Lyric Opera's opening night broadcast of Parsifal.

I sincerely hope others were able to tune this past Friday night for Lyric's premiere of their new "Parsifal" by Richard Wagner. There was some thoroughly beautiful singing in what sounds like (at least based upon the descriptions, photos and previews I watched) a tremendous and well thought out production with some magical theatrical effects.

For the naysayers, Paul Groves was (as I expected) the very model of a lyric Parsifal, almost consistently lovely with a fine and thoroughly moving interpretation of the role. There were many well thought out touches and nuances to his singing all night long. Though I only got to hear the radio broadcast, I have heard from a number of friends in attendance last night that Groves was heard just fine in that big house.

Daveda Karanas was a fine, feminine sounding Kundry, sounding more like a young woman than world weary curse victim usually portrayed in the first act. Unfortunately, in the upper reaches of the role in Act 2's great duet, she revealed about as short a top a singer can have and still be labelled a "mezzo." The sounds there were unpleasant, white-sounding shrieks, best quickly hit and forgotten.

Kwangchul Yung once again proved himself to be a Gurnemanz of the highest order, easily in the company of any singer of this role I've heard before him or currently singing it today (and I'm predisposed towards thinking several older singers "own" this role. It was simply gorgeous singing, full of emotion and gorgeous tone. Bravo!

Thomas Hampson was not having his best night, but still as he can usually be relied upon, delivered a touching portrayal of the tortured Amfortas.

Sir Andrew had the orchestra in mostly fine form (some expected brass glitches, etc.) and while no one complained, I did feel he could have used a bit more sweep and less grandeur at times to move things along (most notably during the 2nd transformation scene music). The chorus sounded lovely, particularly so during the opening of the first Grail scene and the operas hushed, closing, mystical moments.

If I could get to Chicago any time soon, I'd be so there!

Rienzi in Beantown

(Photo of Jordan Hall Rienzi rehearsal from Boston Globe)

Yesterday afternoon and evening, Gil Rose led his new opera company, Odyssey Opera, in as strong a case as can possibly be made both for Wagner's sensational "Rienzi" and for concert opera, generally.

I've long loved "Rienzi," but gave up hopes of ever hearing a live one, so yesterday's performance at Jordan Hall was one not to be missed. A minute into the overture, where the theme of Rienzi's prayer enters I already was misting up. This music always does this to me ... I'm one who believe that simple theme to be one of the most beautiful melodies ever penned by mortal man.

Rose had at his disposal, massive forces and had them under control throughout a long, two-part day (beginning at 3, with a two hour dinner break then resuming again at 7:30). The orchestral playing was spot on, with all the Wagnerian effects one could desire, including a woman's chorus (Boston's Lorelei Ensemble) singing from the balcony. For the glorious third act, two separate brass choirs at balcony's rear provided thrilling antiphonal surround sound effects, with separate batteries of snares in the corners, making the entire musical experience of the breathtaking kind. Volume-wise, with chorus, ensembles, band and brass choirs all going full tilt, I'm hard pressed to recall a as aurally thrilling experience in my recent memory.

In the title role, Lithuanian tenor, Kristian Benedikt had a nice, burnished, heroic edge, though, particularly early on, there was less volume to his sound than one may have wanted. During the introduction to the prayer in Act 5, Benedikt removed the gold sash Rienzi had worn most of the night, folded it and cast his eyes heavenward - a marvelous, theatrical touch followed by a imploring, heartfelt performance of that most exquisite aria, earning Mr. Benedikt a nice, deserved ovation.

Elisabete Matos, as Irene, began with some stridency to the tone, but, by Act 2 had warmed up tossing out high notes that thrilled - enormous and ensemble dominating. Irene's scenes, particularly with Stephano, had real genuine melodrama and the two women's voices matched each other in the power department. How fortunate our Stephano was Margaret Jane Wray who produced the most consistently exciting singing of the day. With the most to sing, Wagner could easily have renamed his opera "Stephano."

Robert Honeysucker poured out warm, smooth-as-silk sound as Cecco del Vecchio. Excellent singing also from Ethan Bremner, Stephen Salters, Kristopher Irmiter, Christina English, David Kravitz (who made one wish Orsini was a longer role) and Frank Kelley.

