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| LOEWE: Die Drei Wünsche |
| Klepper, Weber, May; Kaufmann, F. Prey, Worner, Hawlata; Stuttgarter
Choristen; Rundfunkorchester des Südwestfunk, Falk. German libretto only.
Capriccio 50-074 (2) |
| OPERA NEWS, June 1999 Copyright © 1999 The Metropolitan
Opera Guild, Inc |
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Best known for his copious catalogue of ballads and
lieder, Carl Loewe (1796-1869) demonstrated his consummate skill as an
orchestrator and impressive understanding of the voice in his 1834 opera
Die Drei Wünsche (The Three Wishes). Its woodwind-saturated lyricism pays
homage to opera while adhering to the more simplistic conventions of
singspiel. Recitative and spoken dialogue are abandoned in favor of
Schubertian cavatinas and reassuring choruses, and rhyming couplets in
iambic pentameter are frequently used. Strophic constructions prevail as
well, but in the context of the narrative forms in which Loewe's vocal
music thrived, they are more subtle than dogmatic. Although Die Drei
Wünsche is occasionally reminiscent of Fidelio -- the opening duets, for
example, evoke the colloquy between Marzelline and Jaquino -- it's hardly
a slavish imitation, but rather an honest aesthetic expression of its
time.
The plot -- an oriental fairy tale of two opposing merchant families, one
rich, one poor, at the mercy of an itinerant Dervish who can't make up his
mind -- is another matter. The invention of one Ernst Raupach, a friend of
Loewe's whose principal occupation was that of an Imperial Russian Privy
Councillor, the story of Die Drei Wünsche is so vapid that it makes
Cenerentola look like Wozzeck.
Peter Falk's urbane, persuasive conducting supports a fine cast of young
singers that includes an effective, studious performance of the Dervish
Bathmendi by Franz Hawlata, a bass-baritone whose musicianship makes up
for a somewhat strained breathiness in his lower register. Florian Prey
(son of the great Hermann) and fellow baritone Frank Worner offer sturdy,
focused readings of the merchants Muley and Zadig, though Worner's wide
vibrato occasionally compromises simple declamation. Regina Klepper's
bright, birdlike soprano is ideally suited to Suleima, but she tends
toward stridency when compelled to sing on long breaths. Mezzo Hermine May
and soprano Astrid Weber deliver solidly as rivals Aischra and Fatme.
There's gold in this recording in the magnificent lyric tenor Jonas
Kaufmann, who sounds eerily like Fritz Wunderlich and has the musical
instincts and brains to match. Like Wunderlich, Kaufmann is a compellingly
intense singer who pays attention to inflection and motivic articulation
in the context of a cumulative, goal-oriented rhythm. He navigates the
elaborate fioriture of his Act III cavatina ("Philosophie oder liebe")
with uncommon ease, impeccable legato and a clarion yet full-bodied
sonority richly supported in every register. I look forward to hearing
much more from this singer, whose contribution here makes having this set
all the more worthwhile.
JOHN BELL YOUNG |
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| J.J. Abert: Ekkehard |
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Nyla van Ingen, Susanne Kelling, Mihoko Fujimura, Henryk Böhm, Jörg Hempel, Jörg Reiter, Christian Gerhaher, Jonas Kaufmann, Stuttgarter Choristen, SWR Rundfunkorchester Kaiserslautern, Peter Falk (Leitung)
Capriccio 60 080
Künstlerische Qualität: 8 (Bewertungsskala: 1-10) |
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Heute bekannter als der aus Böhmen stammende Komponist Johann Joseph Abert (1832-1915) sind seine Nachkommen, die sich als Musikwissenschaftler einen Namen gemacht haben: sein Sohn Hermann (1871-1927) und dessen Tochter Anna Amalie (1906-1996).
