Why Regietheater Doesn't Work

Why Regietheater Doesn't Work


Hänsel und Gretel - Staatsoper Berlin

Okay, perhaps I got your attention - and you stand on one side of this argument or the other. Yes, the title is a misleading, particularly to those who know me as champion of a lot of regie productions, but the statement is also, unfortunately true. When inspired and when it workk, something not necessarily simultaneous as one might believe, regie can illuminate a familiar opera up to levels we'd not before thought of. It can provoke discussions on works too frequently "ho-hummed" despite their being well-attended, respected works of the lyric theatre. Good regietheater can shake us up, pull us out of the seemingly ordinary and elucidate a work as familiar as your staid, old Aunt Claire who for years has bored you to tears, until your discovering she was a topless dancer at the Folies Bergère and had a lesbian affair with Josephine Baker. Huh? What? Exactly.

Pelléas et Mélisande - Salzburg

Unfortunately, a good chunk of Regie fails for a number of reasons, but chiefly two: First, the director does not know enough about and/or truly respect the work entrusted to her or his care; and second, opera singers are not good enough actors to pull off the stunts required by those untrusting directors. I have a lot of opera singer friends who may get upset about that, and believe me, as a former (though never made it to the pros) opera singer, I mean that not as a slam in any way. I'll explain.

Pelléas et Mélisande - Salzburg

All opera singers are trained in acting and some, naturally gifted, could easily transition to the spoken stage and make a career there - athough why anyone would choose to not sing when one can is something both foreign and incomprehensible to me, not to mention ridiculous. Others not so gifted in the acting department (and that's the majority), can and often do succeed through sheer discipline, dedication to their art and guidance from their teachers, workshops, coaches and directors. These singers cultivate their skills to the highest level, and like any well-practiced skill, are often leave an impact that can be, and frequently is, stronger and more impressive than the so-called "natural." Think about how many performances you've attended where a singer, not particularly known for their acting, uses all of the tools of their trade to suckerpunch your heart and leave you in wide-eyed stun mode by what you've witnessed from them. These are the singers who have learned how to work with the music to serve the composer, how to create an effect that may on some surface level wow us, but even more importantly, dig beneath the surface and can transfuse the composer's music from their soul into our own. This is the magic of opera.

Tannhäuser - BayerischeStaatsoper München
When that connection is not understood by a director, there is a break in the chain between the composer, the singer and us, and this is never a good thing. Never. Ever.

We know a director doesn't trust the material (even if she/he is unaware of that) whenever We see them giving singers "business" to draw our eye to something, all while that something is remains in the mind of the director alone. It is not transferrable to either the singer, or to us, the audience., The singer may execute this business precisely as instructed, even to the satisfaction and delight of the director, but its meaning remains obscured to the point of being not only unnecessary, but actually intrusive.

Don Carlos - Düren, Germany

I recently watched a baroque opera where the director has updated the action and places one scene in a bar where two blokes are downing shots. One of them, the tenor, elaborately struggles to, then succesfully lights a cigarette, which he then waves around in what appear to be meaningless and distracting gestures. We look for some meaning in them, but there ultimately are none. He finishes his smoke, then mid-aria, his friend gestures for a smoke, the tenor offers him one, lights it, then reaches back into his pocket, withdraws and lights another for himself. Throughout the remainder of the aria he continues to perform the awkward gesticulations waving the cigarette about as if punctuating the text of this one sentence, da capo aria. At it's conclusion he tosses the cigarette behind the bar and storms out. What happened? It's anyone's guess.

Smoking onstage is a difficult enough thing to pull off, and is always an audience distraction with nearly everyone wondering: "is that a real cigarette? Is the singer a smoker? Doesn't the smoke bother other singers?" but most of all "why is this character smoking?" Too quickly and all too easily that unnecessary action it becomes the central "thing" to watch, and, instead of furthering the action or our understanding, only further separates us from the actual opera itself. Likewise, the singer, also is distracted by performing this hand ballet so irrelevant to the plot and to what he's singing about, all of it producing an effect wholly unrelated to the opera, and unnatural to the storytelling in every way possible. This is never a good thing. An actor from the spoken stage may be able to pull this off, but this is not the spoken stage, it is opera, and we all know things are wildly different in this world. That's why there's a difference. Of course, there's also the fact that like onstage nudity or unnecessary violence, more often than not, it's a cheap and uninspired gimmick and the lazy way out of putting meaning into a scene.

