Fierrabras: Say Goodnight, Franz.

Schubert's Fierrabras has long been poked fun at, considered musically uninteresting, unstageable and given every other imaginable excuse for rarely being produced. Needless to say, I was thrilled to receive the new DVD set starring Jonas Kaufmann. I can honestly say rarely have I been more let down by a production. Musically, it is terrific, but what I had to endure watching was dull, insipid and so over-directed I decided then and there to never warch this again.


Claus Guth's production occurs entirely in a pink-striped drawing room surrounded by 30+ doors, the only scenery, a riduclously oversized chair and piano, the dimensions of which are about 15 feet high with the lid open, and which occupies half of the stage. Seated at the piano is a chubby, diminutive actor miming Schubert, seated in a 4 foot tall high chair, working on (presumably) the score. Awesome. The Schubert Clone looks like James Levine doing a bad Jackie Mason imitation, and seems to have been directed throughout to look "nervous" - his mouth, more often than not, opened in the manner of an inflatable sex doll. It's both annoying and ghastly.

Dialogue is taken away from the characters and given to him, allowing us to hear him shrieking each and every syllable as if in audition for Volker Schlöndorff's "The Tin Drum." His major action is about the stage, handing singers freshly written music and, before they run out of notes, posing their limbs, heads, etc. as if mannequins, into gestures he finds heroic or tragic. The opera has been reduced to a single concept: Schubert staging this misguided pageant in the home of a patron, the characters garbed in the formal wear of the day. Schubert, identifying himself with all three of the heroes means, of course, Roland, Eginhard and Fierrabras are all costumed identically to the composer, right down to his little spectacles. When the four are grouped together, all I could think, "early 19th century boyband."

For the second act, the piano has been to one corner and, of course, tipped over. The men now sport breastplates and wield instead of shields, miniature evergreens. Genius. At the French front Schubert runs about the stage, opening doors to reveal the soldiers; men in suits, and wearing either a Fez or some sort of tiny helmet. To rally his troops, Eginhard pulls out a child's toy horn and blows. The moment is neither cute nor is it heroic.

Whenever a scene ends the stage empties, as Schubert wanders its width, open-mouthed (I swear I saw drool pooling in close ups) more and more bemused and confused than the last time. It's actually ugly and difficult to watch.

Fierrabras' glorious finale is ruined as we spy a prone Schubert atop of piano, feverishly completing the score, and racing to hand copies of it (he did his own copying?) to the chorus and soloists, then arrange them into concert formation as they sight read it, never taking their eyes from the music in their hands.

I can't begin to describe how angry I got watching this. Musically, Fierrabras remains the treasure trove of gorgeous melodies, solos, ensembles, choruses, military music, etc. that I fell in love with years ago, but I felt this a missed opportunity to surprise those who felt Schubert's only worth is to be found in his songs or symphonies. Schubert's symphonic style actually works brilliantly in the work's extended pieces, where solo moves into ensemble with consummate craftsmanship. the aria cum duet for Eginhard and Emma "Der Abend Sinkt Auf Stiller Flur" which morphs from an aria into a duet for Eginhard and Emma, is simply one the most beautiful things Schubert ever wrote.

I'm simply too exhausted . . . and angry from the watching this to go on about the singing other than to say, from top-to-bottom, it is well cast, everyone seguing from dialogue through song splendidly, notably soprano Twyla Robinson's in the most exciting performance of the evening. Kaufmann is predictably excellent (though it is a rather short role) Juliane Banse sounds dark and wild as Emma (reminding me of Mattila in the role some 15-20 years ago) and Laszlo Polgar shows he still has it all in spades. Franz Welser-Most has the Zurich forces working magic and the score really makes a strong case for the opera. If only the staging did.

What should have looked like this:




Instead looks like this:

Schubert's Fierrabras. Another Unjustly Neglected Singspiel

There is so much wonderful music in Fierrabras, listening to it one can only wonder why it is seldom, if ever heard.
Sadly, this may be one of the classic cases of a libretto doing in a musical composition of exquisite beauty. I myself have not a single problem with the libretto being a little far-reaching. It is often dismissed as being melodramatic, but personally I’ve never had a problem with operas being melodramatic for that is exactly what they’re supposed to be.

Having said that, let me try to relay Fierrabras’s plot, which exposes a veritable hotbed of ideas covering just about everything: religion, war, strife, freedom, imprisonment, enemy battles, betrayal, loyalty and love all taking place in the time and court of King Charlemagne. Florinda, daughter of the Moor Prince Boland is in love with Roland. Boland’s son, Fierrabras is in love with Charlemagne’s daughter, Emma. Emma, in turn, has the hots for the tenor, er, I mean Eginhard (well, he IS a tenor!).

There is war between the Franks and the Moors, the Franks win and Roland takes Fierrabras as his prisoner. Meanwhile, the Moors successfully capture Eginhad and Roland, who are then condemned to death. Florinda plots to free the Frankish prisoners, but only Eginhard (whom Emma is in love with) makes it out. Fierrabras returns with reinforcements and they free their comrades. Charlemagne and Boland declare peace and everyone pairs off, save Fierrabras, who, having lost Emma, remains alone.

