape or be killed.

Again, perceptive casting.  Dasch is statuesque, a diva as extravagant as is her music, which swoops between the top of the scale and the lower depths. Formidable in every way, yet also over the top and histrionic. Weber's audiences would have "got" what he meant from listening to Rezia's lines. Huon's part is gloriously written with even more extravagance than Rezia's,  with some beautiful, extended arias. Since I adore Jonas Kaufmann in this part (from a 1998 recording with John Eliot Gardiner), I was at first surprised by Gunnell, til I realized that this portrayal was equally valid.  Kaufmann was so divine he didn't seem human. Gunnell's down to earth, a sturdy "Frank" acting out a ludicrous fantasy, complete with stagey moustache that looks like it might fall off.  Like Oberon, and everyone else, he's effectively a puppet. He's an ordinary bloke in an extraordinary situation.

Huon and Rezia flee across the sea.  In Weber's time (and for a long time after) you couldn't actually show the sea on stage. Hence the giant Hokusai wave painted on a stage flat.  Hokusai? But who says it's actually the Mediterranean, though the action shifts to Tunis?  Rezia is captured by pirates and Huon is killed.  To highlight the histrionics, Weber writes a sub-plot in which Rezia's maid, Fatime (Rachael Wilson) falls in love with Scherasmin, Huon's sidekick (Johannes Kammler).  She's tiny and he's very, very tall, which adds to the comic mayhem.  Another off the wall subplot.  Roshana, the wife of the Emir of Tunis, wants Huon, raised from the dead by Puck's magic, to kill her husband Almanzor. (Both are speaking parts.)  Huon creeps in to see Rezia, who thiniks he's dead.  Now they're both wearing masks, which they didn't before; perhaps  because now the fantasy is too extreme to be real. Almanzor breaks in, and Rezia and Huon are tied up, ready for execution. How shall they escape?  Simple! Scherasmin blows a magic hunting horn  (a Wunderhorn) and Oberon appears.  The Elves (in lab coats) dance, and the lovers escape.

Anyone expecting realism in a plot like this is even more nuts than the libretto. But that's exactly why Weber's Oberon is so much fun. It's sheer theatre, impossibly over the top, hilariously funny and great music, too.  Much more to it than the Overture.  Thus the rambunctious conducting of Ivor Bolton worked well: not as magical or as exhilarating as J E Gardiner, not as fulsome as Keilberth, but very much in keeping with the sturdy humour in the staging.

Abendstern Tannhäuser - Bayerische Staatsoper Munich

Wagner Tannhäuser at the Bayerische Staatsoper, Munich,  with Klaus Florian Vogt, Christian Gerhaher, Anja Harteros and Georg Zeppenfeld, conducted by Kiril Petrenko.  That the singing was brilliant is no surprise, since these singers are so familiar that what they do isn't "news", though I'll write more later.  What was a surprise was the staging, or rather the thought that went into the dramaturgy.  The Overture seemed to make no sense at all. Venusberg represents unbridled sexual excess. Wagner's description is unashamedly explicit - Sirens are bathing - naked - in waters pouring from a cave hidden by cliffs, lit in lurid flesh tones. A vagina !  Modern audiences couldn't cope. Yet here we saw maidens in Grecian garb, as elegant as marble figures.  An Abendstern Venusberg? "Wie Todesahnung, Dämm'rung deckt die Lande,umhüllt das Tal mit schwärzlichem Gewande". Venusberg aping Wartburg? Upside down, I thought, at first.  But maybe that was the point. Venusberg and Wartburg represent opposite poles. Venusberg symbolizes sex, creativity, and life: Wartburg symbolizes denial and death. Which, in fact, is more "pure"?  Thus the Cupids around Venus's couch are unformed blobs of flesh: a shocking image, but again that might be the point.  Venusberg is tainted. Tannhäuser needs to get away if he is to develop.  