Too many theatre directors working in opera are or become self-indulgent and, instead of realizing the world in which they've chosen to inhabit, one filled with its own traditions, foibles, blessings and curses, imagine they are, instead at DV8 or La MaMa and working with beings whose bodies are trained for an entirely different kind of magic. We've seen and heard from directors how have even exhibited outright contempt for opera and its sometimes opera-sized singers. Of course there are elements that abound and abide in ALL theatre, which at its heart is nothing more than storytelling, but the manner in which those stories are told differ as widely - and as wildly - as the very art forms by which they're being told and defined by, be it ballet, opera, puppetry, Noh, Kabuki, or African dance.

Parsifal - BayerischeStaatsoper München
The traditions of every type of theatre must be respected and honored. We often witness that respect in every type of theatre, but, increasingly, in the opera house, we see less and less of it, despite the platitudes we may hear from directors who may say otherwise. Too many times I've heard a director say "I embrace the challenge of working with the diverse world of opera, it's vastness, the various shapes and sizes of its singers and history of traditions," only to see the final result being singers awkwardly shoe-horned into costumes and productions they are uncomfortable with and unnatural in.

There are those who will misread what I've written as a diatribe against regietheatre, when nothing could be further from the truth. What I'm against is bad regie, just as I'm against bad traditional productions which do nothing but present works as museum pieces, works that have earned their status as repertory pieces and deserve far more than to be preserved in mothballs.

Let's Talk About The Ring!

As great an achievement, as lofty and towering as the Ring is, no one – and I mean NO ONE – should ever be daunted by it, or confounded into thinking they are not “intellectual” enough to understand it. Please.

My problem with almost all of these methods of “introducing the Ring” to folk is that they are entirely unnecessary to the enjoyment of, and appreciation of the Ring. In fact, I would go so far as to say that in many instances these methods can be far more detrimental than helpful. (I can hear already the screams of Valkyries from hither and yon!) I’ve seen too many neophytes become confounded and confused when all that is necessary to understand the Ring is a pair of ears (and hopefully eyes, though these are nowhere near as necessary as the former).

Research and investigating, musico-dramatic analyses, in-depth probes into the common and deviated mythologies as well as a working knowledge of the leitmotifs simply are not important to have a damned good time hearing all those gals yelping, witness the grandeur as well as the pettiness of the Gods, a fire breathing dragon, the forging of a mighty sword and more all set to one of the most amazing scores ever penned. Over analysis, in fact, can take away too much of the spontaneous enjoyment and surprise a newbie can feel. Everyone is different, however, as can always be proved by the proverbial phrase, “on the other hand.”

A number of people can ONLY learn to appreciate the Ring by one of the above methods (and I have several friends who found Wagner “boring” until they’d memorized every leitmotif and practically knew the piano/vocal score by heart.) The truth is, the majority of people who attend it are just not “that” into opera – at least not to the level most here are (c’mon you sought out and joined a list devoted exclusively to it – an act that can hardly be considered “common.” While insights are indeed nice, we seem to have come to this impasse where, I believe, many find the effort of getting to know the Ring too daunting a task and just not enough fun. (Remember fun?)

I’m not a TOTAL Neanderthal and do think someone expressing more than a fleeting interest in Wagner’s Holy Tetralogy that indeed, some study can be a welcome and positive thing. For those folk, pretty much all of the aforementioned “methods” (particularly the invaluable volumes by Deryck Cooke and Father Owen Lees) should do nicely.

While verdicts vary on importance of the product known as The Ring Disc – I have found it to be a rather enjoyable tool and have used it since it came out to share with friends who had mild interests. There is not, to my thinking at least, nearly enough in-depth, analyses or study guides for those already familiar with the work, but it is pretty neat to be able to hear (compressed into mono, but still acceptable sounding) as well as read along with the piano/vocal score.

In my opinion the only absolutely essential guide to understanding and appreciating the Ring, happens – by no coincidence – to also be the most enjoyable: The Ring of the Nibelungs (An Analysis) by Anna Russell. Everything else (literally) pales by comparison!

