Royal Opera House 2014-15 season analysed

The Royal Opera House's 2014-15 season is a good balance of artistic venture and business savvy. London must be doing something right with sales running at 96% capacity and HD broadcast attendance running neck and neck with live performances. When opera houses and orchestras seem to be imploding elsewhere, it's worth taking careful note of the ROH strategy.

Seven new productions in the main house, plus others in the Linbury Studio, mixed with regular revivals.  In tough times, it's easy for houses to play safe but that is not good for the long term health of the arts. The Royal Opera House thus offers a well-planned balance of familiar and new

Shock! Horror! the new season opens in September not with a glizty gala but with something truly provocative - Mark Anthony Turnage's Anna Nicole. Not only that, but with prices max £25. The catch is students only but that's a positive. It will get the kids into the house on their own terms with their own peers.  BRILLIANT idea. No doubt there will be spoilsports who think young people shouldn't be exposed to four-letter words, but that's patronizing. Kids are sharper than they get credit for. Do-gooding "outreach" means zilch if you don't trust kids to think for themselves. What happened to Anna Nicole was obscene and Turnage tells it like it is. Although I didn't like it at its premiere Anna Nicole grew on me the more times I heard it. I'm going again and taking a whole bunch of under 30's. Read more HERE.
 
Other revivals include Der fliegende Holländer with Bryn Terfel, Adrianna Pieczonka  and Andris Nelsons - definitely not to be sniffed at! Terfel is also singing his signature Dulcamara in Donizetti L'elisir d'amore. I'm also looking forward to Tristan und Isolde with Stephen Gould and Nina Stemme in the greatly misunderstood Christof Loy production, the first ROH production to face orchestrated booing. Booing is intimidation, the denial of artistic expression. But I guess those who get their kicks from bullying will be out in force. Read my "More tradition than meets the eye" HERE and  HERE.

 Very exciting fare for those who like interesting repertoire:

1. Umberto Giordano Andrea Chénier with Jonas Kaufmann, making his role debut. Any role debut with Kaufmann is big news, and he can probably do this notoriously difficult part better than anyone else in the business these days. This opera isn't standard rep because it's hard to pull off without ideal singers but with this cast (Kaufmann, Eva-Maria Westbroek and Željko Lučić) the ROH will probably leave the Met's current production for dead. Antonio Pappano conducts  He's been  confirmed Music Director "at least" until the end of the 2017 season.

2  Karol Szymanowski's Król Roger with Mariusz Kwiecień . The music in this opera is ravishingly beautiful, expressing the love that dares not tell its name. It's a fabulous opera but its depths aren't often plumbed as deeply - and disturbingly - as they could be. Kwiecień pretty much "owns" the part of Król Roger, the king hypnotized by a beautiful, mysterious stranger. I can't imagine Kwiecień being coy.  Kaspar Holten directs, which I think bodes well. 

3 Rossini Guillaume Tell, is one of the hallmarks of Antonio Pappano's career : Listen to his recording with his Rome band, the Accademia di Santa Cecilia.  He's bringing the same soloists to London - Gerald Finley, John Osborn and Malin Byström. We are in for a treat. This is another opera that's not easy to stage but will be directed by Damiano Michieletto. This is the French version of an opera by an Italian  It's not so much "about" Switzerland (which has French, Italian and German -speaking communities) but about freedom, the essence of creative art..

4  Verdi I due Foscaro . "Maybe", says Pappano, "not one of Verdi's finest works but important because it deals with an elderly father, who's seen a lot about life". Which may suit Plácido Domingo at this stage of his career - life imitating art. Francesco Meli sings the son and Maria Argesta (handpicked by Pappano in Italy), sings the son's wife.

5 Kurt Weill/Bertolt Brecht The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny.  Kasper Holten says he wants to do a lot more operas from the first part of the 20th century, which should be really interesting. What lies in store in future years ?  A Janáček project, he hints. Possibly more? Rupert Christiansen complained that there was too much Italian repertoire and no Russian. So what, I thought. We can't have everything all the time.  We've had Lady Macbeth of Mtensk, The Tsar's Bride, Tsar Saltan and Eugene Onegin. This year we have Król Roger (in Polish) , decidedly "East" German Brecht and Weill and Czech/Moravian Janáček to come. Mahagonny is an excellent choice because it's quite flamboyant by Brecht standards, with big choruses and bizarre situations. John Fulljames should bring out its subversive anarchy well. 

6. Verdi Un Ballo in maschera. with Calleja, Hvorostovsky, Monastryka and Serafin. Worth going to for the singing alone. The director is Katharina Thoma, so be prepared for erudite, intelligent  dramaturgy. She does not dumb down: we're well advised to study the score as carefully as she does. 

7. Mozart Idomeneo with Matthew Polenzani, conducted by period specialist Marc Minkowski, in his debut at the Royal Opera House - hooray ! Director is Martin Kušej whose work in Zurich sticks in  my mind. Should we expect feathers?

 8. Philip Glass The Trial (based on Kafka) - specially commissioned for Music Theatre Wales, with which the ROH has a long and fruitful partnership . Lots on MTW and Glass on this site - please explore).

9. Harrison Birtwistle The Cure, a co-commission with the Aldeburgh Festival, with support from the London Sinfonietta, paired with Birtwistle's The Corridor, which I heard at Aldeburgh a few years ago.

10. The Royal Opera House's role in promoting British opera should not be underestimated. That's MUCH more important than promoting Russian opera! The ROH is also presenting David Sawer's Rumplestiltskin (read more here)  and The  Lighthouse Keepers.  Sawer is emerging as a genuine talent, so don't miss this double bill when it reaches the Linbury next year. This is a joint ROH/BCMG venture. Don't underestimate the importance of these partnerships.

11. Monteverdi L'Orfeo at the Roundhouse. This is significant because it links ROH's stagecraft expertise with the Roundhouse's extensive work with students and young people, which I've written about in some depth here.


photo of Pappano and Holten, : Johann Person, photo of Eva Maria Westbroek : Bill Cooper

Strauss Die Frau ohne Schatten Salzburg - exceptionally musically sensitive

Richard Strauss Die Frau ohne Schatten opens at the Royal Opera House. (read my review here). This opera fascinates because "Shadows" occlude its meaning on many levels. Yet, just as the Kaiserin has to engage with feelings rather than steal a shadow, so should we engage with the opera.  Every interpretation should reveal something. The one thing to beware, I think, in an opera which predicates on oblique contradiction,  is anything too literal.  That's why I love the Salzburg production from 2011, directed by Christof Loy.   It overthrows the whole notion of staging.  Its paramount focus is the opera itself.
 
