Magic Bullets - Weber Der Freischütz, Equilbey Insula Barbican

From an early production of Der Freischütz 1822

Magic Bullets Carl Maria von Weber Der Freischütz, Laurence Equilbey conducting the Insula Orchestra and Choeur Accentus,  and soloists at the Barbican, London.  Weber's Der Freischütz Op. 77, J. 277 is a seminally important work, a milestone in music history, and represents a turning point, too, in wider European cultural history. Without Weber and Der Freischütz, music, not just opera, might
not be as we know it today. No Der Freischütz, no Wagner, no Berlioz, no Schumann, no Mahler.  Moreover it's a key document of the Romantic era and its revolutionary impact on culture, the arts, society and so much more.  Misunderstand Der Freischütz and misunderstand the 19th and 20th centuries !  A few years back some smalltown critic declared that if he didn't know it, ("it only has one tune!") it can't have been important. That says more about those who think that getting a press pass makes them somebody.  If they need to bring a friend to help, they shouldn't be doing the job. One of the messages in  Der Freischütz is that there's no such thing as a magic bullet.

In German speaking countries Der Freischütz is pretty much basic repertoire, and elsewhere in Europe, it's extremely well known. The classic recording was conducted by Carlos Kleiber, no less, and it was a favourite of Colin Davis who conducted it at his very last performance at the Barbican.  What's significant about this latest Barbican performance is that Equilbey, Insula and Accentus are specialist par excellence in French repertoire and aesthetics.  Though Der Freischütz does benefit from an understanding of the German context, there's no reason why it can't be approached from a different perspective.  Plenty of forests in France, plenty of hunting societies, plenty of upheavals in society.  Hector Berlioz was so inspired that he did an adaptation in French with a text he wrote himself.  It's very good - John Eliot Gardiner conducted it in London not all that long ago, and the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment marked their 30th anniversary with the German Der Freischütz and Mark Elder.  Indeed, a lighter, brighter period-informed style can connect better to Weber and his aesthetic than a more interventionist approach.

Der Freischütz was first performed in 1821, just seven years after Napoleon's defeat.  Many in the audiences in early performances would have had direct personal experience of  the wars and their impact on German-speaking lands, and a background knowledge of the Thirty Years War and its impact.  Romanticism has nothing to do with being "romantic" in the modern sense of the word   Its ideals galvanized European thought, especially in Germany which hitherto had been a diverse conglomeration of 300 states.  This period saw the growth of solidarity between German-language speakers, whatever their region. Nationalism then was a progressive, unifying force.  This interest in the past  wasn't about the past but a way of using the past to validate new ideas like national identity and the role of the individual. Thus the interest in German folklore, in Brentano and von Arnim's Des Knaben Wunderhorn, in the poetry of Gottfried Herder and even the concept "Gedanken sind Frei" (Read more here)  the individual as opposed to mass authority. From the Romantik sprang the revolutions of 1848, all over Europe, not just Germany. Understanding this context is fundamental to appreciating Der Freischütz. 

Der Freischütz portrays an idealized vision of the German past, where hunters provide sustenance  and live (more or less) in harmony with Nature.  But remember that forests can be dangerous places. Not for nothing are they a symbol of the unknown, and of the unconscious. Read Simon Schama: Landscape and Memory (2004), Jeffrey Wilson The German Forest (2012).  And, for that matter Bruno Bettelheim's The Uses of Enchantment.  Disney sanitized our appreciation of fairy tales as folk psychology, and infantilized meaning. Absolutely resist the idea that Der Freischütz should either be sentimental or kitsch.  The people in this opera inhabit a world where danger and loss is never very far away.  Max, a humblejunior huntsman, wants to marry Agathe, the boss's daughter, but in this rigid, hierarchical society he has no chance of challenging the social order. To win Agathe, he has to do a deal with the Devil, whom Samiel represents.  If Max escapes in the end, it's only because Caspar pays the price and Prince Ottokar intervenes as deus ex machina. It's a near thing. Agathe could have been killed and Max executed for murder.  

Weber's music is exquisitely beautiful, as if it were, like the magic bullet, deflecting truth from those who can't handle reality.  Magic Bullets are not a solution. Indeed, this opera can even allude to the dangers of quick-fix nationalism and instant expertise. Utterly relevant in modern times.  When we listen to Weber's hunting horns and rousing choruses, we should think about what's being hunted, and why. The music is ravishingly beautiful because it emphasizes the beauty of life, refreshed by the connections to Nature that hunting for food depends on. But killing is a bloody business, it's not pretty and it's not sentimental 

 Because I was suddenly taken ill the night before, my partner went alone (too late to give away the spare). Veteran of many Freischützs, he appreciated Equilbey's approach, and had a wonderful time. "Superbly done. Great orchestra and singers and a subtle, simple semi-staging ,including a brilliant dancer/acrobat as an omnipresent Samiel, writhing about like a lizard or creeping like a wolf. And all the dialogue - no nonsense of messing about with it.". Fortunately, Equilbey, Insula and Accentius have been touring Europe with Der Freischütz and will be releasing a new recording in the near future. A must, I think.

