Mal ganz ehrlich: I really like Wagner. I wouldn't call myself a Wagnerite, because Wagnerites both know a great deal more than I do, and often exhibit partisanship which alarms (even) me (as Rene Pape has said, they are special people who tend to freak out a lot) but I really do love the dense, glorious music, and the sheer ambition of his Gesamtkunstwerke. Not only do I love the music, but my inner child is breathlessly delighted by the fact that the dense, glorious music is so often employed to evoke settings like this:
For gorgeous early-twentieth postcards of Holländer go here. In August Everding's production, set (I believe) in the early twentieth century, the steiles Felsenufer of Act I towers over Daland's travel-weary ship and crew, but the ocean is unfortunately nowhere to be seen (as in the Met's photo, above.) The Holländer's ship, large as a man o' war, appears out of nowhere, sinks its anchor on a blood-red chain, and sinks its landing stairs onto Daland's deck. Impressive (if lacking in obviously infernal accoutrements.) Act II has a bare room full of treadle sewing machines and cloth-covered tables, with Mary shrilly and sententiously supervising productivity. I always pictured the Spinning Chorus much cozier, but ah well. Act III had a celebration on the steps leading down to the pier, with Daland's house mysteriously under the said steps. (Parenthetically, what Norwegian celebration involves dancing, large jack-o-lantern masks and copious quantities of wine? Christmas?) So far, so good (if unremarkable.) But the blocking (or lack thereof) was, I thought, deeply problematic. Wouldn't Daland be somewhat suspicious of a prospective son-in-law who never looks him in the eye? Wouldn't Senta's fixation on the portrait be more effective if there were more general movement and interaction? Surely it is hardly revolutionary to suggest that the drama of Senta and the Holländer standing wie gebannt on opposite sides of the room and staring fixedly at each other would be much more effective if this were not what everyone is doing with everyone else all the time.
Steiles Felsenufer. Das Meer nimmt den größten Teil der Bühne ein; weite Aussicht auf dasselbe. Die Felsen im Vordergrund bilden auf beiden Seiten Schluchten, aus denen die Echos antworten. – Finsteres Wetter; heftiger Sturm; zwischen den Felsen selbst verliert der Wind, den man in offener See die Wogen peitschen sieht, seine Macht; nur von Zeit zu Zeit scheint das Heulen des Sturms hereinzudringen. – Das Schiff Dalands hat soeben dicht am Ufer Anker geworfen; die Mannschaft ist in geräuschvoller Arbeit beschäftigt, die Segel aufzustreichen, Taue auszuwerfen u.s.w. Daland ist ans Land gegangen; er steigt auf einen Felsen und sucht landeinwärts die Gegend zu erkennen.