The productions which have emanated from the Bayreuth Festival since the
abdication of Wolfgang Wagner have received a generally mixed press. Some
critics have hailed the dawn of a new era of adventurous and experimental
stagings. Others have excoriated them in equally vociferous terms. Some
while ago I was singularly unimpressed with the Hans Neuenfels 2010
production of
Lohengrin, which seemed to me to spend most of its
time fighting headlong against what Wagner was telling us in the music. This
production of
Der fliegende Holländer cleaves considerably more
closely to Wagner's original stage directions, which he outlined and
expanded at great length in a lengthy essay on the subject of the opera
written in 1853. It is nevertheless obsessed by its own concept, which is
outlined on the back of the box containing the disc: "He [Jan Phillip
Gloger] translates the tale of the Dutchman to a future time, where
part-human/part-cyborgs grind out an existence in a world completely
subservient to business and commerce. In the modern fan-making factory,
which replaces the world of Senta and her fellow seamstresses, we see a
final tableau in which the Dutchman's and Senta's heavenly union is
'commemorated' by the factory workers now producing souvenir statuettes of
the couple."
Well, I am glad for that explanation, because otherwise I might have had
considerable difficulty in seeing what Gloger was getting at. In an
interview published in the booklet, he expands somewhat on his intentions,
explaining that he also wanted to emphasise the relationship between the
Dutchman and Senta. He also intended to underscore the importance of the sea
which, as he observes, is "a further protagonist in the first act". Well, I
cannot find any evidence whatsoever of the existence of the sea in this
production. What we do see are a series of laser beams, strongly reminiscent
of Kupfer's 1990s staging of the
Ring but less colourful. This is
enlivened by a series of scrolling projected numbers which I suppose are
intended to show the passage of time but are merely distracting. At the very
beginning Daland and the Steersman - both dressed in lounge suits and ties,
which would seem to be highly unsuitable wear for sea voyages in any period
past, present or future - are discovered in a rather small rowing boat.
There is obviously no room in such a vessel for its crew, so for their
appearance at the end of the Act the Norwegian sailors simply march forward
across the stage in concert formation - so much for dramatic verisimilitude.
The arrival of the Dutchman's ship goes for nothing, since the cameras show
us very little of the stage picture at this point, concentrating on the
sleeping Steersman; presumably not much
was actually happening. The
Dutchman, in his cyborg outfit, is accompanied by a couple of technicians
who seem to be subjecting him to running repairs. The effect of this,
together with the skeletal lasers, is somehow reminiscent of a Borg cube out
of
Star Trek. During the following scene attention is continually
drawn away from the Dutchman and Daland by fussy manipulations of paper
documents by the Steersman. He also seems to be intent on making away with
as much of the Dutchman's treasure as possible. Like so many additional
'ideas' by modern producers, this simply succeeds in undermining the music.
Some of the ideas here are also inadequately explained: why does one of his
attendants bring a polystyrene cup of coffee to the Dutchman during his
monologue, and why does he unceremoniously throw it to the ground?
In the Second Act the maidens in the spinning room - now the factory,
making modern electric air-conditioning fans rather than oriental props -
adopt stylised poses. These were old-fashioned even when Gilbert was
producing his three little maids for
The Mikado, rendering their
light-hearted gossip even more air-headed than usual. Erik is already on
stage, repairing some electrical faults in the wall, which makes one wonder
how he knows that Daland's ship has returned from his viewpoint high on the
cliff. However once the Dutchman arrives with Daland things thankfully
settle down. Gloger sticks pretty closely to Wagner's precise stage
directions for the absolute stillness of Senta and the Dutchman from their
first sight of each other, incidentally demonstrating that the composer knew
exactly what he was doing. Modern producers who depart from these do so at
their peril.