The Wit of HIP : J E Gardiner, LSO Schumann series, Barbican

John Eliot Gardiner conducted the London Symphony Orchestra in the third concert of their Schumann series at the Barbican Hall, London.  A coherent programme - Carl Maria von Weber Overture to Euryanthe, Mendelssohn Concerto for violin and piano (Isabelle Faust and Kristian Bezuidenhout) building up to Schumann Symphony no 3 (The "Rhenish"). This is what "historically informed performance " means: understanding music as music, in context and on its own terms.  Respecting the composer as far as possible, not smothering him with a fire blanket of audience expectations.  Nothing wrong with expectations formed in the 1950's and 60's for something to put on the brand new turntable. But there's so much more to music than that. Gardiner shows how fresh and vital Weber, Mendelsssohn and Schumann can sound, nearly 200 years after they were "new".

Weber's Overture to Euryanthe began with vivid attack. The early Romantics were fearless, exploring audacious new ideas.  There's nothing timid about the opera Euryanthe. Indeed its bizarre plot makes it almost impossible to stage (fire-breathing dragons, long before Wagner). All the more reason we must appreciate the technical limitations with which Weber created the drama. Natural horns : reminding us of a time when people hunted in order to eat, where Nature represented danger. That the strings have to try harder is the whole point !  The solo violin melody reminds us how vulnerable mortals are against the unknown, yet bravely they persist. That also justifies the practice of getting the musicians to stand while playing. It's not novelty. The sound is subtler and more human.  Modern audiences need to get over being conditioned to very late performance practice and much larger forces and respect what went into the music in the first place. Conductors stand throughout a performance, and if Gardiner, who is 75, can do it, most players can. The greater freedom of movement comes through in greater freedom of expression, and greater engagement between members of the ensemble, who seem to listen to each other more than they might do otherwise.

That aesthetic of chamber communality also informs Mendelssohn 's Double Concerto for Piano, Violin, and Strings in D minor, MWV O4 (1823), where the LSO were joined by Isabelle Faust and Kristian Bezuidenhout.  Mendelssohn was just fourteen when he wrote this, but its restraint connects to his background and to the influence of his grand-aunt Sarah Levy, a musician whose recitals championed the music of Bach.  Bezuidenhout played a pianoforte from 1837 by Sébastien Érard, with leather hammers covered in felt. "There is a textural topography to these instruments" said Bezuidenhout in an interview before the concert, which is well worth listening to on the replay of the livestream here, because he demostrates with examples. "Every register has a characteristic voice....moving from bass to tenor, and above, where the piano sounds similar to the harp".  Mendelssohn worked so closely with the instrument that Bezuidenhout believes that it shaped his compositional processes, allowing him to experiment with what the instrument could offer.  Hearing the Érard did make a diffrence. Textures were lighter and livelier, colours brighter and more nuanced.  Faust's playing (a 1724 Stradivarius) picked up on the greater freedom and vivacity,  which in turn extended to the orchestra.  Altogether a unique experience, further proof that well-informed performance practice can be revelation.

A vigorous Schumann Symphony No. 3 in E-flat major, Op. 97,(1850). Given the central position of song in Schumann's ouevre, his sensitivity to poetry and visual images and his very personal identification with the Rhine, it is wise not to underestimate the programmatic aspects of this symphony, even though this might not appeal to modern assumptions about what a symphony should be.  Indeed, one could suggest that Schumann's Third inhabits a place from which we can consider his search for new forms of music theatre, evolving from oratorio Das Paradies und die Peri  (Op 59, 1843) (please read more here) to Genoveva (1848)  (read more here)  an opera that is more Weber than Wagner.  Is Schumann 3 music theatre in symphonic form ?  Hearing it in the context of Weber and Mendelsson, who didn't write opera but wrote incidental music of genius,  we can hear how the drama in this symphony affects interpretation.

Gardiner's period approach reflects German Romantic music theatre before the revolution that was Richard Wagner.  Here the colours glowed, evoking the magic of the worlds of Weber, Mendelssohn and Singspiel tradition.  Not all magic is malevolent,. This last of Schumann's symphonies was inspired by an interlude of great happiness, when Robert and Clara took a holiday along the Rhine, both of them acutely aware of its symbolism and place in  Schumann's songs, such as "Berg’ und Burgen schaun herunter" from Liederkreis op 24, and the verse, from Heine :

"Freundlich grüssend und verheißend
Lockt hinab des Stromes Pracht;
Doch ich kenn’ ihn, oben gleißend,
Birgt sein Innres Tod und Nacht.!"