Es zeichnet Johann Joseph Aberts Opernschaffen - das immerhin sechs Werke umfaßt - aus, daß er sich zwischen Skylla (Meyerbeer) und Charybdis (R. Wagner) als eigenständiger Meister der deutschen Spätromantik behaupten konnte. Zumal im Ekkehard zeigt sich Aberts schöpferische Originalität, obwohl der Komponist gerade zwei Jahre vor der Berliner Uraufführung begeistert den ersten Ring in Bayreuth 1876 miterlebt hatte. Das Ekkehard-Libretto entwarf im wesentlichen der mit Abert befreundete Buchhändler Adolf Kröner nach der Romanvorlage Viktor von Scheffels. Trotz aller dramatischen Akzente und Grand-Opéra-Effekte lebt die Oper von einer grundsätzlich lyrischen Haltung. Sie erzählt vor dem Hintergrund der Hunnenkriege des 10. Jahrhunderts die Geschichte des Mönchs Ekkehard, der sich in die verwitwete Herzogin Hadwig verliebt - und sie sich in ihn - und der am Ende im siegreichen Kampf gegen die Hunnen fällt.
Die Aufnahme lebt vom frischen, engagierten Dirigat Peter Falks, einem wachen und präzisen Orchesterspiel und von dem überdurchschnittliche Leistungen bietenden Sängerteam. Mit Jonas Kaufmann in der Titelrolle macht ein junger lyrischer Tenor nachdrücklich auf sich aufmerksam, von dem sicher bald noch mehr zu hören sein wird. Er verfügt über ein schönes, helles, jugendliches Timbre, gebietet über eine leicht und sicher ansprechende Höhe, phrasiert sehr kultiviert, gestaltet differenziert und ausdrucksvoll. Eine Stimme, die man gern auch in bekannterem Repertoire wiederhören möchte!
Kurt Malisch |
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Abert: Ekkehard, Crescendo 6/2000 |
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Nur in ganz alten Opernführern findet man
einen Hinweis auf dieses romantische Seelengemälde von einem Burgfräulein
und einem Mönch, der der Liebe verfällt (man denke auch an Massenets Thais
und Schillings’ Hexenlied). Nun ist ein Konzertmitschnitt von den für
Raritäten schon immer offenen Musiktagen Bad Urach erschienen. Wie gleich
am Vorspiel der Oper zu hören, bietet das Werk keineswegs zweitrangige
Musik, auch wenn die Zeit über Aberts kompositorische Sprache
grundsätzlich etwas hinweggegangen zu sein scheint. Unter den
Nachwuchssängern imponiert Jonas Kaufmann in der Titelpartie. Peter Falk,
sonst eher im UMusik-Bereich tätig, beweist alte Kapellmeistertugenden.
Johann Joseph Abert: Ekkehard.
Solisten, Stuttgarter Choristen, SWR Rundfunkorchester Kaiserslautern:
Peter Falk 1998.
Capriccio 60080/EMI. JM |
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Abert: Ekkehard |
| Alfred Reiter Watzmann ; Nyla van
Ingen Hadwig ; Susanne Kelling Praxedis ; Henryk Böhm
Spazzo ; Jörg Hempel Duke of Montford ; Christian Gerhaher
Rudimann ; Jonas Kaufmann Ekkehard ; Mihoko Fujimora Forest
Woman |
| Kaiserslautern Radio
Orchestra; Stuttgart Choristers/Peter Falk |
| Capriccio New CD 60 080 (127 minutes : DDD) |
| Reviewed: Gramophone 5/2001 |
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This is one of the strangest operas that I
have ever heard. Johann Joseph Abert (1832-1915) was born and educated in
what was then Bohemia, but from the age of 21 until his death worked in
Stuttgart, for 20 years as Kapellmeister. His operas were widely performed
in Germany; Ekkehard was premiered in Berlin in 1878 and remained in the
repertory in Abert’s adopted city until the end of the century.
Ekkehard is a monk, regarded with suspicion by his abbot because he reads
such pagan authors as Virgil, but he turns out to be a doughty fighter
against both paganism – the local peasants worship the ‘old gods’ Freia
and Wotan – and the invading Huns (so the date – the unhelpful booklet
doesn’t tell us – must be 451 AD). Both anti-Christian forces are aided by
the Forest Woman, an otherwise un-named witch, but the real meat of the
plot is provided by the fact that both Hadwig, Duchess of Swabia, and her
confidante Praxedis are in love with Ekkehard, while the Duke of Montfort,
himself in love with Hadwig, plots to murder him.