As to DVD sets of the Ring there seems to be a new one coming out every few months now! I’m an awfully big fan of three: The Met’s classic (and frequently maligned version – often due to its literalness or because of the expressed dislike for Hildegard Behrens); and productions for Bayreuth by Chereau Kupfer. Each has their merits, each has their flaws.

No one’s asking, but my personal favorite is the Met’s for countless reasons, but here are a few: of reasons: Hildegard Behrens touches my heart in a manner that no Brunhilde has before or since. James Morris’ youthful boy-god slant on Wotan is nothing less than remarkable. Siegfried Jerusalem’s Loge in Rheingold is one terrific bit of operatic acting his knowing glance towards the audience/camera as the gods cheerfully head for the Rainbow Bridge is visually one of the slickest, visual “aha!” moments I’ve ever seen.

The biggest selling point for this cycle, however, is its Die Walkure and Wotan’s Farewell. Here, Morris and Behrens achieve something so unique and special, a quality of acting rarely seen – especially in close up. At one point, the camera angles to shoot down giving us the perspective of Brunhilde’s face looking up toward her father, Behrens’ enormous, wet doe eyes beaming love, honor and awe at this being, both father and god; Morris through voice and composure lets us in just enough to see Wotan’s genuine heartbreak at the act he is compelled to do and all of this makes for one of the greatest scenes in the whole of opera and here, spectacularly done.

Armida at the Met: On Sirius

Well, while Chloe Sevigny, Maggie Gyllenhaal and other gliterry types may have been in the house, the focus at the Met last night was Rossini and opera's own glamor gal, Renee Fleming.

I don't understand those who call this opera "dull," as I've always found it to be a richly textured, highly theatrical work - perhaps a bit more Rossinian "bubble" than his other seria-type works but that (to me) is never a bad thing. Ms. Fleming did not have her best night last night, but it was hardly the disaster that some are calling it; one online poster said it was a complete disaster and that he'd never felt more embarassment for a singer than he did for Fleming last night. Must've been one of his first trips to the opera, or an even bigger "Pollyanna" than I'm supposed to be. The coloratura felt labored, a bit aspirated early on, but as she warmed up, more natural and the first act came off rather nicely by the time the curtain fell.

Act II sounded a bit more problematic from Renee and by "D'amore al dolce impero" I was fairly concerned about how she would fare about an hour from then. There were breathing and pacing problems, the coloratura did not feel at all right and more "squeezed" between the barlines than freely flowing through the measures, but she made it through. Oddly, while I often feel Fleming's emotional take on a role is a bit generic or glossed over, when she DOES inhabit a role, she does so fiercely and beautifully, (such as her Desdemona and Tatyana) and even when things were not always going perfectly last night, I nonetheless felt that SHE felt Armida very strongly. That counts for a lot to me.

The third act, however, may have been her best overall, and by the time of the final scene/rondo, Fleming had found her pacing and, letting it all out actually brought not only a passable Rossinian style, but genuine excitement and fireworks. I was holding my breath and could feel the tension and thrill in a "will she make it/won't she make it" way and she sure as hell made it! I'm betting future performances will find her even more relaxed into the role and finding her rhythm within it. I remember being a tad disappointed in the Pesaro recording (not all her fault), but having my entire world rocked when hearing the live broadcast of the OONY performance from Carnegie a bit later.

The Tenor Sextette assembled by the Met for this production did an outstanding job, particularly Messrs. Brownlee and Banks - two of my favorite Rossini tenors, today. Mr. Zapatta's voice isn't one I'm particularly attracted to, but I liked his work here. Mr. van Rensberg's vocalism has always been a bit "dry" for my taste, but again, I found him more on gracious ground here than I have previously so in Handel or Mozart. During the tenor trio in the final act I found it impossible to keep my face from hurting from too much smiling out of the sheer joy of the damned beautiful thing!

