|
|
|
|
pundicity |
Matthew Gurewitsch (deutsche Übersetzung im Magazin "Oper!" |
|
Wagner: Konzert, New York, Carnegie Hall, 12. April 2018 (Tristan, 2. Akt) |
|
|
Who's Afraid of Tristan? Not Jonas Kaufmann
|
|
Accustomed as we are to full-length Wagner in the opera house, we seldom
stop to think how each block of his music dramas—a single act of three, in
most cases, or one of the four scenes in Rheingold—can stand on its own,
defining and resolving a specific crisis, like a chapter of a Greek trilogy.
Concert performances bring this quality into sharp relief, but how often do
orchestras go beyond Act I of Die Walküre, with its tight story line and its
neatly balanced all-star cast of three? Despite the allure of the
Liebesnacht, Act II of Tristan und Isolde is almost never singled out for
such treatment.
On April 12, Andris Nelsons and the Boston Symphony
Orchestra brought this mighty fragment to Carnegie Hall, quite possibly for
its first such hearing in this city since Kurt Masur programmed it with the
New York Philharmonic in February 2002. The focus back then was the Isolde
of Deborah Voigt. This time, anticipation centered on Jonas Kaufmann,
testing himself in the role of Tristan for the first time.
New
Yorkers get a lot less of Kaufmann's time these days than they would like
to—and feel they deserve. A capacity crowd came prepared to cheer him to the
rafters, and so they did, without, however, neglecting the all-star team
around him: Camilla Nyland as Isolde, Mihoko Fijimura as Brangäne, Georg
Zeppenfeld as Marke, the maestro himself, and the ensemble of dedicated
instrumental virtuosi. From the frenzied opening to the desolate end,
Nelsons chartered an unerring course, keenly responsive to the cresting arcs
of passions, intervening episodes of repose, and sharp dramatic accents that
shape the whole. In his hands, the oceanic swell of melody that underscores
Brangäne's calls from the tower came off not only as moments of scarcely
imaginable beauty but as the still point around which the act, and perhaps
even the opera, revolves.
For Kaufmann, the rigors of Tristan's role
held no apparent terrors. In the most densely orchestrated passages, where
lesser tenors punch out loud top notes and resign themselves to losing the
rest, Kaufmann valiantly sustained his lines, adding apt lyric shadings
where the competition is less severe. As to be expected from a lieder
specialist of his caliber, Kaufmann delivered a special sensitivity in the
intimate exchanges with Marke ("O König, das kann ich dir nicht sagen") and
Isolde ("Wohin nun Tristan scheidet") at the close of the act.
In
Isolde's dialogue with Brangäne that opens the second act, Nyland came off
as decidedly lightweight, especially beside Fijimura, whose handsome
mezzo-soprano projects with easy yet overwhelming force. Nylund's lustrous,
transparent soprano made its best impression in the lulling pages of the
Liebesnacht. (She has said that for the foreseeable future she has no plan
to explore the complete opera, which shows what looks like good instincts
for self-preservation.) With his king-size, slightly granular yet glamorous
sound, his exemplary diction, and his air of innate majesty, Zeppenfeld took
his place as a Marke of the first rank. As Kurwenal, David Kravitz had a
single line to sing—"Rette dich, Tristan!"—yet made it count. With a little
more to work with, Andrew Rees gave the treacherous Melot a ferocious,
resentful presence.
|
|
|
|
|
|