Opera Today, 04 Mar 2010

James Sohre

Humperdinck: Königskinder, Zürich, Februar 2010

Zürich mal Zwei (ohne die Ideomeo-Kritik - without Idomeneo review)

I am not sure if the next day’s Kőnigskinder had a good poster or not, or even if it had a poster at all. I do know that it was arguably my finest experience at Zürich Opera, and no need to beat around the bush as to why: Jonas Kaufmann and Isabel Rey must be two of the most thrilling artists to be found on the opera stage today. The role of Humperdinck’s Goose Girl asks that its impersonator possess the youthful look of a Hannah Montana and the voice of a Sieglinde. Ms. Rey emphatically has the latter, and owing to her slight frame and inventive acting, effortlessly communicates the former. She inhabits the damaged girl’s persona like a second skin, and the hint of metal in her tone means every word is heard, every subtlety lands. She can not only vocally convey tremulous awe, deep-rooted anguish, and breathless anticipation, but can also will her well-schooled instrument to soar, tinged with unbridled joy. Masterful! Mr. Kaufmann matches her for youthful demeanor, of course, and is second to none in fully embodying his characters. Jonas is born to the stage, but does not settle for generic comportment. The bewildered, well intentioned King’s Son gives him a chance to plumb depths of personality that results in a well-rounded and fascinating characterization. His burnished, at times brooding tone can smolder one minute, then ring out the next, then scale back to controlled mezza voce singing, and then execute some of the most intense high pianissimi I have heard from any tenor currently active (pace, JDF). At the peril of asking this out loud and jinxing it: Is Jonas Kaufmann the next world class star tenor we have all been waiting for? Time (and endurance) will tell but at this very moment there is no one quite like him. But as terrific as they are singly, Rey and Kaufmann in tandem are musical magic. As they rode the whole orchestra in full-throated ecstasy my Thrill-and-Chill-Meter went off so many times that the goose bumps threatened to become a permanent condition. Later, their perfectly judged, deeply felt death scene found my eyes welling up with tears, so completely captured was I by their simplicity of purpose and their magnificent artistry. Flawless. But this is Kőnigskinder, for God’s sake! That ‘other’ Humperdinck. The lesser one we don’t talk about, much less produce. Luckily, Zürich Opera didn’t get that memo and gifted the work with a compelling production. No pretty fairy tale setting for designer Mathis Neidhardt who instead created a dreary institution (boarding school? asylum?) with blue-ish gray walls and hanging industrial lighting fixtures, within which he suggested the opera’s bucolic Act One setting by placing us in what must be the botany room. Tagged potted plants abound on numerous rolling lab carts. The Goose Girl is discovered alternatively day-dreaming and doing her homework, seated at one of the downstage carts, when a gaggle of young school girls burst in carrying a gaggle of paper cut-out geese on sticks like crude Japanese puppets. Are they teasing the heroine? Or playing a familiar and welcome game? The mysterious nature of the Goose Girl is captured in a portrayal that is reminiscent of the complex title character of Agnes of God. Part innocent, part child, part adult, part simpleton, and part yearning to be street-wise, this was a richly rewarding combination of subtexts, and one that Ms. Rey carried off to perfection. When the King’s Son encountered her, he did so in the context of an intruder crawling through one of the massive windows on the side wall. Was this his first visit? Or was he simply another resident of the home returning to a recurring scenario? The vagaries of the story allow for such speculation, and the imaginative director Jens-Daniel Herzog devised richly rewarding character development and stage business. Not the least of his success was in drawing such youthfully believable, charismatic portrayals from his leading couple. For instance, when it came time for the first kiss, the Girl was seated atop a cart, and the Son gingerly stepped up on the lower shelf causing the cart to roll slightly and break the moment. Both laughed at the mis-fired attempt. Then with locked gaze, and certain purpose, Jonas carefully stepped on again, moved to lock lips, and ‘just’ as he and Isabel tenderly kissed, he pushed off the floor with his other foot and they glided across the stage in perfect coordination with the orchestral effect. I am telling you, it was as unforgettable an image as when ET and Elliott flew across the face of the moon on the bicycle. Wow. Liliana Nikiteanu’s Witch was assuredly sung with a honking big brass voice even up and down the scale; dramatically she was a school marm that combined the worst of Miss Jean Brodie and the best of Elmira Gulch. Oliver Widmer made the most of his crucial role as the (wandering) Minstrel, with a generous outpouring of stylish tone. Reinhard Mayr’s Woodcutter was a bit rough-and-tumble at first but later settled into a more vocally-controlled brash figure. The Broom-Maker was a jewel of an entertaining performance as presented by Boguslav Bidzinski, whose pleasing tenor was musically sound and deployed with theatrical flair. In place of Act Two’s city street and (plot important) gate, the back wall rose to reveal…an identical back wall! But the room was expanded and transformed into the institution’s multi-purpose room, complete with kitchen/canteen, and a makeshift stage to accommodate some VP visitors who are coming to the place for an indeterminate ceremony. Among those dignitaries, the Head City Councilor was memorably portrayed as a frail-voiced, doddering old fool by Kai Florian Bischoff. The Landlord was competently sung by Tomasz Slawinski, and his Daughter (Anja Schlosser) was a randy Goth party girl who acted with real abandon. Her enthusiastic singing was occasionally marked by rowdy incaution. Stephanie Ritz evinced great empathy and offered plangent tones as the Broom Maker’s Daughter. Act Three found us back in the same setting, now in ruins, with furniture over-turned and with copious snow blowing in through the open windows. It was with this act that resident designer Hoffmann’s stage lighting came into its own with splendid side and area effects. At first I thought I had visually tired of the basic box, but I have to say I cannot imagine the couple’s final moments working better any other way. Here they were, back where they began, climbing in through the window (in effect ‘breaking in’) to face their destiny in the oppressive, mysterious environment from which they had briefly ‘escaped.’ However engaging the production, or starry the singers, it all would have been for naught without a conductor able to make this massive orchestration spring to life. And here we were equally fortunate to have Ingo Metzmacher in the pit eliciting superlative playing from this talented band. His attentive sensitivity to the singers and the total understanding of the shape and pacing of the drama surely must place Maestro Metzmacher among the top opera conductors of the day. The string ensemble was especially warm and incisive, although pride of instrumental place must be given to the superb, bird-like solos from the principal flute. With this world-class Kőnigskinder, Zürich has added another jewel to its crown.