Tolerance is required
when listening here, but it is well
worth it given the strength of the cast.
Possibly most interesting, though, is
the presence of Maurice de Abravanel
at the helm. Abravanel had a three-year
contract at the Met for the years 1936-38.
He made his debut there with Samson
et Dalila. He conducted Lohengrin
there more than any other opera, a total
of six times (including New Year’s Day
1937). This one comes from March 1937.
A Met broadcast, there
are broadcast commentaries included
on each of the three discs and these
help to set the atmosphere. Not helping,
though is the noise that accompanies
or rather dominates the Prelude. It
sounds like a piece of paper repeatedly
buffeted by a fan! Underneath that and
the hiss, there is a rapt, glowing Act
1 Prelude, with the New York strings
exhibiting fine command in the stratosphere.
In fact the orchestra is excellent pretty
much throughout, and Abravanel is a
superb interpreter, never losing contact
with his singers and always aware of
the dramatic situation.
And dramatic this reading
can he. Abravanel is not really one
to underline the mystical side of Lohengrin
(Pars(z)ifal’s son, after all). The
music moves on without any real sense
of rushing, and in keeping with this
Abravanel seems intent on emphasizing
the foreground/early middle-ground of
the musical surface (to use Schenkerian
terminology). This is not to imply shallowness,
however. Far from it – witness his pacing
of the choral ‘Welch hohe Wunder muss
ich seh’n?’, CD1 track 14. The orchestra
excels also for the famous opening of
Act 3, so it is all the more a pity
that the cymbal clashes are terribly
caught.
The two ‘couples’ (Lohengrin/Elsa;
Ortrud/Telramund) are superbly cast.
The first big ‘number’ we hear is Elsa’s
‘Einsam in trüben Tagen’ (CD 1
Track 7) and we immediately get to the
heart of Flagstad. Yes, this is tenderly
sung but nevertheless there is a core
of iron here that gives the character,
from the off, an inner strength that
is not always there in other interpretations.
Elsa’s resolution as she decides to
wait for her ‘saviour’ seems therefore
beyond doubt.
René Maison
is a lyrical Lohengrin who possesses
all the requisite Heldentenor strength
and projection for the ‘big’ moments.
More, his sound is lovely, a real joy
to encounter. Like Flagstad, there is
steel in his voice that in his case
at louder dynamics gives a ‘ring’ to
the long melodic lines. All of which
seems to imply that this Lohengrin and
Elsa will work well together, and how
true this turns out to be; try their
tender and rapt Act 1 duet, CD1 track
13. Of course, any Lohengrin must rise
to the final challenges when he reveals
his name. On this the opera stands or
falls, and Maison in this performance
saves more than enough so the Heldentenor
‘ring’ can give his statements the requisite
authority. Such a shame that surface
noise comes in just at the wrong time
- just before his entrance with ‘Im
fernem Land’ - and he sounds distanced.
This is quite a swift trip to Monsalvat,
and the mysticism of the knights is
not fully brought out. Rather, Abravanel
and Maison see this passage as moving
towards ‘Mein lieber Schwann’. How believable,
therefore, is Lohengrin’s frustration
at ‘O Elsa! Nur ein Jahr an deiner Seite’.
Branzell’s Ortrud does not disappoint
in the closing pages; she sounds positively
insane by this point.
Karin Branzell was
at the Met from 1924 to 1951. She sang
Erda in the Stiedry 1951 Met Ring.
She suits Ortrud well, being able to
project evil and barely-controlled venom
through her voice. Julius Huehn’s Telramund
seems happier (and more gripping) at
higher dynamic levels, where he can
project a sense of the grand. Of course
it is in Act 2 that these two get to
show their mettle. It is here that Huehn
is at his most imposing, set against
Branzell’s conniving, evil portrayal
of Ortrud. Abravanel underlies their
scene with dark hues - sometimes the
orchestra’s pianissimi are difficult
to hear under the hiss, but not so often.
Branzell is very convincing in her attempts
to convince Telramund, and when they
do come to sing together (track 4),
it becomes a very significant moment
indeed. Only later in the act does Branzell
begin to tire.
In contrast, Flagstad
paints Elsa as tender and, in contrast
to Act 1, impressionable, which makes
for excellent vocal contrast with the
‘evil pair’. Abravanel finds superb
drama throughout here – such a pity
that when one gets to track 7 there
is a sudden wrenching up of recording
level and opening out of sound (at around
1’45). A similar thing happens on CD3,
track 2 when the music suddenly seems
to come into focus around 4’45. Abravanel
clearly relishes the tender moments
of the third act. The famous ‘Das süsse
Lied verhallt’ is a case in point, with
both Lohengrin and Elsa exhibiting supreme
sensitivity for line, almost feeding
off each other, with the conductor ensuring
thing move along inevitably. The only
fly in the ointment is that both singers
can be a little loose of diction on
occasion; it is live, after all.
Ludwig Hofmann is a
more than adequate Heinrich; Arnold
Gabor a strongish Herrufer. The chorus
is not all it could be - and it has
a lot to do in this work - tending towards
the messy and even undisciplined at
times. Seasoned Lohengrinites will want
this for many good and strong reasons,
and I for one am not going to suggest
they hesitate. Despite my caveats above,
this remains a valuable Wagner sound
document.
Colin Clarke
Chorus and Orchestra of the Metropolitan
Opera House, New York/Maurice de Abravanel.
