Spyres Shines in Vienna's Austere But Perfect Palestrina

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Hans Pfitzner's Palestrina has never taken hold in the repertoire of any house. Arguments can be (and are) made it doesn't warrant being produced, and yet I can only argue that each time I hear it - and both productions I've seen (alas, only on video) Pfitzner's score sublimates my spirit and reaches beyond my understanding into something I feel . . . . something I can barely identify.

Vienna's revival which aired last night goes beyond even that. Having spent the last few days with Parsifal, Die Frau Ohne Schatten, and now, Palestrina, I feel I've somehow tuned into some level of highest, holiest German art.  I'm not complaining.

While the score continues to mostly gather dust, Christian Thielemann has championed Palestrina, spurred on by a critic who called it a nationalist piece of crap . . . a shitty piece.  This prompting the then young Thielemann to schedule for his first new production when he took over .Staatstheater Nürnberg in the 1980's.  He went on to lead performances elsewhere including London, Berlin, and now Vienna. From the first note to last, it is immediately apparent how dearly he loves this score, and he infuses that love and excitement throughout his cast, the orchestra and ultimately and the entire audience.  I can hardly recall a more rapturous ovation to the close of a first act than what I witnessed from the Viennese for this Palestrina. It was stupendous, really.  

The production by the late Herbert Wernicke is (from what I understand) being seen for the first time in 25 years - since it's 1999 premiere. Interestingly enough, Wernicke, also directed the Met's current Die Frau Ohne Schatten, dying in 2002, only months after its rapturous reception in New York.  His is a deceptive fairly bare bones looking set. In fact, when the curtain rose I thought for a moment the nearly bare stage was the actual stage of the Staatsoper. But looks are deceiving, and Wernicke's updated retelling of the great composer's tale takes place on the stage of a modern concert hall complee with risers for singers and musicians. There is also a composition desk where Palestrina spends almost all of his onstage time. 

It may look dull, but there are countless moments that bring Pfitzner's rapturous score to light and life.  The long sequence ending the first act, is sheer magic. As in the darkness, Palestrina listens to the masters, composing - inspired without even looking at his manuscript, then three angels appear, along with the spirit of his dead wife, as the rear wall opens to reveal a chorus of angels singing his mass before disappearing, leaving Palestrina at his desk in a rapturous awe. The effect is overwhelming, the pit raising the decibel level with its mighty orchestral heft and bells and drums. A truly spectacular gooseflesh inducing finale.

The second act can be overwhelming in a different way, as we prepare for the Council of Trent, with Bishops, Archbishops, Cardinals, politicians, royal agents, and servants argue politics, religion, the decision of Palestrina's fate for refusing to cooperate,with Rome, and more. It's all capped by the rising of the organ's pipe organs revealing the entry of the Council, more arguing, then an outbreak of violence, gunfire and confusion. Lots of things come to mind here: the end of Act Two of Der Rosenkavalier, Meistersinger's riot, and toss in some Carmina Burana.  

The final act returns us to the home of Palestrina, now old and weary (achieved not by makeup or wigs, but solely by movement) where for years he's been under house arrest. His son, Ighino, however has surreptitiously given this father's score of the mass to church authorities, and its eventual performance pleased Pope Pius IV, who appears unexpectedly to invite the aged composer spend the rest of his days leading the Sistine Chapel Choir.

Palestrina's nemesis, Cardinal Borromeo who had him imprisoned, realizes his greatness begs forgiveness, as voices from outside are heard praising Palestrina, the saviour of music.As all depart (in this staging) Ighino begins to play the organ as Palestrina lifts his baton toward the heavens and the opera closes on a single organ note.  It's kind of breathtaking. 

Palestrina requires an enormous cast - 42 roles in all, and Vienna did an outstanding job with nary a weak link among them.  In one of the greatest examples of luxury casting I've ever seen, Günther Groissböck appeared, magnificently, as Pope Pius IV for all of his three minutes. The man of the night, however, was, beyond any doubt, Michael Spyres who, as Palestrina, easily gives one of the best performances I've heard from him. The voice is big, warm, bright and cuts easily through Pfitzner's dense orchestration and choral forces with astonishing clarity and beauty. While the end was indeed moving, I still get the shivers thinking of what he did both musically and dramatically at the end of the first. 

In a cast of marvelous singers, I must also mention Michael Nagy,  Wolfgang Koch, and especially soprano Kathrin Zukowski, whose touching presence and gleaming voice made something very special of Ighino

The Viennese went gaga at the end of each act, with especially rapturous ovations for Mister Spyres and Maestro Thielemann. 

Palestrina is one of those big 20th century operas, like Messiaen's Saint François d'Assise, Enescu's Œdipe, or Szymanowsk's Krol Roger that could work spectacularly with the Met's resources, but none of whic will likely (or most likely) never be seen there just seems to be no audience for these works in New York.  That's not just a pity, it's a tragedy.  

But this Palestrina is a cause for celebration, so get to Vienna while you can folks, 'cause this is nothing but glorious.