There are two recordings I know of, both taken from live performances. The first, available on Myoto is a concert performance with the incomparable Fritz Wunderlich in the role Eginhard, and exquisitely conducted by Hans Müller-Kray. I know little about the rest of the cast, but it is, for the most part, expertly sung and, considering it’s being live and recorded in the 50’s, has mostly excellent sound.

The other is taken from a glorious live performance (an actual staging) with Abbado conducting the Schoenberg Choir and the Chamber Orchestra of Europe. With the exception of Wunderlich, the cast, in my opinion, could not be improved upon: Josef Protschka, Karita Mattila, Cheryl Studer, Thomas Hampson, Robert Gambill, Robert Holl with some outstanding lesser known singers in smaller roles. Like Müller-Kray, Abbado wants for nothing in expressivity, nuance and paying attention to details. Neither recording includes the dialogue.

Fierrabras’s score posseses some thrilling, over-the-top arias such as “Die Brust, Gebeugt Von Sorgen.” In the Abbado recording this is sung by Cheryl Studer with such rapt, breathlessness that its urgency jumps out of the speakers, taking one by surprise. As remarkable as the melodic line is, Schubert’s orchestrations here and everywhere throughout the opera could serve as a textbook of operatic orchestral writing with spectacular integrations of vocal underscoring/voice doubling as well as independent movement and almost visual imagery created through his instrumentation. It’s quite amazing stuff.

For my money, even more wonderful than the arias are the numerous ensembles and choruses, such as the duet “O Mog' Auf Froher Hoffnung Schwingen” or the ensemble and chorus “Der Landestochter Fromme Pflichten” each breathtaking in its beauty. In the latter Schubert takes a melody, almost folk like in its simplicity, then weaves it into an orchestral tapestry of almost bucolic bliss, strongly recalling Beethoven. Indeed, I believe much of the music of Fierrabras shows Beethoven’s influence on Schubert – not a bad thing, in my opinion. (My opinion also is that Schubert and Beethoven should have given us a lot more opera than they did.)

Another gorgeous duet, “Selbst An Des Grabes Rande” has an infectious waltz quality which Studer and Hampson perfectly capture with an almost Viennese lilt – then the men’s chorus enters and the whole affair will almost make
you forget The Merry Widow!

While some may say Fierrabras isn’t inspired I’ll disagree strongly. It is a nearly perfect example of Singspiel which I wish would have more of a presence in today’s world of opera.

Jonas Kaufmann Decca Recital: Mozart, Schubert, Beethoven & Wagner

For weeks now I've been obsessed with two extremely different CD recitals. I've written already about Simon Keenlyside's outstanding Wigmore Hall song recital and now it's time to rave about Jonas and his Opera Arias of Mozart, Schubert, Beethoven & Wagner.

In ''Dies Bildnis Ist Bezaubernd Schön'' I was immediately struck by a similarity to another tenor's rendition of it: Fritz Wunderlich's. No, the two German tenors don't sound all that much the same - but Kaufmann's almost seemingly innate beauty of line felt nearly identical to Wunderlich's. It is Mozart singing of an exquisite and unusual beauty.

The "Wunderlich Connection" continues with Schubert's too infrequently performed "Fierrabras" (of which a gorgeously sung, but bothersome regie production exists on DVD, Kaufmann gotten up as a young Schubert). As rare as the work tends to be, Wunderlich also is featured in a live performance. The opera has problems, but the recit and aria ''Was Quälst du mich, o Missgeschick . . . " might make a few converts to at least selections from this rather beautiful work.

An even more persuasive case for Schubert comes in one of the most exquisitely sung (and marvelously phrased) "Schon wenn es beginnt zu tagen" from Alfonso und Estrella. There is such delicate, almost gauzy shading in the middle of the aria, with Schubert's lied-like aria smelling strongly of Beethoven at times - and wondrously so. This really is a breathtaking performance in every way.

In the natural progression, Beethoven DOES arrive next in Florestan's great scene "Gott! welch Dunkel hier!" Here, Claudio Abbado's leads the Mahler Chamber Orchestra in one of the most sensitive preludes to this scene I have ever heard in a recording. Here, also, Herr Kaufmann outdoes himself from his live performance recording in giving a sense Florestan's depth of despair. - his opening "Gott!" - almost inaudible when he first enters - reveals a true groan of anguish as it swells to full tragic hopelessness - and from there builds into the ecstatic hymn of hope and love of life and Leonore at its end. Unbelievable. For a moment I searched my mind, "has there ever been a more sensitively and beautifully phrased performance of this? Vickers sprang immediately to mind, but I left him alone for a moment to answer myself with "with singing of such beauty and passion, why compare?"