It was a night of triumph for Odyssey Opera's - and Rienzi's - debut in Boston, long ovations greeted each of the singers - one of the evening's longest and loudest reserved for the company's marvelous chorus.

Wagner's too-little heard early opera was in fine hands and this was definitely an afternoon - and an evening - to remember.

Met's Stunning Parsifal in HD

This was simply (or, perhaps not so simply) one of the most amazing performances I've experienced of Parsifal, which is, of course, my very favorite opera. The new production is stunning, the hand-picked cast superb, each character caught up completely in the drama. I was only mildly concerned for my seatmates who'd never before seen Parsifal (though familiar with it from recordings). I needn't have worried for they were, as I was, blown away by all we saw and all we heard. During the intermissions  found myself chatting with the chap sitting on my other side, a longtime Met goer since his army days and being on leave in New York, yet had never managed to see it before. At the end, I asked, "So, how was your first Parsifal?" With tears streaming down his face, all he could manage was a faint,"I'm undone. Completely." Two complete strangers sharing the same experience and having the same reaction. Wagner can do that to us.

Musically, Gatti had the score so firmly in hand, and under him the Met Orchestra responded splendidly through every inch and measure of this amazing score. His nuanced, non-rushed reading glimmered in all the right places; the transformation music of the outer acts truly was transforming, the pulse (and pace) in Act II's opening, actually dangerous sounding ... chilling, as it should be. The Met Chorus, as ever, was superb, the multiple choir effects of the different levels of sound Wagner indicates coming through incredibly throughout the cinema's sound system.

Rene Pape's Gurnamenz is one that stands alongside the very best, his face registering so many emotions it was almost unbearably beautiful at times. During the first Grail ceremony, where Wagner finally gives him a vocal rest, his acting alone made every gesture, every movement and glance, genuinely felt. As he stared at Parsifal, Pape's eyes and even his mouth, registered a look of one who barely dared to hope that this young man could be "The One." As is always the case with this elegant singer, his way with the text remained a miracle.  In the Good Friday scene, just the simple way he uttered the phrase "Nun freut sich alle Kreatur" took my breath away, revealing a dignified rapture . . . a genuine rejoicing of nature and the meaning of this holiest of days. 

Jonas Kaufmann with his medium-sized tenor, gave a performance that captured the youthful casualness of the Innocent Fool, throughout the first act. He places the voice just right to be heard even softly, yet was fully capable in Act II of opening up for "Amfortas! Die Wunde!" With a sound that grows increasingly through its pain, his Parsifal finally comprehends . . . discovers what his purpose must now be, and ends that great monologue. with his desperate cry: "Erlöser! Heiland! Herr der Huld! Wie büss ich Sünder meine Schuld?" The intensity Kaufmann exhibited from this point onward was tremendous in every way. This really was Parsifal.

I enjoyed the interview with Peter Mattei, who spoke about people (like me) wondering something along the lines of, "Amfortas? You?" Haha! As it stands, Mattei, who we have grown to love in Mozart, Rossini, Tchaikovsky gave one of the most riveting, painfully beautiful accounts of the role I've seen or heard, his great narrative in Act I, heartbreaking. The integration between singer and role was perfection. What a glorious gift - and surprise this debut was. 

Evgeny Nikitin was as spooky and commanding a Klingsor as one could hope for. Malevolence, like blood, literally dripping from him as he made wild gestures and seemed to be uttering dark-god incantations.  This was a far cry from previous Klingsors in my experience, who were no more threatening than Uncle Fester, bald and sexless.  There was a verility still on display and again, that malevolence manifested itself in voice and deed and was not only palpable, it was terrifying.

Katarina Dalayman clearly knows the essence of Kundry down to her toes and her three (well, four) appearances captured every nuance of this eternally tortured woman. Girard took full advantage of his staging and whereas most Kundrys have been around for centuries, his has her having existed for millennia. The chemistry between Dalayman and Nikitin, Dalaymand and Kaufmann, Dalayman and Pape here made one of Wagner's most fascinating creatures even more so.