It's ironic that those who hate "modern"stagings cannot recognize a production where the music comes first and above all else. Christian Thielemann's conducting is magnificent: crystalline clarity, austere yet passionately, painfully sensual. In this production, the orchestra truly sings along with the voices: there are few distractions to the inherent drama in the music. Indeed, this production underlines an important theme implicit in so much of Richard Strauss's music: the idea of art replicating the making of art.

At first, the production seems like a concert performance. For that the patrons of the Salzburger Festspielhaus have paid a fortune?  that alone says something about the way culture is consumed.  The set references Karl Böhm's historic first recording. The sophistcated Salzburg audience is looking onto a simpler, spartan world that no longer exists. More irony. The cast wear coats because Böhm conducted in an unheated room, but the "coldness" also reflects the situation. In this strange kingdom, the moon controls destiny. The images of falconry, deer and hunting suggest death, not life. This coldness can't continue. The singers are wearing coats because they're embarking on journeys toward change.

Beware the literal. Just as the opera operates on two planes, so does the production. This staging works on a disconcerting metaphysical level, but it's deceptive (rather like the opera). Notice the detail in the direction: the singers interact like singers would, rather than "characters" playing parts, The Nurse (Michaela Schuster) darts spiteful glances at the Kaiserin (Anne Schwanewilms) as if there's form between them. As the opera evolves, we realize that there is some deeply repressed rivalry. Only when the Kaiserin rids herself of this malign mother-figure can she grow. Schwanewilms, who owns the part these days, is superb.  She can concentrate on her singing, capturing the nuanced detail of a concert performance.  Loy's direction is singer-oriented, and the entire cast rises to the challenge. Musically, this production is a revelation - as things should be.

The First Act unfolds in a place and time that defines definition. "Updating" is an utterly irrelevant concept. Just as in many Wagner operas, by the time the opera s begins, tjere's a whole history we piece together through clues in the text. Falcon heads and deer are perfectly reasonable ways to depict this strange world with its images of the moon and hunting. Falcon cries haunt the music, calling out even when they're not mentioned in the text.  Perhaps we even hear gazelles in the fleeting, energetic twists in the strings.  But it's far more disturbing, I feel, to see it staged in this much more metaphysical, abstract way. The singers are seen clutching copies of the score.  Factotums appear on the margins and in corridors, even when they sing. Nothing here is quite what it seems, for very good reason.  Living without a shadow is unnatural. The Kaiserin needs to come down from the lands of the Moon and live among mortals.

Gradually, imperceptibly, the singers enter "acting" mode, their movements becoming more naturalistic as they begin to engage with their innermost feelings.  The set gets busier and more animated: we see action take place in rooms above and to the side of the stage. As the action warms up, so does the lighting, and the possibility of shadow. The sterility of the staging is significant, for the "moon" is sterile, and the Dyer's Wife (Evelyn Herlitizius) has no children. The lushness in the orchestration serves to emphasize the alienation in the Dyer's Wife and the Kaiserin. In the lushness of the orchestra we hear what they are missing out on. Here there are no visual barriers to deaden the sadness.

Die Frau ohne Schatten often gets a bad press because the relationship between Barak (Wolfgang Koch) and his wife is misunderstood in a superficial Kinder, Küche, Kirche manner. Everything we know about Strauss's relationship with his wife suggests the opposite. No way was Pauline de Ahna a woman to be pushed around. If anyone did the pushing in that household, it was she. The Strausses imbibed the ideas of the Munich Secession, and its liberated attitude to women. In its own way, Die Frau ohne Scahtten is fairly explicit about sexual repression. The fantasy scene is witty: figures in feathers dance around the Dyer's Wife - flamingos, not falcons!  The shadows are getting sharper now she's coming to terms with her needs.   Much in this opera is alluded to rather than explicit, but the text is reasonably clear what having children really means: the continuation of life. Keikobad is dead, and the Nurse is banished. Barak and his wife will start their own family. We see the minor characters in the staging reappear as child versions of themselves : children everywhere, re-enacting the process of growing up. It's not about "self" but the continuum of life.

As the Kaiserin faces judgement, there's a wonderful moment when Schwanewilms looks upwards at the empty office. We hear the sounds of the falcon and see the falcon's colours in Schwanewilm's red  hair. When the Kaiser (Stephen Gould) appears in the upstairs office, warmth suffuses her features, though she moves with nervous gestures, like a bird.  The confrontations between The Kaiserin and the Nurse are also particularly intense, like a duel between Ortrud and Elsa von Brabant.  "Higher forces are at work" spits a demonic Michaela Schuster, blazing with violence, draped in black. When all thye principals join in, singing at each other, but together, the turbulence in the orchestra suggests transition : sweeping, soaring discords as if the sky were exploding and the oceans rising. The stage goes black - the music is speaking. Schwanewilms appears in a corner.  As the poignant solo violin plays, she walks, alone, spotlit on the dark emptiness of the stage. It's like seeing pure music come alive. In the orchestra, we hear the invisible "water " motif. sparkle around her. Wonderful connection between meaning, visuals and music. Stephen Gould's voice rings out clarion like as he sings the Kaiser. The Kaiserin has struggled with herself and won. Only now,, we see a Karl Böhm figure smiling down from above.

In the darkness, the stage is transformed. It's Christmas, when a Child is given to the World as Saviour.  The barren frame  set finds fulfilment and becomes a proper performing space. The "Cherubim" wear blue sailor suits, like the Vienna Boys Choir. The Austrian colours of red and white hang from the balconies. The soloists appear in elegant evening dress. Again, the music "speaks". The singers's long, high lines cross and interact, and the orchestra adds richness and grandeur. Even the on stage "audience" joins in, waving rhythmically.  Look ! There's The Nurse forced to spend her life among mortals and fidgety little kids whom she hates ! Schwanewilms turns away, and sees the young couple who had been extras on the set embrace. 

Christof Loy's production is exceptionally sensitive to music and meaning, and it has inspired exceptionally good singing and playing. Performers like Thielemann and Schwanewilms aren't going to give this much if they don't believe in what they're doing.  The booing mob think "Regie" means regimentation, but in the real world directors have to motivate performers who know their music well. Co-operation and harmony - the very message of the opera. Strauss knew first hand how the business worked. Maybe there are those who know better than performers of this calibre, but I'm prepared to respect their taste and artistry.
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The Prince of Homburg Kleist Henze

A new production of The Prince of Homburg by Heinrich von Kleist opened yesterday at The Donmar in London.  The Prince of Homburg is a psychodrama, but completed in 1810, long  before the language of dreams had a vocabulary. It deals with moral issues like honour, duty, betrayal and the very idea of goodness in a mad world.