I don't get any of the complaints about Riccardo Frizza and the Met band making this "boring." I felt the score sparkled along beautifully and in a vivid, animated fashion that was paced just about perfectly. The ballet that some complained felt too long, simply breezed by over the airwaves. Bravo, Maestro! Of course I couldn't see the thing, but was surprised (why?) at the booing. I'd never tell someone not to boo if they feel so strongly about something, but these days it seems if some find something even mildly not to their liking, "booing" is the panacea. Wrong.

One thing I "felt" about the staging (and this is pure assumption, I understand) was that Ms. Zimmerman might have been playing it a bit safe. Having read descriptions, seen photographs and listened last night it all did feel a bit "pleasant" which, given the story, bothers me at least a wee bit. This is not a comedy but a wild tale of anger, lust, betrayal and loss jammed into an opera seria by a master: that wildness did not come across frequently enough for me, though it did do so beautifully (and thrillingly) in the finale).

Attila & The Nose@ The Met

In less than 24 hours The Met has had two of the season's most exciting broadcasts on Sirius and I, for one, am one deliriously happy man!

Last night I was glued to Shostakovich's "The Nose" - so much so I was two hours late to a party - I didn't care! I'm surprised that an eighty-plus year old work would still meet with "it's too modern" or it's "all wrong notes" type of comments - and that seemingly most or all of the few comments I've so far read have been so negative (though I shouldn't be surprised by that at all).

I found the entire affair - even just over the radio - to be absolutely mesmerizing; a a glorious romp of sound with contrasts of darkness and light that overlapped perpetually in a manner that grabbed on and never let go.

Friends who attended said it was a major event and a "must be seen" live experience. I would gladly have given up half of this years HD transmissions to have had "The Nose" and "From the House of the Dead" on the HD roster. Hopefully one of the companies sharing the production will have it telecast and become available on DVD. Even if it doesn't, I'll cherish and smile at the memories of this score so beautifully - and entertainingly played over the airwaves last night.

The follow up of the Attila of Verdi this afternoon makes it al - to me at least - all the more sensational. The already typically amazing Met band sounded - from the very opening notes of the prelude to the prologue - breathtaking - amazing. The richness of the string sound was particularly lovely.

I feared what might happen when Ms. Urmana was announced as suffering from and struggling through a cold. I was not prepared for the way she hurled her voice out in "Santo di Patria" - it wasn't necessarily "pretty" singing, but it thrilled me right to the core. Later in her Act I aria she nailed a perfectly executed trill and through in a pianissimi that Caballe would have been proud of!

Vargas sounded a bit frantic - but in a good, slightly unhinged way that is not typical of him. He seemed to be - like everyone else - caught up in the fervor and the fever of it all. Even the intermission features today seemed of a higher level, with nice interviews and blurbs from Messrs. Muti, Abdrazakov and Ramey (with some nice clips of Ramey's Met debut in Rinaldo).

I read what seems to be perpetual criticism of Mr. Gelb and The Met - but too little praise for the things that go right. Last night and today show him and
his company doing things very, very right. Two so very different, contrasting works of different eras masterfully performed. Bravi!

The sun is shining bright and the past two days my home has been filled with glorious sounds orchestral and vocal from The Met. What a wonderful world this can be when we let it!

Met Opening Night Gala: A Wagnerian Length Evening of Scenes

After picking me up early from work, my Met HD Gang and I headed to the Brunswick Regal for the Met Opening Night Gala. Years ago I realized I’m not really an opera gala kinda guy – nights in “three acts” from different works not really being my cup of tea. Much preferable to me are evenings comprised of aria recitals or, even better, entire operas. But there was so much hullaballo surrounding this one there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of missing it. It felt pretty special returning to the sold-out show (as with all of the Met HD offerings here, two or more theatres had to be opened). I must say the chaotic, disorganized hour or so before the gala proper began was a bit of a chore to sit through after a long day at work: a beer and a sandwich would have helped enormously. Still, it was pleasant enough to catch snippets of some celebrity sightings and listen to the unimportant blatherings – as we all agree – these things ain’t all about the music!