The rest of the album's contents are five Wagnerian selections which bookend the disc. First up are Lohengrin's two famous arias and in them I think we're catching the beginning phases of one of the major Wagnerians of our very near future. The recital opens just about perfectly with one of the most heartfelt, richly nuanced renditions of "In fernem Land" I have heard in a long, long time. The conversational nature of the aria begins so gently, but with no loss of intensity as it builds, Kaufmann and Abbado stretching Wagner's lines with an almost gauzelike delicacy of dynamics that waver back and forth in the type of performance that has one on the edge of the seat, held rapt throughout as it explodes into the stunning climax only to again recede all of it so captured as if almost by some religious magic. And so it goes through all five Wagnerian arias.

Among all the operas I love, perhaps none is more dear to me (for many reasons) than Parsifal and in his two selections, Kaufmann captures that perfect balance of spirituality and storytelling so necessary in this role. The tenor's first cry of "Amfortas!" - the intensity and heartbreak inherent in his sound - almost as if built into it, reminded me (again) of Vickers in this moment.

To end this album with the entire final Grail Ceremony is an incredible touch (to me, at least) and while generally I would prefer this music not be taken out of context, Abbado leads his forces (including the Coro del Teatro Regio di Parma) in an effective reading that can only be commended and Kaufmann's
two shining moments as the Innocent Fool become the Grail King only whet
the appetite for what's to come. It should be something special.

Simon Keenlyside: Wigmore Hall Recital (CD)

I’ve been giving another listen to Simon Keenlyside’s wonderful Wigmore Hall recital with pianist Malcolm Martineau, given on 26 October 2008 and what a joyous celebration of song this recital is.

Opening with a set of Schubert that is not without a couple of flaws here and there, Keenlyside takes risks that seem uncommon today to recitalists today, seemingly shading texts and lines with something that approaches equal part musician and singing actor. There is a touch of huskiness when he approaches head voice that I‘m sure will drive some listeners running. For some this sort of thing simply will not do, but for those who love genuine interpretive singing those blemishes seem actually to enhance the text. Schubert’s “Verklärung“ (Transfiguration), which begins with a rather grand operatic recitative before segueing into its gentle lied the baritone alternates between almost painfully beautiful tone to hushed, slightly rasped sound . . . but with the text “let me dwindle away gently,” such an effect is (to these ears) not only welcome, but raises the song to something beyond the
beautiful noise that many lieder singers - and audiences - seem satisfied
with.

The following “Die Sterne” has a lilting, almost dance-like quality . . . and so it goes, throughout with Keenlyside making the most of every line of text, wedding it beautifully with the music and unafraid to change the tone from robust to delicate. His observations to appogiatura, turns is exemplary in each song. The Schubert set ends with that old chestnut (which seems rarely heard anymore) “Ständchen” - as lovely as I’ve heard in a very long time - and seemingly the audience as well as I can rarely recall a first set of a recital ending with cheers as well as applause.

Even better is the set of six Wolf lieder, though moments of the first “Der Knabe und das Immlein” have a couple of intonation and tonal issues which, as the singer portrays the song’s several characters sound as if they threaten to lose control. Immediately on its heels however follow absolutely gorgeous readings of “Gesang Weylas” and “An die Geliebte” that are positively swoon--inducing. The best of the Wolf, however is grandly theatrical “Lied vom Winde“ which ends with Keenlyside saying his goodbye as if he’s floating away himself. It is nothing short of brilliant musicmaking and word painting, which is what this sort of thing is all about anyway, ja?

The singer really excels at programming for each set seems to move from strength to strength and the Wolf is followed by eight gems by Fauré. His French sounds (to me anyway) near perfection, and the colors in his voice match the composer’s requirements. Again, here Keenlyside show a fearlessness with an ability to float in some head voice - usually to exquisite effect. In “En sourdine” - the richness of his voice blends to stunning effect with a natural leaning into the nasality of the language that . . . well, here comes that word again . . . “exquisite.” If he does not break your heart in “Spleen” . . . see a doctor, it may not be fixable.

I tend to love the Fauré the most, but really, Simon’s best singing comes in the Ravel that closes the recital. Here, the most beautiful part of his voice - the middle - is allowed to shine more than in any other portion of the recital. As elsewhere, Keenlyside’s attention to textures and word painting is captivating and “freed” (if that’s the right word) from the rhythmic structure of more standard poetry verse, his reaching for dramatic effects is more welcome than - even using straight tone and other vocal “effects” to maximize the wedding of word to music.

Simon gets a nice little laugh announcing his encore, Poulenc’s “Hotel” - but no laughs from the beautiful rendition he closes the recital with.

Throughout the entire program, Mr. Martineau proves to be an absolutely compelling partner to the singer, the two seemingly breathing every phrase and nuance in tandem. Even more remarkably, Martineau seems to sense what appear to be "on the spot" (though this is clearly the work of a well rehearsed team) sudden changes, as when the singer suddenly produces an instant - and ravishing diminuendo - the piano subsides immediately, giving a sense of spontaneity both rare and wonderful.

For lovers of classic style vocal recitals, this is a must have and I can’t imagine ANY fan of this wonderful singer being without this release. Get it. Seriously.