In the penultimate scene, we witness the spring in the dry, scorched topography coming back to life as water again flows with life, the perfect segue to the finale.  Entirely unique, Girard makes the entirety of the scene uniquely special, and, for me, the most overwhelming since Wieland Wagner's.  We watch Amfortas' healing, almost still in disbelief, and feel the awe and wonder of Gurnemanz, whose tested accepts his new King, were infinitely moving. Then, there is Kundry. Taking her rightful place in the final ceremony, and uniting with Parsifal the Grail and Spear, she is finally redeemed and allowed to die.  How much more satisfying this was rather than decades old trend of having her live on. The lady's tired, let her rest, already! . 

Francois Girard's production was a most remarkable achievement, along with Maestro Gatti and the company achieving a true realization of gesamtkunstwerk the likes of which I've rarely seen at this level. Even in this barren post-apocalyptic wasteland, there was a genuine, if raw, beauty about it all. The choreographed movements of the Flower Maidens - like Ninja roses from Hell, will (along with everything else I saw and heard) be burned, forever in my mind. Literally, unforgettable. Wagner's score has my eyes moist, and a lump in my throat from the opening notes of the Vorspiel to the curtain's final fall and today's performance - visually and sonically was no exception.

While I used not to be a fan of Barbara Willis Sweet, her work for the Met has not only improved, her video direction for today's performance sets the benchmark for how it should be done.  There were blessedly few long, intrusive close-ups, and instead she chose to capture the stage either in its entirety, or large portions of it. I didn't miss seeing long stretches of singers' dental work or nose hair.  Not one iota.

Our theatre was not only packed, it seemed there were no defectors, with everyone remaining, cheering, bravoing and applauding until long after the final credits had faded.

I shall not forget this afternoon and the exemplary work the Met gave us from start to finish. I'm on a high right now that is going to stick around for days. I look forward to a (hopeful) release of this performance on Blu-ray, to experience this slice of Wagnerian heaven again . . . and again.

PORTOpera's Glorious Hansel & Gretel

In the world of opera Humperdinck’s “Hansel und Gretel” stands pretty much by itself as a tale that can reach, teach, inspire and be understood by everyone from innocent children to grown ups who have seen it all. Sadly, most opera companies relegate it to the Christmas holiday season promoting it chiefly as a family event, so when PORTOpera announced its production - to take place in smack dab in the middle of summer - it was news worthy of rejoicing.

Humperdinck’s score was in the capable hands of Israel Gursky who got things off to a glorious beginning with a gleaming reading of the overture that had Wagnerian breadth and allowed the music to soar and, well, do it’s job. Throughout the evening Gursky struck an ideal balance never allowing the orchestra to cover the singers at any point, yet permitting the house to swell with sound at every climax. The band has rarely sounded better than they have here.

The curtain rose on Charles S. Kading’s s fanciful set, placing us deep in the forest, with a vista of stone mountains rising high in the background, two stairways “carved” into the stone and surrounding the stage. A center stage turntable handled most of the locale changes from humble peasant cottage, to the restful oasis in the woods, to the fanciful gingerbread where the children’s fate takes its turn.

General Director Dona D. Vaughn’s production earned major points in presenting the story not only as fairytale but as a timeless allegorical tale hitting on uncomfortable issues like alcohol abuse, desperation, hunger, homelessness, child abuse, heroism and the restorative power of love and family. While the story was indeed told sweetly, this was also theatre of a powerful and positive nature.

Vaughn provided plenty of coupes d’theatre that provoked laughter, tears and spontaneous applause, such as when the Witch flies high above the stage on her broom, disappearing into the clouds or the genuinely creepy tree roots that slid in from either side of the forest. The Prayer and Dream Pantomime has, in my experience, rarely been more breathtakingly staged. Our duo now fast asleep, dancers from the Portland School of Ballet, attired in jewel toned costumes with transparent “wings” appeared atop the mountains and, en pointe, descend to the forest floor, surrounding the children in a moving ballet. As they spun around the transparent wings revealed a beautiful butterfly pattern as their fluttering arms protected the children. The effect was one of breathtaking beauty and brought down the house.

Similarly, upon the children’s rescue, Vaughn created a moment that made one smile through tears. Once transformed back to life, the Gingerbread Children were revealed to be a choir of local immigrant children, each attired in his or her native costume. This could have been merely a nice gimmick, but combined with the stunning sound of their vocalism it brought the evening to a hauntingly beautiful and profoundly moving conclusion.

