Fidelio Salzburg : depressing, provocative but not wrong

Beethoven's  Fidelio is an opera designed to provoke outrage. Any production that doesn't provoke is a betrayal of the composer. Salzburg's new Fidelio is provocative, but that's exactly how it should be. Fidelio is an opera about ideas.  Like it or not, Claus Guth's production does engage with the ideas and ideals central to any genuine engagement with the opera. He presents an unusual take on the piece, but nonetheless one which is valid and thoughtful.  If we dismiss ideas because they don't fit our own, we're no better than the Don Pizarros of this world.

Leonore (Adrianna Pieczonka) is ogled by Marzelline  (Olga Beszmertna)   Perhaps the scene was written to show that Leonore's impersonation of a man can convince a woman. But one wonders just how much Leonore is a symbol rather than a character. Beethoven related to concepts, rather than to real women.  Thus the minimalist set, where the singers cast huge shadows that take on a life of their own, depending on the angle of lighting and shadow. The dynamic between Rocco (Hans-Peter Kõnig), Jaquino (Norbert Ernst) and the two female roles is interesting. Kõnig's a big man, who literally overshadows Jacquino: even at this stage one wonders if Marzelline could ever commit to marriage the way Leonore commits to Florestan. The music in these scenes is charming, in Singspiele style, but one wonders about the irony.  Like The Magic Flute, charm masks darker undertones.

Guth dispenses with bantering dialogue. Audiences know (or should know) the story well enough to follow the action as drama for its own sake. I liked the shadows, and the costumes of the choruses because they reminded me of Scherenschnitte, so popular in Beethoven's time - black silhouettes against white backgrounds that depict figures in stylized relief, deliberately evading realism.  Period detail does exist in this production, you just have to look closely.  Leonore and Don Pizarro have non-singing "shadows" acting behind them. There's a kind of rationale to this but it confuses things.

Instead of dialogue,  Guth employs strange sound effects. When I first heard this, audio-only, the sounds seemed disruptive because there weren't any visuals to explain what was going on. The sounds made more sense on stage because they suggested whirring and the movement of vast, cumbersome equipment.  Indeed, during the all-important Leonore Overture, we see stage hands changing the scenery. At first I couldn't understand, but then it occurred to me that we were seeing depicted before us the Deus ex machina resolution. Without the sudden appearance of Don Fernando (Sebastien Holecek) how might the story end ?  Hence the Overture which separates the main part of the opera with the elegantly-written postlude, like the Moral in Don Giovanni. But in Fidelio, the loose ends aren't tidied up.  We hear the music, but do we really know what happens next?  In real life political oppression, the bad guys usually win.  Happy endings don't happen unless there are major "scene changes" in society. 

It's quite possible that  the opera is happening in Florestan's head. Can he really only escape the dungeon through ideas and ideals? It's a provocative concept, but certainly not invalid.  In the opera, Florestan does nothing heroic, though we know he's been a hero in the past. Leonore is the protagonist,  the action man/woman who can defy the entire prison system and do what Florestan, trapped in prison, cannot do.  Florestan is an intellectual, a man who uses his mind, so why shouldn't he use his mind to contemplate his dilemma? Florestan (Jonas Kaufmann) doesn't even appear until the Seciond Act, but when he does, it's significant that he's alone, without hope, singing his amazing monologue. 

Thus Pieczonka "sings" without sound during the Prisoners Chorus and gesticulates frantically without saying a word, towards the conclusion.  The giant chandelier hangs oppressively over the stage. The prisoners have glimpsed artificial light but they have not been released.  The minimalism in this staging (designs by Christian Schmidt) support the idea that the drama is happening in Florestan's head, but like the strange mechanical sound effects, the scenes don't translate well audio-only.  In the radio broadcast, Kaufmann had to sing across a vast, empty void, which placed his voice under unnatural strain. Perhaps that's logical, given that he's been starved and deprived of light for two years, but I'd rather hear him do what he does best.  Fortunately, he sang gloriously in his dialogues with Pieczonka and the rest of the ensemble. Then, basking in the illumination of his imagination, Kaufmann's Florestan become a true hero, liberated by his art. 