The booklet provides the libretto in German only (carelessly omitting
several important passages). While listening I began fantasising about
what sort of plot an innocent, non-German-speaking listener might guess
had prompted such music. A rustic subject, probably (charming pastoral
lyricism; folk-like choruses), with comic elements (Abert has a light
touch, at times deliciously sprightly) and serious moments (chorales and a
swinging battle-song) but surely nothing so earnest as conflict between
races and religions, love and faith? The finale to Act 3 is a gently
lyrical ensemble that gets bigger as the chorus join, but only the
libretto will tell you (the music gives no hint) that it incorporates a
blood-curdling curse on Ekkehard, who has (in the abbot’s view) profaned
both holy ground and Hadwig’s widowhood by confessing his love for her in
her husband’s funerary chapel. Who, from the pretty, lighted-footed
duettino for the Forest Woman and Montfort in Act 4, could possibly guess
that she is gloating over anticipated vengeance, while he rejoices in the
victory within him of lust over honour and duty?
The music, in short, is often delightful, in the manner of Marschner or
Lortzing, with occasional reminders that Abert was a countryman of Smetana
and as a young man had played under the baton of Meyerbeer, but there is
an almost total inconsistency between the music and the opera’s text. It
is never boring, though, and only rarely banal; its orchestral colours are
often beautiful, its vocal writing unfailingly mellifluous. A good cast of
young singers (one or two of them a little stretched) does it proud; Jonas
Kaufmann in particular is a lyric/dramatic tenor of rare quality and
musicianship. Peter Falk directs sympathetically and the live recording
(of a concert performance) is excellent. |
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| H. Marschner: Der Vampyr (große romantische Oper in zwei Akten) |
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Künstlerische Qualität: 8(Bewertungsskala: 1-10)
Klangqualität: 8
Gesamteindruck: 8 |
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Daß musikgeschichtlicher Rang und Präsenz im CD-Katalog keineswegs korrelieren müssen, dafür ist Heinrich Marschners "große romantische Oper" Der Vampyr (Uraufführung 1828) ein bedenkliches Beispiel - bildet das Werk doch das wichtige stilistische Bindeglied zwischen Weber und Wagner und ist der Titelheld zweifellos der Urtypus jenes leidenden Bösewichts, den kurz darauf Meyerbeer mit dem Bertram in Robert le diable und dann Wagner mit seinem Fliegenden Holländer aufgegriffen und weiter ausgearbeitet haben. Obwohl Wagner nach anfänglicher positiver Bewertung sich später vom Vampyr heftig distanziert hat, ist Marschners Vorbildwirkung offenkundig, etwa im deklamatorischen Fluß des Gesangsvortrags, der zwischen Rezitativ und Arioso changiert, in der deutlichen Parallelität einzelner Gesangsnummern, wie z.B. Emmys Romanze vom bleichen Mann, die auf die Senta-Ballade vorausweist. Diese - nach der von Günther Neuhold geleiteten RAI-Produktion aus dem Jahr 1980 - erst zweite Aufnahme dieser wichtigen Oper wird von Helmuth Froschauer farbig und differenziert geleitet, packend im dramatischen Zugriff und mit der rechten gefühlvollen Elegie in den lyrischen Szenen. Auch gesanglich steht die Einspielung auf gutem Niveau, krankt jedoch an der mit Franz Hawlata fehlbesetzten Titelrolle.
Hawlatas weicher, fülliger Baß kämpft hörbar mit der hohen Tessitura dieser Heldenbaritonpartie, zeigt vor allem viel zu wenig Dämonie, sanguinische Energie und Leidensdruck, um die zwiespältigen Züge des Vampyrs als Täter und Opfer glaubhaft zu machen. Regina Klepper verfügt über den geeigneten klangschönen, lyrischen Sopran für die Malwina, bleibt aber darstellerisch allzu blaß und anämisch im Ausdruck. Das vokale Kleinod der Aufnahme ist Jonas Kaufmann als Aubry, der sich mit frischem, jugendlichem Timbre, schlanker Stimmführung und sicherer Höhe als großes lyrisches Tenortalent nachdrücklich empfiehlt.
Kurt Malisch |
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Marschner: Der Vampyr |
| Helmuth Froschauer, WDR-Rundfunkorchester und
-chor Köln, Franz Hawlata (Lord Ruthven), Jonas Kaufmann (Edgar Aubry),
Malwine Davenaut (Regina Klepper) u. a. |
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Capriccio/Delta 60083 (2 CDs, 128 Min., aufgenommen
8/99) |
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Nicht erst Hollywood hat die Vampire zum
Thema gemacht. Schon 1828 konkurrierten gleich zwei Vampiropern von
Heinrich Marschner und Peter Josef von Lindpaintner, beide heute mehr oder
weniger vergessen wie auch ihre Schöpfer.
