Strauss’s unyielding expressionist masterpiece has yielded a
huge variety of interpretations in its 102-year performance
history. The most successful have all gone along the less-is-more
principle. The same epithet could apply to the best work of
director Nikolaus Lehnhoff whose finest productions have stripped
bare the work in question to present it at its most elemental.
Think, for example, of the Glyndebourne
Tristan
or his Zurich Meistersinger. So entrusting Lehnhoff with
the 2010 Salzburg production of Elektra sounds like a
match made in heaven and, broadly speaking, it is. Lehnhoff
sets the action against bare walls peppered with window holes,
suggesting the exterior of the palace at Mycenae, but all perspectives
are skewed. The walls rise out of the ground at angles of about
30° and the ground slopes disorientatingly, underlining the
impression of a sick, twisted world skewed beyond normal recognition.
The various windows are used for characters to look out of and
comment on the action: we see Klytämnestra peering out of several
before she finally appears on the ground and, most effectively,
the maids of the first scene squat in them to spit out their
vitriolic comments. They look for all the world like the flies
and bluebottles that Elektra accuses them of being. The ground
contains various craters from which the “good” characters –
Elektra, Orest, the Fifth Maid, for example – emerge onto the
scene while the others – Chrysothemis, Klytämnestra and Aegisth
– appear from the side. Elektra also uses some of them as pits
in which to hide and scrabble. The bareness of the action means
that attention is entirely focused on the music and acting,
which is all to the good. Furthermore, nothing gets in the way
and so the mind is inexorably drawn to focus more on what you
hear.
It is a good job, then, that what you hear is very good indeed.
Iréne Theorin’s Elektra towers over the whole work. She carries
herself with dignity and restraint at her first entrance, reminding
us that she is a King’s daughter and that her experience has
not entirely degraded her. We are left in no doubt, though,
that she has been consumed by the project she has set herself:
her face is made up to be deliberately pale, ossified, as you
can see from the cover photograph. In addition, her death throes
begin as soon as Aegisth has been murdered so that there is
no final dance of frenzy, just steady, unstoppable decay unto
death. Vocally her performance is a marvel. Its secret is the
slow burn: her opening monologue unfolds subtly, almost gently
so that plenty is left in reserve for what comes later, making
those scenes all the more powerful when they arrive. Her voice
is not naturally a warm one – see her Bayreuth
Isolde for proof of that – and she uses its icy quality
to accentuate her character’s otherness. She melts for the recognition
scene, but there is an air of distance even here, highlighting
both her tragedy and the inevitability of her final fate. She
is matched by a Klytämnestra of terrifying power in Waltraud
Meier. As with any Meier performance, it is impossible to take
your eyes off her for any moment that she is on screen. Her
Klytämnestra is hysterical, paranoid and fearful, but never
a caricature, always believable even as she quivers on the edge
of madness. She makes her voice shrill and cold to fulfil the
role, but her identification with the character is total and
her assumption is one of the finest I have seen on screen. Eva-Maria
Westbroek’s Chrysothemis isn’t quite as towering as the other
women, but she plays up the difference of the character well.
While Elektra dominates the stage this Chrysothemis is always
seeking a way out, searching the side walls for an exit. Westbroek
is feminine and sympathetic where her sister seems carved from
granite and you never have any doubt that her longing for motherhood
is real, as is her horror at her sister’s fate. René Pape’s
Orest is outstanding too. He sings with restrained power, exuding
elevated dignity with every phrase, injecting an element of
rounded humanity into this horrific family story. The sheer
beauty of his voice, together with his excellent acting, makes
his duet with Elektra one of the highlights of the disc. Robert
Gambill makes the most of Aegisth, though it’s worth noting
that, while his baritonal tenor sheds wonderful light on some
roles, his dark sound glosses over Strauss’s (intentionally)
uncomfortably high writing for this weedy and unpleasant character.
Every bit as good as the singing – indeed even finer in places
– is the playing of the Vienna Philharmonic. Again and again
details in the playing, which come across with ear-opening clarity
in 5.1 surround, made me sit up and take notice, drawing attention
to Strauss’s unbeatable orchestration and unequalled gift for
painting words in sound. Gatti’s direction is strong, though
he seems to play it for the almost atomic power of the big climaxes,
especially the very beginning and end, so that very occasionally
the sense of the long view isn’t quite sustained. This is no
reason to avoid this film, though. It is as good a staged Elektra
as you are likely to find, easily trumping Kupfer’s washed-out
Vienna production, despite the excellent Klytämnestra of Brigitte
Fassbaender and Abbado’s direction of the VPO. The picture quality
and camera-work of the Salzburg crew is excellent and the performance
is unashamedly realised for film: there is no applause and not
even a hint of an audience, just credits to an atmospheric background
at the beginning and end of the opera. It would have been good
to have some extras, though; none are given.
Highly as I rate this, my top Elektra on DVD is still
Götz Friedrich’s film on DG, starring Leonie Rysanek and Astrid
Varnay and conducted by Karl Böhm. The claustrophobic doom of
the production and the excellence of the performances make me
identify with this work like no other production, but if it’s
a staged version you’re after then you can turn with confidence
to Lehnhoff and Salzburg. Incidentally, the last five minutes
contain an arresting coup-de-théâtre which I won’t give
away here but the photographs in the booklet will, so save yourself
from the spoiler and watch the DVD before you browse the booklet.
Simon Thompson
See also review by Mark
Berry of the staged performance in 2010
Elektra – Iréne Theorin (soprano)
[109:00] 
