<Translated from Russian automatically, will be edited later>
Soloists of the Bolshoi Theatre are engaged in the premiere performances (the series will end with performances on June 25 and 27), and two foreigners, quite famous Wagnerian specialists in the world, are in the main roles. The stars did not leave a special impression. The imposing American Robert Hale played the Dutchman's part in a non-plastic, forceful, loud style, noticeably forcing his already huge voice. German Anna-Katharina Behnke, a sweet blonde with an ugly liquid timbre, was more diverse in nuances, but she also had to shout (including in the weekend Ballad, which in the first edition was written in a semitone higher). Nevertheless, it is not known whether the soloists of the Bolshoi, who will have to change their foreign players next season, will cope better with the main parts. Of the “friends” at the premiere, the best impression was left by the bass Alexander Naumenko in the role of the comical sailor Daland – but this part in the opera is the least Wagnerian in style. Tenor Roman Muravitsky, who sang the unhappy Eric in love, expertly mastered the vocal line, but could not rid the timbre of a flat sound. Another tenor, Maxim Pasteur, sounded pleasant and flexible in the role of Helmsman, although sometimes with an effort that aroused concern for the prospects of his surprisingly light and precise voice; a recent acquisition of a Large One, this talented musician is riskily scattered, participating in every project. Whether the Bolshoi has a full-fledged cast for The Flying Dutchman is a question, as the Mariinsky troupe has been ahead for a long time. But the choir, male and female, is great – not only in singing, but also – to the delight of the director – in dynamic mass mise-en-scenes.
Meanwhile, first of all, I want to talk about something else – about the musical work of the Bolshoi's chief conductor Alexander Vedernikov. Admiring Valery Gergiev, whose Wagnerian orchestra is magnificent (including in The Flying Dutchman, which is also staged at the Mariinsky), it is worth admitting that Vedernikov's style is original and even slightly polemical in relation to the charismatic manner of our main Wagnerian protagonist. For Gergiev, Wagner is a composer of the second half of the twentieth century, as he was created by the mighty conductors of the industrial era. For Vedernikov, he is a representative of the first half of the 19th century, who, for all the genius of his breakthroughs, belongs to that era. Although Wagner edited The Flying Dutchman more than once throughout his life, Vedernikov chose the very first, original edition of 1842 (it precedes and differs in detail from the textbook Dresden, which is played at the Mariinsky), and then brought the orchestra closer to the original historical composition – there are fewer strings in it than in according to modern standards, natural French horns and pipes, ophicleid, are used in the copper group. Wagner made a breakthrough to the music of the future from the past, and Vedernikov is interested in reconstructing the past in the spirit of authenticity. (By the way, last season Gergiev openly criticized Vedernikov's performance of the opera the same age as The Dutchman, Glinka's Ruslan and Lyudmila, which was also close to authenticity, and there was undoubtedly a percentage of artistic and methodological disagreement in this criticism.) The orchestra of the Flying Dutchman, conducted by Vedernikov, sounds neater, drier and sharper than Gergiev's, but very structured in sound. Vedernikov is assembled, he does not spread, does not hide square structures, and there is a freshness in this that is pleasant to a modern ear. This is especially true for the overture and intermissions – in the course of the action, the few string basses sometimes do not follow the stroke very carefully.