Die Romantik des sieben Jahre zuvor entstandenen "Freischütz" klingt bei
Marschner textlich und musikalisch durch; Wagner hat sich über Marschners
Werk euphorisch geäußert und Emmys Ballade vom bleichen Mann erinnert
auffällig an die Senta-Ballade im "Fliegenden Holländer". Es schaudert
einen heute allerdings nur noch bedingt, wenn der zum Vampir mutierte Lord
Ruthven verspricht, binnen vierundzwanzig Stunden drei Bräute zu finden
und anschließend zu opfern, was er auch umsetzt.
Musikalisch ist Marschners Oper originell in der Instrumentation, im
Einsatz von Erinnerungsmotiven und musikalischen Zitaten. Der erste Akt
ist eher konventionell, der zweite dagegen musikalisch und klanglich sehr
reizvoll mit einer umfangreichen Ballade der zweiten Braut Emmy, einem
großen Monolog des Vampirs und einem mächtigen Finale.
Diese Veröffentlichung setzt eine verdienstvolle Reihe bei Capriccio fort,
mit der heute vergessene Opernerfolge des 19. Jahrhunderts wieder belebt
werden. Anders als bei den Vorgängern ist hier das Resultat insgesamt
jedoch weit unter dem Soll hinsichtlich Präzision, klanglicher
Differenzierung und Intonation, besonders beim Orchester.
Beeindruckend sind jedoch Franz Hawlata in der umfangreichen Partie des
Vampirs Lord Ruthven mit sonorem Bariton und der Tenor Jonas Kaufmann als
sein in Gewissensnöten befindlicher Freund Edgar Aubry, die dritte Braut
Malwine, gesungen von Regina Klepper, außerdem der Kölner Rundfunkchor,
der teils kommentierend, teils in die Handlung einbezogen, im großen
Umfang zum Einsatz kommt.
Wenig überzeugend ist leider das unausgewogene Klangbild. Man bekommt
einen Eindruck von der Oper - etwas mehr Sorgfalt, auch bei der
Trackmarkierung, hätte dem Werk einen größeren Gefallen getan.
Peter Overbeck, 4.10.2001 |
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| Marschner: Der Vampyr |
| Klepper, Hoffman; Kaufmann, Hawlata,
Marquardt; Orchestra and Chorus of the WDR Rundfunk, Köln, Froschauer.
Text. Capriccio 60083 (2) |
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Heinrich Marschner's 1828 Der Vampyr is
little performed today, but the singspiel was a hit in its day, and this
recording makes the reasons clear. Not the least of its fascination is its
plot: in order to live among humans for another year, the vampire Ruthven
must claim three brides as victims before the stroke of midnight. It could
serve as the scenario for a Hammer Films shocker.
Marschner depicts the horrific using a musical vocabulary that will be
familiar to any moviegoer. The overture's first phrases use descending
minor scales that not only echo the Stone Guest music in Don Giovanni, but
anticipate the horror-movie scores of a hundred years later. With its
mixture of supernatural and folk elements, Vampyr most recalls Der
Freischütz, composed seven years earlier. It never achieves the
phantasmagoric intensity of Weber's Wolf Glen scene, staying more securely
tethered to singspiel convention, but it remains tuneful and well crafted
from the first note to the last.
Franz Hawlata takes the title role. He's billed as a baritone here, but
he has sung Ochs at the Met, and his voice is notably darker than that of
Markus Marquardt, the recording's nominal bass. Hawlata is at his best
when the music calls for demonic vehemence; when he has to convey oily,
Don Giovanni-esque seductiveness, the vocal line often lies uncomfortably
high, and the singing isn't ideally even.
Regina Klepper, as Ruthven's intended bride Malwine, has a penetrating
soprano that probably carries well in the theater; as recorded, though,
the voice is impossibly edgy. Soprano Anke Hoffman, in the dual role of
Ruthven's victims Janthe and Emmy, has a lighter voice, only marginally
less strident. The vocal honors of the set belong to Jonas Kaufmann as the
vampire's foil, Aubry. His compact, well-knit tenor provides consistent
pleasure. Helmuth Froschauer leads a trim, fleet performance that
emphasizes the opera's classical foundations over its premonitions of
Wagner.
