Albert LORTZING (1801-1851)
Der Wildschütz (1842)
Count von Eberbach - Gottfried Hornik (baritone):
Countess von Eberbach, his wife - Doris Soffel (alto)
Baron Kronthal, brother of the Countess - Peter Schreier (tenor)
Baroness von Freimann, young widow, sister of the Count - Edith Mathis
(soprano)
Nanette, the Baroness's maid - Gertrud von Ottenthal (mezzo)
Baculus, schoolmaster - Hans Sotin (bass)
Gretchen, his fiancée - Georgine Resick (sop) /Juliane Korén (speaker)
Pancratius, the Count's major-domo - Reiner Süß (baritone)
A guest - Bernd Riedel
Rundfunkchor Berlin
Staatskapelle Berlin/Bernhard Klee
rec. Christuskirche Studio, Berlin, 1980-1982. ADD
BRILLIANT CLASSICS 94701 [74:34 + 76:58]
It is not too hard to understand why, despite its enduring popularity in
Germany owing to its plethora of good tunes and high spirits, Lortzing’s
“komische Oper” - or, more properly, “Spieloper” – has failed to travel
beyond the borders of German-speaking countries. The preponderance of
dialogue presents an obstacle unless, as with many productions of “Die
Zauberflöte”, it is cut. Whereas Mozart’s “Singspiel” can survive that
treatment, the speech in “Der Wildschütz” is necessary to clarify the twists
of a labyrinthine plot stuffed with improbable cross-dressing disguises and
impenetrable hidden kinships.
I confess that I am inclined to ignore the niceties of the plotline and
sit back to enjoy the melodies and an authentic singing style emerging from
the performers’ immersion in the traditions of German operetta –although,
insofar as these distinctions matter, there is a case to be made that “Der
Wildschütz” is not an operetta but a proper comic opera the equal of “Don
Pasquale”.
The first performance of Lortzing’s masterpiece was in Leipzig on New
Year’s Eve, 1842. It is in the German Romantic mould more closely related to
its predecessors, Weber’s “Der Freischütz” and Marschner’s “Der Vampyr”,
premiered in 1821 and 1828 respectively, but it is of course much more
light-hearted and also borrows, especially in its vocal ensembles, elements
from “Die Entführung aus dem Serail”, Mozart being the composer Lortzing
most admired. The kinship of titles with Weber’s opera is co-incidental,
“Wildschütz” meaning “poacher” as in “one who illegally shoots wild game”,
and “Freischütz” meaning … well, no-one has ever satisfactorily or neatly
translated it but “The Marksman”, “The Freeshooter” - yuk – and “The Trial
Shot” are some attempts.
There are not too many extant recordings in the catalogue; this, the
latest, is already thirty years old, being a bargain edition from the
Brilliant label of the 1980-82 recording which first appeared on Berlin
Classics; the highlights disc has already been favourably reviewed by MusicWeb International colleague Bob Farr. There is
another likely-looking version, presumably from the 1960s, on Eurodisc and
conducted by Wilhelm Schüchter, starring Renate Holm, Erika Köth, Gottlob
Frick, Rudolf Schock and Marcel Cordes and also a live Orfeo performance
conducted by Heinz Wallberg with another attractive cast including Irmgard
Seefried, Waldemar Kmentt, Renate Holm (again), Hilde Rössel-Majdan, Georg
Volker and Karl Dönch but I have heard neither of those and they are not
easily available. Thus the main competition remains the 1963 EMI recording
starring Anneliese Rothenberger, Hermann Prey, Giesela Litz, Fritz
Ollendorff and, above all, Fritz Wunderlich. This has appeared in various
EMI guises on Electrola, EMI Studio and, most recently, EMI Classics, in a
neat cardboard box. Neither Brilliant nor EMI provides a physical libretto
but you can download one from their websites.
As you may see from the above summary of recordings, “Der Wildschütz” has
attracted an impressive roster of native, post-war German singers to sing it
and it’s not hard to hear why. In addition to the melodic inventiveness, the
opera offers the opportunity for a true singer-actor to deliver the comic
dialogue in accents ranging from the exaggerated, drawling Hochdeutsch of
the Countess to the Saxon dialect of the steward Pancratius. To the
English-speaking listener, there is an element of “G&S in Lederhosen”
about the patter songs – and Lortzing has Sullivan’s gift for a catchy tune,
too.
Regarding the relative merits of the versions conducted by Heger and Klee,
an absolute choice is complicated by the fact that both are excellent in
terms of their warm analogue sound, spirited conducting and first rate
casts; I am happy to listen to either with one major reservation regarding
the later recording. That derives from my personal antipathy to what I hear
as Peter Schreier’s hard, nasal tenor, especially when juxtaposed with Fritz
Wunderlich’s mellifluous Baron; once again we are made to lament his early
death but also reminded to be grateful for the veritable orgy of recordings
he made during his short reign as the world’s most bankable lyric tenor
before his untimely demise. By comparison, Schreier is really strained and
unlovely of tone in the beautiful Duet and Cavatina, “Bleiben soll ich”;
Wunderlich is simply glorious.
Otherwise, the vocal honours are even. The ensemble work in both is
delightful; the quartet “Kann es im Erdenleben” in the finale, much of which
sung a capella, has a charm and delicacy worthy of Lortzing’s idol, although
his essential naivety means that it never encompasses the bitter-sweet irony
with which Mozart laces his ensembles. Anneliese Rothenberger as the
Baroness for Heger is pure and sweet, but her smallish, soubrette soprano
lacks the allure and amplitude of the pulsing, bell-like tone of Edith
Mathis for Klee. Given that the basso buffo role of Baculus was Lortzing’s
invention and addition to the libretto based on August von Kotzebue’s stage
comedy, its delivery is crucial: Hans Sotin has the more conventionally
beautiful, resonant bass and superb diction but Fritz Ollendorff – familiar
to collectors as an amusing Bartolo in the celebrated Callas-Gobbi “Il
barbiere di Siviglia” – has more comedic flair; Sotin sounds intrinsically
too noble. Both make a good job of the set piece “Fünftausend Thaler”,
though you can hear that Ollendorff is the more experienced comedian.
Hermann Prey as the Count has more of a smile in his voice than Gottfried
Hornik, whose attractive tone is sometimes faintly tremulous, but both are
characterful and make much of their polonaise aria. Prey, however, concludes
with a high A flat and is vocally more varied. Gisela Litz for Heger speaks
the role of Countess engagingly but the unattractive beat in her voice means
that she must yield to Doris Soffel for Klee. The Gretchens are equally
fine.
Both orchestras are first-rate German bands from Berlin and Munich, each
led by an experienced practitioner of the folksy German idiom which pervades
this work; there is nothing to split them.
On balance, my preference still lies with the earlier EMI recording for
reasons I explain above but as long as you enjoy the Baron here, you will
not be disappointed by the quality, or indeed price, of this Brilliant
re-issue.
Ralph Moore
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