Ludwig van BEETHOVEN (1770-1827)
Fidelio, opera in two acts, Op 72 (1804-14) [2:13:00]
Libretto after after Jean-Nicolas Bouilly by Josef Sonnleithner, Stefan von Breuning and George Friedrich Treitschke. Dialogue revised by Tobias Kratzer with additional material by Georg Büchner and Franz Grillparzer.
Jaquino, Robin Tritschler (tenor)
Marzelline, Amanda Forsythe (soprano)
Leonore (Fidelio), Lise Davidsen (soprano)
Rocco, Georg Zeppenfeld (bass)
Don Pizarro, Simon Neal (baritone)
Florestan, David Butt Philip (tenor)
Don Fernando, Egils Siliņš (bass-baritone)
First Prisoner, Filipe Manu (tenor)
Second Prisoner, Timothy Dawkins (bass)
Chorus and Orchestra of the Royal Opera House/Sir Antonio Pappano
Directed by Tobias Kratzer
Rec. live, 13 March 2020, Covent Garden, London
Extras [5:00]
NTSC DVD for worldwide playback in PAL regions. Stereo and surround sound. Audio formats Dolby Digital and DTS. Picture aspect ratio 16:9 anamorphic. Also available in Blu-ray.
Subtitles in English, French, German, Japanese, Korean
OPUS ARTE DVD OA1334D [2:18:00]
Fidelio is certainly a great work but it is also a problematic one. At the beginning it seems as if it going to be a straightforward rescue opera, not too different from Cherubini’s Les deux journées of 1800, which Beethoven admired. Indeed, his libretto is based on one by Bouilly, who wrote that for Les deux journées. We begin with the love life of the jailer Rocco’s daughter Marzelline, torn between her old love, Jacquino, and his apparent rival, the breeches role of Fidelio. She is really Leonore in disguise, hoping to locate and rescue her husband, the political prisoner Florestan. A deeper note is struck with the sublime quartet and then again at the end of the first act with the prisoners’ chorus, who seem representatives of suffering humanity rather than criminals. (Some of them are indeed also political prisoners.) In the second act we have moved away completely from Marzelline and Jacquino, who hardly appear. Instead, we have the anguish of Florestan and the incredibly moving scene in which Rocco and the disguised Leonore dig a grave for Florestan and she gives him a little wine and bread – the eucharistic symbolism is obviously deliberate. The prison governor Pizarro is about to kill Florestan when Leonore interposes herself and at that moment rescue comes in the form of a trumpet call announcing the arrival of the Minister Don Fernando. (The action is rather clearer in the first version of 1805 than in the final one.) Don Fernando reprieves Florestan, has Pizarro arrested and then there is general rejoicing.
In addition to the problem of unifying this work there is also the fact that it is not through-composed but a Singspiel, in which the singers are required to speak as well as sing. There is, in fact a good deal of spoken dialogue; not all singers are good at his and audiences can find it trying. Beethoven had a lot of difficulty with the dialogue as can be seen from the number of people involved in working with him on it. It can do with some trimming but some productions cut it to ribbons; then the work falls apart into a disconnected set of musical numbers.
And then the two leading roles are very demanding. Leonore’s is less so than in the first version, but the singer must also look credible or at least not too unbelievable as a young man, along the lines of Cherubino in Figaro or Octavian in Der Rosenkavalier. Florestan does not appear in the first act at all and has to establish his character with his aria from cold. So the challenges are very many.
This production had a rocky start. The great attractions were originally that Lise Davidsen would be singing her first Leonore, with Jonas Kaufmann as Florestan. (He has recorded this role before, with Abbado.) Kaufmann had to withdraw after the premiere and was replaced by David Butt Philip, who appears on this DVD. Some performances were lost because of the first Covid lockdown, as I was only too aware, as my tickets for the live transmission had to be cancelled. Still, here it finally is.