It's 1675, and North Germany has been invaded by Sweden. On the battlefield at Fehrbellin, it seems at first that the Grand Elector of Brandenburg has been killed, riding heroically into the heart of the battle. Inspired by this image, the young Prince of Homburg seizes the initiative which decisively changes near defeat into decisive victory.  As in battle, in life, sudden cataclysmic changes. Because he disobeyed orders to stay put, the Prince is court-martialled and sentenced to death. The play is about how he deals with the crazy situation he's in.

The Prince of Homburg is a fascinating story which operates on many different levels. It's been produced many times, in many countries, and is the subject of several movies. I vaguely remember an earlyish German black and white movie, but not much else about it. The best and most readily available film is Marco Bellochio's ll principe di Homburg. (1997) Although it's in Italian, it's very atmospheric, tautly directed and acted, so it feels like you're trapped in the Brandenburg marches, in savage wartime conditions. War is irrational, which is why the Elector is so harsh on the young prince.

Hans Werner Henze's opera Der Prinz von Homburg (1960) has been performed many times, though there is only one full recording, the DVD of the .Bayerische Staatsoper production of 1994. Wolfgang Sawallisch conducts, and the French baritone Francois Le Roux sings the Prince. Musically it's OK, though one could imagine something more intense and gritty. Henze cloaks his dramas in beguiling elegance, but at heart they're startlingly sharp. Nikolas Lenhoff directs, with designs by Gottfried Pilz. Achingly brightly lit, which is perhaps not a bad idea, given that the Prince is "under interrogation" but there's more to than Andy Warhol outlines. I  prefer the shadows of the Bellochio film, where you can feel the poison seeping, ,like miasma rising from the marsh.

In 2009, there was another major new production of Henze's Der Prinz von Homburg, at the Theatre an der Wien in Vienna, which specializes in intelligent and musically-informed. Marc Albrecht conducted the Vienna Symphony Orchestra, and singers included Christian Gerhaher as the Prince, Britta Stallmeister as Nathalie, to whom Henze and Ingeborg Bachmann, his librettist, gave a much bigger part than von Kleist did.

Hard to judge by photos alone, but it looks as good as the cast. Larry Lash in Opera News says "Christof Loy conjures a dream world, a telescoping wooden box that goes from charcoal gray to infinite pitch-black designed by Dirk Becker. The opera begins in white period costumes by Herbert Murauer, with the singers' faces powdered, but it gradually moves to late 1950s street clothes. Bernd Purkrabek's lighting is miraculous: by framing the proscenium with strips of bright white light, he makes it possible to change the entire stage picture in a matter of seconds. Loy takes a pessimistic view of the denouement: the Prince chases everyone offstage and, as in one of his premonitions, plummets into his grave in a startling coup de théâtre."

Another description, in German Der Blick ins Grab der Erkenntnis (a Glimpse into the Grave of Knowing by Roberto Becker. More photos by Wilfried Hösl on this link - I've borrowed one under "fair use" conditions.

And the Donmar production, using an English adaptation? Strictly speaking I cannot say, because I was in a seat without any legroom and was forced to leave in the interval. Don't Health and Safety Regulations apply? I can't have been the first to suffer and won't be the last. The Donmar really should take this more seriously.  Nonetheless, it was a decent production even if it didn't reach the many deeper levels in the drama. Updating to Jane Austen times prettified what isn't a pretty drama. Uniforms don't necessarily depict war : the war in the Prince's mind goes deeper.

Maybe it's just as well I didn't stay. They changed the ending ! Guardian theatre critics at least, seem on the ball, read Michael Billington. He realizes that Kleist wasn't writing TV costume drama.


Interesting biographical note on Heinrich von Kleist (from Joachim Maass, trans 1983)  Kleist was a blackish sheep from a noble clan, one of whom was Fieldmarshal Ewald von Kleist (1881-1954) who must have known similar dilemmas of duty given who his Leader of Staff was. The von Kleists weren't too happy about Heinrich's death site on the Wannsee becoming a tourist spot.

Theodora multiplies - Salzburg broadcast

Theodora took a vow of chastity, choosing martyrdom to marriage. Fortunately for us, Handel appreciated her steadfast virtue, and performances of his oratorio multiply and are fruitful. Even after a year when we've had Handel every single day, Theodora is interesting because it's quite "inward" and austere, like Theodora herself may have been.

The 2009 Salzburg Theodora can be heard online on demand for the next week HERE. This is the one with Christine Schäfer, Bejun Mehta and the Freiburg Baroque Orchestra which alone should indicate something special. Theodora is "...a product of (Handel's) late maturity, that ultimately determines one’s enjoyment of a work that avoids spectacular flights and fancies but shines with inner radiance" said the Financial Times (full review HERE)

Theodora didn't sell out, and neither did Handel. Though there are cross-dressing hijinks, this story isn't "fun". The organ dominates, for the vow Theodora has made is stern and uncompromising, and the dark sound of the organ symbolizes the depth of her integrity. The orchestration is spare, closer perhaps to the spirit of Bach than to High Baroque ostentation. Schäfer sounds girlish and fragile, which makes the strength of her resolve all the more intense. Her steeliness is more convincing than ostensibly more "beautiful" and luscious voices.

Lorraine Hunt Lieberson's singing is glorious, but I couldn't stand the Glyndebourne production. Peter Sellars turned the oratorio into a Star Wars caricature. The Romans became futuristic androids in plastic suits, while the Christians languished in Grecian robes. Sellar's sci-fi setting was popular because people could relate to the story in simplistic terms, but it completely overwhelmed the music and the "real" story, which is infinitely more human and moving. In any case the Christians turned out to be the "future" not the Romans. More destructively, Sellars shifts the focus away from the spirituality in the music to the cartoon-like overlay. Pointless and destructive. The Salzburg production at least recognised the role of the music, placing the organ at the centre of the action on stage, as it is in the oratorio, and by extension, in the whole narrative. Less is definitely more, particularly in a work like Theodora which is predicated on ascetic austerity.

Another Theodora, this time from Paris in 2006. Listen to this performance (streamed online) from Opera Today. Emmanuelle Haϊm conducts the Orchestre et chor du Concert d'Astrée. Anne Sofie von Otter is Theodora, fitting in well with Haϊm's clean, unfussy approach. Theodora isn't a flight of gorgeous fantasy, but a story of strong human beliefs. The Glyndebourne elaboration perhaps made it easy on the eye rather than the mind, but why not set it in other periods where high-minded people like Theodora stand up to high-living corruption? The spartan Salzburg setting seems to have acknowledged this, and alluded to the point that there are plenty of Theodoras around, even now.