Franz Welser-Möst conducted. Twenty-five years ago, in London, he dared to upset some entrenched interests, and was given the nickname "Worse than Most".  That was a vicious act of bullying and unfair, yet the abuse continues, perpetuated by many who don't know the original circumstances but repeat things on autopilot. Welser-Möst isn't worse than most and a lot better than many. So he's not demonstrative and doesn't court popularity, but he's a solid musician, who deserves respect. In Fidelio, clear-sighted commitment and dignity are more important than flamboyance.  Furthermore, he has guts.  Last September he quit the Vienna State Opera right at the start of  the season, discreetly not giving reasons. It was a job he loved, and filled for longer than most, but he wasn't alone in being discomforted by Dominique Meyer and the likes of  Sven-Erik Bertolf. 

Please also read my pieces on Claus Guth's soulless  Salzburg Don Giovanni and on his Strauss Die Frau ohne Schatten at the Royal Opera House which everyone seemed to love but I hated. Read Follow the Falcon here. In Fidelio, the action might conceivably be in Florestan's mind, but the action in DFoSch almost certainly isn't.  For a really good Die Frau Ohne Schatten, go to the Salzburg production directed by Christof  Loy. Read my analysis here.  That did seem provocative, but it was infinitely more profound and musically sensitive. Guth's Fidelio works, but it's depressing and doesn't have the ferocious, hard-hitting bite of Calixto Bieito's Fidelio which really engaged with the issues - and the politics of the opera (read my analysis here). Now THAT was so provocative that it was met with near hysteria. But it was a lot closer to Beethoven's intentions than its detractors realized.

Fidelio La Scala Barenboim reviewed

Beethoven Fidelio at the Teatro alla Scala Milan, conducted by Daniel Barenboim. Musically superb: after hearing the BR Klassik broadcast live online, I was stunned. Now, having seen a copy of the video broadcast on RAI 5, I'm still stunned by the quality of the playing and singing but very disappointed by the staging.

Fidelio is an opera of ideas, theatre of the intellect, rather than simple entertainment. Like it or not, Fidelio is a political opera. and needs passionate commitment.  In Barenboim, Fidelio gets an interpreter who truly understands Beethoven's passionate convictions. He's conducted Fidelio many times, in many different forms. This is an opera that can't be fixed in concrete, for its ideas live on, absolutely pertinent today. In 2009, Barenboim did Fidelio with the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra, whose members know more about political strife at first hand than most opera audiences. For that performance, Barenboim incorporated spoken narration, using texts by the late, great Edward Said, co-founder of the orchestra and the theorist behind its lofty ideals.

For the gala opening night at La Scala Milan. usually a  focus for political  demonstrations, Barenboim chose a different approach, though equally intelligent and strong-minded.  This time, his focus highlighted the opera in terms of the values and music of 1814. Beethoven had admired Napoléon as liberator and modernizer, but turned against him as tyrant.  Napoléon obviously wasn't the first or last autocrat who throw dissidents into dungeons. The Austrian regime in Beethoven's time almost certainly did so, too. Thus the libretto, set in 18th century Seville,  provides a disguise for its radicalism,  much in the way that Leonore's manly costume and wifely virtues provide a cloak for her intentions.

By choosing the 1814 version of the Overture, Barenboim firmly places Fidelio in context, and shows how radical Beethoven was as musician as well as thinker. Leonore II, less elaborate than Leonore III, brings out the aesthetic of the First Act, linking it to the music theatre and even Singspiele traditions of the time. Hence the importance of the spoken dialogue and the somewhat stylized series of set pieces where various combinations of singers participate. Some people don't like Fidelio, much in the way some don't like Zauberflõte,. but Barenboim shows how the First Act operates.  Each sequence is neatly defined, building up to a unified whole, as strong in its own way as the action-packed second act. Think Mozart or Haydn, rather than Verdi or Wagner. The drama lies in the dynamics of the delivery, spoken and sung.  The characters are at cross-purposes, but the singing is so precise and vibrant that their misapprehensions about each other come to life vividly.