Tobias Kratzer takes it upon himself to alter the action. He has not just abbreviated but rewritten the dialogue, with frequent changes to not only the meaning but also the action. For a start, the first act is set not in Spain, as specified in the libretto, but in post-revolutionary France. As the plot is based on an actual incident in France during the Reign of Terror, this is reasonable. (The original librettist Bouilly found himself in the position of Don Fernando and moved the action to Spain to avoid precise identification of those involved. The originals of Leonore and Florestan could in theory have attended the premiere of the opera.) It is, however, rather overdone, with tricolors and frequent invocations to the revolution added in, which makes Rocco’s and Don Fernando’s positive references to the king’s birthday seem incongruous. Playing the overture, which is quite a jolly number, with the curtain up and baskets of severed heads being brought out is unnecessary and conflicts with the music, and Pizarro’s crushing of Marzelline’s pet canary is a piece of gratuitous nastiness. Kratzer frequently changes entrances and exits, so who witnesses what is different from the libretto. He also has Leonore as Fidelio lead Marzelline on, which is duplicitous and out of character for the brave and honourable woman she is. He makes Marzelline try to seduce Fidelio despite her father looking on at the time, and it seems that it is Fidelio, rather than Rocco, who orders the prisoners’ temporary release, for which she is silently reprimanded.
The second act is quite different. It is apparently set in a large eighteenth century drawing room, but with the chorus, now in modern dress, set in in a double semicircle. In the middle is a rock on which is Florestan. This is clearly not a representation of anything. Pictures of chorus members appear projected on the back wall, which makes rather a nonsense of Florestan’s first words about being in darkness. Rocco and Florestan’s grave digging seems perfunctory and the issue of Leonore recognizing Florestan before he knows who she is goes for nothing. She sings him scraps of a little ditty, which is not in the score, gives water instead of wine, and, when the trumpet sounds, it is not Jaquino but Marzelline who appears, holding the trumpet and firing a gun which wounds Pizarro. The reunion duet has to be sung with all these others on stage, which detracts from the moment (I grant that the action is not clear in the original libretto). For the finale, there is no change of set and frankly it is a bit of a mess, with the chorus now being prisoners again though still in modern clothes and Don Fernando also wearing modern clothes and not immediately appearing as an authority figure.
Kratzer says in the booklet that the first act is a historical melodrama but the second a political essay on the responsibility of the individual in the face of a silent majority. This may explain his treatment of the chorus and his abandonment of any attempt to unify the two acts. The trouble with it is that it is not true. The responsibility of the silent majority has nothing to do with Beethoven’s opera, which is about political oppression and the rescue by a brave woman of her husband. I would have thought the role of the strong woman was a more relevant modern preoccupation. I can just about take what Kratzer does with the first act, despite some reservations, but I think his second act is completely misconceived.
Anyway, despite the problematic staging, the performances are good. The strong cast is rightly dominated by the splendid Leonore of Lise Davidsen. For a start, she looks the part, being naturally quite tall, and she copes with the difficulties of the role with apparent ease. Her recitative and aria Abscheulicher . . . Komm, Hoffnung is beautifully done, with the tricky runs and leaps securely negotiated. David Butt Philip is a satisfactory replacement for Kaufmann, and his aria was moving, despite the awkwardness of the setting and his tendency to grimace. Georg Zeppenfeld acted and sang well as Rocco, and Simon Neal made the stage villain Pizarro really alarming. Of the smaller parts, really impressive was Amanda Forsythe’s affecting Marzelline. She appears with what looks like an incipient bruise on her face, the result of a row with Jaquino mimed during the overture, which I suppose adds to the motivation to prefer Fidelio. Her attempted seduction of the disguised Leonore and her appearance in the dungeon are presumably ideas of Kratzer, which she did her best with. The chorus was fine, the orchestra played well, especially the woodwind, and Pappano conducted with verve and commitment.
There are two brief extras, one with comments of the performers on the work and the other with pictures of them in role. The sound and vision are good; I was listening in ordinary stereo. The DVD is slightly difficult to navigate, with the scenes in the second act not appearing in the menu. But that is a small matter. This is worth seeing for the excellent performances, particularly Lise Davidsen’s Leonore, if you can cope with the problematic staging of the second act.
Stephen Barber
Previous review (Blu-ray): Gregor Tassie