In the Third Act - where there is no change of scene - the contrast
between the Norwegian and Dutch crews is well managed, even if the
appearance of the latter does bring up distant memories of Michael Jackson's
Thriller. The amplification of the Dutch crew, with what sounds
like added electronic distortion, is I think a mistake. Some sort of
differentiation is clearly needed here. Without amplification there is
always a severe danger than their words will be obscured by the violent
orchestral outbursts emanating from the pit but even given the portrayal of
the crew as cyborgs the aggressively hi-tech sound that results here sounds
ruinously inauthentic. After this scene there is another questionable
production decision, when Senta and Erik in their scene together are both
fully aware that the Dutchman is hovering in the background. This gives
Erik's cavatina - nicely delivered at a flowing tempo - an element of
grandstanding which is foreign to the emotion of the music at that moment.
The final moments, with the souvenir statuettes proudly displayed to the
sounds of Wagner's 'redemption music', are the purest hokum
.
All of this is all the more annoying since the musical performance itself
is generally excellent. From the very beginning it is clear that Christian
Thielemann intends to stamp his authority on things, with a strongly
romantic performance that makes very little concession to notions of early
nineteenth century style. His approach pays rich dividends throughout in
illuminating details of the score in a manner that the composer would surely
have approved. To judge by what I have heard of his Bayreuth
Ring,
Thielemann was not ideally served there by a cast of rather mixed abilities;
but there are no such concerns here. Franz-Josef Selig is one of the best
Dalands I have ever encountered, finding subtleties in his music that are
always interesting and often rather more than that. Benjamin Bruns is a
Steersman in the heroic mould. He takes an unwanted breath in the middle of
a line in his ballad, but otherwise comes over well and even manages to make
sense of some of his interpolated stage business. Samuel Youn as the
Dutchman is firmly centred, steady as a rock, and also displays a close
engagement with the text. His German is sometimes rather suspect, sounding
to me - with my unidiomatic command of the language - as if he mangles both
vowel sounds and consonants in places, but non-German-speakers will delight
in the tonal variety he produces.
In the Second Act we encounter the youthful Senta of Ricarda Merbeth, who
excels in a role that seems, oddly enough, to defeat many heroic sopranos.
The only concern about her absorbed and absorbing portrayal is the suspicion
that she might be living a bit too much on vocal capital. One fears for the
effect on her voice in future years but it is nonetheless a most exciting
sound, and a riveting dramatic performance to boot. Christa Meyer is
suitably bossy as Mary, and Tomislav Mu˛ek as Erik, more lyrical-sounding
than the Steersman, has plenty of body to ride the orchestral tumults that
punctuate his lines and - thank goodness - never sounds lachrymose.
The subtitles comes in English, French, German and Korean; these are also
available for the four brief German-language interviews which comes as
extras. They add nothing substantial to the contents of the Blu-Ray and do
nothing to explain some of the more questionable production decisions.
When I reviewed a reissue of the production from the Savonlinna Festival
last year on Blu-Ray, I spent some time looking at alternative video
versions. It may be helpful here to repeat some of what I said on that
occasion: "There is surprisingly little available competition for this opera
on DVD. The current catalogue lists the Netherlands Opera's radically
modernised production, which I reviewed with limited enthusiasm last year.
There's also a Bayreuth production which portrays the whole plot as a dream
of Senta's, and employs Wagner's original ending for both overture and
opera. The only available production which is free of such directorial
conceits is a filmed version conducted by Wolfgang Sawallisch, which
achieves graphic realism in the production but similarly uses Wagner's
original truncated ending. This adds a further gratuitous cut in the opening
scene of Act Three. So that means that if you want a production which sticks
closely to Wagner's original carefully conceived scenario, this is your only
option. It is not a bad one, and the balance between voices and orchestra is
far more realistic and satisfactory than in the Sawallisch film. One would
welcome the re-release of the BBC television production of the early 1970s,
with Gwyneth Jones and Norman Bailey in the leading roles, which I recall
with affection. This new release does nothing to change my views on the
subject, and although the singing and playing here is superior to that on
the Warner Classics release from Savonlinna, and the recorded sound is
decidedly better, the earlier release gives the viewer a far better view of
what
Der fliegende Holländer is actually about.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
