Wozzeck: The Perfect Opera Movie

Okay, let's talk about Wozzeck and video (Berg's opera, not the play or its other adaptations). In the category of as good as it gets, allow me to put in a plug for a unique Wozzeck, which just may be the finest treatment of an opera committed to film:  Rolf Liebermann’s 1970 Wozzeck made for German television.  

Yes, ideally Wozzeck (and pretty much every other opera) is best experienced in the house, where its 3-dimensional brutality packs a visceral punch, Liebermann has populated his film with true singing actors (or vice versa) who live, breathe and become these characters down to their very marrow.  For this director, there is no separation of the music from its drama, nor any from its characters,not of the scenery or indeed, of any element of it whatsoever. Liebermann presents us with something truly extraordinary . . . as close to a complete embracing of the gesamtkunstwerk ideology as exists in film.  

Musically it’s in equally find hands in an almost outsized reading of Berg's score by the Hamburg Opera foces, led by Bruno Maderna. While clearly not film score music, Maderna matches Liebermann's vision through sound in a perfect wedding of both.  

Instead of a studio soundstage, Liebermann takes his cast and places them in and around an abandoned, ancient German castle or fortress (take your pick). It's yet another stroke of genius in creating a world both familiar and alien, and it works magnificently. 

Marie is performed by one of the most graceful interpreters of Strauss and Mozart of all time; Sena Jurinac.  Jurinac's Marie is sung with uncommon lusciousness and beauty of voice, which brought to mind the beautiful sounds of Eileen Farrell in the legendary Columbia recording with Mack Harrell, and Mitropoulos.  Jurinac takes the palm, however, both in musicianship (spot on) and in her sense of drama.  She looks lovely, and there is an incredible naturalness to her acting that one is actually able to feel her fear, and sense both her weary desperation and strained hope as she sings to her child. Jurinac lends a real you and me against the world  quality that, for my money has been matched only by Hildegard Behrens' take on the role .

With a perfect everyman hangdog quality about him, Toni Blankenheim quite simply is Wozzeck.  Through his interactions and reactions to the horrifying world around him and those in it, Blankenheim reveals a man whose pitiable sense of aloneness and repression feels like an open apology to the universe for his very existence.  He is a perfect Wozzeck and his is a performance both harrowing and heartbreaking. 

Liebermann  ingeniously uses Berg’s magnificent interludes as intended . . . stitching the entirety of the tale together, yet also bringing to its severe linear structure, something rather intangible but entirely profound (in the best sense). We become aware of art and beauty in an otherwise artless world. How they fit here with Maderna's pacing of the interludes provide us with moments to reflect on all we’ve just heard and seen, as its propulsive quality rushes, hurtling us forward to the inexorable, tragic conclusion.

I can’t think of a better made operatic film, nor one that offers the abundance of rewards as does this Wozzeck.  For those of us who enjoy filmed opera, it truly doesn’t come much better than this. And for those of you who don’t love it, well you just might be surprised by this one.

Peter Grimes: The Incredible 1969 Film

It has . . . embarrassingly . . .been just shy of ten years since I watched the 1969 film of "Peter Grimes," but with all of this list discussion on the opera, I remedied that error this afternoon. Just as the last time, as it began I recalled Natalie Dessay’s introduction to the Met’s HD cinecast as with wide, wild eyes she lugubriously invited us in to experience “the sad, horrible story of Peter Grimes.”

I have always been intrigued by the physical production of this “Grimes” filmed for the BBC not in a London studio, but rather in a converted barn at Britten’s home in Snape Maltings. David Myerscough-Jones’ brilliant, realistic sets were built in London, then trucked in and assembled onto a makeshift soundstage in the barn. The tight fitting of its overly cramped stage works perfectly in creating the claustrophobic world of the burrough. The planks, catwalks and breakwater with its jagged wooden pilings . . . the sea roaring and crashing on a rear projection screen . . . all of it work in concert in something of a theatrical miracle to create this all too believable stifling microcosm.