Gardiner and the LSO articulated the sparkling figures in the opening movement so they flowed , like a river, sunny but with darker undercurrents hinted at in the strong chords in the second theme, and the quieter passages in its wake. This coloured the second movement, suggesting the scherzo qualities behind the surface. There are echoes of folk dance, evoking the vigour of peasant life, but Schumann doesn't tarry. Bassoons, horns and trumpets called forth, the movement ending on an elusive note.  The movement marked "Nicht schnell" was gracefully poised: as an intermezzo it connects the happiness of the Lebhaft movement with what is to come. The solemn pace of the fourth movement marked "Feierlich" may describe a ceremony the Schumanns witnessed in Cologne Cathedral, but its musical antecednts can be traced to other sources, such as the song "Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome" from Dichterliebe.  The size of the cathedral, and the reverberations within it are suggested by the figures (trombones, trumpets, bassoons) which stretch out as if filling vast spaces. With Gardiner's clear textures the motif suggesting a cathedral organ was very distinct.  Whateverv the movement may or may not mean, the muffled horns and brass fanfares evoke a power that is very far from the insouciant quasi-folk tunes that have gone before.  Yet Schumann concludes not with gloom but with a reprise of the sunny Lebhaft, the emphatic chords even stronger than before, this time lit up by a glorious fanfare, the brass shining above the strings below. The very image of the Rhine surging past towering mountains.

On Sunday 10th February, Gardiner and the LSO will do their last concert in this Barbican Schumann series, with Schumann's Symphony no 1 and the Manfred Overture (tickets here)  To read about their first concert, with Schumann Symphony no 2 in C major op 61 (1847) and the Overture to Genoveva with Berlioz Les nuits d'été, please read HERE.

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.

Weber Der Freischütz - what it really means

Mark Elder and The Orchestra of  the Age of Enlightenment marked its 30th anniversary with Carl Maria von Weber Der Freischütz. A good choice, since Der Freischütz is a milestone in music history, and represents a turning point, too, in wider European cultural history. Der Freischütz is the embodiment of Romantic ideals. In effect it marks the beginning of the modern era. So what if English-language listeners don't know the work as well as they should? Without Weber, music, not just opera, might not be as we know it today. No Der Freischütz, no Wagner, no Berlioz, no Schumann, no Mahler.  Parochialism is no excuse for not knowing music or even basic world history.  

Der Freischütz was first performed in 1821, just seven years after Napoleon's defeat.  Many in the audiences in early performances would have had direct personal experience of  the wars and their impact on German-speaking lands.   Romanticism has nothing to do with being "romantic" in the modern sense of the word    Its ideals galvanized European thought, especially in Germany which hitherto had been a diverse conglomeration of 300 states.  This period saw the growth of solidarity between German-language speakers, whatever their region. Nationalism then was a progressive, unifying force.  This interest in the past  wasn't about the past but a way of using the past to validate new ideas like national identity and the role of the individual. Thus the interest in German folklore, in Brentano and von Arnim's Des Knaben Wunderhorn, in the poetry of Gottfried Herder and even the concept "Gedanken sind Frei" (Read more here)  the individual as opposed to mass authority. From the Romantik sprang the revolutions of 1848, all over Europe, not just Germany. Understanding this context is fundamental to appreciating Der Freischütz. 

Der Freischütz portrays an idealized vision of the German past, where hunters provide sustenance  and live (more or less) in harmony with Nature.  But remember that forests can be dangerous places. Not for nothing are they a symbol of the unknown, and of the unconscious., Read Simon Schama: Landscape and Memory (2004), Jeffrey Wilson The German Forest (2012).  And, for that matter Bruno Bettelheim's The Uses of Enchantment.  Disney sanitized our appreciation of fairy tales as folk psychology, and infantilized meaning.

Absolutely resist the idea that Der Freischütz should either be sentimental or kitsch.  The people in this opera inhabit a world where danger and loss is never very far away.  Max, a humble junior huntsman, wants to marry Agathe, the boss's daughter, but in this rigid, hierarchial society he has no chance of challenging the social order. To win Agathe, he has to do a deal with the Devil whom Samiel represents.  If Max escapes in the end, it's only because Caspar pays the price and Prince Ottokar intervenes as deus ex machina. It's a near thing. Agathe could have been killed and Max executed for murder.  

Weber's music is exquisitely beautiful, as if it were, like the magic bullet, deflecting truth from those who can't handle reality.  Magic Bullets are not a solution. indeed, this opera can even allude to the dangers of quick-fix nationalism. Remember Hermann Göring if you think productions should be twee and folksy. Who was Göring in league with?   Hunting parties have long been a part of European culture, so they aren't in themselves any big deal. Read my piece here why the French Der Freischütz matters. It translates perfectly well to a non-German context. When we listen to Weber's hunting horns and rousing choruses, we should think about what's being hunted, and why.  The music is ravishingly beautiful because it emphasizes the beauty of life.  But killing is a bloody business, it's not pretty and it's not sentimental  Stick to Disney if you can't cope.  Weber's audiences would have known all about the Lützower Freikorps and other volunteer units who took to the forests and fought Napoleon's armies in guerilla action.  Most of these men were urban intellectuals, some aristocrats, some artists.  Some of Schubert's friends and poets were among their number.  But all believed in liberty and the ideals of the Romantic movement.  For me the most rewarding recording is Carlos Kleiber because it's savage and Max (Peter Schreier) is wonderfullly manic. 

