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WQXR, February 19, 2013 |
By David Patrick Stearns |
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Wagner: Parsifal, Metropolitan Opera, 15. Februar 2013 |
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Metropolitan Opera's Entrancing and Enigmatic Parsifal
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Most Wagner operas show multiple faces to the world – their mythological
roots, the culture of Wagner’s own time and what future generations impose
upon his works – particularly in the contemplative, ritualistic redemption
parable that is Parsifal. Never was Wagner more direct than in his
ultra-distilled final opera, but his meaning is so open ended as to be
something close to a tabula rasa.
That’s why Parsifal took so well to
the symbolist approach in Francois Girard’s new Metropolitan Opera
production that had opera-goers buzzing about the entrancing but enigmatic
stage pictures as much as the high musical standard of the performance
conducted by Daniele Gatti, with a cast headed by Jonas Kaufmann and René
Pape. Surface story telling wasn’t a priority in this modern-dress,
plain-clothes retelling of the guileless young man who appears out of the
forest and invades a band of knights dedicated to The Holy Grail, whose
injured, sin-ridden leader Amfortas bleeds anew when enacting Grail-related
rituals.
The production borders on the surreal — laden with symbols
that the opera doesn’t explicitly ask for, but throw off poetic sparks in
multiple directions. And that can work with Parsifal. In Act I, silent,
funeral-veiled widows stood in the corner, positioned more for their
sculptural shape than their relevance to the narrative. When Parsifal enters
the seductive realm of the evil magician Klingsor in Act II, he seems to be
in the bottom of a canyon with a river of blood. Or is he inside Amfortas’
wound? Some have described the production as post-apocalyptic. But when Act
III begins with a stage full of gravediggers, you wonder if the Grail
knights have been dead all along but move between other worldly realms of
mostly barren landscapes. Interestingly, the mostly-offstage chorus suggests
funereal voices from temporal realms.
The production isn’t for
everybody, but so handsomely filled this five-hour-plus opera that I was
quite taken in at the Feb. 18 performance. Amid the meticulously-composed,
highly-stylized stage pictures (suggesting Wieland Wagner’s famously spare,
1950s productions) was a partly-cloudy sky, its weather changes commenting
on the action in this slow-moving opera. Klingsor’s flower maidens are more
like warriors, simultaneously flipping their black, waist-length hair back
and forth, alternately suggesting their triumph or demise. But what about
Wagner’s stage directions? That battle was lost years ago, and I’d much
rather see gently provocative symbols than a bunch knight costumes.
The production’s main drawback: It’s not singer friendly. The towering sets
lack reflecting ceilings so that much vocal sound is lost in the flies.
Nonetheless, Kaufmann in the title role, Pape as the knight
Gurnamanz and Peter Mattei as Amfortas projected feats of word coloring
suggesting they’ve deeply internalized their roles.
I’ve
near heard Pape sing so meaningfully. Kaufmann is still finding his
way into his character’s meaning — though you might not know that if you
haven’t heard his incredibly authoritative singing the new Die Walkure
recording on the Mariinsky label. As Kundry (the witchy mascot of
the knights), Katarina Dalayman was a bit shrieky and inaccurate vocally.
Evgeny Nikitin has good nasty moments as Klingsor. But the opera really
belongs to conductor Gatti, who projects a burning interior core even in the
orchestration’s spare moments.
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