The recording suffers from a lack of theatricality. It includes none of
the singspiel dialogue and no sound effects, so that an Act I melodrama
becomes purely an orchestral interlude. Marschner called for a comic
quintet in Act II to end with a gunshot, plunging the action back into the
realm of the horrific, but here there's no sound, just a pause before the
next number. The libretto is in German, and it includes only the musical
numbers.
FRED COHN |
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| Marschner: Der
Vampyr |
| Markus Marquardt Sir Humphrey Davenaut
; Regina Klepper Malwina ; Jonas Kaufmann Edgar Aubry ;
Franz Hawlata Lord Ruthven ; Yooh-Chang Nah Sir Berkley ;
Anke Hoffmann Janthe ; Thomas Dewald George Dibdin ; Anke
Hoffmann Emmy ; Heinz Heidbüchel James Gadshill |
| West German Radio Orchestra/Helmuth
Froschauer |
| Capriccio CD 60083 (129 minutes : DDD) |
| Reviewed: Gramophone 2002/1 |
| A strongly cast production of Marschner’s
powerful opera‚ but poorly documented |
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| At the centre of Act 2 of Der Vampyr is the
scene in which Lord Ruthven paints the horrors of his vampirism to the
appalled Aubry: the dreadful suffering caused by the dreadful compulsion‚
the anguish of the murderous lust that must be sated‚ the ache for the
lost innocence he must destroy in others. It is Marschner’s finest single
exposition of the idea that obsessed him in several of his operas‚ that of
the agonised villain held back by his villainy from the heroic stature he
might otherwise achieve. It derives from Weber’s Lysiart but anticipates
Wagner’s Flying Dutchman‚ and has attracted a number of darkvoiced German
baritones. Siegfried Niemsgern gave a fine performance on the Warner Fonit
set which came out earlier this year; here now is Franz Hawlata‚
delivering the scene with the ferocity he displays in the more
conventional vengeance aria ‘Ha! welche Lust’‚ but also with the warmth of
tone and phrasing which draws compassion for the vampire’s plight. It is a
strong and sensitive performance which is well contrasted with Jonas
Kaufmann’s Aubry‚ the young man bound by an oath and by fear for his own
soul not to betray the vampire’s secret. Kaufmann rises well to the final
dramatic confrontation‚ and sings his finest solo number‚ ‘Wie ein schöner
Frühlingsmorgen’‚ elegantly and touchingly. Of the three female victims
whom Ruthven must vampirise so as to gain another year’s reprieve‚ Regina
Klepper does best as Malwina‚ with a bright soprano tone that suits the
part and develops greater subtlety with the darkening of her plight. Anke
Hoffmann sings her Lied and her vampire ballad prettily enough‚ though the
latter would be stronger for a greater sense of foreboding‚ and she
doubles in the brief appearance made by Janthe before being murdered. Of
the others‚ Markus Marquardt sustains well the unsympathetic part of Sir
Humphrey Davenaut‚ who tries to compel his daughter Malwina to marry
Ruthven‚ and his final realisation of what he has nearly brought about is
affectingly managed. YooChang Nah sings strongly as Janthe’s father Sir
Berkley (sic). Like the Warner Fonit set‚ the opera is given here not in
the Pfitzner arrangement with the overture delayed until after the first
scene‚ but with some of the now standard cuts. It includes the full
drinking chorus‚ cut to a single verse on Warner‚ which allows the singers
who set out the reasons for drinking in each and every season to become
increasingly unsteady as the year revolves. Helmuth Froschauer conducts a
splendidly colourful and energetic performance of a work that well
deserves a full recording. Of the two recordings now available‚ this is
the finer set‚ though neither helps its cause (or Marschner’s) by poor
documentation. Warner’s sloppy booklet includes an Italian translation of
the libretto that constantly slips out of parallel and gives erratic
indication of cuts; but at least it prints some of the dialogue – cut from
both recordings – which Capriccio’s German libretto (with no translation)
omits. The brief synopsis does not help. Yet again an enterprising
recording has been denied its appeal to collectors by a selfdefeating
sense of economy. |
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| Der Vampyr/Crescendo 5/2001 |
