Every summer from late June to late July, the Bavarian State Opera puts on the Munich Opera Festival that features notable opera and ballet productions of the season just concluded. As someone who has been attending this Festival many times since 1986, first as an audience member and later as a music journalist, I can honestly say it’s among the very best summer festivals in the opera world.
Performances take place in its main venue of the Nationaltheater, plus the smaller, Bayreuth Festspielhaus-inspired Prinzregententheater, and the exquisitely Rococo Cuvilliés-Theater. Besides opera and ballet, there are also chamber music that showcase the work of members of the Bavarian State Orchestra, plus concerts featuring young artists of its Opera Studio. And let’s not forget the free and festive Oper für Alle, when the in-house performance is streamed live on a huge screen in the Max-Josef Platz in front of the opera house. The entire cast would come out afterwards to receive ovations from the crowd gathered in the square.
While we don’t have the open-air equivalent in Toronto, our Four Seasons Centre (2,071 capacity) is modeled after the Nationaltheater, which has a similar capacity, at 2,101. I have this information on good authority — it was told to me by the late COC General Director, Richard Bradshaw, who was responsible for the building of the Four Seasons Centre, the only purpose-built opera house in Canada. The acoustics of the Munich house is absolutely wonderful, which may explain the fine acoustics in our FSC.
The Munich Opera Festival lasts a full month plus a few days each year. I would dearly love to be there to catch all the shows, but it’s clearly unrealistic. This summer, I decided to catch four of my favourite operas, two Wagner (Parsifal and Tannhauser) and two Puccini (Tosca and La fanciulla del West).
The Operas
Wagner: Parsifal | Clay Hilley (Parsifal), Nina Stemme (Kundry), Gerald Finley (Amfortas), Tareq Nazmi (Gurnemanz), Jochen Schmeckenbecher (Klingsor), Balint Szabo (Titurel); Adam Fischer, conductor; Pierre Audi, director; Bayerisches Staatsorchester and Chorus. Nationaltheater, July 23, 2024.
Of the four, I had previously seen both Wagner productions, with Parsifal in 2018, directed by Pierre Audi. In my 2018 review, I called it a show of “great musical values” combined with a “quirky production.” Now six years later, I feel that my original impression still holds true.
Typical of the concept-driven, Regieoper approach, the audience reaction to the Parsifal back in 2018 was divided, with a mixture of cheers and boos. I was curious as to how I would react, seeing it a second time six years later. The Wagner audiences in Munich are sophisticated and knowledgeable, more open to non-traditional takes than your typical North American audiences. This time around, the boo birds were absent…I heard only cheers.
The production? Well, it’s awfully dark, a bit murky, decidedly non-traditional, based on stage designer Georg Baselitz’s black and white paintings of aged and decrepit naked bodies. There were unusual touches, such as the trees sinking and eventually collapsing onto the ground. There was also a curious absence of religious symbolism — no Grail and no Crucifix in this Parsifal, other than tiny cross Klingsor uses as a spear. Kundry’s dwelling is under an animal skeleton. Poor Amfortas, supposedly suffering unbearable pain from his bleeding wound — he doesn’t have the luxury of a bed. Instead, he’s made to wander, hunched over and supporting himself with a cane.
In Act 2, Klingsor and Kundry make their entries by crawling out from under a roughly painted curtain that resembles a stone wall. There’s an overall emphasis on ugliness, as seen in the costuming for the chorus and for the Flowermaidens. It consists of mostly flabby, naked body suits, with pendulous breasts for the women. Klingsor wears enormous black shoulder pads and has an exposed belly button. During the Grail scene, the Knights take off their garments, standing naked albeit in body suits. To be honest, is pseudo-nudity necessary for a spiritual opera that is Parsifal?
I try to be judicious and not nitpicky in my negative criticisms. I appreciate that Baselitz and Audi are obviously making a statement, but their collective vision is not clear to the average audience. Given the pervasive ugliness, one could assume that the director and designer want to underscore the eternal struggle between the spirit and the flesh, a central theme in Parsifal. Act 3 is supposed to indicate the arrival of spring and of hope, but the stage remains unrelentingly dark and gloomy. In my mind, this Parsifal, at least visually, lacks a sense of spiritual uplift and transcendence that is so vital in this work, especially in the last act.
