Not long ago I reviewed a reissue of the first audio recording
of Die tote Stadt. Strongly cast, with René Kollo and Carol
Neblett in the lead roles, and very well conducted by Erich
Leinsdorf, that 1975 RCA set represented the strongest possible
recording debut for the opera. Since then, one or two video
recordings have been released but I’ve missed them so I was very
keen to see and hear this recent Bavarian State Opera
performance.
It marks the operatic directing debut of
Simon Stone. His production sets the action in the twentieth
century. I’ll confess that initially I had my doubts about
aspects of the production. Furthermore, I was unsure about Ralph
Myers’ design work. The sets mainly consist of rooms in various
apartments. These are suitably seedy, though it seemed to me
that the designs rather missed the sense of oppressive decay
that one got from the blue-and-black cover art on the Leinsdorf
CD release. There is no obvious connection to Bruges; the opera
could be set anywhere. I mention these reservations up front in
case other viewers should share them, because I want to
encourage anyone sharing my initial doubts to persevere. It
wasn’t long before I was completely won over by the konzept.
Yes, there are some fussy and/or obscure directorial gestures –
why, for instance, is Marietta wheeled around, sitting in a
supermarket cart, during the singing of Pierrot’s Lied? Another
odd touch is that when Paul hands Marietta a lute, as per the
libretto, before she sings ‘Glück, das mir verlieb’, what he
gives her in fact is a microphone plugged into a TV set; the
opening of the lute song thus appears to be a karaoke number!
However, such jarring moments are mercifully rare.
As for
Ralph Myers’ sets, I think they’re a triumphant success. The
very anonymity of the twentieth century apartment rooms
universalises the story. Even more effective is the use that’s
made of the revolving stage. Not only does this enable the
action to move seamlessly from one location to another – vital
in what is, after all, a dream story – but the revolutions of
the set play a part in other respects. For example, near the
start of Act II, the way Paul walks in contrary motion to the
revolving set brilliantly suggests his endless, restless
tramping around the streets of Bruges. And what may seem like
directorial conceits usually have their place, too. I was very
dubious when I saw Marietta make her first entry, riding a
bicycle up to the front door of Paul’s residence. All is
revealed right at the end of Act III when, as part of the reveal
that everything we have witnessed was Paul’s dream, we see her
depart in exactly the same fashion. I do wonder if the Act II
scene involving Marietta and her friends cavorting in a very
energetic pursuit of pleasure isn’t a bit over-directed. On the
other hand, though, it does bring home the decadent seediness of
the group; so, on balance, I think it’s justified.
Overall, I think the production very successfully illuminates
the music. And what music it is! I came away from watching this
performance marvelling at the fact that one so young could write
such highly charged music – Korngold was just 16 when he began
to write the music and he was 23 when the opera premiered. It’s
a tribute to the quality of this performance, of course, but the
lengthy and volatile exchanges between Paul and Marietta in Act
III, leading up to her murder have such a searing intensity –
and an erotic element – that one would imagine the music to be
the work of an older person, wiser in the ways of the world.
Furthermore, I think I’m right in saying that the young Korngold
had a hand in the writing of the libretto too, though in the
booklet Juliane Luster, interviewing Simon Stone, states that
the libretto was the work solely of Julius Korngold. From first
bar to last Die tote Stadt is an astonishing achievement with
its hugely taxing vocal parts and its magnificent orchestration,
by turns ravishing and fierily dramatic. The present performance
more than does justice to Erich Korngold’s invention.
So
much of the opera hinges around the parts of Paul and
Marietta/Marie that there’s a danger of overlooking the other
members of the cast; so, let’s avoid that danger right now.
There simply isn’t a weak link in the cast. The supporting roles
of Juliette, Lucienne, Gaston, Victorin and Graf Albert are all
very well taken. Each of these singers offers a vivid portrayal
of outrageous, selfish, Bohemian characters; all of them act as
well as they sing and they enter right into the spirit of the
production. Andrzej Filończyk doubles up as Frank and Fritz. He
does very well in both roles, though as a matter of personal
preference I like to hear Pierrot’s Lied sung with a silkier
tone. I think that Hermann Prey conveys the aching nostalgia of
the music rather better on the Leinsdorf set. On the other hand,
it seems that Filończyk better conveys the character’s menace.