In Tannhäuser, Wagner develops his ideas on the role of art in life. Tannhäuser is a precursor of Walter von Stoltzing, the two Siegfrieds and Parsifal, who don't spring fully formed from the start.  Hence the Sirens at Venusberg, firing arrows, an image that doesn't make sense til we journey a while with the production.  If you don't know what you're shooting at, don't shoot! You might just be wrong. Wagner's heroes start out thinking they know everything. They only grow when they learn to learn.  Nothing wrong with that, as Wagner shows.  In our own time, when anti-intellectual populism prevails, Wagner's message is frighteningly prescient.  Like the Knights of the Grail, the Knights of Wartburg are aggressively insular, blocking out ideas other than their own, resenting dissent.  Tannhäuser could have an easy life playing their games, but he chooses not to, striking out on his own. He searches for truth whatever the forces against him. And Elisabeth sides with him, sacrificing herself.  Tannhäuser may never unlock his Grail, but redeems himself because he has vision. For Wagner, religion "is" art, so the quest for artistic integrity can never end.   An artist seeks enlightenment, not playing to the crowd.  Thus the Grail Knights desiccate until they learn compassion. What will happen to Wolfram and the Minnesingers of Wartburg with their sterile dreams and inhibitions? An insular community based on denial, and hatred of women in particular, isn't conducive to creativity. 

The best Tannhauser I've ever heard live was Johan Botha (read my tribute here)   Klaus Florian Vogt comes pretty close: two voices of exceptional beauty and purity.  In fact, I can't think of any time when I haven't loved what Vogt's done, even outside opera.  Fortunately, the action in this production was understated  - "Abendstern" stillness - so we could savour the voice and its subtle nuances.  Vogt's voice is glorious, but he can convey Tannhauser's weariness, suffering and, at last, humility."0 Wolfram, der du also sangest, du hast die Liebe arg entstellt!"  and later "Hör an, Wolfram, hör an! Inbrunst im Herzen, wie kein Büsser noch sie je gefühlt, sucht' ich den Weg nach Rom"  When Tannhauser sings like that, Wolfram is eclipsed.  Even in small, trelatively unobtrusive moments, Vogt excels: "Heilige Elisabeth, bitte für mich! "  The voice is luminous, Vogt;'s face glowing as if lit from within. . 

Christian Gerhaher is the Wolfram of choice these days, after his  astonishing breakthrough in the part seven years ago.  He's had his ups and down in recent years, so it was good to hear him back on form here: much better than in Vienna in 2015 though not quite as astounding as in London.  I've been listening to him since he was young and unknown, nearly fifteen years ago and have his first CD.  He's an opera fan's idea of a Lieder singer, better in opera than in art song, though it would be nice if he'd broaden his repertoire.  I'd like to hear Matthias Goerne as Wolfram in the alternative cast, with a darker, more mysterious timbre.  Anja Harteros we hear a lot of live, too.  So what if she doesn't do the Met ? The European market is huge, the population's coming up to 750 million.  Rich as her voice is, there's a sensitivity to her singing that suits houses like Munich and London (ROH capacity 2200). She's an unusual Elisabeth, but interesting. Elisabeth's a strong, independent-minded person who stands up to the bullies in her community.  Harteros's Elisabeth is no warrior. Her weapon is prayer. Hence the air of humility which Harteros brings to the part expand characterization, and makes the role even more sympathetic.  Georg Zeppenfeld, another much-loved regular, creates a forceful Hermann, Landgraf von Thüringen.  Unlike Wolfram and the other Knights, The Landgraf is decisive: a Gurnemanz, a leader among conformists.  Elena Pankratova's Venus was full-throated and voluptuous. As always, minor parts and chorus at the Bayerische Staatsoper are wonderfully cast.

Kiril Petrenko conducted. The Overture and other orchestral passages were written to accommodate dancers, so a certain amount of rhythmic liveliness is in order, In many productions, the dancing is much more exuberant : Venus hosts orgies, and her sirens dance in order to seduce.  Petrenko's tempi were on the slow side, more langorous than orgasmic, but coolness works better with the "Abendstern" imagery, and the idea of the Moon. (Wagner would,of course, have been familiar with Goethe and his relationship with the Duchess of Weimar.)  The orchestral playing was well judged and rather elegant, again matching the marble and silk stylishness of the staging.  I would have liked more punch in the Pilgrimage music to emphasize themes of movement and physical travail.  Still, in music as good as this, there's plenty of room for interpretation.

