Aribert REIMANN (b.1936)
Lear (1978) [156.00]
Bo Skovhus (baritone) – Lear; Katja Pieweck (soprano) – Goneril; Hellen Kwon (soprano) – Regan; Siobhan Stagg (soprano) – Cordelia; Erwin Leder (baritone) – Fool; Lauri Vasar (bass) – Gloucester; Andrew Watts (tenor) – Edgar; Martin Homrich (tenor) – Edmund; Christian Miedl (baritone) – Albany; Peter Galliard (tenor) – Cornwall; Jürgen Sacher (tenor) – Kent; Wilhelm Schwinghammer (tenor) – King of France; Frieder Stricker (tenor) – Servant
Hamburg State Opera Chorus; Hamburg Philharmonic Orchestra/Simone Young
rec. Hamburg State Opera, 2014
ARTHAUS MUSIK DVD 109063 [156.00]
It has long been a cause for comment that operatic settings
of Shakespeare in the original language have so rarely been successful. There
have been a considerable number of honourable attempts at various plays, ranging
from Stanford’s Much ado about nothing (once available on an
ENS Ensemble audio-cassette) through Holst’s At
the Boar’s Head and Vaughan Williams’ Sir
John in Love to Humphrey Searle’s Hamlet
and Stephen Oliver’s Timon
of Athens. I exempt Thomas Adès’s The
Tempest from this list since Shakespeare’s text is there substantially
re-worded. None have succeeded in establishing a lasting reputation, with
one solitary exception. That is Britten’s enchanting comedy A
midsummer night’s dream, and it was clearly with the success of
that score in mind that Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau attempted to persuade Britten
to write a setting of King Lear for him.
It is ironic that a nineteenth century proposal by Verdi to undertake such
an opera never materialised – like Britten, ill health prevented its
consummation. The subject would seem to have been almost designed with Verdi
in mind. The Italian composer had probably first encountered the subject during
one of his visits to London, at a time when Nahum Tate’s bowdlerised
edition of the text - giving the work a happy ending - was giving way to the
revival of Shakespeare’s original. To do some justice to Tate, his version
was actually reverting to the original pseudo-history as reported by Holinshed
which had formed the basis for Shakespeare’s play. Also, at that time
it was customary to tone down the tragic endings of these works — as
can be seen in the original version of Ambroise Thomas’s Hamlet.
It is perhaps too easy to sneer at the dictates of fashion at a time when
Shakespeare’s texts were far from being regarded with the semi-religious
respect we accord them now.
Be that as it may, Fischer-Dieskau then turned to the German composer Aribert
Reimann to provide the opera with the title role which he so fervently desired.
The results, premièred some two years after Britten’s death, achieved
considerable success. This was partly the result of excellent casting –
not only Fischer-Dieskau himself in the title role, but such other major singers
as Julia Varady and Helga Dernesch as two of his daughters. The production
was by Jean-Pierre Ponnelle, at that time one of the major European directors
of opera. The first production was captured off the stage in a sumptuously
produced DG recording on LP (now transferred to CD). The opera was given in
English translation in London and New York, albeit without Fischer-Dieskau
as the demented monarch. Reimann had an excellent reputation as a composer
of opera – he had also worked with Fischer-Dieskau as an accompanist
– but his later works for the stage, such as The ghost sonata
which I reviewed a couple of years back, failed to establish themselves to
anything like the same degree as Lear had done. His highly expressionist
style of writing fitted well with the rampaging drama of Shakespeare. He also
had the ability to achieve a real sense of stillness and emotional engagement
in such scenes as the death of Cordelia. There was also quite a lot of sheer
violence – as in the blinding of Gloucester – which seemed to
show relish for the sense of alienation for its own sake, and the vocal writing
was sometimes ungrateful and hectoring.
I would imagine that the original Munich production would have been televised,
but if so no recording seems to have appeared on video. If it has, it has
never been more than intermittently available. Judging by Andrew Porter’s
description of it when it transferred to San Francisco a year after its première,
it seems to have been a thoroughly dispiriting affair. A unit set was employed
throughout — although Reimann had provided orchestral interludes to
cover scene changes — and Ponnelle’s production ideas seem to
have been pretty thin on the ground. This new version, coming some forty years
later, updates the action to modern times. Although this can be a risky procedure
if it leads to anachronisms which reduce the plot to inanity, it works fine
for a work like King Lear. Holinshed set the legendary reign of Lear
in pre-Roman times; but, apart from the name Lear itself — presumably
derived from the mythological Irish king Lír with his unfortunate children
— Shakespeare makes not the slightest attempt to portray any Celtic
elements in his treatment of the period. Indeed, some of the names he gives
to his characters – Edmund, Edgar, the miscellaneous earls and the anonymous
King of France – are at least a thousand years adrift from any supposed
historical context. The basic plot of Lear – a leader resigning to make
way for a preferred successor, only to find himself fundamentally disagreeing
with the way that the successor behaves, remains a very contemporary one.
