Considering Kundry: Wagner's Most Fascinating Character

Years ago my feathers got ruffled when I read an article arguing Kundry leaves an insignificant impact in Wagner's Parsifal. He stated incorrectly Kundry's only lines are in Act 2 "and even then limited," and suggested it doesn't even matter WHO sings Kundry, and expressed wonder as to why any singer with a major career would take on this unrewarding role.

Of course, Kundry being one of the characters I find the most fascinating in the world of opera, I nearly fell from my chair and responded with my having heard seen and/or heard (live or on recording) Kundry sung by the likes of Maria Callas, Christa Ludwig, Martha Modl, Jessye Norman, Tatiana Troyanos, Angela Denoke, Catherine Malfitano, Waltraut Meier, Renata Scotto, Rita Gorr, Leonie Rysanek, Irene Dalis, Violetta Urmana, Regine Crespin, Linda Watson, Katarina Dalayman, Petra Lang, Eva Randova, Yvonne Minton, Michelle DeYoung, Anne Gjevang, Gillian Knight, Gwyneth Jones. Evidence enough of the role's power to attract a widely diverse roster of celebrated singers.

I can think of few characters more fascinating, more troubling, more perplexing and ultimately more touching, than Wagner's hybrid distillation of several of the Grail myths more interesting females. Wagner seems to have carved this fascinating creature from von Eschenbach, Chretien de Troyes, and God only knows who else. Von Eschenbach describes her as

a woman so talented that she spoke all languages: Latin, Heathen and French . . . familiar with both dialectic and geometry; and she haad also knowledge of astrononomy . . . (her) nickname the sorceress. Her mouth was not restrained for she could say quite enough (and) with it she dampened much joy." 

He paints quite the picture of our friend. Fascinatingly, in each act of the opera Kundry seems not only transformed, but is also transforming right before us. What a gift Wagner has given the singer of this role . and what a marvelous challenge it is for a singer. 

In Act 1, we're presented with this mysterious, wild woman of dubious character: is she good? Is she bad? The fact is she is neither, she is both. Our first meeting with Kundry in no way prepares us to the doomed creature Wagner reveals her to be in the next act. Throughout its entirety we are witness the pain and torture this woman has endured throughout centuries. Here we have the astonishing revelation of a character, a woman simulatenously capable of repulsing us, but even more importantly, elicit our sympathy.  

There are many characters throughout the operatic literature which use screaming as a dramatic device, and are notated directly into the score, but, none, at least for me, is more chilling than the moans and screams Wagner requires of Kundry. There may be multiple reasons for this, but I believe strongest of all is we witnessing an ultimate horror; this woman who realizes she is still alive, when that is the last thing she wants to be. We remember, and finally comprehend the meaning of her cry in the first act:

Schlafen! O, dass mich keiner wecke! Nein! Nicht schlafen!   
(Sleep!  Oh, that I might never wake!  No! Not sleep!)

Kundry's second meeting with Parsifal is one of the most fascinating scenes in all of opera. Beginning with "Parsifal Weile!" what ensues is of such a complex nature that it rattles my mind, this even after spending a lifetime with these characters. Throughout, we see this tortured, conflicted and ultimately cursed woman, helplessly bound to continuing Klingsor's dirty deeds, yet now, touched by this innocent fool, she longs for salvation. When she comes clean revealing her thousand year old secrets, she has in a sense found another victim as we witness Parsifal's own confliction, and at the same time, the beginning of an understanding of his place in the world.

Though his libretti are longer than most, remarkably Wagner was seldom prone towards repeating a word, a practice more common in operas that precede his own, particularly the Italian repertoire, so, when he does, the effect is of such dramatic significance that we can practically hear the gears turning in his characters’ minds. With fever pitch intensity, we hear Parsifal cry out:

Amfortas!
Die Wunde! Die Wunde!
Sie brennt in meinem Herzen.
Oh, Klage! Klage!
Furchtbare Klage!
Aus tiefstem Herzen schreit sie mir auf.
Oh! - Oh! -
Elender!
Jammervollster!
Die Wunde sah ich bluten, -
nun blutet sie in mir! -
Hier - hier!
Nein! Nein! Nicht die Wunde ist es.
Fliesse ihr Blut in Strömen dahin!
Hier! Hier im Herzen der Brand!