Tristan und Isolde ROH 2nd night

Being at the Royal Opera House Tristan und Isolde a second time is good because the real beauty of this production is how subtle it really is. Forget the still photos of the sets, they're misleading. Again, this is a reference to tradition - the tradition of those like Alfred Roller who realized that electricity transformed stagecraft, opening new frontiers never possible before. Imagine if Wagner had lived to see electric light? Given Wagner's obsession in this opera with night and day, light and dark, he'd have leapt at the possibilities new technology offered. All that Cosima-era rigidity blinds us to the fact that Wagner was a radical, who challenged all assumptions about opera in his time. That's why he revolutionized music theatre.

He was also interested in cutting-edge stagecraft, which was why Bayreuth was built, not as a mausoleum but as a place where he could do whatever he liked to achieve his dreams, without being restrained by the usual opera house systems. Remember how much trouble he took to get a state of the art dragon for the Ring? That doesn't mean he wanted the same dragon cranked out forever. If he'd had electricity, film or computers, he'd be out there using them.

So this new production is in fact a lot closer to the spirit of Wagner's stagecraft than many realize. The flat surfaces on this set come alive with light, taking on shades and hues no painted set could ever do. This production is an elaborate symphony of light, as if the music were being made visible. Silver, pearl, dove grey, oyster, silk, pewter, charcoal, myriad nuances of colour constantly changing and moving.

The diagonal wall is highly textured, with reflective particles embedded, which sparkle softly. The huge curtain behind the main stage is a dark shade of burgundy which changes hue. Because light effects can be so sensitively controlled, this offers variety that isn't possible by other means.

Moreover there are many different light sources and angles, some cutting across each other in amazing ways. So singers cast several shadows at once, in different directions. These silhouettes "speak". In Act One Isolde's shadow looms huge, almost to the ceiling. As Brangäne moves away from Isolde, her own shadow shrinks because the angle changes. In Act Three, Tristan's show eclipses Kurnewal, as they do life, and then their shadows. Shadows create a new, unearthly perspective.

Now I understand why the diagonal wall is so important. All these patterns of light and angles are carefully calculated, in relation to the music and to the movements of the singers on stage. Perhaps sight lines in the uppermost galleries furthest to the left may be lost, but the gain is this beautiful and utterly unique symphony of light.

By the way, yes, there is a ship. But note how Wagner himself introduces it. Isolde's first words are "Wo sind wir?" . Of course ! When you are inside a ship you don't see what's outsiide it. It looks like any other room, the sea doresn't have to be visible. it's in the music. Throughout the opera, Wagner stresses how things appear differently from different perspectives. Loy is onbe of the most musically literate of directors and understands the score from this deeperlevel. So no need to depict Isolde and Brangäne fills pinned to the sails. When they do go up, the lights frame a mast and rigging. As always, read the score. Proper debate about this production has been hijacked by those who think that they and only they know what the opera is, even more so than Wagner did,

Then the acting! Incredibly detailed and subtle. Heppner's Tristan is a suicide waiting to happen. That's why he confronts Isolde asking her to kill him, and why he falls on Melot's knife. Death by cop! Heppner is far too good to pension off because he doesn't look like a flash young blade. But Christof Loy's direction turns him into a hero of a different kind. Heppner on board the ship is so wracked by his demons that his whole body language is tense - he even bites his nails. Tristan comes from what probably is an all-male environment so he's even less likely than most men to understand his inner feelings. All his life he's buried his unhappiness by displacement activity and now for whatever reason he can't keep up the image.

So he can't face Isolde except by brutish means. Kurnewal comes from this emotionally crippled environment too, but he accepts it at face value. In the last act, when Tristan pours out his emotions, he tries to connect to Kurnewal by flicking his hair. It's a classic male way of seeking intimacy without daring to commit. Kurnewal buys into the macho mindset so much that he realizes that Isolde is somehow dangerous though he hasn't the depth to figure out why. So he postures like a big man and takes it out on little Brangäne. Watch Kurnewal's last moments. Suddenly one-dimensional man realizes just how complicated life is, and for the first time in his life, there's nothing he can do about it. So he addresses Tristan, but can't cross the space between them.

Lots and lots more....this is a production that needs to be seen again. It asks a lot of the listener, but it repays the effort.

The irony is that knocking directors as bogeymen has become a sport. There have been hundreds of modern productions, for at least 50 years. Some good, some bad, most a mix. Some have been infinitely worse than this Tristan und Isolde - think of Tim Albery's Flying Dutchman that turned the Dutchman into a clone of Daland. Nobody objected to that. The irony is that Christof Loy is a director who pays scrupulous attention to the music and builds his work around the score, like his work or not. But this production had the misfortune to come along right after all that publicity about the booing of Tosca at the Met. The sad fact is "intellectual" these days is an epithet. See HERE for main piece and HERE for First impressions.

Tristan und Isolde more tradition than meets the eye

Please read this review in Opera Today, with full cast details and production photos.l

Over 100 years ago, Adolphe Appia sketched designs for Tristan und Isolde which have influenced theatre design from Alfred Roller to Wieland Wagner. Appia's vision came to life on stage at the Royal Opera House this week. This new production has far deeper roots in tradition than its detractors realize.

After the revival of the Ring in 1877, Wagner himself said "Next year we'll do things differently". To him, what mattered was the drama not the packaging. Even arch-conservative Houston Stewart Chamberlain saw merit in Appia's ideas but Cosima could not be swayed from her narrow concept of what Wagner had to be.

The sets for this new production directly reference Appia, even to the detail of tall arched windows in the background. Throughout the opera, Wagner contrasts night and day. Yet central to this opera is the idea of illusion and delusion . The colour scheme starts with clean black and white contrasts but nothing in this opera is quite as black and white as it seems. Thus the gradual predominance of myriad shades of grey which adapt to changes in light and shadow. The greys are elegant, like silver, silk, suede, marble. The luxury of King Marke's court is evoked by elegant, minimalist allusion.

The stage was separated into foreground and background, so the drama is concentrated on the foreground without distraction.from the essential drama. Tristan und Isolde isn't about furnishings, it's about ideas of life, love and death, and how people respond to them. Indeed, it's clear from the libretto that Tristan and Isolde reject material things. Tristan doesn't want to inherit the kingdom of Cornwall. Isolde knows from experience what power struggles can mean. She may be a prize of war, but she's not a shallow trophy wife: Marke doesn't dare touch her. Thus in this production Nina Stemme walks decisively away from the banquet in the background, removes her stilettos and sits with Brangäne (Sophie Koch) on simple folding chairs. What she sits on hardly matters when she's overwhelmed by a love so intense it can overcome death.

Tristan und Isolde is an epic tragedy, so this production connects to ancient traditions. In Greek tragedy, there's no set at all : actors move to the side when they're not doing anything. The concept of fussy staging is relatively recent. Because most people have been brought up on TV and movies, it's easy to become attuned to the idea that visual images have to be literal so you don't have to think too much about what's really going on. In art theatre the opposite holds. It's the drama that counts, however it's realized.