As Hansel, mezzo soprano Heather Johnson had the “boyishness” business down to a tee as he clumsily attempted to match his graceful sister in dance steps. Johnson’s Hansel seemed a bit harder, tougher and less trustful than his sister, which leant an air of darkness about him. A quick glance of the forest as he gives up his coat to cover and protect his sleeping sister was just one of those perfect little touches that help elevate every moment of a special production.

Angela Mortellaro created a simply delicious and adorable Gretel, revealing a soprano of sweetness, but that could open up thrillingly and dominate the ensembles with clarity and precision as well as beauty.

Peter (the father) was Weston Hurt, whose house filling baritone and slightly tipsy demeanor leant a heartiness to his performance that made it impossible not to like him instantly.

In my opinion, simply adding the name Maria Zifchack to a production increases its value tenfold. One of the most glorious voices of our time it was a case of welcome luxury casting to have Zifchack as Gertrude (The Mother). While Gertrude’s actions are what sets off the darkness of the story, one couldn’t help but feel her hopeless desperation as well as her horror and regret. Zifchack and Hurt each helped ground the story with a bit of realism that truly benefited the telling of this tale.

Luxury casting, too was Robert Brubaker as The (green faced) Witch. Allowing the camp factor to kick in, Brubaker’s “old lady voice” would, at key moments, give way to his powerful tenor that made the creepy crone both a bit more comical as well as more menacing than usual. He also earned points by climbing aboard that broom and actually flying high above the stage!

In their brief roles as Sandman and Dew Fairy, Rachel Hauge and Emily Murdock made the most of their assignments each earning major audience approval with their depictions.

Sung in English, the projected titles proved unnecessary (and sometimes a distraction from the stage) as I do not believe I have ever heard an entire cast deliver English in such crisp and immediately understandable English. Every word was clear and sure (this was a much discussed intermission topic as I roamed the lobbies). While I’m an “original language” kinda guy, a strong case can be made for having your audience understand every word, and such a case was here indeed, strongly made.

Who would have thought so innocuous a work as Hansel and Gretel could give us the perfect example of Wagner’s ideal gesamtkunstwerk? Dona D. Vaughn and PORTOpera, that’s who! A remarkable evening capped off what had to be one of the most prolonged ovations in the company’s history. After last season’s cancelled production (replaced by a wonderful gala concert) it was heartening to see the Company bounce back on such sure footing and grand scale. Bravo a tutti!

Thinking 'bout Parsifal . . . again (and again)

I’ve been in some interesting discussions, thoughts and reactions to Parsifal - perhaps my favorite opera of all (in actuality it’s a permanent “toss up” between this Grail story, Elektra, Wozzeck, Pelleas & Traviata . . . an odd mix, yes?) but it’s definitely my favorite work from Herr Wagner. From the moment I first heard the opening Vorspiel (I was, I believe 14) I've been under its spell (Good Friday or otherwise!) ever since.

One of the comments was that the work is too sad – unrelievedly so. I have to agree; few operas other outside of Parsifal (Don Carlos and Wozzeck come to mind) possess such an ineffable sadness and this fact seems to disturb and even alienate many. As a child surrounded by a lot of death, I long ago discovered sadness to perhaps be the most complete and honest realization of "beauty.” Sadness isn’t necessarily “hopeless” (though some would see it only this way); it doesn't scrimp or pretend the ugliness and pain away but rather shows it is inherent in all truth and beauty. In sadness one tends to recall things – to hearken back and reflect on more than mere joy – but on everything. I find this to be one of the chief strengths of Parsifal’s magic.

While the work is of course illusory, it presents no illusions, and in its artifice not a false moment shows. Wagner, gives us a handful of truly remarkable characters – almost the entire panoply of humanity. Parsifal, Kundry, Gurnemanz, and Amfortas are all immensely flawed, yet all good people trying to find their way. Even the “evil” Klingsor coveted membership to the Grail Knights, and his sin – egregious and ultimately damning as it was – was done to help him achieve this. Interestingly, Amfortas' own wound was a direct result of his own dalliance and broken vow, (and fraught with symbolism that STILL can confound one’s reason!) It’s always been fascinating to me how Amfortas remains Grail royalty, while the same “sin” keeps ol’ Klingsor out of Ye Ol’ Boys’ Club.