Weber Oberon English, German or Jonas Kaufmann?

Carl Maria von Weber Oberon at Cadogan Hall  with the New Sussex Opera. Like many Weber operas it's not easy to stage because so much predicates on magic. In this case magic plus medieval and exotic "Eastern" fantasy. The New Sussex Opera will be doing a concert performance with Adrian Dwyer singing Sir Huon, Sally Silver (Reiza) and Adam Tunnicliffe as Oberon. Like Felix Mendelssohn before him, Weber turned to England with great hopes.Weber even tried to learn the language so he could set the English text correctly. Unfortunately, he died,  It's important to hear Oberon in English, partly because it emphasizes the Shakespearean connections and also because English is a  language not well served in opera. It doesn't have the fulsome lushness of Italian, or the innate drama of German, nor the elegance of French.  So hearing Oberon in English, the language in which it was conceived, connects better to the natural ambience in the music.

Huon de Bordeaux, Duc de Guienne, has killed Charlemagne's son and is sent on a suicide mission to kill Haroun el-Rashid, Caliph of Baghdad. He escapes with supernatural help from Oberon, King of the Elves. If that's not enough, Huon is marooned on an island with Reiza, the Caliph's daughter, who's captured by Brigands and sold into slavery. Wild tempests, stirring storms, exotic orientalism and more than a touch of forbidden sex with infidels. Also, magic hunting horns and Oberon, rushing to the rescue astride a swan. The story is based on an English translation of a German text based on a medieval French chanson de geste, Huon de Bordeaux. In the 8th century Charlemagne really did exchange emissaries with the Turks, but the love drama and fairy elements are sheer fantasy. What a heady mix! Carl Maria von Weber's Oberon shows how zany the early Romantic Imagination could be, still coloured by the wild, exotic excesses of the baroque.

There are  major recordings notably Keilberth, 1953 available on Opera Today which is not commercially available, and the 1971 version which Kubelik conducts with a big-name cast (Prey, Domingo, Nilsson, Auger, Grobe). These have been reissued in different forms, some without dialogue, but for me, spoken dialogue is an essential part of the experience. There's nothing realistic about the plot. Thus the importance of John Eliot Gardiner's recording, made in London in 1998. It's in English, which fits the ethereal brightnness of Weber's music beautifully. Period-informed practice reveals the originality in the writing.  There's lots of dialogue, as was common for music  drama in 1826, which Gardiner does not sacrifice. The text is hokey, but that's part of its quaint charm. In any case, without narration to hold the plot together, Oberon falls apart and becomes more like a series of disconnected sketches, which is unfair to Weber. Gardiner used a proper actor, Robert Allam, who could declaim in  hyperbolic form, capturing the hammy spirit of the libretto. Oberon is fun, especially if we enter into its improbable fantasy.

Another secret weapon in Gardiner's approach was Jonas Kaufmann. In 1998, Kaufmann was affordable, and was singing a lot of early 19th century work like Loewe operas and  Schumann music drama. Now he commands mega money from mainstream blockbusters.  But in Oberon, his voice is remarkably pure and fresh, ringing with and almost heldentenor ping. Ravishing. Hopefully the recording will bring more Kaufmann fans to Weber and early German opera. In 1998, Kaufmann spoke with a heavy German accent, but that hardly matters. Huon's a strange fantasy character and Charlemange ran the first European Union. Polyglot's fine in the circumstances. Besides, Kaufmann's voice is so utterly, absolutely magical.

Jonas Kaufmann Weber Oberon

Jonas Kaufmann sings Huon de Bordeaux, Duc de Guienne, who has killed Charlemagne's son and is sent on a mission to kill Haroun el-Rashid, Caliph of Bagdad. He escapes with supernatural help from Oberon, King of the Elves. If that's not enough, Huon is marooned on an island with Reiza, the Caliph's daughter, who's captured by Brigands and sold into slavery. Wild tempests, stirring storms, exotic orientalism and more than a touch of forbidden sex with infidels. Also, magic hunting horns and Oberon, rushing to the rescue astride a swan. The story is based on an English translation of a German text based on a medieval French chanson de geste, Huon de Bordeaux. In the 8th century Charlemagne really did exchange emissaries with the Turks, but the love drama and fairy elements are sheer fantasy. What a heady mix! Carl Maria von Weber's Oberon shows how zany the early Romantic Imagination could be, still coloured by the wild, exotic excesses of the baroque.