Although Nina Stemme has sung Isolde many times, this may well be one of the defining performances of her career. She moves as if Isolde lives within her: this is method acting at its best. When she sings, her voice rises with utter conviction, so attuned is she to what this Isolde represents. Throughout, her singing and acting were so attuned that it shows how involved she was in this production. Like actors, singers need to know how their part fits in with the whole. From the evidence of Stemme's performance, she's definitely on message.

Ben Heppner, too, was convincing. Tristan's heroism was like emotional chain mail, a displacement activity for suppressing his inner demons. So Heppner's Tristan was a vulnerable, sensitive personality,all the more sympathetic for that than if he were a cocky but shallow young blade. Thus the tenderness between Tristan and Isolde in this production is genuinely moving, and a very important part of the concept. In a world full of treachery and danger, their love is the one thing they can count on. When Stemme and Heppner embrace, there's real tenderness, all the more intimate because they're surrounded by vast open space.

So strong are the dramatic dynamics in Loy's production that Tristan and Isolde aren''t the only ones experiencing new emotions. I had wondered why a singer of Michael Volle's stature would be singing Kurnewal, but he turns it into a very major part. Just as the theme of night and day infuses the opera, Tristan and Kurnewal are like night and day. Volle's Kurnewal is such a forceful character he might match Isolde for mettle. This adds a deeper element to their relationships. Volle's Kurnewal is so strong that like Isolde he's fiercely protective although he doesn't really relate to Tristan's complexities. When at last it dawns on him what Tristan is about, Volle's Kurnewal undergoes a kind of transfiguration, lower key than the principals', but a change nonetheless. Volle sang with such authority that he almost gave John Tomlinson's King Marke competition. Tomlinson's voice is showing signs of strain, but as Marke that gives his portrayal an edge of world weariness, which is perfectly apt.

Sophie Koch's Brangäne isn't the elderly nag some productions would have but a lively young woman. We don't know what Brängane will go on to do, but Koch's energy might indicate that, like Kurnewal, she will go on with life with greater understanding. Richard Berkeley-Steele sang Melot with deceptive smoothness. He wields his knife with lethal swiftness.

Good operas operate on many different levels, revealing their depths only with time and experience. So too, this production, which hints at a lot more than meets the eye .Eventually, the men in the banquet are shown falling asleep, as if drunk, just as Tristan and Isolde were intoxicated. Slowly, as if in freeze frame, the men rise up and stab each other, as Melot had stabbed Tristan. This happens in the background, and doesn't impinge on the main action, so is glimpsed rather than made explicit. Perhaps this extends the drama into the outer world, where power games and treachery abound, and it makes the men of Marke's court more human than the ciphers they sometimes are. Again, the references to timeless Greek tragedy : the men act like a silent chorus, commenting on the main action, while remaining in the background.

This was uncommonly musically literate production. With all trappings removed the emphasis is on the music, from which all the stage action evolves. Gestures, footsteps, angles take their cue from the music, blocked almost as if choreographed. Stemme walks diagonally from the back to the foreground, her progress sustaining the tension in the music.. All focus is on how the music moves, so the pace unfolds as the music does. Here the music was the "star" just as present as the singers. Apart from a few moments in the First act, easily corrected later, the orchestral playing was of a high standard as is usual at the Royal Opera House. Not every conductor is a Furtwängler, nor should we expect anyone to be, but Antonio Pappano is good and reliable, and gets the best from his musicians.

And the Liebestod ? Stemme seemed to glow from within, even when she was singing prone on the floor, in Heppner's arms. They remain entwined as long as possible. Throughout the opera, different levels of reality have been in play. Stemme goes and sits in the chair where Tristan had sat earlier when he'd finally confronted his demons and whee Kurnewal came to undersand that life is more complex than he's realized. Throughout the opera, Wagner has stressed that all things are mutable. The chair is temporary, and it's fragile, but what it symbolizes is powerful. Material things mean notghing at all in the face of love so intense that it can overcome death.

When Stemme sits there now, the implication is that the boundaries of life and death no longer exist. Tristan and Isolde are united for eternity on some transfigured plane. Isolde may not have healed the wound made by Melot's knife, but Tristan's real wounds went much deeper. His wound was in his soul, and that wound she did heal, through love.

Please see the other posts about this production and about Tristan und Isolde performance history HERE HERE HERE and HERE Lots more on Wagner, this opera and other productions on this blog. Lots on the art of stagecraft too.

Tristan und Isolde as human beings - Christof Loy on the new ROH production

For reviews of the production see HERE.
"Opera has so much to give", says Christof Loy, whose new production of Tristan und Isolde opens at the Royal Opera House on 29th September. Loy's credentials lie in baroque and Mozart (read what the FT said of his recent Salzburg Handel Theodora HERE) He likes to get to the heart of the music and drama : "I don't like superficial distractions".

So don't expect chainmail and fussy costumes to tell this story. Loy's approach is to focus on the characters and how they develop. Not for nothing Wagner places so much emphasis on what happens before the opera even begins. Who are Tristan and Isolde, as human beings?

“These are fragile people”, he adds. “And fragile people often hide behind an emotional wall to hide their deepest feelings”. Tristan in particular is a much more complex person than his surface heroism might indicate. “He is an extremely damaged person, carrying so much guilt. His father died after begetting him, his mother died giving him birth, and he breaks his uncle’s heart. ‘Zu welchem Los erkoren, ich damals wohl geboren?’”

“So Tristan feels unworthy, but like so many macho men, he builds up an action hero image which has nothing to do with what he feels inside. He cannot express himself, he hides behind an emotional coat of armour”. To the world he may be “der Helden ohne Gleiche” but Isolde, ever sharp, sees him cowering, “in Scham und Scheue”.

Tristan und Isolde is so familiar that everyone carries baggage from past experience and assumptions. There's a saying that the path to wisdom lies in realizing just how much you don't know. So read the score with fresh ears, as if it were completely new. It's fascinating to see how explicit Wagner is on some things, yet elusive on other quite critical points. Read what Loy says in this interview HERE. Read what Loy says about Nina Stemme who sings Isolde. Ben Heppner is Tristan, Sophie Koch Brangane, John Tomlinson Marke and Michael Volle Kurnewal. Please also read my other posts on Tristan und Isolde - Glyndebourne and Bayreuth.

photo credit : Christof Loy, Royal Opera House 9/2009

Salzburg 2009 - Mozart, Nono, Handel

Salzburg is where I'd like to be ..... especially as many of my friends are there. Or in Bayreuth. Keep an eye on http://boulezian. blogspot.com one of the blogs listed at right below. Mark is a Salzburg and Bayreuth regular and really knows his stuff! To whet your appetite, read Andrew Clark in the Financial Times.