All of these characters seem to be wandering endlessly (in Kundry’s case, literally), almost as though spirits of one realm endlessly longing to belong to another.

As I moved through my teens and young adulthood, Parsifal was always (always!) made fun of, e.g., “I just got the best seats for Parsifal – they’re at Fiorello’s” (restaurant across the street from the Met”), etc., always dismissed as too static – “five hours of nothingness,” etc., etc. I never got that (even when I didn’t understand the opera) having always been fascinated by totality of Wagner’s achievement, his application of its music to his own borrowings of various Grail legends. Nonetheless, I accept that this is an opera more of ideas than one of action, and those who need love scenes, sword fights, crossed-identities, etc., and other (perfectly desirable) operatic trappings, simply will never cotton to it, and I’m okay with that. (I, years ago, gave up my juvenile and slightly creepy mission to make everyone adore it as I do; you’re welcome!)

Wade mentioned how there seems to be no relief or release in Parsifal but I find that Wagner DOES offer it – particularly (and repeatedly) through the outer acts.

I find this the perfect opera (for me) for so many reasons because while it is an entertainment, it also offers what I desire most: a great ol’ brain scrambling allegory mixing variations of ancient legends, elements of spirituality both primeval and modern, and music that is frequently beautiful beyond adequate verbal description.

Yes, this is an opera that demands to be paid attention to and those who find it boring are merely torturing themselves unless willing to pay that attention. Doing so, reveals Wagner at a level of text setting that, though frequently achieved in other works is rarely sustained as well as it is in Parsifal (at least in my estimation – which of course means nothing to anyone else – nor should it).

Wagner is accused of bastardizing the grail legends, and that is a little, if not entirely correct. Wagner of course changes Amfortas’ parentage (Titurel is actually his grandfather, not his daddy), and while Herr Wagner does acknowledge Parsifal’s mother to be Herzeleide, he obfuscates completely the fact she is also Amfortas’s sister – and therefore Parsifal his nephew! (I told you I was a grail nerd!)

Still, if we accuse Wagner of bastardizing the legend, so then must we also damn Wolfram von Eschenbach, Chretien de Troyes, De Boron, Malory, et al., for their doing the same with these ancient legends (and who is “right? in such matters? The first? I don’t’ think so.) In changing up the story, Wagner gave us libretto that perfectly fits the drama he bestowed us with, just as his raiding of various Norse and other myths suited his purposes for his “Ring of the Nibelung,” and just WHO is going to dare complain about THAT?

Parsifal will always hold a special place in my heart. While others of my favorite operas offer catharsis (Elektra) or tragic romance (Traviata) in no other opera does the music bring me back so completely to the innocence purity and ultimate tragedy that is childhood. In this score Wagner paints amazing life-sized murals filled with shadows and fog lifting from countryside streams, scenes in which one can all but smell spices from the far and near east; view misty shafts of light beaming throughout a hidden, secret mountain temple, ceremonial martial music that itself seems bathed in mystical, celestial light, brings hope out of sorrow and ends with the possibility of redemption for all.

Of course when can cite Klingsor as “irredeemable” – in the sense he plays the “devil’s role” in this drama. Nonetheless, one can have (as I discovered as a child) a genuine “sympathy for the devil” – even this devil. Still, Klingsor needs no redemption since Wagner sees fit to conveniently dispose of him once he’s served his purpose and moved the story forward. But what is so marvelous about Parsifal is – that outside of Klingsor – everyone is redeemed, including (as the text tells us) “The Redeemer,” - \Oh, how those words when sung in that final chorus, stir and move me.

When people speak of the power of art (in all its guises) and its ability to move us, nothing comes to my mind more instantly than Wagner’s glorious Grail legend.

Nifty Tristan from Dessau

Continuing my current video Tristan obsession I recently stumbled onto a little known production from the Anhiltisches Theater in Dessau in a production by Johannes Felsenstein on the Arthaus Musik label (available from Amazon and other
sources)

The Anhiltisches with a little over 1,000 seats, was built as a multi-purpose venue for opera, theatre, symphony and dance, and while perhaps not ideally suited to opera, I’d like to witness something there in the flesh.

While not a Tristan for the ages, it represents what I love most about opera: a company with a permanent roster, orchestra and theatre tackling challenging operatic repertoire. That a town of 70,000 has a real opera company capable of mounting a Tristan at all grabs my attention.