Long before Jonas Kaufmann became a megastar, he sang a lot of this kind of repertoire. In the earliest recording I have of his, he's singing in the chorus, unnamed, in Robert Schumann's Der Rose Pilgerfahrt. Also from1998,  Kaufmann sings Hassan in Carl Loewe's Die Drei Wünsche. The part isn't big and he's placed last but if you want to hear Kaufmann in his Stuttgart period, this is the one to go for. Die Drei Wünsche. is a lot of fun and should be better known. It's worth hearing Kaufmann at this stage in his career, because his voice was so bright and pure. He seemed destined for stardom in early Romantic German and Italian repertoire. He succeeded, and more. This recording was made in 2003 and has now been reisuued.

So enjoy Carl Maria von Weber's Oberon in the vigorous recording conducted by John Eliot Gardiner. There are other major recordings notably Keilberth, 1953 available on Opera Today which is not commercially available, and the 1971 version which Kubelik conducts with big-name cast (Prey, Domingo, Nilsson, Auger, Grobe). These have been reissued in different forms, some without dialogue, but for me, spoken dialogue is an essential part of the experience. Maybe modern audiences don't have the patience or empathy for opera other than on their own terms: witness the incomprehension meted out to Meyerbeer's Robert le Diable in the London press. But we need to appreciate repertoire as it might have been for its contemporaries. In this year when we'll be inundated with indifferent Verdi and Wagner, we need more than ever to remember they didn't define the form.

So John Eliot Gardiner's version is a good compromise. Naturally, it's authentic, as the work was originally created in English for Covent Garden in 1826.  A narrator (Roger Allam) speaks the narrative around which the singing hangs. And we get Jonas Kaufmann singing Huon the Hero, exqusitely well. This is Lohengrin in embryo. In the lovely aria "From Boyhood", Kaufmann sings an extremely high note which fades into low strings, before developing an elaboration of the words "For life without honour, I live not to see". Kaufmann sings with a heavy German accent which is a positive accent for the text is so un-English  it would sound daft otherwise. Huon after all is Frankish, consorting with fictional Turks, Arabs and Fairies.

The last thing we need in Oberon is heavy-handed literalism. Because Gardiner conducts the Orchestre Révolutionnaire et Romantique on authentic instruments, the dynamic is fleet, elegant and spirited. Oberon is magical fantasy and needs to fly free to be truly effective. The singing in Kubelik is more accomplished, but refinement isn't really idiomatic. Kaufmann and the cast around him shine because Gardiner's orchestra brings out the period clarity that is in the music. The hunting horn which plays such a role in this opera really sounds like a hunting horn, whether played quietly as if from a distance or loudly sounding alarm.  The "oriental" sequences aren't authentic, but all the more fun becuase they're invention. The storm music is magnificent, played with gusto, the intruments pushed to the limits. Period performance isn't precious. It connects better to the lively spirit of early Romantic music theatre where everyone knew they were experiencing fantasy, not cinematic realism.

Der Freischütz - archaeology of filmed opera

So much more to filming opera than point and shoot! Back in the 1960's Hamburg Opera linked up with German TV to film 13 operas. Film is the next frontier in opera, now that technology reaches a whole new market for audiences who'd never be able to attend live. If a good production is filmed badly it ruins the whole experience. Think of the disastrously badly filmed Glyndebourne The Fairy Queen, almost impossible to watch. Film is a whole new discipline. Film directors need to know music as well as film, and need to understand how a production expresses an opera. So, to the archaeology of filmed opera, back in the 1960's when television was creative cutting edge. People watched TV then so there was money in opera TV and broadcasters put their best people on the job. 

One of the Hamburg Opera/NDR opera films was Weber's Der Freischütz.  This production, directed by Gyula Trebitsch, and filmed by Joachim Hess, was unabashedly "period", leather trousers and feathered hats, bodices and aprons. For gents and ladies in that order, not the other way round.  Even now central Europeans join hunting clubs and forage in the forest. In 1968, the world of this Der Freischütz.was living memory, not archaic kitsch. Traditional setting, but by no means dumbed down or brainless. It's not costumes that make a good production but the ideas behind them. 

The film opens with a shot of a print of a 19th century theatre curtain. Cut out figures move across the screen as the credits roll. The Overture is a transition from artifice to "reality" and quite magical in its own way. The villagers are partying but this isn't twee prettiness. The Thirty Years War was traumatic. Millions died. Survival depended on luck. That's why Max is susceptible to Kaspar's magic, and why Agathe's so frightened of omens. Max knows that any moment, his luck may turn, so he's preapared to gamble with the devil.  That this is a hunting community isn't decor, either. These people have no qualms about killing to live. A generation of war also means that peasants who once might have been farmers now know how to use guns. The opera gets underway with the chorus "Victoria!Victoria!". The peasants are cheering Killian, a peasant who presumably learned to shoot in war, while Max was just a forester. No wonder Max is bothered. Significantly, the opera ends when Ottakar and the Hermit, symbols of authority, decide that traditions must change.  Reason  must rule, not superstition. Audiences in Weber's time would have understood that this was more than pastoral fantasy. They lived in an era when feudal was finally giving way.