Così fan tutte seems very good indeed:
"Now comes a staging that, though far from perfect, brings Così back into the reckoning as a Salzburg speciality. It marks the culmination of a Da Ponte trilogy directed in consecutive years by Claus Guth, and it is easily the most impressive of the three. Guth’s achievement ........ is to lend Mozart’s “school for lovers” a contemporary sheen without stretching credibility or denying the opera’s inner logic." Read more HERE

The one I really wanted to see, Luigi Nono's Al gran sole carico d'amore. This is a real rarity. It's not at all "easy listening" , a powerful piece about the horrors of capitalism. Tickets cost about 300 Euro which, plus travel and accomodation, puts it beyond the means of real Nono fans. What those who could afford to go made of it, who knows? There were also recitals and talks connected with this, for those Nono fans who could make it. (Please let me know if you want details, the talk by Carola Neilinger-Vakil is important, she's the best Nono writer around). I'll curl up with the old Luther Zagrosek recording which is a bit muted, dreaming of what Metzmacher might do. It's hard to imagine the Vienna Philharmonic in this repertoire but then they've responded well to Metzmacher - they did Messiaen Eclairs sur l'au-delà with him and sound surprisingly idiomatic. The Salzburg cast, well-known UK singers, are not Nono specialists, so apart from one, the singing may be an unknown quality. Read the FT article HERE and follow the labels on the right for the MANY things I've done about Luigi Nono.

Then, Handel's Theodora with Christine Schäfer, good strong cast including Bernarda Fink, and the Freiburg Baroque Orchestra who alone would have made this production worthwhile, they're so good. It's directed by Christof Loy, who did the amazing abstract Lulu and will be directing the new Royal Opera House Tristan und Isolde. Anything would be better than the 1996 Glyndebourne Theodora, with Star Wars set and clumpy costumes, making Dawn Upshaw and Lorraine Hunt Liebermann look so ludicrous I switched off the video to listen. Read the FT report HERE.

photo credit HERE

Berg Lulu – Chéreau stagecraft

At last, after all these years of knowing Berg’s Lulu from the acclaimed audio recording conducted by Pierre Boulez, I’ve managed to see the 1979 production on film. It was directed by Patrice Chéreau with whom Boulez created The Ring Cycle for Wieland Wagner which so transformed Bayreuth and Wagner performance practice. After 40 years, that Ring (readily available on DVD) isn’t shocking at all, but quite apposite to the music and symbolism.

Although I saw the original Chéreau Lulu first time out, I can’t remember much because I was so shaken by the plot and music. Nothing scary about the staging though, which seemed pretty conventional even for the time. Perhaps this was necessary as this was the first time the opera had been heard in its full three-act glory and it was a lot for audiences to take on board.

Teresa Stratas looks perfect for the role – frail and birdlike, her limbs darting in odd, angular jerks. She’s nimble, swaying her hips like the snake the Animal Trainer refers to. When she catches the Painter between her knees, she snares him like a boa constrictor. She’s so flat chested you can see her ribs, so fragile looking you think she’ll break when embraced. Physically she brings out the dark side of the plot, the danger, the child abuse and cruelty. No wonder Stratas is rated by many as a good Cho Cho San even if her voice isn’t lush enough for Puccini. As an actress, she’s fine, though no one can come near to the incomparable Christine Schäfer who haunts every frame of the Glyndebourne production.

Chéreau’s production of Lulu came in for flak because he moved the time from turn of the century Vienna to the 1930’s. Why this should have caused a fuss is incomprehensible, since Berg was writing in the 1930’s and wasn’t following Wedekind slavishly in any case. Moreover, nothing in the narrative actually references a particular period. There wasn’t a revolution in Paris in Wedekind’s time any more than in Berg’s : what counts is the sense of looming disaster, which a 1930’s setting expresses even better. They had a stock market crash for real! Had Berg lived, he and many close to him would have suffered under the Nazis, and he knew it. As for Jack the Ripper, in this opera he’s symbolic, not historical.

Sets and designs (Richard Peduzzi) are completely realistic. The Painter’s studio has paintings, not just of Lulu. One looks vaguely like a portrait of Dr Schön which is a subtle clue. Similarly, Chéreau and his team picked up on another fundamentally important detail. Schilgoch doesn’t feel safe in Lulu’s mansion, because the marbles is polished so perfectly that he’s afraid he’ll slip. Dark green marble dominates the set, at one shining and elegant yet vaguely sinister. Impenetrable hard surfaces, whose coolness can be treacherous. Schigolch, who knows Lulu so well, can recognise the implications. Christof Loy’s toughened glass wall is thus a descendant of Chéreau’s polished marble.

Not all stage directions carry the same density of meaning. Shining surfaces reflect (literally) the hard brightness of Lulu’s life when she’s rich and in control. It doesn’t matter much whether Dr Schön dies on a sofa or on the floor. In his anguish he could not care less. Falling on marble is perhaps more meaningful. And Lulu and Alwa don’t need a sofa to make out on. Wouldn’t the police have removed it for forensics, anyway? In a wealthy household, no one would keep an old bloodstained divan. As if Alwa didn’t know where his father died. What counts in this scene is the malevolent way Lulu announces the fact to the poor fellow.

It doesn’t make a jot of difference whether Lulu meets her end in an attic or in a cellar : all that matters is that she’s shown in degraded surroundings. Götz Friedrich at the Royal Opera House in the 80’s showed Schilgoch and Alwa peeing against a wall in the final scene. Why not? That’s what London streets are like. The men treat the wall with the same disregard as Lulu has been treated all her life. Indeed, it’s not so far from the way people casually dismiss complex imagery. Perhaps some like Schigolch and Alwa need “instant relief”.

In complete contrast to the abstract Christof Loy production, Chéreau filled his stage with people – waiters, maids, actors, theatre staff. This is risky because too much activity can distract from essentials. But that’s never been an objection in literal, conservative stagings where busy surroundings are often admired. Notice how carefully the extras are positioned. Between gaps of singing, the singers can take a glass, move about, smoke, hardly missing a beat in the music. Like the music itself, they circulate.
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In the theatre scene, the extra personnel in their bizarre costumes serve to highlight the contrast with “real” people. Who is in the circus after all ? At the very start of the film (not the performance) there's a shot of bejewelled and befurred climbing up the marble staircase . They don't know it yet, but they're just like the rich folk whose world keeps Lulu at bay.