First a word on the gowns (and I’m no fashionista – quite the opposite). Renee looked sensational all night, even in that wretched, godawful, tattered Christian Lacroix deconstructed rag for the first Traviata scene. Seriously, it looked like a clown blew up and was then fed into a shredding machine. It was horrific. The next scene’s gown looked considerably better, but so too would have a dirty housedress. The Karl Lagerfeld gown for Manon reminded me nothing so much as something designed for Elsa . . . and I don’t mean von Brabant, but Lanchester - as in “Bride of Frankenstein.” Seriously. It looked particularly drab in comparison to the “lesser lights” of the costumes for the overblown Cours-la-Reine scene (which looked strangely deflated on the big screen in comparison to having seen it a number of times in the house). The final Galliano number for Capriccio was absolutely stunning (though my friends and I got unduly excited thinking Fleming had a snake tattooed on her back . . . she should!). She looked like a million bucks primping, massaging her boobies, and slinking back and forth across the stage like Veronica Lake in a bob (and did anyone get a load of the heels on her? Holy Stiletto, Batman!)

I thought Hampson started off a bit dry and stiff vocally, but my lord, he opened up for the Di Provenza. I found him to be an extremely and uniquely touching, Germont: awkward and thoughtful (and I believe these were choices, not discomfort of being in the role). When Violetta asks “embrace me as a daughter” and throws herself into his arms, this Germont simply didn’t know how to respond, which I felt entirely appropriate. As to complaints about Fleming slowing down the “Amami Alfredo!” – there is a long tradition of Violettas who have done so and I LOVE it when they do. Sills, one of the lightest voiced Violettas ever, could turn, pull and chew those few bars almost into an entire aria. Callas could bring down the pace here, as well. I think it fits the drama perfectly and though Fleming does not necessarily place among my favorite Violettas of all time, I liked what she did with the role (at least for an act) last night. Very much so. (What a drag that Vargas didn’t get his cabaletta, though!)

Throughout the night the singing would be mixed, but mostly good throughout the night, with top vocal honors going easily to Ramon Vargas. My God, I cannot wait to hear him as Des Grieux, a role I find it hard to believe he’s not yet taken on. The “Ah, fuyez” began a bit softer than I like (but hardly inappropriately so) with a slight hesitancy that had me worried he wouldn’t pour everything he had into it. I needn’t have been concerned, as he simply tore the aria up! I really think this is one of the “prettiest” tenor voices in the opera world today, and even if he’s not quite a dynamo actor, he has such appealing, genuine presence that I find myself always routing for this singer (and his Rodolfo last season was exceptional). I loved how he and Fleming kicked it up a couple of notches completely losing all inhibitions and raising the erotic quotient to . . . well, pretty damned high. People in the Cineplex gasped and tittered when Renee literally flung herself backwards over the Prie Dieu, pushing up her girly bits and striking – and holding – a “take me now” pose that was smoking hot! This really is the best scene (and music) of this opera and they did it proud last night.

I really thought Robert Lloyd pulled off Daddy Des Grieux rather nicely (loved the mocking applause and admonishment he gave his son – comical, snide, paternal . . . ). Armiliato got a good reading of the French perfume out of the Met band, moving things along nicely when necessary while still being able to luxuriate in the sound of his singers.

Though Fleming sounded good, involved (and sometimes slightly taxed by the evening) the Strauss was sung with an often refulgent tone that hadn’t been present in anything else all evening. It was a nice capper and what made it especially sweet was seeing Michael Devlin again . . . I’ve always been a fan of his and he seems to be going on forever, good for him! I was startled - pleasantly so - by how many people in our audience were riveted by the Dr. Atomic previews. I can't wait for this one!

It was fun spotting Joe Clark in an early backstage moment (funny how many people recognized him from previous cinecasts, even though he was “out” of the limelight last night) Equally fun was meeting his replacement, (can’t remember his name, but we dubbed him “Little Joe” last night!) who seems like a real charmer. Susan Graham and Deborah Voigt seemed a little odd and stiff last night, both in a sort of "charm the masses" mode that didn't feel natural from either of them.

I think Martha Stewart should've been mixing those cocktails a little earlier in the evening. It WAS funny watching Rufus Wainwright in his sparkly cowboy outfit trying to steal a bit of camera time thought mostly ignored and blocked from view by Martha and Susie. It was a ridiculously long night and not the best showing from from the Met, but as noted already, these evenings ain't all about the music; the buzz is out for the season and I think great, great things are in store for us this year! I can't wait!