I too often forget what a truly amazing conductor Britten - something not every composer can claim, and his now 25 year old score it’s safe to say, no one knew - or possibly ever shall - know how better to put across this amazing music better than its creator. Every nuance, every secret thing is mined in this reading making the score into a living organism, propelled by its own volition, inexorably, to a conclusion that can be imagined in no other way. From its opening notes, Britten’s invisible hand guides us over the next several hours which fly by as if in dream time.

Peter Pears at 59 was not the same singer - neither physically nor vocally, that he was at 35 when he created the role, however, like his partner, having lived with this music inside of him for a quarter century, he brings to it something unique, infuses it with a similar animalistic wildness Vickers would later bring, yet also a vulneribility, a tenderness which was never part of Vickers' Grimes - or any other role he took on. It was sometimes said, Vickers' Grimes was like a bear fighting to get out of a trap, while Pears was like a kind, gay uncle (or worse, "auntie") pouring tea. Nothing could be further from the truth . . . or more offensive. Watch him and you'll see.

Heather Harper is Ellen Orford right down to her boot laces. Theatrically, Harper is tremendous, investing Ellen with an intriguing mix of young, idealistic widow, with an old soul while.  Still in her 30's she is visually striking while as soars through Ellen’s music with a limpid beauty as though it were Mozart or Puccini, and convinces that in matters operatic, Britten is their equal.

Bryon Drake offers a stolid Balstrode with the right amount of gruffness and sensitivity, loyal to Peter, while fully aware of where this story must go.

Amidst all this bleakery, it was great fun to discover a voluptuous Elizabeth Bainbridge strutting her stuff as a most intriguing Auntie, the one outsider who knows her way in. She is simply terrific.

Aside from the magnificence of the score, the acting in this film is about as good as it ever gets in opera, and this must be attributed not only to a fine, handpicked cast, but to the direction of Joan Cross - the original Ellen Orford. This outstanding level of acting extends to every role large or small as well as to every single member of the chorus - all who create a believable, terrified and blood thirsty mob, yet who are also capable of singing with a sweet earnestness in their church scene. Their hunting down of Grimes is here, perhaps the most chilling I can recall and Brian Large’s camera work - weaving through the tight configurations of the masses magnifies this to terrifying proportions.

The chemistry throughout the cast presents the best of all possible worlds from cinema and opera, offering 100 percent believability and a naturalness of movement.from old and young alike.

Despite having studied and knowing this opera fairly intimately, countless remain the number of moments (both visually and musically) that elicited gasps from me, or caused me to shrink into the back of my couch in terror . . . or just let the tears flow: Ellen’s reappearance after the storm, holding John, as the door to the tavern bursts open, or Peter’s striking Ellen (in what appears to be a punch in the face) to name but two.

It was wonderful, too, seeing Jill Gomez, Anne Pashley and Robert Tear in supporting roles early in their careers.

The opera's penultimate scene is as absorbing, as profoundly moving as anything that exists in the operatic canon. How Britten achieved this employing such economically musical means is nearly incomprehensible and yet works as if by magic, standing both as great music and great theatre. An a cappella mad scene, punctuated only by the offstage cries of “Grimes” and a few distant fog horns . . . well, there is, for me, no more hopeless nor bleaker picture in all of opera than this.

Just shy of 60, Pears still tears into this scene like a man possessed, pouring every last ounce of himself into it. His cries of “Come home! Come home!” terrifying . . . his utterance “Turn the skies back and begin again,” cutting straight to the heart. It is, I believe, impossible not to have one's heart broken by this man, as this character, in this moment. Ms. Harper's Ellen watches on, heartbroken as Balstrode gives Peter instruction on what happens next. Often her "No!" is shouted as though she could stop it, but Harper whispers it in a near gasp, an automatic reaction at the horror of it all.  

Mr. Cross stages the final moment with a true director's insight. After Peter disappears, Ellen stands near the pilings, watching the sea, as the villagers sing on. Then she moves down the pier until she disappears, and we are eerily left with the same people the first act began with . . . without Peter, without Ellen, without John. It is chilling.