Dr Schön’s fiancée appears fleetingly in the background, a glowing vision of blonde female glory, everything that Lulu isn’t. She doesn’t have to say a word, nor does Lulu. No wonder Lulu is so upset. What she wants is more than just Dr Schön. Even when she marries him she knows she’ll never have what the privileged Adelaïde took for granted. Knowing Berg’s obsession with symmetry, the presence of the fiancée makes complete sense. She’s a forerunner of Countess Geschwitz, the only person who can offer Lulu a degree of selfless comfort. Again, both Geschwitz and Adelaïde have background totally closed to Lulu. Perhaps that’s why the Countess talks of going back to Germany and to university ? What does that represent, since Geschwitz dies ? There’s something pivotal about the fiancée even if it’s not at all explicit. Berg’s cryptic puzzles are deeply embedded, often ignored.

In the Paris scene, the crowd is part of the meaning: people are milling about pretending to be powerful, but they’re all on the make. Like jungle animals pacing their cages, always watching each other. Previously, Lulu was alone, a solitary among larger groups with things to do. Now she’s one of a wider group all chasing unsavoury deals. Berg isn’t commenting on business and economics, even though he knew all about the Crash of 1929. Rather, he seems to see Lulu as part of a wider system that operates like a sinister clockwork that regulates society. This fits in with the way the music operates, its symmetries and patterns as neat as an accountant’s ledger. Indeed, the music seems to evolve on parallel levels, like multiple frames on a cinema screen. Berg’s “worlds within worlds” yet again.

Some of Chéreau’s other details I don’t yet understand from two viewings. One is the magnificent chandelier. Of course, mansions have chandeliers and you need light to lift all that dark marble, and cast strange shadows. But it serves a deeper purpose too, which I can’t yet figure. Does it relate to the little fairy-figure seen only at the beginning ? He’s astride a glittering ball of light. He’s also dressed in pale shades reminiscent of Lulu’s silks. But that is the joy of complex images. You don’t “have” to get them immediately or even all the time. Like Berg’s music, clues are elusive and what you get equates to what you put in.

There was a lot of animosity at the time the production was premiered, partly from long festering resentment of the Bayreuth Ring and the end of the Cosima mentality. Furthermore, the mystery of the Third Act caught the popular imagination. Lulu was the first modern opera to get that massive publicity in the English speraking world. A lot was hanging on who got the contracts for completion and production, financially and in terms of reputation. Fortunately after 30 years the dust has settled and most people actually know the opera well enough to make more measured assessments. Quite frankly, there's nothing shocking in Chéreau's production, and even a few insights. Along comes Christof Loy who does the opposite and draws fire too. Perhaps it's time to heed what Berg himself said apropos to Wozzeck. He was a composer not a stage director and acknowledged how things change in art and life. "I write for the future".

Please read my other posts on Lulu and on the Royal Opera House production - click on label "Berg" at right. There's lots and even a movie download.

Other Lulu's - The Blue Angel, full movie download

The new Lulu at the Royal Opera House brought to mind the film Der blaue Engel, the film which created a huge sensation when it was released in 1930. Watching the film again, it's remarkable how much Alban Berg took from it, and what Christof Loy has taken from it in turn. Josef von Sternberg made the movie in 1930, based on the novel by Heinrich Mann Professor Unrat, written in 1905, which references the Lulu plays of Frank Wedekind, "Spring Awakening" (Erdgeist) in 1895 and Pandora's Box, 1904. G W Pabst's film of Pandora's Box came out in 1929. Embedded into this film is the song Ännchen von Tharau now a much loved Lieder, whose melody goes round and round. The original poem was written in the early 1600's about a real young woman, Anna Neander. It was revised by Gottfried Herder in 1778, and set to music in 1830.

So, rings within rings of influences, each creation a work of art in its own right, Loy being the latest to illuminate the tradition. Berg and the artists of his era didn't believe there was only one way to tell a story.

The Blue Angel starts in a quiet German town : silence operates throughout the movie like an inaudible soundtrack, every bit as important as the "real" music and speech. Long sequences where nothing much happens, nothing is said – bingo! Berg's Lulu, where the action operates on different planes. Berg's long interludes are like musical curtains drawn "across the stage" which aren't simply there to change scenes.

A town clock tings the hours, and a series of carved wooden statues move round its face. Where was this filmed? Probably destroyed now in the blitz - it's a beautiful piece of medieval German art. Look for the saint holding a miniature of a cathedral – a two second image that speaks volumes. The clockwork imagery is also so apt for Berg, whose themes rotate and reappear in relentless symmetry.

The Blue Angel is a seedy nightclub – look at the flat chested frumpy showgirls! Professor Rath's schoolboys (who look like they're 30) sneak off, enamoured of Lola Lola (not Lulu Lulu). So he confronts her and is himself drawn in. He marries her but ends up a sorry clown, amusing the crowds by crowing like a cock. When the show returns to his hometown, the humiliation is too much. He can't go on stage, and cracks up. Later he sneaks back to the schoolhouse and dies on his old desk. It's unbearably tragic, love and "civilization" destroyed.

Watch the minor parts, too like the theatre owner/magician, the strong man, the schoolboys, even the "nice wife". And the last scene, when Professor "UNrat " as his boys called him, creeps back to the schoolroom. Moonlight from the window throws a savage spotlight on his last struggle in the darkness. Loy's last scenes ? The idea is so powerful. Indeed, only now I figure what Loy's doing when he gets Lulu to "make her mark" on Dr Schön by smearing greasepaint on his face. That's what she wore when she was forced to dance while he and his fiancee sat in the audience. Professor Rath breaks down on stage in costume and greasepaint, when he sees how his present distorts his past.

Lola Lola isn't Lulu but they're closely related. Heinrich Mann called her Rosa, and in Berg's opera she has many names. Lola references Lola Montez, the siren who entranced King Ludwig of Bavaria and caused his downfall.

Listen to Marlene Dietrich sing Lola's song
"Ich bin von Kopf bis Fuß, auf Liebe eingestellt. Denn das ist meine Welt, und sonst gar nichts. Das ist, was soll ich machen, mein Natur. Ich halt kann lieben nur, und sonnst gar nichts"
(From head to toe, I'm love personified, it's my world, so there. It's how I was made, my nature, I can't do otherwise". The song is famous in English as "Falling in love again" which isn't quite the same. So we've come all the way from an incident in 1617 which inspired the first poem, all the way to the ROH in 2009.

Watch the WHOLE MOVIE HERE on free download. Sorry the clip is interspersed by ads but they are themselves vintage, quite a scream. "Winston tastes good like a cigarette should" for those who remember the 1950's ! You can also watch segment by segment AND watch full screen mode by clicking the cicrcular button. Subtitled in English.

Shockingly different Berg Lulu, Royal Opera House

The buzz was right - this new Lulu at the Royal Opera House, London is shockingly different.

Christof Loy's production of Alban Berg's Lulu is what minimalism should be: pared down to essentials so all attention is on the music. The stage is almost empty, no props, no furnishings. At first you think, why stage this at all, then ? Why not just a concert performance? But gradually it dawns that the "empty" space isn't empty at all but inhabited by the music, uncompromising and unadorned. That's why it's so disturbing. Without décor to cushion the narrative, it's impossible to escape.

