|  As with other so-called one-work composers, and what 
              a misnomer that is, all of them wrote far more than one. Rezniček’s 
              reputation, if he has one at all, is based on the overture to his 
              opera Donna Diana. Now having got that over with, 
              one can assess him. Normally described by his biographers as a modernist, 
              that also proves to be not the case, for much of his music sounds 
              like Strauss, Humperdinck, Pfitzner and of course Wagner. Indeed, 
              as far as the opera Ritter Blaubart is concerned, it would 
              not take much to divert into the Ring or Lohengrin 
              in many places in this attractive work. Rezniček was an exact 
              contemporary of Mahler, but born where Mahler always aspired to 
              go (and finally made it too), the Austrian capital, Vienna. Rezniček 
              died at the age of 85, like Strauss who was four years his junior, 
              and in the same year as Webern. It is clear from what one hears 
              here that, unlike Webern, he took a wide berth of the route 
              adopted by the Second Viennese School and stuck instead to the path 
              of the classical-romantic tradition. The ‘von’ in his name indicates 
              an aristocratic background, which gave him a useful headstart when 
              it came to his education. His grandfather had been a respected figure 
              in the world of military music. Following his student years, Rezniček 
              took the Kapellmeister path at small theatres. He was also a military 
              music director in Prague, where his first three operas had great 
              success, before settling in Berlin in 1902, and again (for good) 
              in 1909 after three years in Warsaw.  
               
               In 1923 Richard Specht considered Ritter Blaubart 
                to be the summit of Rezniček’s music, and it’s hard to disagree 
                with him that this is well-written, solidly crafted music, if 
                densely scored in places. Count Bluebeard (he ‘actually’ had a 
                thick, dark, black beard if legend is to be believed) was 
                famed for his unusual sex appeal and prowess, and was doomed to 
                bear a destiny which led women into ruin. Such was the attraction 
                of this tale that one finds settings going back to Grétry 
                in 1789, followed by Offenbach, Dukas and Bartók, so the 
                story has lost little of its impact over the years. Rezniček’s 
                librettist was Herbert Eulenberg, whose play was performed for 
                the first time in Berlin in 1906, but suffered at the hands of 
                faction fighting and political intrigue within theatrical circles. 
                It enjoyed more deserved praise when it reappeared (necessarily 
                shortened) as the libretto of Rezniček’s opera after its 
                celebrated premiere in Darmstadt in 1920 conducted by the Hans 
                Richter-protégé Michael Balling. In Berlin the opera thrived under 
                Leo Blech’s guidance with 27 performances in the six years 
                following its first staging there on 31 October 1920. 
                
               Though the story is an utterly gloomy one, it 
                gives wonderful scope for a kaleidoscopic range of emotion and 
                dramatic situation. Blaubart kills his first wife when he finds 
                her in the arms of her lover, but then goes on to kill her five 
                successors because they have dared to enter a room in which his 
                initial secret is locked. By the time Judith, daughter of Count 
                Nikolaus, has become his seventh wife, the locked room contains 
                the heads of her six predecessors. In his absence she is entrusted 
                with the room’s golden key and, despite being warned not to enter, 
                disobeys him. Because the key immediately becomes indelibly stained 
                with blood, the secret is out and she suffers the same fate as 
                all his other wives. At her burial Blaubart seduces her sister 
                Agnes, who agrees to follow him back to his castle. Blaubart’s 
                blind servant Josua seeks to forestall her fate by setting fire 
                to the castle in an attempt to destroy all the evidence. But this 
                only serves to make Blaubart confess to Agnes what he has done 
                to her sister, and, in despair she promptly throws herself from 
                a balcony leaving Blaubart to perish in the flames. 
                
               Melodramatic though this all is, the musical 
                result is impressive, and the performance here under Michail Jurowski 
                utterly convincing. All the soloists are more than equal to the 
                task, some of it as demanding as anything Wagner ever made of 
                his singers. The orchestral interludes, which frankly contain 
                the best music (begging the question why Rezniček 
                never put together a purely orchestral tone poem consisting of 
                this music) are superbly played by the Berlin Radio Orchestra. 
                Rezniček now deserves more than to be regarded as the composer 
                of just one overture, that of Donna Diana, and cpo 
                has done his cause proud with the release of this opera. 
                
               Christopher Fifield
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