So don't mistake the peasant costumes for placid or peaceful. Der Freischütz is not glossy, serene or bucolic. That's why Weber writes such vigour into his music. Peasant life was tough, so peasant dancers were as fit as athletes. Their dances are energetic, even stolid, as the music makes clear. Weber's describing a crude life force that comes from living - not necesarily in harmony - with nature. Carlos Kleiber's recording with the Staatskapelle Dresden in 1973 captures the true spirit so well that you can't say you know the opera til you've heard Kleiber

In the film, the Hamburg Philharmonic State Orchestra is conducted by Leopold Ludwig, who is pretty good at atmospheric drama. Since the Wolf's Glen scene is so vividly filmed, there's a good match between music and visuals. These films were based on regular stage productions, so reflect what Hamburg Opera was doing in 1968, so performances are varied, pretty much like in any functioning opera house.  Standards were high, though, because in Germany they take opera, and Der Freischütz seriously. Voices from the past, like Gottlob Frick (Kaspar), Tom Krause, Ernst Kozub.  Watch for Franz Grundheber, later a great Wozzeck for Abbado, in the tiny role of Kilian, which he makes big.  Above all, watch for and listenn to Edith Mathis, then aged 30, as Ännchen. Arlene Saunders sings beautifully but Mathis lights up the screen completely and steals the show. You can almost hear what Saunders is thinking. Mathis always sounded gorgeously fresh and youthful, even when she reached her 60's. Here she exudes sweetness laced with pert intelligence. Agathe panics, but Ännchen is the voice of strong common sense. This film has a cult following because it preserves Mathis  at the start of her career. Hear why below:

Der Freischütz, Colin Davis, Barbican

How I'd looked forward to hearing Colin Davis conduct Carl Maria von Weber's Der Freischütz at the Barbican, London. I love the opera passionately.  After last night's concert I listened again to Davis's 1993  recording, remembering it was quite good, though significantly it's one I rarely listen to. The absolute pinnacle is Carlos Kleiber against whom no-one else measures. So deliberately I blanked Kleiber out and listened to what Davis would show about the opera at this stage in his career. It's always invidious to compare recordings with live, and the Dresden Staatskapelle have Weber in their genes. But I wasn't expecting to hear Der Freischütz as polite English oratorio.

The Barbican audience applauded dutifully, because Sir Colin has earned his place as a national institution and shaped British music. He's the focus of a valedictory ten-concert series at the Barbican next year which will place him among the immortals. At his best, such as in last year's Prom Missa Solemnis, Davis can be brilliant, but not everyone should be expected to show brilliance in all things and at all times.

Part of the problem was that the spoken dialogue was excised in favour of spoken synopsis.  That's probably necessary for English audiences, especially those who've come to hear celebrity rather than the opera. But Weber's dialogue is almost as important to the piece as the orchestra and singing. The pungent repartee links intimately to the staccatos and darting rhythms in the music. Without dialogue, we're hearing the piece cut to shreds. Maybe that's not a problem since audiences are used to extracts these days, but it's an unhealthy way of listening.

Der Freischütz doesn't often get staged but is a classic because the drama is in the music. As the narrator (Malcolm Sinclair) said, the opera's set after the Thirty Years War, in a community that's known nothing but killing. While Davis's Dresden Overture had charm, which is valid, this time the Overture was so sedate it dragged. Tempi on their own mean little, but the lack of coherence was more worrying. The dances weren't charged with the vigourous energy with which they can be done, and the sudden flashes of woodwind didn't chill, like the spooks from the underworld.they represent.  Even the Wolf's Glen sounded like it had been paved over.

Similar decorum marked some of the singing. Simon O'Neill sang Max and Christine Brewer sang Agathe. Both pinched in tone, and tense, but O'Neill uses his voice effectively so it expresses character. Max is no hero, but a decent man trapped by superstitious tradition. Dramatically, O'Neill delivers. Brewer, though, sings Agathe as if she were a low level Isolde, minus the transcendant beauty. This Agathe doesn't have the vivid imagination that makes the character so charming, and her predicament so frightening.  Sally Mattthews's Ännchen has wit. She, and Lucy Hall singing the wreath song, brought much needed freshness and beauty.