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| Noch seltener als Hans Heiling (zuletzt an der Deutschen Oper Berlin) gelangt Heinrich Marschners Vampyr auf die Bühne. Bei Capriccio gibt es mit Rückgriff auf Produktionen des WDR so etwas wie eine Renaissance der Bemühungen um die deutsche Spieloper. Helmuth Froschauer macht mit dem Kölner Rundfunkorchester nach einer etwas akademisch zelebrierten Ouvertüre erneut eine gute Figur. Regina Kleppers heller Sopran erfreut, bei Franz Hawlata in der Titelpartie sind hingegen Abstriche zu machen. Eine Entdeckung ist der Tenor Jonas Kaufmann. Im Booklet leider keine Biografien. Heinrich Marschner: Der Vampyr. Franz Hawlata, Jonas Kaufmann, Regina Klepper u. a., WDR Rundfunkchor und -orchester: Helmuth Froschauer 1999. Capriccio 60083. JM |
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| L.v. Beethoven: Sinfonie Nr. 9 d-Moll op. 125 (mit Schlußchor über Verse aus Schillers "Ode an die Freude" für Soli, Chor und Orchester, 1822/1824) |
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Camilla Nylund (Sopran), Iris Vermillion (Alt), Jonas Kaufmann (Tenor), Franz-Josef Selig (Bass), Gächinger Kantorei Stuttgart, Radio-Sinfonieorchester Stuttgart des SWR, Roger Norrington (Leitung)
Hänssler Classic 93.088
Künstlerische Qualität:9 (Bewertungsskala: 1-10)
Klangqualität: 9
Gesamteindruck 9 |
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Daß die Neunte den Musizierenden auch heute noch einiges in den Weg stellt, offenbart sich im Schlußstein dieser Gesamteinspielung. Norrington rettet sich im Kopfsatz für meinen Geschmack etwas zu oft in opernhafte Übertreibung. Warum zum Beispiel gleich zu Beginn diese kleinen Schweller hin zu den Zieltönen des Themas im Baß, welche dann von Violinen und Violen überdeckt werden, obwohl Beethoven doch ausdrücklich pp sempre notierte? Der Satz könnte für meinen Geschmack viel weniger solcher Norringtonischen Eigenarten und Kurzatmigkeit, dafür aber viel mehr Straffheit und Wucht vertragen. Im übrigen entfaltet sich die Sinfonie beredt, feurig und plastisch, wie man sie sich kaum mehr anders vorstellen kann. Im von jeher problematischen Trio (Tr. 3, 7'00) ist Norringtons Tempo meiner Auffassung nach allerdings zu langsam: Del Mars Vermutung, es seien Halbe = 160 gemeint, gewinnt an Wahrscheinlichkeit, wenn man bedenkt, daß das Triothema bereits das Freudenthema (in doppelter Vergrößerung; Halbe im Trio entsprechen Vierteln im Finale) vorausnimmt. Dies ist von Beethoven mit Halbe = 80 metronomisiert. Norrington stellt nun keine Temporelation zwischen Trio und Freudenthema her (vgl. Tr. 4, 2'07).
Ein Glücksfall ist das Adagio, für das sich Norrington viel mehr Zeit als früher nimmt (ohne freilich larmoyant zu werden wie viele Kollegen), und das herrlich zum Singen und Schwingen kommt. Die Schreckensfanfare kommt im Vergleich zu 1987 relativ harmlos daher; allerdings ist im Gegensatz zur früheren Aufnahme das umstrittene Tempo der Alla-Marcia-Sektion (Tr. 4, 8'28) weit zügiger und richtig getroffen. Der Chor singt tadellos und ohne in den Höhen zu brüllen, wie oft zu hören ist. Franz Josef Selig macht seinem Namen mit seinem rund und voll klingenden Wohlfühl-Baß wieder alle Ehre. Jonas Kaufmann paßt mit seinem eher baritonal gefärbten Tenor ebenso ausgezeichnet dazu wie der dunkle, edle Mezzosopran von Iris Vermillion. Nur die Sopranistin Camilla Nylund sticht unvorteilhaft heraus (warum müssen sinfonische Chorwerke eigentlich immer von dramatischen Sopranen mit Dauer-Vibrato besetzt werden?). Das paßt hier auch überhaupt nicht zum Vibrato-losen Spiel der Streicher. Im Ganzen hatte mich Norringtons Einspielung von 1987 doch mehr überzeugt, auch wenn diese Aufführung der Neunten einen durchaus würdigen Schlußpunkt eines der insgesamt spannendsten und bedeutendsten Sinfonie-Zyklen Beethovens auf CD darstellt. |
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| Nina, Zürich 2002, DVD |
| Opera News/Februar 2004 |
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The wide-eyed and disheveled soprano,
trilling and warbling in her dementia, is such a Romantic-era theatrical
cliché that one might not be aware of her origins in Giovanni Paisiello’s
1789 opera Nina, o sia la Pazza per Amore (Nina, or The Girl Driven Mad by
Love). This immensely popular work — a “comédie larmoyante,” neither opera
seria nor buffa — was a singer vehicle long before Bellini and Donizetti
made insanity a diva’s best friend. And in a 2002 production from the
Zurich Opera House, conducted by Adam Fischer and directed by Cesare
Lievi, it proves an ideal vehicle for Cecilia Bartoli to display
bewilderment, anger and tenderness as the pathetic, delusional Nina, who
loses her mind after witnessing her lover’s apparent death in a duel.