Director Peter Konvichny, a 59-year-old leftist with experience in scandalous opera productions in Austria and Germany, was thought to be the main attraction of the project. Konvich is a very sincere and honest man, he professes anti-Americanism, believes in the socio—therapeutic functions of opera, does not believe in following the text and remarks literally, but, being the son of a conductor, embodies music on stage, not a libretto, which is very rare for opera directors. The radicalism of the Convoy this time was expressed in the fact that when the curtain opened, we saw not something opposite to the composer's idea, but a sea painted on the backdrop, ship gangways, sailors and a Dutchman with a crew in antique doublets. The artist Johannes Layaker seemed to deliberately depict a traditional, almost provincial theater — but only so that the Dutchman, in search of the right Film that would save him from eternal damnation, would abruptly rush into the future. The most spectacular moment of the performance is the beginning of the second act: the curtain rises and we see a fitness room with exercise bikes. The choir is straight (they are spinning according to Wagner) pedaling hard. The decision is funny and refreshing, though not for long: the director then struggles to get out of his own idea without coming up with psychologically convincing actions for the characters. It is difficult to believe in the authenticity of Eric's feelings in love, who came out of the steam room in a bathrobe, it is difficult to understand a Dutchman putting on an antique dress over a T-shirt. According to the director, the Dutchman and Senta are people rejected by society (of course, bourgeois), but the Dutchman's faith in deliverance is also initially undermined – the Angel interceding for him in heaven is materialized in the image of an elegant mimance artist with a wicked lascivious look. In the third act, the director loses his own reins — it's good that the Angel disappears, but the game of the epochs also disappears. The scene of a sailor's brawl in a shipyard-warehouse setting, however, is famously staged, and the young chorus girls smartly set the tone. But it is precisely the director's signature musicality that suffers damage: he ignores the famous quiet chords of the “dead ship”, obscuring them with stage fuss. In the finale, Konvichny forced Vedernikov and the orchestra to move over. It's not enough for the distraught Senta to sacrifice herself in order to get eternal rest for the Dutchman, she needs to blow up the whole world and this whole theater. A suspicion creeps in that the explosion with the fire was forbidden by the firemen of the Bolshoi Theater. Instead, there is a roar from the speakers, and the theater and the orchestra plunge into darkness, and the last bars sound on the recording. It turns out to be something like a worldwide catastrophe with a German connotation: everything has gone out, sunk into darkness, and only Wagner sounds from the radio.
In some places, the strong but awkward production of “The Flying Dutchman” is probably not Peter Konvichny's best performance. But even if it had been more successful, the project would not have become harmonious — the creative intentions of the musical and directorial ideas are too different. Vedernikov and Konvichny do not suit each other well. One is drawn to historicity, to recreating the details of a bygone artistic era, the other is given a modern social context. In the West, however, the union of an authentic conductor and an avant-garde director is typical, since there both struggle with the bourgeois mainstream. In our country, where this mainstream is just being formed, programmatically controversial solutions would be better suited not to the unknown Wagner, but to proven repertoire names like “Aida" or “Eugene Onegin".
Source.
Soloists of the Bolshoi Theatre are engaged in the premiere performances (the series will end with performances on June 25 and 27), and two foreigners, quite famous Wagnerian specialists in the world, are in the main roles. The stars did not leave a special impression. The imposing American Robert Hale played the Dutchman's part in a non-plastic, forceful, loud style, noticeably forcing his already huge voice. German Anna-Katharina Behnke, a sweet blonde with an ugly liquid timbre, was more diverse in nuances, but she also had to shout (including in the weekend Ballad, which in the first edition was written in a semitone higher). Nevertheless, it is not known whether the soloists of the Bolshoi, who will have to change their foreign players next season, will cope better with the main parts. Of the “friends” at the premiere, the best impression was left by the bass Alexander Naumenko in the role of the comical sailor Daland – but this part in the opera is the least Wagnerian in style. Tenor Roman Muravitsky, who sang the unhappy Eric in love, expertly mastered the vocal line, but could not rid the timbre of a flat sound. Another tenor, Maxim Pasteur, sounded pleasant and flexible in the role of Helmsman, although sometimes with an effort that aroused concern for the prospects of his surprisingly light and precise voice; a recent acquisition of a Large One, this talented musician is riskily scattered, participating in every project. Whether the Bolshoi has a full-fledged cast for The Flying Dutchman is a question, as the Mariinsky troupe has been ahead for a long time. But the choir, male and female, is great – not only in singing, but also – to the delight of the director – in dynamic mass mise-en-scenes.