If the production leaves something to be desired, the performance was an unalloyed pleasure. I am very familiar with the voice of tenor Clay Hilley, having heard him three times in the last ten months, as Florestan in Toronto and Bacchus in Hong Kong. His beautifully sung Parsifal was wonderful. Soprano Nina Stemme reprised her Kundry from six years ago. At 61, her voice is showing a bit of wear and tear, with moments of tonal unsteadiness and hard-driven, explosive top notes. Despite these imperfections, her Kundry remains formidable, with a strikingly memorable “Ich sah das Kind”
Munich Opera stalwart Tareq Nazmi was a fine Gurnemanz, a long and rather thankless role. Canadian bass-baritone Gerald Finley was splendid as Amfortas, his warm baritone sounded perfectly youthful. Incidentally, he was awarded the title of Kammersanger in a ceremony at the end of the previous performance. Jochen Schmeckenbecher was a good Klingsor, despite the ridiculous costume. Given the depth of talent at Munich Opera, all the supporting roles were exceptionally well cast. Veteran conductor Adam Fischer led the excellent Munich forces in a gem of a performance.
Wagner: Tannhauser | Klaus Florian Vogt (Tannhauser). Elisabeth Teige (Elisabeth). Yulia Matochkina (Venus), Andre Schuen (Wolfram), Ain Anger (Hermann); Sebastian Weigle, conductor; Roman Castellucci, director. Bayerisches Staatsorchester and Chorus. Nationaltheater, July 25, 2024
My second Wagner opera on this trip was the Romeo Castellucci production of Tannhauser, which I saw when it premiered in 2017. Castellucci is the archetypal provocateur among stage directors, as evidenced by his eyepopping Moses and Aron at the Paris Opera in 2015, and his Parsifal for La Monnaie in Brussels in 2011. When I saw the Munich Tannhauser in 2017, I was dumbfounded by some of his directorial touches. I have since gained a greater appreciation of his metaphorical and symbolist approach.
The opening scene during the overture arguably provides the most enduring image of his production — 32 young women, nearly uniform in height and length of hair, topless, each holding a bow and arrow, shooting at what appears to be the moon, or perhaps the planet Venus? A man costumed in black, presumably Tannhauser, is seen scaling it. The movements of the women are highly choreographed, with stunning fluidity that’s striking, to say the least.
In the ensuing Venusburg Scene, Venus is perched at the top of a writhing mound of corpulent skin and fat, a truly stunning image. Given that Venus is supposed to be the epitome of sexual allure, the image one sees is startling. Some subtle changes have been made to the staging, with Venus no longer completely confined to the mound of pulsating flesh and able to move around in her scene with Tannhauser, giving it a greater sense of dramatic urgency.
In Act 2, the minstrels slay a large animal and smear blood all over their own faces, including Tannhäuser’s, reminiscent of the Paris Opera Moses und Aron. There is also a pile of bodies, covered head to toe in body stockings, once again highly choreographed, writhing in unison on the ground.
Perhaps the most striking directorial touch is in Act 3, with two caskets engraved with “Klaus” and “Elisabeth,” presumably referring to the two singers, Klaus Florian Vogt (Tannhäuser) and Elisabeth Teige (Elisabeth). During the extended final scene, a series of mannequins are brought on stage and placed on top of the two tables, representing bodies of the two deceased, in progressive stages of decomposition. In the end, two buckets of ashes are brought on, eventually mixed together. The implication is clear: the star-crossed lovers, denied happiness in life, finally united in death, an effective and poetic directorial touch.
To be sure, Castellucci looks beyond the simple storytelling in search of deeper meaning. In several interviews, he talks about reading the libretto carefully and choosing a word or a phrase, using it as inspiration. His ideas may or may not resonate with everyone, but when it works, its impact on the audience is extraordinary. Castellucci says, “Venus’s world does not represent beauty and pleasure, only the disgust and the horror of the flesh.” That goes a long way in explaining his vision.
If the production has drawn divided opinions among the audience, they were united in their praise for its musical excellence. Veteran conductor Sebastian Weigle coaxed the most thrilling sounds from the Bavarian State Opera Orchestra. The incredible acoustics is such that the sound was immediate, overwhelming yet totally thrilling. The chorus, extremely important in this opera, was nothing short of magnificent.
Tenor Klaus Florian Vogt reprised his Tannhauser from seven years ago. While his bright lyric tenor might not have the typical heft of a Wagnerian tenor, I for one have always enjoyed his performances over the years. As Tannhauser, his voice is beautifully focused and has ample power for the climactic moments, his Rome Narrative a true highlight of the evening.
He was well-partnered by Norwegian soprano Elisabeth Teige as a youthful-voiced Elisabeth. Her entrance aria “Dich teure Halle” was lovely. Another promising young artist, baritone Andre Schuen, was a wonderful Wolfram, his “O du mein holder Abendstern,” sung with beauty and serenity. Russian dramatic mezzo Yulia Matochkina offered a powerhouse Venus. Estonian bass Ain Anger was a Landgraf of substance and gravitas, albeit with some occasional unsteadiness and unfocused tone. But all in all, it was a striking and deeply moving performance of this great opera.
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