Late-eighteenth-century music fits Bartoli’s voice and musical
sensibilities to perfection. (Salieri, one of her latest conquests, was
Paisiello’s contemporary.) She can invest a lyrical phrase or a line of
recitative with a world of expression; here she seizes the opportunity to
combine melancholy, longing, infantile joy and suppressed rage in a
tour-de-force characterization, vocally and dramatically complete.
In the spirit of historical accuracy that she has been exploring, Bartoli
interpolates into Act I Mozart’s great 1777 concert aria “Ah, lo previdi,”
set to a text from Paisiello’s 1774 opera Andromeda. The piece works
effectively here as psychological underpinning and is sumptuously sung.
(Both the DVD booklet and director Lievi, in an accompanying interview,
erroneously refer to this aria as “Ah, perfido,” which is a concert aria
by Beethoven.)
The rest of the top-notch cast includes the heroic, attractive tenor of
Jonas Kaufmann, who brings a nice swagger to the lover, Lindoro, and the
noble, affecting Count of László Polgár. Juliette Galstian uses her
pleasant, clear voice along with alert acting to portray Susanna’s
officiousness and affection for Nina, while Angelo Veccia stutters,
wheezes and enlivens the role of the major-domo, Giorgio.
The staging is refreshingly straightforward and naturalistic. Lievi, in a
bonus DVD interview, explains his theory that Nina is merely faking her
madness, as a subconscious feminist rebellion against her father’s
strictures; at the happy ending, realizing that she has traded the
patriarchal system for matrimonial tyranny, she faints. But from the
performance, one would guess that Bartoli doesn’t buy it: Nina seems
genuinely crazy. At the opera’s very moving climax, Nina is gradually
drawn out of her mental isolation by the steady, loving patience of
Lindoro, who turns out to be alive after all.
JUDITH MALAFRONTE |
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| Nina, o sia La pazza
per amore |
| Cecilia Bartoli Nina ; Jonas
Kaufmann Lindoro ; László Polgár Count ; Juliette Galstian
Susanna ; Angelo Veccia Giorgio ; Jonas Kaufmann Shepherd ;
Federica Bartoli Peasant Girl |
Zurich Opera House Chorus; Zurich Opera
House Orchestra/Adám Fischer
ArtHaus Musik DVD 100 366 (120 minutes) |
| Reviewed: Gramophone 10/2003, John Steane |
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| Expressive singing from Bartoli but for a
‘genius’ this is a feeble score |
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I truly never have seen a work brought back
to life which I’d sooner put to sleep again without delay. A supplementary
film details Paisiello’s success in the courts and opera houses of Europe,
but the score of this opera tells of a tonic-dominant composer, a
time-filler with meagre melodic invention, an elementary skill in
orchestration and a first-term student’s knowledge of harmony. The
interpolation of Mozart’s Ah, lo previdi is fatal: written 12 years before
Paisiello’s opera, it shows so clearly musical accomplishments that are
hardly glimpsed in anything else heard during the entire performance. The
claim (if true) that it was in this opera that ‘madness became a serious
motif with tragic potential’ does not confer artistic merit; nor does the
notion (if true) that it makes a good vehicle for Cecilia Bartoli.