If I have one criticism (and clearly I do), it is the costumes. While they are marvelous in detail of the period and each helps identify its character, they still look a bit too . . . new and clean, as if straight from the costume department without having made (most of them) appear to have ever truly been lived in. Nonetheless, once gotten used to this fact, it's no longer even a "thing" to be concerned about as everything else more than compensates.

This is filmed opera at its very best and if you are a fan of this amazing opera and have never seen this . . . well, you should fix that immediately. The entire film is available on youtube right here:

Moffo's Exquisite Butterfly.

Hands down, this is easily the finest thing I’ve ever seen from Moffo. With almost no prior professional opera experience, Moffo gives a performance that would be hard to equal in every area of this difficult role. Without a bit of Japanese-style make up, the young soprano moves, sings and creates a Cio Cio San that one cannot imagine bettered – at least I couldn’t (imagine it, that is!).

Both Un bel di and Che tua madre are stunning and punch up the dramatic without overdoing it. Speaking of not overdoing it, Moffo never oversings and, in fact, presents Un bel di almost as if whispering a confidence to Suzuki. The end of the love duet is capped beautifully with Moffo’s ecstatic heroine collapsing backwards into Pinkerton’s arms in as romantic a gesture as has been captured on film.

Opera films from the 50's could frequently be laughable (though endearingly so, but here, there are, in fact, a number of incredible directorial choices both innovative and illuminating, and I say this despite having seen more Butterfly’s than a net would hold (Annette who?) At the start of Act II, we see Butterfly lying on her stomach reading or writing something in Japanese characters, looking every bit the bored-out-of-her mind teenager. It lasts only a minute yet this simple action deepens and fleshes out this complex character, adding a slightly comical note while endearing this Cio Cio San to us even more, if such a thing were possible.

The most touching business occurs during Butterfly's all night vigil. At the very beginning of the Humming Chorus, Moff's Butterfly unwraps Pinkerton’s ring and, in a magnificent dumb show worthy of the finest silent screen actresses, Moffo’s face and features both glow and grow with womanly intensity until she is ultimately swept away by all emotion, yet keeps much of it inside and we somehow see and sense this in a performance both infinitely delicate yet powerful. Cio Cio sand then winds her way back to the bridge path on which she walked to her wedding, settles there and remains alone, away from her child and Suzuki. As Puccini's score signals the early morning sounds, the camera reveals Suzuki and Trouble, inside, still asleep on their cushions. Suzuki rises and as the fantastic score begins sweeping all away in joyous intensity, she begins running frantically, pulling up all of the shades in a sort of deconstruction of their home, flooding it with light exposing the myriad flowers still strewn wildly about. Stepping outside she discovers Butterfly, still kneeling on the bridge where she has spent the night alone, waiting. This is pure lump in your throat stuff, folks and Moffo - even not singing a note - is absolutely amazing. Another marvelous touch occurs at the end of the story, as we watch Butterfly crawling, those flowers to welcome Pinkerton caught up in her hair as she dies. Every gesture, every expression came off with a spontaneity from one who believed she was Cio Cio San. I certainly did.

Then there’s Pinkerton. Unfortunately, Renato Cioni, looking rather handsome and not embarrassing himself too terribly as an actor, offers the roughest voiced, most inelegantly phrased Pinkerton I can recall ever encountering. He sort of shrieks his music throughout with his high notes showing a particularly dreadful technique: a flattening out of vibrato creating an ungodly, painful white sound - the opposite of what anyone wants in Puccini, and certainly not right for Pinkerton. At least he looks good and the director keeps him away after the suicide.

Miti Truccato Pace takes the prize as perhaps the best acted and most sympathetic Suzukis to ever have sung the role, at least on screen. Marvelously touching and in perfect harmony with Moffo's heroine.

Afro Poli is a thoughtful, old school Sharpless, older than usual, but richly voiced and pointing up all of his music with actorly attention.

I've read many complaints about the picture and sound quality of this film which, quite frankly I don't understand. This was a live telecast from January 24, 1956 and we’re lucky to even have it around, in ANY quality, but honestly, I thought the transfer used by VAI to be outstanding. Still, people still seem to think it should look and sound like something from Lucasfilms!

Highly recommended.