The word "concept" is sneered at in our anti-intellectual world, but without intellect we are no more than beasts. Berg was an extremely conceptual composer. Lulu is constructed like a complex maze, with mathematical symmetries and interrelationships. Berg was obsessed by secret codes and numerology, with patterns and images shifting as if in a kaleidoscope. Berg is doing much more than telling a story in sound. He's creating a whole new concept, where ideas are expressed through abstraction. He's not literal, so this very non-literal production reveals just how radical his ideas could be.

The stage is bare but for a wall of glass. Like the glass, Lulu is opaque, impenetrable. Like Lulu, the glass takes on whatever role is projected onto it, whether the scene takes place in a mansion, prison or slum. The glass is Lulu's mirror image. No wonder there's no need for a painted portrait. The glass is staring us in the face.

Although the designs look sleek and sophisticated, danger lurks beneath the surface. Twice the narrative is interrupted by news of a revolution in Paris. Then the Third Act takes place in Paris. Everything's askew like The Cabinet of Dr Caligari where you don't know who the madman is, doctor or patient. So there's no film sequence in this production. It "is" the essence of film, and of the opera, and it's even in black and white.

The Caligari reference is relevant for throughout this opera people are becoming what they are not, pretending to be someone else, reappearing in different forms. It's in the music too, with its intricate constructions. So the Professor of Medicine sits with his back to the audience as Lulu fools around with the painter, has his heart attack then rises discreetly from the dead and walks off to become theatre manager and banker. The Painter doesn't have to commit suicide "convincingly" because he comes back as The Negro. Berg isn't being naturalistic, he's playing games of patterns and subterfuge. If Loy's production is confusing, that's because the opera is about confusion.

This is not "Lulu for Beginners", though, conversely, if it's taken entirely on its own terms, without assumptions of what opera "should" be, it might even be easier to grasp the concept of Lulu as a musical puzzle The first time I saw Lulu was 1978 - the original of the 3 act version - and was so shocked by the passive anti-drama of Lulu's personality that I didn't realize that this was exactly what Berg wanted to do. Here, Loy has taken away the obvious signposts to narrative, so we're forced, like Lulu, to be constantly alert, always aware that things may not be what they seem, and be prepared to shift and adjust. We are drawn into the jungle of shadowy dangers: hence the references to Africa (unknown territory), to snakes and predatory men. It's a far deeper insight into Lulu's background than the basic assumption that she was abused as a child. Loy's implication is that the whole world's a place where people are forced to play tricks to survive, like the Animal Trainer's charges.

No doubt there'll be huge opposition to this Lulu but it's one that will keep generating ideas for a long time to come. Spartan as it is, each detail is significant. For example, when Dr Schön embraces Lulu, his arms go round her, but his palms are stretched outward. When he starts to disintegrate emotionally in Act Two, there's a smudge of greasepaint on one side of his face. Lulu had worn such makeup when she was a dancer, and he is a man about to marry someone else. Now he's the vulnerable one. These details are fleeting, easily missed and may mean different things, so repeated visits to this Lulu are in order.

Indeed, the full impact of this production may not emerge until long after it's over. Since coming away from it, I've been thinking about Berg's obsessive sense of order. If the world is in perpetual, confusing chaos, then compulsive orderliness is a means of staving off danger. Berg's symmetries and palindromes aren't simply pattern making but a kind of secret incantation. Was he on the verge of something really radical when he died? We shall never know but it's stimulating to wonder.

Because this production throws so much emphasis on the music, it's quite a surprise at first how soft edged the orchestra sounded. Because I'm imprinted so much by Boulez, I make allowances for anyone else. In rehearsals, Antonio Pappano has emphasized the Viennese aspects of this opera, and its submerged romanticism. Submerged, like Lulu's tragedy. Despite the violence in this opera, it's tender and dignified. So I can see where the soft focus is coming from. It acts like a counterbalance to the stark sharpness of the staging: Boulez conducting a production like this would be almost too intense to bear! On the other hand, as my friend Mark Berry in Boulezian points out, a production with such emphasis on the music might need a more uncompromising performance. As he suggests, Metzmacher, Abbado, Harding or Gielen.

Agneta Eichenholz was Lulu. She's quite experienced though mainly in Sweden, which is perhaps appropriate for a Lulu , whose background is unknown. A First Night at Covent Garden was perhaps the highest profile she's ever had, so if she sounded tense, it's completely understandable.. It's a difficult part to sing, and to some extent shrillness fits in with the character. She doesn't quite have the hypnotizing presence of Christine Schäfer, but it really is asking too much of anyone to expect such standards.

Michael Volle's Dr Schön is a benchmark realization, all the more impressive because it's his first time in the role, though he sang Wozzeck only a few months ago. This is Dr Schön's tragedy as much as Lulu's. He's a man who showed compassion when he took Lulu off the streets, even if he may have got something back for doing so. Lulu clearly loves him, though she's incapable of giving him the same kindness. Because Volle's Dr Schön looks vigorous and in his prime, his disintegration is all the more distressing. He embodies Berg's theme of control and chaos: an authoritative, powerful voice but the actorly skills to transit from magnate to tortured soul.

Paradoxically – Lulu is full of paradoxes – the most unrealistic scene in the opera occurs when Countess Geschwitz and Lulu swap clothes and personalities. That couldn't happen in real life but in Loy's production the two women really do look alike. Jennifer Larmore's Countess Geschwitz is also a far more sympathetic portrayal than the butch Cruella DeVille some assume gay people must be. Berg's sister Smagarda was lesbian, so he knew they were people just like anyone else. Again, this production captures the essence of the opera by not giving the game away with obvious clues. You have to concentrate when Larmore and Eichenholz aren't singing to keep track of which is which.

Sturdy performances from Klaus Florian Vogt as Alwa and Peter Rose as the Animal Trainer/Athlete. Schigolch, though, might have needed greater definition. Unlike the other characters, he stays the same. He's the animal who can't be tamed, and a counter to Lulu herself, so more should have been made of the role. Gywnne Howell sang well, but the wild edge to the part wasn't present.

Get to this production. Chances are it won't be seen too often as it's hardly box office candy. Some ladies sitting near me were day trippers from the country on a package tour of the capital. They must have been thinking how odd Londoners are – don't we like The Lion KIng?

For production pix, see the formal review HERE
FIVE OTHER POSTS on Lulu and this production and a wholemovie download ! click on labels link at right. Christoff Loy will be directing the new production of Tristan und Isolde at the Toyal Oepra Hpouse London in September. Michael Volle sings Kurnewal, Heppner and Nina Stemme is I