With Kwangchul Youn as Rocco and Falk Struckmann as Don Pizarro, and later Peter Mattei as Don Fernando, we have a cast of of truly Wagnerian performers, each of whom brings exceptional authority to their parts.  Youn's Rocco is so strongly defined that the role becomes central.  Rocco is "king" in his prison, not a weak man but one with the potential to choose between good and evil. The tension between Youn's Rocco and Struckmann's Don Pizarro is so powerful that it adds depth and dimension. Florian Hoffmann and Mojca Erdmann turn Jacquino and Marzelline into strong figures, too, particularly when singing with Youn. The chorus sings in remarkable unison, perfectly drilled. That, too, has dramatic meaning. When the proletariat sticks together, there's hope.

Anja Kampe's Leonore is wonderfully wild and athletic, ideal for the part. Kampe's Leonore is a heroine who defies convention, yet is a real woman not a goddess, nor an ideological reconstruct of a man. Have there been many like her in the arts since Greek times? Klaus Florian Vogt is perfect - nice, warm-sounding and "human", which is so important to the meaning of the work. After the pounding, malevolent introduction to Act Two, his voice enters "How dark it is in here".  Simple words, but Vogt's voice expresses wonder and horror so great that you can feel the physical presence of the darkness and the magnitude of Florestan's imprisonment. Then, when he sings "Angel, Leonore, my angel"  you can visualize the apparition rising before him: a miracle has happened.  Vogt's Florestan is understated, so the character comes over as warmly personal and human. Again, this has dramatic meaning, reminding us that political prisoners are normal, vulnerable people, neither superhuman monsters nor deities. They suffer.

And what playing Barenboim gets from the Teatro alla Scala orchestra!  Tension, intensity and ecstatic release racheted up so high that I had to hold my breath or burst, emotionally. The audience must have felt the same way, exploding with bravi! as if their hearts could hold out no more.

Unfortunately the insights and inspiration in the musical performance are badly let down by  insipid staging. Deborah Warner's forte is glossy glamour, but that's hardly relevant to Fidelio.  This is fashion shoot grunge, and dramatically inert.  It's not enough to dress the principals down. Designs have to contribute to meaning.  The prisoners are shown in various types of "normal" dress, which in principle might be valid, but the overall effect is to show them as street mob, rather than as oppressed, regimented prisoners.  This contradicts the disciplined power of the singing and dispels the idea that the prisoners, for all their diversity, have something to strive for. The "Sonnenlicht" chorus glows vocally, but the staging is a blurry mess.The "Freheit" chorus is sung with savage delirium - as it should be - but what's the point when the poor singers are wearing red hard hats and warm football crowd gear?  In an age when governments still practice torture and prisoners are still held in Guantanomo Bay and by ISIS, it's almost obscene to trivialize polticial persecution.  Audiences were enraged by Calixto Bieito's Fidelio with its harsh grid-form, multi-dimensional "prison" but that was a far more astute reading of the situation. (read more here). If we're not enraged by tyranny,  there's something very wrong.

Garsington Opera at Wormsley 2014 Beethoven

Garsington Opera at Wormsley commemorates its 25th anniversary next year with its most ambitious programme ever. “Wormsley has tremendous potential”, said Artistic Director Douglas Boyd. He adds, “and Mark Getty understands how it can contribute to the wider community, beyond opera. We are planning a Beethoven weekend which will include Beethoven’s Fidelio, a revival of the popular Garsington Opera production from 2009. We’ll link the themes of brotherhood, freedom from oppression and sacrifice which run through Fidelio, Beethoven’s Egmont and the Ninth Symphony."

The summer festival begins on 6th June with Beethoven's Singspiel Fidelio in the acclaimed production by John Cox (photo copyright Gary McCann) conducted by Douglas Boyd.  Rebecca von Lipinsky returns as Leonore, supported by Peter Wedd, Darren Jeffrey, Stephen Richardson, Jennifer France, Sam Furness, and Joshua Bloom. Beethoven's ideals deserve remembering in 2014, one hundred years after the beginning of the First World War. The special Beethoven Weekend, starting July 5th titled "Peace in our Time?" will focus on Fidelio's libertarian ideas and will feature talks, master classes, a recital by cellist Steven Isserlis and much more.  It will culminate in a commemorative concert including Beethoven's 9th Symphony, with the Garsington Opera Orchestra on stage for the very first time.