The Anhiltisches pit is semi-submerged at the rear of the stage and parked in front of a cyclorama. Designers are hampered by creating productions with no rear wall and a fully visible orchestra. Felsenstein here gives us a rear projection of the moving sea, beautifully lit to vary the times of day in which the story occurs. Lighting design, here is amazing from first note to last and is the most important element of the set – defining the terrain, locations, textures and more.

The central acting area is a smallish rectangular platform in front of the orchestra taking up roughly half of the width of the theatre/stage area – almost all action occurs here, though entrances by Mark, Melot and others happen on the lower floor level. The rectangle is a turntable, allowing not only for scene changes, but offering different perspectives of a particular scene. In an opera often considered “static” this flow of motion allows Tristan and Isolde to remain immobile, while passing through lighting effects that, offers deeper insights into their characters.

Company soprano and Bulgarian beauty, Iordanka Derilova is absolutely gorgeous and offers the most physical and one of the most emotionally complex Isoldes I’ve yet seen. Her Irish Princess is intelligent, regal – every inch a future queen, yet also wild, febrile with a sexuality that frequently crosses over into the obsessive. Few Isoldes put across the irony of the first act, if at all, certainly not anywhere approaching the level Derilova does, with the flair of a Redgrave or a Streep. The mocking admonishment she delivers at

. . . ein sanftres Weib
gewännst du nie.
Ihren Angelobten
erschlug ich ihr einst,
sein Haupt sandt' ich ihr heim

drips with irony and malice, registering in Derilove’s face and body language as much as in the voice . . . or more so. I'll explain. It saddens me that I can not be more enthusiastic about the soprano’s voice itself. It’s not unpleasant, and after the opera's many hours, I grew to become a bit more familiar with it, but it is not particularly distinctive, and sometimes sounds like it's coming from two different singers; a beautiful lyric Isolde in many moments, but also strident and occasionally raw sounding one when she applies pressure to the bigger moments. She is strong and loud and delivers high notes with strength (something I've noticed of her in other roles). Derilova has a fascinating and expressive face, reminding me variously of Callas, Zoe Caldwell, Waltrud Meier and Anna Netrebko.

Derilova’s second act, is something else. Barefoot, in a pink/red flowery dress appropriate for high tea, the dress simultaneously hugs and flows from her. She is as breathtakingly lovely an Isolde as one could possibly imagine or hope for.  In the final act, this Isolde, slips out of a fur to reveal a simple white slip or shift, everything about the character has been pared down for dramatic purposes and Derilova owns every minute.  Her very moving Liebestod joins together an outsized eroticism with a spiritual awakening . . . a wonderful way, in my opinion, to approach Wagner, and the effect is enormously satisfying.

Several German companies, including Dessau, seem to be sharing a heldentenor in the American, Richard Decker, who presents a physically solid attempt at the role. Decker is not always thrilling in voice or action, but knows his way through the role, where to harbor his resources, and how to pace himself in tenordom’s perhaps most brutal act. While he remains considerably more passive than his Isolde, when he does let loose, the passion between the pair is palpable and incendiary. Oddly their voices do not always match up and the beginning of the first duet when singing in concert – something sounds wrong  – the music sort of lurches forward trying to find proper pitch, but not always with success. Fortunately, their erotically charged second act duet - much of it sung lying down, heads facing away from the house, on a mossy green embankment surrounded by Stonehenge-like rock formations, catches genuine dramatic fire. With Brangane’s watch and the segue into Mark and Melot’s arrival, it becomes absolutely thrilling operatic theatre.

Another company girl, Alexandra Petersamer offers a world class Brangäne and garners the evening’s biggest ovation at the final curtain. She is something special, though with just a hint of stridency at the beginning of her Watch scene. When she reappears for its conclusion, it is breathtaking. This, for me, is one Wagner’s most brilliant musical and theatrical effects – combining the realms of the physical, spiritual, romantic and fantastic. It’s abrupt segue into the King’s arrival – as emotionally violent as being hit by an unseen and speeding bus.

Ulf Paulsen offers a solid, incredibly likeable Kurwenal. A great actor with an interesting and sometimes rather beautiful sound, he looks terrific and his allegiance and love for Tristan is never less than believable.

