Deutsche Oper, Berlin
 |
| Erik (from a different cast, 2017 premiere) Images: Thomas Jauk |
Daland – Andreas Bauer
Senta – Martina Welschenbach
Erik – Robert Watson
Mary – Ronnita Miller
Steersman – Gideon Poppe
Dutchman – Josef Wagner
Christian Spuck (director)
Eva-Maria Abelein (assistant
director)
Rufus Didwiszus (set designs)
Emma Ryott (costumes)
Ulrich Niepel (lighting)
Dorothea Hartmann (dramaturgy)
Chorus (chorus master: Jeremy Bines) of the Deutsche Oper, Berlin
Orchestra of the Deutsche Oper, Berlin
Donald Runnicles (conductor)
Poor Erik. Most people who have
seen and/or heard The Flying Dutchman
must have thought that at some point, if only mildly and with a hint of
contempt. It is in many ways a thankless role, perhaps not unlike Don Ottavio,
albeit with less in the way of vocal beauty. And so, it is an interesting idea
to place him at the centre of the action, to turn the drama into his story. The
payoff in the third act of Christian Spuck’s production – we do not, thank God,
have any intervals – is considerable. I rather wish, though, that what we see
there might have been read back more clearly, strongly, or something at least,
into the first two acts. Apart from Erik wandering around the stage, often
sitting with his head in his hands, or wall hugging (yes, I am afraid so),
everything else looks pretty ‘modern-ish-traditional’. Ulrich Niepel’s lighting
creates, especially in the first act, plenty of dark atmosphere. Otherwise, Spuck’s
production and Rufus Didwiszus’s designs look pretty much as you might have expected
them to – at least unless you are of an unfortunately ‘folksy’ persuasion. (In
that case, Wagner is probably not for you.) The small model ship we have seen
in many other productions is there for Erik to hold. There is rainfall – its noise
frankly distracting, and not in a good way, during the Overture; there is
plenty of water; there are galoshes; there are nineteenth-century sewing
machines; and so on.
Without Erik, then, there
really would be no Konzept on which
to remark. No problem with that: one strongly delineated idea may well be
enough. It is not, though, unless we count his mildly surprising behaviour and
his different, slightly more colourful, clothes. Perhaps it has all been his
dream; it makes, I suppose, a change from Senta’s dream. His stabbing her at
the close is a moment of genuine drama. Then, everything recedes –the image and
acts of a repressive crowd familiar from almost every staging, for how could
they not be present? – leaving him alone on the stage, as at the beginning. The
decision to use Wagner’s later musical thoughts – I tend very much to prefer
Dresden – is thrown into interesting relief here; what is the ‘redemption’ we
hear but certainly do not see (even on the questionable terms of Senta and the
Dutchman)? Is it utter Wahn? Again, I
wish we had seen or heard something more of a trail leading up to this, beyond,
that is, Erik’s frequent onstage presence. Perhaps the idea had been more
strongly, coherently presented when the production received its premiere
earlier this year; rehearsal time and repertory direction can sometimes
mislead. On the other hand, I can only comment on what I saw.
And, of course, on what I heard
– which was a perfectly decent repertory night’s performance, with some things
very good indeed. Donald Runnicles was generally on secure rather than inspiring
form, emphasising the numbers within the score – yes, a perfectly justifiable
approach ‘historically’ – rather than its musicodramatic anticipations (and
more than anticipations). Bar a strange transition, including one glaring
missed entry – these things happen – to the second act, and some slightly lacklustre
treading of aural water early in the third, there were solid virtues to be
heard. On the other hand, when performing in one single span, and perhaps especially
when incorporating the 1860 Tristan-esque
revisions, more in the way of overt Fernhören
might make for a more fulfilling dramatic experience. (‘Yes, Cosima,’ I hear
you reply. Guilty as charged in this, but only this, respect.) It is a very
difficult work to bring off, though, with such competing demands; perhaps that ideal
performance in my head is simply unrealisable, even if someone else were to
agree to my ‘ideal’. Those occasional fluffs notwithstanding, there was much to
be enjoyed in the orchestral playing, secure of line, and often impressively dark
in tone. Choral singing also impressed, not least the confrontation between the
two bands of sailors in the third act, clarity and heft there quite beyond
reproach.
Whatever one thinks of placing
Erik at the dramatic centre, he will still only have the same amount to sing.
In that respect, at least, much will still hang upon the Dutchman. Josef Wagner
gave a deeply musical, considered performance. He perhaps occasionally lacked
the last ounce of dramatic power, for instance, during his first-act duet with
Daland, sounding slightly out-sung at times. That, however, was probably as
much a comment on the estimable performance of Andreas Bauer, no mere
caricature: flawed yet honourable. Martina Welschenbach’s Senta took a little
time to get going vocally, but grew into something impressive indeed. Her
obsession with the painting – a dialectical result of Erik’s obsession with her,
real or otherwise? – registered strongly from the outset. And in the ‘non-title’
role, Robert Watson sang Erik’s part very well, clearly alert to its competing
stylistic demands: a trickier task than many imagine. Gideon Poppe’s Steersman
proved a vocal delight, having one wish, as so often, that he had more to do;
the same went for Ronnita Miller’s typically likeable, yet not too likeable,
Mary. Did this all quite fit into the Konzept?
I am not so sure. However, I do not think that was in any sense the fault of a
fine cast of singers: something one should never take for granted.
