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Opera Now, 1st April 2020 |
Reviewed by Helena Matheopoulos |
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Beethoven: Fidelio, Royal Opera House London, ab 1. März 2020 |
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Fidelio at the Royal Opera House, London
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Beethoven’s only opera was programmed as the ROH’s celebration of the 250th
anniversary of the composer’s birth. The only misgiving among those in the
know concerned the choice of director, Tobias Kratzer, whose controversial
production of Tannhäuser at the 2019 Bayreuth Festival was not a reassuring
omen…
In the event, the misgivings were justified. Despite the
totally gripping, feverish intensity of Antonio Pappano’s unforgettable
conducting and the committed, mostly vocally resplendent performances by the
protagonists and the rest of the cast, something about the evening felt
slightly flat. And yes, the blame lay at the feet of the director.
To
be fair, all was well in Act I. The plot is set not in the Spain of
Beethoven’s original, but in Robespierre’s revolutionary France. It looks
good and is scenically convincing. The jail and Rocco’s quarters – with
adjoining bedroom for future use by Marzelline in a blatant but futile
attempt to seduce Fidelio (the disguised Leonore) – are realistic enough. In
an inspired, dramatically significant detail, Fidelio buys and keeps a
canary.
Georg Zeppenfeld as Rocco delivered a well sung, dramatically
nuanced and at times almost soft-hearted portrayal, obviously well directed
by Kratzer. So was Amanda Forsythe’s silvery-voiced Marzelline, whose role
is remarkably enhanced in this staging, delivering a spirited, pluckier than
usual portrayal and proving instrumental in bringing about the final
denouement – a significant departure from the libretto!
Pizarro, who
enters on a real horse, is portrayed as more sadistically brutal than ever
and Simon Neal delivered a spine-chillingly terrifying portrayal (I would
have preferred a darker bass baritone voice to match the villainy, however).
He cold-bloodedly crushes Marzelline’s canary and throws it to the floor
like a piece of rubbish, thereby turning her into his future nemesis. (The
moment when she lovingly picks up and cradles its tiny body was among the
most heart-rending I have ever witnessed on stage.) As Jaquino, a more vivid
presence than usual in this staging, Robin Tritschler rose to the challenge,
sang the part beautifully and delivered a strong, touching portrayal.
Lise Davidsen, tall enough to be convincing as a boy, was an
overwhelmingly thrilling Leonore from start to finish. The moment she opened
up her huge, radiant voice which filled the theatre with resounding sound
that bounced back with a vengeance, she reminded one, as I heard someone in
a neighbouring seat whisper, that ‘this is what opera is all about!’
Act II is where the problems set in. The original libretto had been
‘revised’ by Stephan von Breuning (in 1806) and Friedrich Treitschke (in
1814) to include arguments about the meaning of revolution. Kratzer decided
to treat the whole act as a finger-pointing, didactic treatise on our apathy
in the face of injustice. The curtain opened onto a stage filled with the
chorus in contemporary costumes seated in three rows forming a semi-circle
at the back of the stage, observing Florestan chained on a pile of rubble in
a confinement which here is anything but solitary. This ‘public’, some of
whom are pinpointed in back projections, are initially aware of but
indifferent to his suffering. Gradually, some become more engaged as they
are faced with the prisoner’s wretched treatment.
Jonas Kaufmann, who
on occasion had to sing his vocally challenging music from very awkward
positions, acquitted himself with distinction, despite the announcement that
he was unwell. The warm, glorious voice opened up at the top beautifully in
his first aria and he proceeded to deliver a noble portrayal. Where, in the
circumstances, the voice sounded a little under the weather towards the end,
it made dramatic sense. For the whole scene, leading up to his liberation,
he is surrounded by a gratuitous hullaballoo of people, crowds and
individuals encircling him in quick succession.
More’s the pity,
since Kratzer’s directing of the characters was perceptive and effective.
Though he is capable of a sensitive psychological approach to the characters
and their interactions, he shoots himself in the foot by trying to impose a
personal agenda on a work that is resonant with its own meaning. How much
more moving it would have been to see in Act II a skeletal Florestan
isolated and hallucinating in a dark dungeon than in this mayhem in broad
daylight!
I have huge respect and admiration for the director’s role
in opera. But this was the result of Regietheater torpedoing rather than
enhancing a vocally and musically glorious evening.
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