Marek Wojciechowski looks a mite young for King Mark, but has a stoic tragedy in his countenance that fits the sad monarch like a glove. He has an interesting voice, deep– almost black of color at times –with a vibrato that, occasionally accelerates into a slight tremolo. Overall, his basic timbre is warm and rich and he offers a satisfying Mark in all respects.

The entirety of the “sets” are as follows:

Act I: the wooden “ribs” of the ship below deck; Act II: Giant stone obelisks in a faintly “Stonehenge” arrangement and for Act III, a large flat rock for Tristan’s body.

With such sparseness of settings, minimal props an orchestra “behind” you, no prompter and no visible connection and guidance from the conductor, I can’t imagine a more difficult work to mount than Tristan und Isolde. If this was (as I believe) caught near the opening (or perhaps was the actual opening) I can only imagine that the performers grew more comfortable as the run progressed.

Musically, the Dessau orchestra is impressive under resident maestro, the youngish looking Golo Berg, generally belying the smallish venue and often sounding lush, and experienced in Wagnerian playing, sweeping along the big moments, and tenderly lingering on some genuine . Sometimes a lack of “bite” can be noticed (particularly in the opening phrase of the Act III Vorspiel) and in the bit of music following Marke’s impressive second act solo, an oboe sounds to have a minor mishap.

While major international houses continue having problems mounting Tristan, it is encouraging to see a tiny company like Dessau, with nowhere near the resources of, say, The Met or Covent Garden, tackle one of opera’s most challenging cornerstones.

I KNOW listers who would dismiss this as “crap,” but for those Wagnerians not perpetually mourning the loss of Flagstad or Melchior or not incapable of forgiving a misplaced note, this small scale approach to Wagner may have a unique appeal.

For anyone who made it to the end of this - thank you, and I'll buy you a beer should we ever meet!

Parsifal: Haitink's Triumphant Return!

When I had heard Bernard Haitink returned to the world of opera, in one of my favorite works, for release on DVD, there was no question I'd snatch it as soon as it was released, and so, I did.

Unfortunately, the affair is a mixed big, but the reward at the end is huge and, ultimately, worth it.

Musically, most of this Parsifal is exquisite. Haitink's utter control over the Zurich forces is nothing less than remarkable - the orchestral playing as good as it gets. His shaping of the music - particularly in the first and third acts, is often breathtaking, with that shimmering sound one always imagines but doesn't always get to hear.

There is almost a Mozartean quality to Hatink's Wagner - a lightness of touch in those sections that sometimes in other hands comes off simultaneously as dense and soft and just "supporting" when they are as important as breath itself. Several moments: Gurnemanz's lengthy monologues, Amfortas's great Act III solo and Parsifal's entrance into the third act grail ceremony are as beautiful as anything I've ever heard. Almost heartstopping really. I was a bit let down with the introduction music for Act II, Haitink makes it sound too clean and well scrubbed, when this is fierce, demonic music - as violent as anything Wagner ever penned and here it lacks that threatening quality I
always expect (and usually get, if sometimes sloppily so).

The singing is mostly top drawer. Pride of place goes to both Messrs. Ventris and Salminen for roles they have become almost exclusively identified with at this stage in the opera world. Salminen's great arias are dispatched with such gentle authority that one almost feels comforted by his gentle giant presence from whence pours that glorious, rich soulful sound. He's amazing. Ventris has a crisp, marvelously youthful sound that is perfect in this role, particularly his third act.

Yvonne Naef has problems at Kundry's highest range - most of those notes are either shrieked out unpleasantly, or barely touched and let go. It's a pity because the rest of her range is exquisite, singing with such emotional intensity and beauty - and her involvement with the role and stage presence is the best of the entire cast. If you don't mind a few misplaced screeches, her Kundry (in my opinion) is comparable to Meier (who seems to get all the Kundry gigs these days).

Vocally, Michael Volle is about as perfect an Amfortas as one could ever want. His big moment in the third act for me was possibly the highlight of the entire evening. He is simply marvelous.

The chorus is mindboggingly good; almost as though the angels in heaven had a day off and decided to spend it in Zurich. Seriously.

