Hoffmann was by any standards a remarkable man. His novels and
short stories - though neither term is really satisfactory for
his idiosyncratic creations - were a significant influence on
figures such as Edgar Allan Poe and Franz Kafka. They were studied
by both Jung and Freud. Offenbach found in them the inspiration
for his opera Tales of Hoffmann. There were also operas
by Hindemith (Cardillac) and Busoni (Die Brautwahl),
at least two ballets – the Coppelia of Delibes and The
Nutcracker of Tchaikovsky – and for Schumann’s piano suite
Kreisleriana. He was an accomplished caricaturist whose
work had many distinguished contemporary admirers - and earned
him more than a few enemies. He was a successful lawyer and,
incidentally, an alcoholic. He was a fine music critic – writing
an important early essay on Don Giovanni and reviews
of Beethoven. And, yes, he was a composer. Christened Ernst
Theodor Wilhelm, in 1809 he changed the third of those names
to Amadeus in honour of you-know-who. He composed several operas
– of which Undine, premiered in Berlin in 1816 is the
best known – four settings of the Mass, one symphony, a quintet
for harp, two violins, viola and cello - of which I once heard
a good amateur performance and which sounded very interesting
- and a range of secular vocal works.
Liebe und Eifersucht (Love and Jealousy) was, it seems,
largely written in 1807. It was never performed during Hoffmann’s
lifetime. It was then lost until the 1960s and was then edited,
based on versions surviving in libraries in Würzburg and Berlin,
by Friedrich Schnapp. The opera finally received its premiere
in 2008 at Munich’s Staatstheater am Gärtnerplatz. This
recording is based on that production.
Hoffmann wrote his own libretto, based on August Wilhelm Schlegel’s
translation (Die Schärpe und die Blume) of Calderón’s
play La banda y la flor. The resulting singspiel
in three Acts has charm and a fair degree of elegance and wit.
The music is everywhere marked by understanding and craftsmanship
– and nowhere distinguished by genius. The plot is an elaborate
trifle about amatory confusions, hopes and fears, in which disguise
plays its part and jealousy sees what it wants to see or fears
to see. Signs and tokens of love are misunderstood and confusion
reigns before, naturally, everybody finishes up with their ‘proper’
partner. None of the characters really develops a plausible
human identity. On the plus side, there are some attractive
arias and some good ensemble writing; the Act I finale is particularly
enjoyable. Hoffmann’s admiration for Mozart is frequently obvious
and there are plenty of echoes and some near-pastiche; but there
are also some harmonies which - no doubt owed to his perceptive
familiarity with Beethoven’s work - resemble those of such composers
as Marschner or Weber.
The performance is eminently listenable. In some part this
is due to the excellent work of the Orchester der Ludwigsburger
Schlossfestspiele conducted by Michael Hofstetter. The orchestra
play on period instruments - or as the splendid German compound
puts it auf Originalklanginstrumenten – which says it
so much more vividly! There is vigour and colour in their performance
even if tempered by the occasional blemish and they create a
real sense of period, making a significant contribution to the
listener’s sense of this as a theatrical event. All of the singers
largely acquit themselves well. Robert Sellier’s light tenor
is thoroughly idiomatic and graceful; Gary Martin sings with
conviction and sureness of pitch, shaping his phrases very effectively.
All of the women are, by the very highest standards, a little
inconsistent, unable to maintain their work at its very best
throughout. But there are nice voices to be heard and some fine
moments – as well as a few slightly awkward ones. Christina
Gerstberger and Sybilla Duffe impress most, but there is no
one who really lets the side down, no one who spoils the listener’s
enjoyment of the unexpected opportunity to become familiar with
this little-known work. Some listeners may, I suppose, find
their patience tested by the substantial quantity of spoken
German dialogue – so be warned.
CPO’s booklet contains a full German libretto, with English
translation, as well as some attractive photographs of the premiere
production. Anyone interested in German opera, or in opera
rara - to borrow a phrase - or in Mozart’s influence or,
indeed, in Hoffmann, will surely want to take the chance to
hear this recording.
Glyn Pursglove
Orchester der Ludwigsburger Schlossfestspiele/Michael Hofstetter
