For
many years, the only DVD of Meistersinger was the 1993
Götz Freidrich production, conducted by Rafael Frühbeck
de Burgos, with truly exemplary performances from Gösta
Winbergh, Erik Wilm Schülte and Uwe Peper. My copy is an
antique. The back cover is taken up with instructions
on how to operate a DVD ! In those days, people really
did need to know what a “Menu Button” did, what “Title” meant,
and how to adjust their TV sets to take DVD formats. Fortunately
that production has been reissued and is widely available.
If
ever there was a composer whose work cried out for intelligent
filming, it was Wagner. With his fundamental belief in Gesammtkunstwerk, the
unity of the arts, the new medium would have opened fascinating
new interpretative possibilities. On the other hand, this
production, from Bayreuth in 1984 comes
from an even earlier pre film period than the Frühbeck
de Burgos masterpiece. It really can’t be judged in the
same terms as, say, the Levine/Met production from 2001
with Mattila, Morris and Heppner.
Unlike
the Ring, or Parsifal, the Meistersinger depends on its
German bearings for context. It may be a universal human
drama, but at the same time there are so many questions
implicit about artistic tradition and theory, particularly
about expressing a German sensibility. Wagner was a dialectitian
after all, driven by ideas. As the German experiences
changes, there’s plenty of room for thinking anew about “Holy
German Art”. In the Metzmacher/Konwitschny production
in Hamburg in 2005, when the grand chorus
was interrupted by a Meistersinger saying (more or less) “How
can we sing such things after what happened in the Third
Reich?”. But
there’s little irony or imagination in this straightforward
production by Wolfgang, rather than Wieland, Wagner.
Indeed,
this DVD demonstrates why performance in the theatre doesn’t
necessarily translate on film. On stage, the distance
between performers and audience adds to the suspension
of belief. Modern film techniques have turned this into
a strength, intensifying the experience, so outright veracity
isn’t essential. We know we’re watching opera not cinema
verité. But film adds a dimension to performance that
isn’t necessarily obvious on a purely sound recording. Seeing
this on film, I realised why, much as the individual vocal
performances are wonderful, the whole is vaguely unsatisfying
Basically,
Hermann Prey steals the show. He’s mesmerisingly good. His
Beckmessers were legendary. He rethinking of the role
purged it of accretions attracted in the Third Reich,
restoring it to something perhaps closer to the logic of
the opera itself. The warmth of his tone, and its richness
of colour make it obvious why Beckmesser was
elected
a Meistersinger in the first place, and as Town Clerk had
high status. Essentially, he’s an insider in the establishment,
even if he has some odd ideas about music. This is central
to a truly Wagnerian understanding of the role of artist
in society. Sachs, despite being universally loved and
admired, doesn’t go in for the trappings of power and status. He’s
a shoemaker. Walther, despite his background, is an outsider
too. We never really discover why he left the aristocracy
and wandered into town. Wagner, despite his love for fancy
velvets and luxury, never really cased being something
of an anarchist. Indeed, he exploited Ludwig II shamelessly. The
implication, then, is that a true artist is an outsider. Beckmesser
is a bad musician who needs to steal ideas because he represents
the
uncreative.
Prey’s
glorious singing on its own convinces, for even his off
key “bad” singing has charm and wit. But why does Eva
love Walther? Prey’s voice alone trounces Jerusalem’s. Without
visuals, Jerusalem just about convinces. On
film, though attractive enough, he just doesn’t
project the same charisma. In the theatre, Prey’s Beckmessser
would have been more integrated with the ensemble. On
film, we get the close-ups, like Prey’s animated face and
deliciously wicked panache. He shakes his foot, dismissing
Walther’s mistakes. No wonder the Meistersingers are won
over. Walther may be a callow youth but film doesn’t help
build his case as the more talented alternative. Prey
and Gösta Winbergh’s Walther : that would have been interesting.
Bernd
Weikl’s Sachs, too, is superlative. Sachs is an extremely
complicated personality, but Weikl brings out a powerfully
potent character. No decrepit world weary Sachs, this. Instead,
Weikl’s firm, animated singing portrays Sachs a vitally
active man who stands up for what he believes in – Wagner’s
idea on a true artist and hero. The acting is as good
as the singing. The only quibble is that young looking
Sachs and Beckmessers need an even younger looking Walther
as contrast. Jerusalem’s tenor is high enough
to convince aurally, but again, video does him no favours.
Orchestrally,
this is not one of the sharpest performances. It’s no
match for Frühbeck de Burgos and the Deutsches Oper. Of
interest too is an early Graham Clark David. Yet the Berlin production
had exceptional performers, too, in Winbergh’s
Walther, and Schülte’s brilliant Beckmesser. Peper’s
David is also far more developed than Clark’s. And
Götz Friedrich is a far more incisive
director. But to miss Prey’s Beckmesser and Weikl’s
Sachs would be miss out on two critically important interpretations,
both of whom add immeasurably to a greater understanding
of this opera.
Anne
Ozorio
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Hans Sachs - Bernd Weikl
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