Meanwhile, first of all, I want to talk about something else – about the musical work of the Bolshoi's chief conductor Alexander Vedernikov. Admiring Valery Gergiev, whose Wagnerian orchestra is magnificent (including in The Flying Dutchman, which is also staged at the Mariinsky), it is worth admitting that Vedernikov's style is original and even slightly polemical in relation to the charismatic manner of our main Wagnerian protagonist. For Gergiev, Wagner is a composer of the second half of the twentieth century, as he was created by the mighty conductors of the industrial era. For Vedernikov, he is a representative of the first half of the 19th century, who, for all the genius of his breakthroughs, belongs to that era. Although Wagner edited The Flying Dutchman more than once throughout his life, Vedernikov chose the very first, original edition of 1842 (it precedes and differs in detail from the textbook Dresden, which is played at the Mariinsky), and then brought the orchestra closer to the original historical composition – there are fewer strings in it than in according to modern standards, natural French horns and pipes, ophicleid, are used in the copper group. Wagner made a breakthrough to the music of the future from the past, and Vedernikov is interested in reconstructing the past in the spirit of authenticity. (By the way, last season Gergiev openly criticized Vedernikov's performance of the opera the same age as The Dutchman, Glinka's Ruslan and Lyudmila, which was also close to authenticity, and there was undoubtedly a percentage of artistic and methodological disagreement in this criticism.) The orchestra of the Flying Dutchman, conducted by Vedernikov, sounds neater, drier and sharper than Gergiev's, but very structured in sound. Vedernikov is assembled, he does not spread, does not hide square structures, and there is a freshness in this that is pleasant to a modern ear. This is especially true for the overture and intermissions – in the course of the action, the few string basses sometimes do not follow the stroke very carefully.
Director Peter Konvichny, a 59-year-old leftist with experience in scandalous opera productions in Austria and Germany, was thought to be the main attraction of the project. Konvich is a very sincere and honest man, he professes anti-Americanism, believes in the socio—therapeutic functions of opera, does not believe in following the text and remarks literally, but, being the son of a conductor, embodies music on stage, not a libretto, which is very rare for opera directors. The radicalism of the Convoy this time was expressed in the fact that when the curtain opened, we saw not something opposite to the composer's idea, but a sea painted on the backdrop, ship gangways, sailors and a Dutchman with a crew in antique doublets. The artist Johannes Layaker seemed to deliberately depict a traditional, almost provincial theater — but only so that the Dutchman, in search of the right Film that would save him from eternal damnation, would abruptly rush into the future. The most spectacular moment of the performance is the beginning of the second act: the curtain rises and we see a fitness room with exercise bikes. The choir is straight (they are spinning according to Wagner) pedaling hard. The decision is funny and refreshing, though not for long: the director then struggles to get out of his own idea without coming up with psychologically convincing actions for the characters. It is difficult to believe in the authenticity of Eric's feelings in love, who came out of the steam room in a bathrobe, it is difficult to understand a Dutchman putting on an antique dress over a T-shirt. According to the director, the Dutchman and Senta are people rejected by society (of course, bourgeois), but the Dutchman's faith in deliverance is also initially undermined – the Angel interceding for him in heaven is materialized in the image of an elegant mimance artist with a wicked lascivious look. In the third act, the director loses his own reins — it's good that the Angel disappears, but the game of the epochs also disappears. The scene of a sailor's brawl in a shipyard-warehouse setting, however, is famously staged, and the young chorus girls smartly set the tone. But it is precisely the director's signature musicality that suffers damage: he ignores the famous quiet chords of the “dead ship”, obscuring them with stage fuss. In the finale, Konvichny forced Vedernikov and the orchestra to move over. It's not enough for the distraught Senta to sacrifice herself in order to get eternal rest for the Dutchman, she needs to blow up the whole world and this whole theater. A suspicion creeps in that the explosion with the fire was forbidden by the firemen of the Bolshoi Theater. Instead, there is a roar from the speakers, and the theater and the orchestra plunge into darkness, and the last bars sound on the recording. It turns out to be something like a worldwide catastrophe with a German connotation: everything has gone out, sunk into darkness, and only Wagner sounds from the radio.
In some places, the strong but awkward production of “The Flying Dutchman” is probably not Peter Konvichny's best performance. But even if it had been more successful, the project would not have become harmonious — the creative intentions of the musical and directorial ideas are too different. Vedernikov and Konvichny do not suit each other well. One is drawn to historicity, to recreating the details of a bygone artistic era, the other is given a modern social context. In the West, however, the union of an authentic conductor and an avant-garde director is typical, since there both struggle with the bourgeois mainstream. In our country, where this mainstream is just being formed, programmatically controversial solutions would be better suited not to the unknown Wagner, but to proven repertoire names like “Aida" or “Eugene Onegin".
Source.
Everything is extinguished, plunged into darkness
Petr POSPELOV, Vedomosti, June 22, 2004