In Garsington Opera's long tradition of reviving rarities, Jaques OIffenbach's Vert Vert will receive its British premiere. Vert-vert should be fun. It's risqué! "Vert-vert" was a parrot in a genteel girls's school. How do the girls amuse themselves when he's gone? Robert Murray, a popular young tenor, sings the title role. David Parry conducts. Vert-vert is also being screened on the beach at Skegness as part of the SO Festival.

Leoš Janáček The Cunning Little Vixen starts 22nd June. Garry Walker conducts and Danoiel Slater directs. Read about his Die Entführung aus dem Serail here - how imaginative his Vixen could be! The casst includes Claire Booth, Grant Doyle, Joshua Bloom, Henry Waddington and Timothy Robinson.

 For more information see the Garsington Opera at Wormsley site here.

ENO Fidelio - much truer to Beethoven than you'd expect

ENO's Fidelio is much more faithful to Beethoven than its detractors might think. Beethoven wrote only one opera, but wrote numerous other works that deal with abstract ideas like tyranny and freedom. That 's an obvious clue to understanding Fidelio. It's not musical theatre in the usual sense, but an abstract piece where characters act out conceptual ideas. It connects to the Eroica, Symphony no 9 and much else. Far from distorting Beethoven's ideas, Calixto Bieito's Fidelio is musically informed and integrates Fidelio into the wider context of Beethoven's genius.

Beethoven thinks as a musician, not as a dramatist.The Singspiel (for Fidelio isn't really an opera) starts with the third and most satisfying of Beethoven's Leonora Overtures. There are many precedents for this, so Bieito isn't doing anything unorthodox. Even the idea of readings from other sources isn't new. In this case, the chosen texts were utterly relevant. This alternative order is good because it establishes background. Leonore is the real hero, even more so than Florestan. Jaquino and Marzellina are secondary characters, more caught up in self-interest than Leonore and Florestan who are prepared to die for what they believe in. Bieito's choice makes Beethoven's glorious, passsionate music central to the whole interpretation and places Leonore at the heart of the drama.

Strange creatures crawl in the darkness. Lighting effects suggest the dripping water in the dungeon. That's no minor detail. The prison walls may seem impregnable, but water is seeping in, gradually undermining the foundations. The "rats" are revealed as prisoners, dehumanized by their situation. When the set for the prison is lit, it hits you in the eye. As it should. Prisons are supposed to be oppressive. The design, by Rebecca Ringst, isn't merely a metaphor for the mind. It looks like a real prison, utilitarian and impersonal, where walkways, bars and maze-like structures serve to keep prisoners constantly under surveillance. (the stills don't really capture reality).  Like trapped animals, the prisoners struggle but are helpless. Leonore puts on male clothes and chooses to go in. Beethoven was right. This Overture, and this staging which gives it prominence, places Leonore and her courage right at the heart of the drama.

Leonore is an amazing character, a heroine who could have come out of Greek saga, a Brünnhilde before her time. Although we know from the libretto that Florestan is well connected but dangerous, we don't know much about Leonora except that she's a loyal wife. Thus, perhaps, the piece is called Fidelio rather than "Leonora". She's more concept than woman. Emma Bell, however rises to the challenge, the assertiveness in  her voice suggesting Leonore's firm resolve. The staging, however, lets Bell develop the role further. Leonore enters the prison disguised as a man. Mission accomplished, she can become a woman again. Full marks for the Personenregie here. In stilettos and an elegant sapphire dress we can glimpse what Leonore's social position might have been, and appreciate her sacrifice all the more. Bell's voice softens and becomes warm and feminine as she and Florestan (Stuart Skelton) embrace : human beings once again, not prisoners, not abstract concepts.

