I haven’t always been impressed by Marek Janowski’s unfolding Wagner
cycle, but this instalment is a hit on almost every front. The conductor’s
vision of the work is wholly convincing and all the performers give
of their best to create a performance that is exciting and musically
brilliant.
Let’s begin with the soloists, who are led by an excellent titular knight
in Robert Dean Smith. I’ve said
before
that I really admire his tenor, but Tannhäuser isn’t the perfect role
for him. Admittedly, you could say that about almost anyone because
Tannhäuser is probably the most thankless tenor role in the Wagner canon.
All the same, Smith lacks the lyricism that makes the role sound interesting
in the Venusberg scenes. This, however, is my only criticism, because
he has heroic ardour in spades. His duet with Elisabeth is really exhilarating,
particularly the point where they sing
Gepriesen sei die Stunde,
helped by Janowski’s exciting tempo and the brilliant soprano of Nina
Stemme, more of which later. He also manages to sound properly deflated
for his appearance in the final act, and it’s obvious from his vocal
acting why Wolfram doesn’t recognise him. The Rome Narration is a brilliant
piece of vocal story-telling, climaxing on an admirable snarl on the
word
verdammt, and his transcendent redemption at the end comes
as a climax to a brilliantly conceived take on the part. He isn’t the
most exciting or vocally thrilling Tannhäuser on disc – for me that’s
still Peter Seiffert for Barenboim – but he sings the role extremely
well, and that puts him a cut above most other Wagner tenors.
His pair of lovers is also excellent. Nina Stemme is a pretty unique
Elisabeth. She has none of the girlish innocence that characterises
most sopranos’ take on the part: instead there is a regal quality to
her singing and her commanding vocal tone reminds us that Elisabeth
is, after all, a princess of royal blood.
Dich teure Halle
is brilliant, the excitable quavers in the winds underpinning a performance
that is excited without losing control, and her plea at the end of the
act is most moving, as is her great prayer to the Virgin in Act 3. Marina
Prudenskaya, in contrast, is a sultry, alluring Venus. She has an entirely
different character to her voice and she convinces not just as the goddess
of love but also as the repository of all sensual pleasure. She is winningly
lovely in the Venusberg scene and even quite vampish when she returns
at the end of Act 3. It’s a lovely performance, with all the right aspects
of the role and none of the overplaying that can sometimes damage it.
The other parts are very well sung, too. The Landgraf’s part suits Albert
Dohmen’s deep, slightly bluff voice very well indeed, much better than
did Hans Sachs in
Janowski’s
Meistersinger,
and he is a very fine vocal presence. The minstrels sing well, with
an effectively bitter Biterolf from Wilhelm Schwinghammer, and there
is a most appealing Shepherd from Bianca Reim. However, everyone’s thunder
is just about stolen by the sensational Wolfram of Christian Gerhaher.
I’ve praised this singer to the skies
before,
and this isn’t the place to repeat those plaudits, but he makes this
role come alive in a way that few singers can manage. Wolfram is humane,
self-sacrificial and sympathetic, but ultimately quite one-dimensional.
Gerhaher, however, makes him a complex character, full of contradictory
emotions and thoughtful sensitivity. Listen, for example, to his first
contribution to the song contest. It’s often a fairly unexciting moment
when one’s fingers can tend to drum in the opera house, but Gerhaher
invests it with all the thought, care and attention to language that
he brings to his song recitals, transforming it into a profound meditation
underpinned by his sensationally lyrical voice. His monologue at the
start of Act 3 is deeply moving, and his
Abendstern solo will
reduce you to tears. What an extraordinary singer!
Janowski and his orchestra also up their game when in the company of
such a brilliant cast. By this point in the series you can take Janowski’s
quick tempi for granted, but here he uses them to inject an extra element
of excitement into a score whose plot can sometimes drag. It is this
that he uses to such exhilarating effect in the opening scene of Act
2, and I noticed an extra element of energy to the entry of the guests,
as well as to the final ensemble of Act 2. When he does broaden out,
therefore, it is to very calculated effect, such as in the theme of
the Pope’s love-feast in the prelude to Act 3. Throughout, Janowski
underpins the singers with instrumental colour that is sensitive and
utterly appropriate, bringing out the very best in them. Listen, for
example, to the opening of Act 2 or, even better, the winds that accompany
the end of Elisabeth’s Act 3 prayer, tender, pleading, sensitive and
deeply moving. The orchestra play like gods for him, and they are helped
by brilliant Pentatone sound that picks up every aspect and opens up
the inner textures of the ensemble, particularly those at the end of
the second act, which can often get lost in the overall sonic fog. The
chorus are outstanding too, and they even manage the off-stage elements
very well: the pilgrims of both the first and third acts sound as though
they have approached from off-stage and move off again, even though
this must have been impossible in the context of the live concert performance
that constituted this recording. My only complaint is that the off-stage
instruments, such as the hunting horns in Act 1 or the Act 3 Venusberg
music, are too far away and, therefore, difficult to hear.
That’s no reason to turn from this issue, though, which has an enormous
amount going for it. I’ll still turn to Barenboim for his hero and to
Sawallisch for the overall excitement of what must have been a tremendous
performance in the theatre at Bayreuth, but Janowski comes close behind
them in terms of theatrical excitement and some outstanding singing.
Parsifal
was previously my favourite in Janowski’s Wagner cycle, but I think
Tannhäuser has just taken the crown.
Simon Thompson