She sings with expression and fine tone, both in the Mozart concert aria
and while making the best of limited vocal opportunities elsewhere. She
doesn’t seem (I’ve thought this before) to take well to filming. Her
facial acting, which may be well proportioned for the theatre, is too
repetitive and exaggerated for the camera, which is also unsympathetic to
the moods and poses delineating madness. Nor are the others in the cast
able to endow their characters with anything but the most one-dimensional
form of life. Jonas Kaufmann’s fascinating voice brings moments of
interest and pleasure, and László Polgár’s easy resonance and distinctive
appearance are similarly welcome.
The production is filmed from the stage, and if not imaginative is at
least unpretentious. Adám Fischer looks as though he enjoys conducting the
feeble score. His players aren’t giving anything away, but a penny for
their thoughts might be well spent. |
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| Beethoven: Fidelio |
Alfred Muff Don Pizarro ; Camilla
Nylund sop Leonore ; Elizabeth Magnuson sop Marzelline ;
Jonas Kaufmann ten Florestan ; Boguslaw Bidzinski ten First
Prisoner ; Christoph Strehl ten Jaquino ; László Polgár bass
Rocco ; Günther Groissböck bass Don Fernando ; Gabriel Bermúdez
bass Second Prisoner
Zurich Opera House Chorus; Zurich Opera House Orchestra/Nikolaus
Harnoncourt |
| TDK New DVD DV-OPFID (134 minutes) |
| Reviewed: Gramophone 6/2005, Alan Blyth |
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| A taut and tense traversal of a familiar
work, very personally conducted |
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Although I have reservations about the
staging, this is by and large a consistent and engrossing experience,
especially on the musical side. Harnoncourt, as he showed in his CD
version (Teldec, 10/95), has – as always – decided views on the work in
hand as regards tempi and texture. This predominantly light but dramatic
reading harks back to the 18th century rather than forward to the 19th,
with romantic feeling at a premium. The orchestra foretells the rest in
its crisply accented rhythms, clean sound and sense of the impending
drama: they play splendidly.
Once the curtain is up, we realise that Jürgen Flimm is to offer a fairly
minimalist production, one set more-or-less in period and concentrating –
rightly – on the characters of the principals. Marzelline (the
bright-voiced Elizabeth Magnuson) and Jaquino are preparing guns and
ammunition for the troops. She is bossy, he slightly sadistic. By
contrast, Rocco – a wonderfully moving, warm and eloquent performance from
László Polgár – is kindly, cowed by his surroundings, and alert to every
nuance of feeling in those around him. His body language and his eyes tell
us everything about the jailer’s torment.
Leonore, in the arresting figure of Camilla Nylund, is slim and appealing,
truly believable as a young man. At first she presents Leonore as
matter-of-fact, but that is a cover for true emotions, and she becomes
more and more tense as the first act proceeds. Her singing, in the modern
way, is lighter than one would have expected of yore. Every note is well
placed, united into a real legato projected on a compact, firm tone.
‘Abscheulicher’ has practically all the sense of anger and longing for
release it should have, wanting only a little of the warmth of Sena
Jurinac or Hildegard Behrens on CD. Alfred Muff’s Pizarro, more
conventional, is always a hateful presence, as he should be.
Act 2 introduces us to Jonas Kaufmann’s Florestan, again a portrayal more
youthful than one has become accustomed to – truly he is still in his
spring days as he recounts in his Scena – singing with accuracy and
feeling, though he may find more in the words and notes in years to come.
He and Nylund make ‘O namenlose Freude’, taken at an extraordinarily slow
tempo, more an inward expression of release than the usual excited one. In
the finale, Don Fernando looks far too inexperienced to be Minister.
The simple, somewhat geometric sets, sensitively lit, house a direction
that sometimes becomes fussy in detail. At too many points, essential
lines of dialogue have been omitted and key moments in the action are
mistimed. That seldom matters when the characters relate so movingly to
each other, especially in the dungeon scene.
In support, the Zurich Opera forces sing and play with well-prepared
assurance under Harnoncourt’s concentrated and elevating direction. For
all these advantages, I sometimes felt that the thrust of Beethoven’s
universal message goes missing by comparison with some of the many great
accounts on disc or with the Dohnányi version on DVD from Covent Garden:
more weightily played and sung, it has different, though equally valid,
virtues to this newcomer. The sound could be a bit more immediate; the
video direction is for the most part perceptive. Alan Blyth |
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