Lars Woldt replaced Falk Struckmann at short notice but in some ways that was an advantage as he sang the role as it might have been in a more idiomatic performance. His brooding, menacing Kaspar suggests depths to the role which could be developed well elsewhere. He's barely 40 with a strong opera background. Remember the name, he's got potential. Gidon Saks was a darkly sexy Hermit, which again would be interesting in a thoughtful interpretation of this opera. Stephan Loges's experience enabled him to convincingly create the two very different parts of Ottokar and Zamiel. Martin Snell's Kuno had resonance. The choruses weren't tightly drilled, which was good because they sounded direct, like peasants should. The Huntsman's Chorus, however, could have used the energetic discipline of a march. On the other hand, that would have contradicted the overall flow of the performance. There might be more spark at Saturday's performance, but take it as it is, a memory of past glories. Which, in a sense, Der Freischütz might be. But in the opera, feudal superstitions are replaced by practical good sense.


Apparently this was being record for CD release, probably marketed to those who buy celebrity rather than music.

Prom 70 - Why The French Freischütz matters

What fun tonight's Prom 70, John Eliot Gardiner and the  Orchestre Révolutionnaire et Romantique. So what if it's in French, not German? No doubt the same folk who scream sacrilege at Berlioz's sin will happily go to ENO for Berlioz and much else in English. Der Freischütz marks a turning point in music history, influencing Mendelssohn, Schubert, Schumann, Loewe, Wagner, even Franz Schreker, so it matters when it influences a composer outside the German tradition. .

Berlioz was only 21 when he heard a bowdlerized version of it in Paris, and set out to learn the original from the score. He didn't merely translate, but adapted it to French popular tastes. out with the long stretches of dialogue (which I adore), in with brisker recitatives. Berlioz also had the wit to adapt the music to the new text so the lines don't jar but feel natural. And he's learning about orchestration. Berlioz would become the great music theoretician of his age. His Treatise on Instrumentation was avidly discussed by Mahler and Strauss. (there's even a section on the saxophone, which had just been invented). A copy stood on Mahler's bedside table. So don't dismiss what Berlioz is trying to do in the French Freischütz.

 Of course Le Freischütz doesn't sound exactly like Der Freischütz. All his life, Berlioz would be adapting ideas and developing styles. adventuring outside the French musical mainstream. Maybe that's why he's interesting. So think of the French  Freischütz as a missing link between the early German Romantic and other styles that folllow, and not as Weber manqué. This is very early Berlioz and he's still finding his way. (The effervesence of Weber still eludes him).

Weber's Der Freischütz.is notoriously difficult to stage realistically, what with Wolf's Glens and so on. And if Der Freischütz is tricky, remember Euryanthe, which the Royal Opera House did stage about 20 years ago. The plot's so improbable anyway. So the Prom 70 semi-staging is an excellent compromise between theatre and concert   Wasn't it great when Samiel boomed down from an upstairs box, and witches' screams burst out all thru the Royal Albert Hall?

Extremely good singing, Gidon Sacks (Gaspard/Kaspar) gorgeously sexy and demonic, Andrew Kennedy (Max), looking bewildered (as Max should be) but singing with heartfelt determination. Not a weak spot in the singing, but it must be remembered that because the syntax is French, singing styles won't be like German. The chorus (the Monteverdi Choir) is great fun. Yes, fun! No-one ever took plots like this seriously. The idea was to get thrills from the ghostly whippoorwills in the orchestra, and the idea of a confrontation with Samiel, the devil, the joyous overtures and choruses. We luxuriate in the Overture, the chorus of Chasseurs, lovely individual arias and entr'actes.

Anyone who knows Der Freischütz has Carlos Kleiber's recording with the Dresden Staatskapelle (Weikl, Janowitz, Mathis, Schreier) tattooed permanently into their soul. And so it should be, for it's a performance of genius. But that's exactly why we need to listen to John Eliot Gardiner and the Orchestre Révolutionnaire et Romantique in period performance. Period instruments are never going to sound as full and as wonderful, but they remind us of what the sound world of the early 19th century might have been like. Indeed, part of the charm of Gardiner's orchestra is that they are genuinely bucolic. People then would have identified with natural horns and village dances, so they might have heard the warmth of familiarity where we now hear hokey. Berlioz as orchestrator probably knew what he was doing to create the right atmosphere. We don't need sophistication all the time. A dose of period high jinks reminds us how far we've come.

More French Freischütz

John Eliot Gardiner conducts the Berlioz French Freischütz tonight at Prom 70, but here is another version, conducted by Jean-Paul Penin.

Warming up for Freischütz Prom 73

On Friday Prom 73, Weber's Der Freischütz turns into Berlioz's transcription thereof, en français. Before one screams sacrilege, remember that Berlioz is trying to figure out what made Weber and Mendelssohn tick (though he never really did). Furthermore, France isn't just Paris. There are hunting traditions in France, just as there were/are in Germany. So enjoy this choir Les Chanteurs Pyrénéens, who sound like they know about Chasseurs. And here is the original auf Deutsch

Was gleicht wohl auf Erden dem Jägervergnügen?
Wem sprudelt der Becher des Lebens so reich?
Beim Klange der Hörner im Grünen zu liegen,
Den Hirsch zu verfolgen durch Dickicht und Teich,
Ist fürstliche Freude, ist männlich Verlangen,
Erstarket die Glieder und würzet das Mahl.
Wenn Wälder und Felsen uns hallend umfangen,
Tönt freier und freud'ger der volle Pokal!
Jo, ho! Tralalalala!