Jennifer Johnston is a fine Brigitta. The quality of her voice
is excellent throughout and she also engages our sympathies for
Paul’s housekeeper through her acting.
Inevitably, Jonas
Kaufmann gets top billing but I found Marlis Petersen to be an
absolute revelation. She sings marvellously throughout – the
opening of ‘Glück, das mir verlieb’ is gorgeously done – and
she’s undaunted by the huge demands of the tessitura and the
test of stamina that the role imposes. It’s her singing – and
acting – as the femme fatale which makes the deepest impression.
When ‘Glück, das mir verlieb’ opens up into a rapturous duet she
is a radiant partner for Kaufmann. In the next Act she is wholly
convincing as the Good Time girl in the scene with her dancing
troupe colleagues. In the extended scene with Paul at the end of
Act II she first reproaches Paul bitterly and then tries,
successfully, to seduce him again. The final confrontation
between the two of them is searingly intense. Ms Petersen makes
us sorry for Marietta, sympathising that Paul has let her down
so badly. Then her jealous raging against the memory of Marie is
spectacularly done, her singing and acting full of despairing
venom. I should also say that when she appears as the dying
Marie at the end of Act I, a passage that’s beautifully
directed, she and Kaufmann make Marie’s last moments very
moving. This is a memorable role(s) assumption by Marlis
Petersen. Brava!
Judging by a press review of the
production which is reproduced in the booklet, the opera was
mounted – for the first time in 60 years in Munich – because
Jonas Kaufmann was keen to take the role of Paul. His
performance justifies the decision to go ahead. He’s ideally
equipped for the role: he has the range and stamina to take such
a taxing part. Furthermore, he is consistently required to exert
himself physically throughout the production – as is Marlis
Petersen; neither artist flags under the strain. Kaufmann’s
singing is marvellous. We hear several examples of his refined
quiet singing – his closing soliloquy at the end of the opera is
magically done. But the part also requires a great deal of very
full-on, emotionally charged singing from him, whether venting
rage or expressing desperation, lust for Marietta or anguish at
the loss of Marie. I was gripped by all aspects of his
performance and impressed as much by his acting abilities as by
his glorious voice. Who knows if he will ever essay this role
again? His admirers will want to snap up this filmed performance
while they can.
Besides the two principal singers, the
performance is also a triumph for Kirill Petrenko. He conducts
the score superbly, obtaining glorious and refined playing from
the orchestra. Rightly, he gives full rein to the warmth and
romantic expressiveness in the score – opportunities for rubato
in the slow, lyrical passage are fully observed, yet never to
excess – but he also impels the music forward in the many
tumultuous episodes. It seemed to me not only that he has full
command of the score – one would expect nothing less – but also
that he really believes in the music. To date, I’ve only
experienced Petrenko as a concert conductor; this was my first
exposure to him leading an operatic performance and I was
seriously impressed. I wonder if he might be tempted to perform
Korngold’s symphony with the Berlin Philharmonic; on this
evidence he’d make a fine job of it. Korngold’s wonderfully rich
and inventive orchestration is splendidly realised by Petrenko
and his players; the many imaginative nuances in the score make
their mark. The chorus work – both by adults and children – is
very well done.
This, then, is a compelling and all-round
excellent account of Korngold’s operatic masterpiece. The opera
house experience has translated very well to film; Myriam
Hoyer’s video direction is assured. The Blu-ray disc gives
excellent, crisp picture quality and very good sound. When I
played the disc’s audio channel through my hi-fi system the
sonic results were even better.
The booklet, which is in
English and German, includes a useful synopsis, and an
interesting conversation between Simon Stone and Juliane Luster,
in which the director explains his approach to the opera and
especially the psychological aspects.
Admirers of
Korngold’s music should regard this as a mandatory purchase.