Perhaps this is the true "ending" of Fidelio, as Bieito suggests. As Skelton sings in this English translation, it doesn't matter if he's a prisoner as long as his ideals are unsullied. Love, and the love of life transcend oppression. Indeed, because Beethoven hated women, except as theoretical models, ideals perhaps mattered more to him than marital love. The maze-like Prison rotates, its "walls" disintegrating in a blaze of light. As theatre, this is extraordinarily powerful.  Obviously, Florestan couldn't trek upwards and escape through a vast prison, especially in chains. He's liberated because he's vindicated. a masterstroke of sheer brilliance, Bieito inserts the third movement from Beethoven's late String Quartet op 132., the Heiliger Dankgesang eines Genesenen an die Gottheit (Holy song of  thanks from a convalescent to the Divinity). After years in the prison of deafness, Beethoven endured a near death experience, from which he recovered, almost miraculously. Like Florestan. The score is marked  "Neue Kraft fühlend" (with renewed strength), which indicates not only performance but meaning. As an illustration of the meaning of Fidelio, it's a flash of inspired perception.

Whatever happens to Florestan, this is the illuminating event of his whole life.  The Heath Quartet descend from the roof space, like emissaries from God. They're in "cages" for safety reasons, but the image also reinforces the idea that art can transcend physical restraint. A friend of mine says that String Quartets are an idealized form of human endeavour because the players have to listen to each other or they can't play. That, too, is a message appropriate to Fidelio, and to art in general. The remains of the "prison" structure are lit in tones of gold and green. Barbarity is transformed into beauty. It's a wonderful conjunction of music, visuals and meaning, indescribably moving. Perhaps this is the "true"ending of Fidelio. ratherv than the clumsy farce that follows.

As if by a miracle, Don Fernando materializes and injustice is neatly put to rights. Bieito develops this Deus ex machina contrivance, so it intensifies the meaning of the work as a whole. Dressed as a baroque grandee, complete with powdered wig and face paint, Roland Wood appears in a box above the stage. Of course (in the original) Fernando sings "Tyrannenstrenge sei mir fern." but the very fact that he's sent by the King to save one of many is a form of capricious tyranny. Bieieto also notices the subtle hint in the text "Euch, edle Frau, allein, Euch ziemt es, ganz ihn zu befrein". ("You alone, noble woman, have the right to make him free"). Like Florestan and Leonore, the chorus change back into semi-normal clothes, as if they've recovered their dignity. But their clothes are scuffed. They wear placards, but not all of them marked "free". Justice doesn't happen in the real world. It's pure luck. Beethoven was far too astute politically to swallow the play's ending but what alternative could he visualize in his lifetime? Fidelio is subversive and horribly relevant even today. Perhaps that's why audiences may prefer to hide. Taking conceptual thinking out of Beethoven betrays nearly everything the composer stood for. Bieito restores him to his true glory. Fidelio is shocking, and should shake us out of complacency.

At the ENO in London, we might not get singers of the calibre of Jonas Kaufmann and Anja Kampe, as Bieito had in Munich, but Emma Bell and Stuart Skelton are very good. I was very impressed by Roland Wood's Don Fernando, for he expressed a lot more in the part than a routine reading might suggest. In the ENO Pilgrim's Progress (review here), he wasn't as compelling as Roderick Williams might have been in the part, but he's a singer worth paying attention to. Sarah Tynan was an excellent, clear Marzellina,  It's not her fault that the part is little more than a sideshow (or smokescreen) for Leonore herself. James Cresswell sang Rocco, Philip Horst sang Don Pizarro and Adrian Dwyer sang Jaquino.  Edward Gardner conducted. The blocking and stage direction (Assistant Director Anna Brunnlechner) was very good indeed.  In general, the London production was toned down from Munich, but still very effective.

The trouble is that London audiences (and critics) think in  terms of Bieito's notoriety and come primed to scream at what they think he's doing wrong rather than to listen to what he actually does.  What an irony! Florestan is imprisoned because people don't want his ideas to be heard.. Beethoven sets the word "Freiheit!" so it's a challenge. Freedom of opinion is freedom from tyranny, whether or not you like the ideas being expressed. That's a point that's lost on some who hate modern stagings on principle. But throughout history, narratives have been reinvented with new perspectives and performances. Where would we be without Greek myth? Those who hate on principle often say that directors should "respect" an opera. But as with most clichés, that can be turned completely on its head. Opera is strong enough to support many interpretations and perspectives. Sadly, more people would be Pizarros than Leonores.