Richard Strauss and his Heroines
A film by Thomas von Steinaecker
German and English language with in English, French, Spanish and Korean
Region Code: 0; Aspect Ratio 16:9 (Documentary), 4:3 (Bonus); PCM Stereo
ARTHAUS 102181 DVD [Documentary: 52:00; Bonus: 23:00]
This is the kind of film that only gets made in anniversary years because
there is so little to it as to be almost insubstantial. There is nothing
remotely approaching new material or any new revelations, so that the
film resembles nothing so much as a harmless souvenir. It’s basically
a biography of Strauss that does its job through very broad brush strokes
and a general approach. It has the seed of an idea — as you might
guess from the title — to tell Strauss’s story through the
women in his life, both on and off the stage. This doesn’t really
go anywhere and certainly doesn’t say anything profound. Salome
and Elektra, for example, are portrayed as two women who broke the feminine
stereotypes of their day — stop the press! — and were given
a radical harmonic language to go with it. Die Frau ohne Schatten,
on the other hand, is seen as a musical step backwards in comparison with
Strauss's fellow contemporaries, and Der Liebe der Danae
is dismissed as being “without resonance”. The director repeatedly
makes the point that Rosenkavalier is Strauss’s most popular
opera and the Marschallin his most multi-faceted character for a female
singer, but we needed no ghost to tell us that. There are also some rather
bizarre omissions: nothing from Ariadne or Capriccio,
to say nothing of Daphne, though there is a throwaway section
on the Four Last Songs to bring the film to a rather peremptory
conclusion.
There are brief talking heads from singers (Brigitte Fassbaender, Christa
Ludwig and Renee Fleming), academics and randoms, including some inane
waffle from Rufus Wainwright. There is frustratingly little, however,
about the composer’s wife, Pauline. She is billed on the case as
being “the primary focus” but there is really very little
about her at all, and even less about Alice, his daughter in law. Strauss’s
grandson, Christian, gives the odd vignette from the drawing room in Garmisch,
but nothing earth-shattering, and various key things are skipped over,
such as the composer’s relationship with the Nazis.
Ironically, it is the bonus feature that is most interesting, Furtwängler
conducting the Berlin Philharmonic in Till Eulenspiegel in 1951.
It is remarkable how much colour and sparkle Furtwängler gets out
of the orchestra with very little movement on the podium — he could
teach some 21st century conductors a thing or two. It is fascinating
watching him lead his colleagues through the score, despite the slightly
grainy mono sound and picture. There is also some rather daft stuff of
some dancers prancing around enacting parts of Till’s story, but
this is more diverting than the additional material, a 6½ minute
extract from Werner Jacobs’ 1949 film Ein leben für Musik.
On the whole, though, this DVD has nothing to offer anyone who knows Strauss’s
world already, though it might make a useful present for an interested
beginner.
Simon Thompson
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