Each of those repeated words are a device that, especially given the right singer, has the potential to shatter an audience as we witness before our eyes (and ears), the Innocent Fool in a profound epiphany of heartstricken terror, pain, realization, understanding, and most importantly of all, empathy.  Without Kundry, none of this would be possible. She holds the key. 

As a child, I was drawn to, what my mother would call, sad stories. I still am, and it's no wonder my favorite operas are amongst the saddest stories set to music: Wozzeck, Pelleas et Melisande, Don Carlos and most of all, of course, Parsifal.  There is an ineffable sadness to Parsifal and I believe it may be the cause of why it has alienated and divided so many operalovers. It is that very element of sadness, which instead of  pretending the pain or ugliness away, instead chooses to embrace it and in so doing, reveals, along with it . . . everything. Everything. In the reality of our own lives it is not merely joy and good times, which we reflect upon, but everything. Alles. 

My favorite line in the entirety of the world of opera is uttered neither by the title character, nor by Kundry, but rather Gurnemanz. It is at the beginning of the transformation scene journeying from forest to the Temple of the Grail, responds to Parsifal’s confusion of how he has barely trod, yet seems to have traveled far, explains: 

Du siehst, mein Sohn, zum Raum wird hier die Zeit.

(You see, my son, here space becomes time)

This magical bit of metaphysics applies not only to the journey at hand, but to the entirety of the opera, and to the world in which its inhabitants find themselves. Most pointedly of all, to the now absent Kundry who, for nearly a thousand years, has restlessly roamed from realm-to-realm.

In the final act, given only a single, word, Dienen (Let me serve) Kundry, now silent throughout the remainder of our story, makes as strong an impression as any of the opera's other characters. Those four notes are felt from the depths of her weary, yet still animated soul. Act Three's two scenes are moving for each of the characters. With the return of Parisfal, the recognition of the innocent fool, Wagner lays out the act as a sort of ceremony within a ceremony. There is the traditional Christian ordinance of humility as Kundry bathes the feet of Parsifal, the annointing of Parsifal, the new Grail King, and his baptism of Kundry.  All of this sets the stage for the second, ultimate Temple scene, and the second sequence of Transformation Music. 

Here the designation of transformation is an apt description for not only what we see occurring onstage - a shifting from wilderness to temple . . . from outdoors to inner sanctum  - but also for these characters themselves being transformed, as if each of them have passed through the proverbial refiner's fire. Gurnemanz, has become the epitome of patience and humility.  The hopeless and wounded Amfortas is healed. The Innocent Fool has grown wise and compassionate as he assumes his position as King.  

When he reaches the Grail Temple for only the second time, Parsifal has attained a level of understanding and awareness which was previously unimaginable, and the final words expressed by the chorus of Knights, children and the other participants in this moving moment of wonder could not be more profound:  Erlösung dem Erlöser! . . . The redeemer is redeemed.

Most modern productions keep Kundry alive at the end, viewing Wagner's libretto stating "Kundry sinks silently to the ground," as some sort of Victorian judgment on the character. I love regietheater but my preference is always to allow her to die. Release from this life is all Kundry has longed for, even long before we meet her. I believe through his score, shimmering, and filled with the resolution of this long hoped-for freedom, Wagner shows us she has earned that release. The music provides every indication her suffering has come to an end. Kundry has, at long last, found her peace.

It rather amazing how Wagner ever matches music with this bizarre, complex libretto.  With equal parts carnality, rage, torment and hope, he fills each page with some of his most beguiling music. Even more amazing to me, is whenever I'm caught up in it, I almost forget I'm listening to music at all. I feel and sense I've entered another reality entirely. Wagner’s final work is so powerful even just writing, thinking, or talking about it, can put tears in my eyes . . . make my pulse run just a bit faster.

Enthüllet den Gral! Öffnet den Schrein!