Excellence from Munich is pretty much the norm. What's "news" is the staging,. It's controversial because it's not simplistic, and can be unsettling. Lots of stylized symbolism and abstraction, but also a lot of detail to reward careful observation.  Plinths with key words like "Kunst" spell things out to make things clear.  Amidst the sterile orderliness, a glass case with squirming, indistinct objects, like trapped life forms.   Rocks are seen, from which gold can be extracted - a metaphor for Tannhäuser's development as man and artist. The Minnesingers seen wrapped in white, like nuns and curtains like shrouds. This is by no means as strange as it seems, since they are a mystical order, vowed to purity and self denial.  To Wagner and to Tannhäuser, asceticism is living death, a rejection of creative growth.  The Minnesingers don't know what they're missing because they block out the world.  That's why they're so scared when Tannhäuser praises Venus.  Tannhäuser and Elisabeth sing to each other in front of tomb-like structures with the names "Klaus" and "Anja" carved thereon. An interesting if quirky way of reinforcing the idea that art is an act of creative imagination, made by living people. 

The director, Romeo Castellucci, is new to me. He seems to do a lot of theatre work, hence perhaps the formal, stylized abstraction of the designs, costumes and lighting.  Much more intriguing, though, is the thought that clearly went into the dramaturgy, by Piersandra Di Matteo and Malte Krasting. Opera is more than ear candy. Especially opera by Wagner, for whom ideas, drama and the human condition were inextricably linked.  These days the word "concept" is used as a swear word, but all it means is joined-up thinking, connecting different ideas, examining things from different perspectives. Di Matteo and Krasting understand how the music connects to ideas, and how this opera connects to Wagner's other work and even extra-musical concepts like classical antiquity. The staging is a lot closer to the libretto than meets the eye.  Tannhäuser is allegory, a fantasy, a work of art about art.  How else does a medieval German hook up with a Greek Goddess? And as Tannhäuser discovered, an artist needs to create to live, to keep learning and keep developing.  He chose the more difficult path to Rome. The Pope didn't understand, but too bad.  His loss, not Tannhäuser's.

Prurient Prokofiev Fiery Angel Bayerische Staatsoper

Sergei Prokofiev The Fiery Angel at the Bayerische Staatsoper, Munich, brilliantly conducted by Vladimir Jurowski.  As an opera, The Fiery Angel poses difficulties, but as abstract music it works so well that Prokofiev adapted it to become his Symphony No 3. Musical values dominate the score, adding depth to a narrative that poses as many questions as answers. Renata is clearly mad.  Her obsession with Madiel dominates her life to the exclusion of all else. She assume Madiel is an angel but her delusions are sexual. rather than spiritual. So why does a seemingly strong personality like Ruprecht get sucked int the maelstrom? Listen to the orchestra, though, for the music makes madness seem quite plausible.  Jurowski is in his element. He's more elegant than Gergiev, and wilder than the eminently sensible Neeme Järvi, though you need to hear all three.

The Fiery Angel is Prokofiev's Faust. Hence the litany of occult mumbo-jumbo that explodes in the First Act, heralding the entry of the Fortune Teller (Elena Manistina) a gorgeous camp caricature who disappears for the rest of the opera.  This occultist laundry list tumbles out of the score like madcap music: the composer isn't bothered what the words means, because they sound good, as words. Later, when Renata (Svetlana Sozdateleva ) and Ruprecht (Evgeny Nikitin) think they've summunoed up a spirit, loud knocks burst forth from the orchestra in almost joyous delirium, as if Prokofiev is suggesting that the gullible will hear signs in anything.  

Less succesful, though, is the staging, directed by Barrie Kosky, with sets by Rebecca Ringst.  The Faust theme is universal, so in principle there's no problem with changing the 16th century rooming house into an ultra deluxe modern hotel, though you wonder how  a nutter like Renata got in.  M\ybe everything's in her head, anyway. Perhaps we're in Renata's dream world, since, when the scene moves to Cologne, the room stays the same. Some audiences won't notice, seduced by chintz and fake rococo furnishings.  Renata's ravings become predictable after a while, the part being written for high-flown hysteria.  Sozdateleva is fairly young, but doesn't quite capture the Lulu-like innocence that so entrances Ruprecht. She can act well, though, twitching like a lunatic resisting restraint, her eyes rolled back as if the Devil himself were swallowing her soul.  The score doesn't give Ruprecht all that much to do, vocally, so a talent like Nikitin doesn't get to show what he can really do.  