Wiser modern leaders keep their vitriol to themselves, only releasing it when
they write their memoirs; but there are also plenty of examples in recent
history of displaced rulers complaining bitterly and publicly about the treacherous
behaviour of their anointed heirs in the best Lear tradition.
Moreover, with this first outing for the work on video for home viewing, it
has to be observed that the more uncompromising elements in the score make
a much more favourable impression when seen as well as heard. What seemed
merely cacophonous in the sound recording makes more sense as part of a dramatic
experience. The action has, not improbably, been transferred to the modern
era, with the initial scene where Lear divides his kingdom taking the form
of a board meeting with all the interested parties. Advantage is also taken
of Reimann’s provision of orchestral interludes — not that interesting
in themselves, alas — to make changes of scene as appropriate. Since
these are largely effected by a stage revolve, the interludes are too long
for their purpose, and much is therefore thrown back on the protagonists who
have to interact with each other during the music. They do this capably, but
at one point – immediately following on Lear’s mad scene –
the cameras are forced to cut away to the orchestra pit and show us Reimann’s
use of a real bass flute - not the alto flute in G commonly named as a ‘bass
flute’. This is of interest to the technically interested but does dissipate
the dramatic impetus that has been built up.
The singing is generally well able to stand comparison with the original stellar
Munich cast. In the title role Bo Skovhus has the same lieder-singer’s
concern for words that distinguished Fischer-Dieskau, and he is if anything
more careful in his delineation of the coloratura that erupts as
the King descends into madness. He may not have the sense of sheer presence
that presumably Fischer-Dieskau brought to the part, but the results, even
in the most strenuous sections of the score, are never less than musical.
Even more extraordinary is the achievement of Andrew Watts in a role originally
written for the peculiarly specialised voice of David Knutson, with a light
tenor extending high into the counter-tenor regions. If anything Watts surpasses
Knutson in the manner in which he blends the registers in an almost seamless
manner. As the three daughters, Katja Pieweck as Goneril and Hellen Kwon as
Regan are both monstrous creations in their carefully distinguished ways;
they make a powerful impression in their duet in Scene Two. Siobhan Stagg
is a properly concerned Cordelia, more than just a helpless pawn in the action.
One might perhaps have welcomed more solidly bass resonance from Lauri Vasar
as Gloucester but among the principal singers the only weak link is Erwin
Leder as the Fool. His elderly and frail voice is insufficiently projected
to bear the weight of the role that is thrust upon him and his facial expressions
lack any sense of compassion. In the more minor roles, the heldentenor
strength of Martin Homrich as Edmund stands out.
Simone Young clearly believes in the score, and elicits powerful and responsive
playing from the Hamburg orchestra. The chorus do not have much to do, but
do the best they can with what they are given. Lear is never going
to be a loveable opera; the performance is received at the end with generally
polite rather than rapturous applause. I even thought I detected some isolated
boos for the composer as he came on stage to congratulate the cast. Nonetheless
with the assistance of video the work makes a stronger impression than in
terms of audio alone. The camera direction is sometimes haphazard –
during Lear’s mad scene it drifts off towards the wings for no very
apparent reason – and some individual points in the production are mystifying
— why does Lear gather piles of boots during the mad scene, only to
drop them again? — but these are not seriously distracting. Rather odder
is the Lady Macbeth-like gesture of revulsion which Regan manifests following
the blinding of Gloucester. This seems seriously at odds with both the music
and her subsequent remark “Let him crawl his way to Dover”, which
hardly suggests any pangs of conscience. A four-page essay in the booklet
by Kerstin Schössler-Bach gives us considerable background to the opera, but
explains less about the producer’s concept of the score. This might
have been helpful, as indeed might have been a supplementary documentary on
the matter; there are no extras at all on the DVD.
One point: this is not, as both the box and booklet claim, a “world
première recording” even if it may be the first on commercial video.
Quite apart from the original DG issue, there has even been a second outing
for the opera on CD, released in 2009, which was favourably reviewed for this
site by Glyn
Pursglove although he regarded it as a second runner to the DG set. That
said, for reasons I have explained, the opera makes more sense when treated
as a dramatic experience with the visual element before the listener’s
eyes. We are also provided with subtitles, whereas the later Oehms release
lacked a translation of the German text — not at all points faithful
to Shakespeare. Perhaps unusually for a German stage production, all the recordings
present the score without cuts although Albrecht
on DG despatches it in 143 minutes as against 156 here. Although Albrecht’s
cast sets a standard for excellence, I have no hesitation in stating that
for those unfamiliar with the score of Lear – or even for those
that are – the increased sense of involvement in this performance either
on DVD or Blu-Ray should make it the first point of engagement for those interested
in later twentieth century opera.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
Previous review (Blu-ray): Dave
Billinge
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