The problem comes with Hans Hollmann's production. It is one of those affairs that got me so rattled at the beginning that I had to turn it off to calm myself down because I couldn't hear the music anymore. I'm not proud of that statement as I think one of my few good qualities is to look past that which bothers me and try to take in the whole. I couldn't do it. It took three tries before I could watch the first act without clenching both teeth and fist.

The first and third act take place in a classroom in a boys' school. The enormity of the stage is almost bare, save for a couple of "desks" that rise and fall from the stage floor, and the now required, handful of awkwardly placed wooden chairs. The word "wasser" is projected in light on a scrim on the rear stage wall in enormous letters, then is repeated in smaller letters around the scrim. ???? Later "Blut" and other words will appear - (in act II "Blut" fills the entire rear wall in red theatre marquis lights).

The costumes by Dirk von Bodisco are the worst I can recall seeing. The "boys" all in gray trousers, matching double breasted vests and feminine shirts. Some of the older men (like Gurnemanz) all look like Captain von Trapp (as does Parsifal throughout the final act). Kundry is in a black power pantsuit, her short locks sporting a lengthier styled Channel pageboy.

Almost everyone is blind, and the great entrance of the Grail Knights following the transformation music (wherein Parsifal and Gurnemanz merely walk in place shifting from side to side in a terribly leaden pantomime of motion), finds the knights gingerly moving about the stage with blind men's canes and faces devoid of a single emotion. They also carry what looks to be dinner plate sized cheeseburgers (we later realize they're just giant bread rolls for the communion service to follow).

The Knights line up, showboy style, facing stage left, turning their faces to sing that glorious music to the audience. Awkward? You betcha. Oh, throughout the show, Amfortas is wheeled about on a large gurney, but standing up Hannibal Lecter style. He rises from the gurney to conduct the Grail ceremony. Then something happens and director Hollmann produces a scene of such exquisite beauty, the grail ceremony itself becoming one of the most beautiful images one can imagine for this scene. It is truly stunning and mighty in its power.

Act II finds the stage plunged in darkness, a giant pentagram and five tall candlesticks (which Klingsor later places at the points of the pentagram). There is a ladder and a giant mirrored disc (we can see Haitink in it at one point). Kundry is on the other side of the disk. Rolf Haunstein sounds fairly old and tired as Klingsor and Hollmann's actions for him almost define the word "cliche." As he sings, a number of figures are seen in at the rear of the stage, blind men stumbling along - with buckets on their heads? I think that's
what I saw.

The Flower Maidens are blind as well (and blindfolded to prove the point). Gotten up unattractively in metallic bustiers and long, shapeless black skirts, they do little before producing large plastic squares in over bright, flourescent primary colors that they wave about. A few of them drop theirs. Later Kundry (now in an unfortunate sequined black gown with an enormous inset of garrish sequined colors - red, green, blue - her hair now long and plum colored) picks up one of these colored squares and almost seems to be
reading the score from it. Parsifal takes it and stares at it in wonder and amazement, the idea being the non-colored side of these big squares is a mirror that reveals the past. Or something like that.

As Klingsor reappears to wound the lad with the spear, the spear - an enormous pipelike th ing slowly shoots from the rear stage wall high above Parsifal's head. He raises his hand and "pretends" to grasp it, though it's still a few feet above him. A big red tube clumsily descends from the flies and moves toward's Parsifal who stands beneath. Since there is no magic kingdom to cause to crumble, a rear scrim opens and we see the FlowerMaidens collapse to the floor. It's better with your eyes closed.

The final act looks as awful as the first, but ends just as spectacularly, moving me to tears. There is a mute young man in all three acts and we find him in Act III dragging the stiff lifeless body (with legs in the air) of one of the pages from the opening act. Mute Boy stares at the audience making horrified looks of terror and pain on his face. It's too, too much. Kundry, having been asleep for a year or so - unnoticed by Gurnemanz in his classroom, leaves and returns in a nun's habit. And on and on it goes. BUT then, Hollmann works theatrical magic and the simplicity of the final grail ceremony, is shattering, just perfect. And Haitink, Wagner and company match the stunning visual in
breathtaking fashion.

If you can put up with the stilted silliness of about two-thirds of this, the payoff is a spectacular one. I'm a little uncertain, but I almost feel this is one of those performances that might have been better released only in audio format as I can know there are people who will never make it to the end of this. I'm glad I did.