Not all that different in spirit, though the band below is infinitely better and the singers have a more professional touch!

Die Drei Pintos Weber Mahler UCL Opera

Ever enterprising UCL Opera presents Weber and Mahler Die Drei Pintos (The Three Pintos) at the Bloomsbury Theatre, London.  It's not obscure, and nowadays anything with Mahler's name tagged on it gets maximum attention.

But it's also an important part of the Weber legacy. It's classic faked identity farce. Clarissa, an heiress, has been pledged by her father to marry a man called Pinto whom none of them have ever seen. Pinto's father saved Clarissa's father in a war, so that's quite enough. Pinto no 1 knows a bit about bloodstock breeding, but nothing else. So Pinto No 2 thinks that reason enough for stealing the bride and her money. Meanwhile the heiress is in love with another man, whom Pinto 2 persuades to pose as Pinto 3 and fool the bride's father. Love will out! What is different from the usual happily ever after is that Pinto 1, through no real fault of his own, gets trounced.

It's very much a period piece, connected to Weber's other work. It's set in Spain because the idea of arranged marriage between grandees wouldn't work so well in a German context, though of course such things happened. Besides, audiences of the time liked exotic settings - think Goethe. Or even closer, Weber's delightful comic opera, Abu Hassan, certainly not "obscure" if Schwarzkopf and Schreier enjoyed singing it (though not together).

The Mahler connection comes in because the Weber family asked him to complete the manuscript. Mahler cobbled together bits of incomplete Weber material, and wound in familiar themes (hear the witty snip from Der Freischütz) Although Die Drei Pintos is not a million years from the folk humour of Des Knaben Wunderhorn, Mahler's priority was Weber. Die Drei Pintos is pertinent to Mahler's evolution as a composer. By 1886, he'd already completed his First Symphony, Das Klagende Lied and Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen, so already he was established on a distinctive path of his own. The Mahlerian aspects of this opera come through strongest in the orchestrations, especially in the Entre'acte where he's using textures and instrumental colouring from his own time, not Weber's, but in those days people din't have recordings to compare with and weren't bothered about authenticity.

Although some of Weber's other works, like Euryanthe, are notoriously difficult to stage (ROH had a stab at that 10 years ago), Die Drei Pintos is relatively straightforward. No dragons, no Wolf's Glen, no supernatural spirits. At UCL, directed by John Ramster with designs by Adrian Linford, the staging is ultra bright and colourful. Minor concessions to Spain, like corny Spanish accents which thankfully aren't consistent, but the opera really isn't "about" Spain. But Pinto 2 (Don Gaston, Robin Bailey) has just graduated and celebrates in a bar. The universal student.  In comes ultra yokel Don Pinto (Nick Goodman) and Don Gaston sees a chance to get rick quick.

Fabulously camp and funny scenes where Ambrosio, Don Gaston's sidekick (Edward Davison) teaches Don Pinto how to chase women. Because this production is cheeky and cheerful, it can do innuendos Weber and Mahler would never have dared. Fart jokes, even, and High Camp. The mainly student audience loved it, and rightly so. At Wexford, I think the production was set in the 1930's grimly austere. Maybe the comedy bounced off well - certainly the heavy footfalls in the recording I have (not the one on Naxos) would suggest vigorous romps. The UCL production goes straight for farce, bright costumes, kitsch gypsies, and Clarissa the heiress (Lara Martins) a Schiapirelli pink minidress like Christina Onassis.

I much prefered the verve of this production to last year's unimaginative Genoveva. Somebody's thought about what Die Drei Pintos means!  And it's perfect for the audience and circumstances. Bodes well for the future, as most of the UCL crowd are generalists, not drama or music specalists. This is the crowd to convert if you want to fill houses in 10 or 15 years time.

Good performances by the principals, special mention of Lara Martins and Larissa Blackshaw with amazingly long legs. She used to be a ballerina and is a naturally gifted actress. She can sing expressively, too. Striking stage presence, aided by peacock blue outfit ( Libby Blogg/Michelle Bradbury). Hope she gets to keep the dress.

From where I was sitting, the orchestra was a bit rough on the ears, but played with gusto as student orchestras should.

Maybe one day UCL should do Hugo Wolf's Der Corregidor.  Although there is a loose Mahler connection, Wolf got his ideas from that other great German exoticist Paul Heyse. Although Der Corregidor has problems, it's based on vignettes from Wolf's Spanish Liederbook which is brilliant.