When the opera descends into the demonic, things liven up. Again, the orchestral interludes are paramount, illustrated here by dancers, wonderfully costumed by Klaus Bruns.  Ladies appear in evening dress, revealed close up as muscular men, covered in tattoos. A visually magnificent introduction to the appearance of Agrippa von Nettesheim (Vladimir Galouzine) another well-cast cameo.  

The dancers return in the tavern scene, where .the Faust references are vivid. Kevin Conners' Mefistofeles is brilliantly conceived, with an amazing costume which suggest a clown gone mad.  Fabulous three-corner hairdo, like the horns of Satan. Again, there's not a lot to sing, but Conners acts well, moving in tight ensemble with the dancers, who this time are devilish grotesques. A pity, though, that Kosky's prurience gets the better of him. Mefistofeles's penis (not Conners') hangs out from his pants, and later he sodomizes Renata and eats "her" penis as a sausage. This may be true to the morbid sexuality in the opera, but I'm not altogether sure that Prokofiev would have taken it so literally. It's all a bit schoolboy, detracting from the otherwise good characterization in the costume.  

Igor Tsarkov sang Faust, elegantly though oddly garbed. Again, this may well be a good reading of Prokofiev's intentions since the roles of Faust and Mephistofeles are ironically reversed.  

In the final Act, even Ruprecht is disposed of, more or less, and the narrative centres on Renata, now in a convent. The dancers now are nuns, dressed as Jesus, blood pouring from their crowns of thorns.  Kinky, but then a lot of religious imagery is kinky if you think about it.  Even after her exorcism, Renata is still condemned as an agent of Satan.  The poor girl gets screwed in every way.  Sadly, Kosky seems to enjoy the sex bits too much to grasp the cynical detachment of Prokofiev's sardonic irony. The costumes are great, but I think I'd prefer a less infantile interpretation and one that picks up on other levels of the opera.

Now I've watched Kosky's Handel SAaul at Gl6ndebourne on film, where you can see the close ups. Live it would have been imporessive because you see the giant floral feast and display, and the pretty costumes. But close up you see the diussiapation - which is true to meaning - but yet again Kosky's obssession with grim, joyless sex. Two naked old men, groping each other, one asproutuing breasts the other feeds on. Yes, it's an image, but overdone and rotesque. plus the same ewarth floor as in Castor and Pollux ! Cet P was OK because it is about sex. But the same critics who raed about that adored Saul ? Go fiure.

Please also see my piece on Boito Mefistofele also from Munich, which was excellent - René Pape, Opolais, Calleja

Bavarian Opera to the South Pole

A new opera, commissioned by the Bayerische Staatsoper, South Pole, for January 2016. They must believe in it, because they're launching it with mega publicity.  You can order the t shirt, I kid you not.Thomas Hampson and Rolando Villazon are booked to sing, with Tara Erraught as the love interest. Director will be Hans Neuenfels, with Kiril Petrenko to conduct. If the Bayerische Staatsoper is investing so much in the opera, maybe it's interesting.

An opera, in English for Bavarian audiences, about Norwegian Amundsen and  British Scott, on their trip to the South Pole in the Antarctic, written by a Czech composer Miroslav Srnka (b 1975)  Check his website here) , "Die Musik der Oper wird mit mehrfachen, sich immer wieder anders ergebenden Überlagerungen operieren. Die beiden Erzählstränge nähern sich immer mehr einander an, treffen sich beinahe am Südpol und entfernen sich wieder voneinander. Für bestimmte Momente wird es „konkrete“ Musik geben: Beide Expeditionen hatten zur Unterhaltung Grammophone mitgenommen, Scotts Erkennungsmelodie ist die „Blumenarie“ aus Carmen (in der Einspielung von Enrico Caruso), Amundsens ist „Solvejgs Lied“ aus Peer Gynt; beide sollen in den Originalaufnahmen auch in der Oper erklingen. Andere signifikante Momente mit besonderer klanglicher Gestaltung sind das allmähliche Einfrieren und das schließliche Sterben der Scott-Missionsteilnehmer."

Read more HERE.