Tannhäuser - Sydney Opera House - 16 October 2007

A peculiarly comic affair by Sandra Bowdler

Wagner: Tannhäuser Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 16 October 2007

Director Elke Neidhardt is fond of finding the jokes in Wagner, yes, including Parsifal, with synchronised swimming flower maidens in Adelaide in 2001. In this Opera Australia production which dates originally to 1998, the penchant for hilarity might be thought to be carried to excess, although there are many who think Wagner deserves to be ridiculed. If that is the case however why bother with his operas at all? It is one of the problems of performing Wagnerian opera in the post-WW II environment, that to take it too seriously courts cries of Nazi sympathies, yet as operas they are works which must be performed with some concept of their worth to make any sense of them at all. In the present instance, the chorus in Act III, is sung by the returning pilgrims holding jolly plastic bags with I 'love' Roma on them, indicating the frivolous state of religion in the Holy City, and Neidhardt refers to Wagner's "tongue-in-cheek ... treatment of the self-righteous pilgrims" in Act I; but if the pilgrims' repentance is not treated seriously in Act III, why should we care for Tannhäuser's distress at being rejected? On other occasions, the jollity is less jarring. At the conclusion of Act I, the Landgrave and his party appear kitted up in Prussian hunting outfits - Tyrolean hats, plus fours and so on, and indulge in a picnic, with teams of dachshunds escorted onto the stage just before the Act II curtain. But perhaps only a German-born director could really get away with this. In many other respects it is a stunning production, most notably during the overture. Wagner specifies an emerald-green waterfall, and here we have a brilliant effect, created by laser lighting, of an emerald-green surface, both watery and misty, through which figures emerge and sink. These gradually emerge as a variety of characters who would not be out of place in a Berlin cabaret, including a mock nun, a representation of a plastic blow-up sex doll, and an ichthyphallic little old cherub, who emerges (detumescent) in Act II, representing Tannhäuser's continued carnal desires. Venus is a strapping figure in black, trimmed with fur (refer Sacher-Masoch, of course), but poor Tannhäuser suffers under a hideously unflattering orange wig. Elisabeth's outfit is also somewhat peculiar, a red frock one might have imagined more appropriate to Venus, were it not for the inset polka-dotted train; and why does she first appear with a trench coat over this? The minstrels' court is however very effectively rendered, with rows of galleries for the court denizens. There are a number of winged figures which I first took to be Prussian eagles, but they could equally be bats or science-fiction insect creatures, and which perch around the set at different times. It is probably the merest literal-mindedness to expect the Pope's staff to actually burst into green leaves, but gold does not seem to be quite right. Musically, there was much to enjoy, although great vocalism was rather at a premium. Opera Australia's artistic director Richard Hickox is not especially known as a Wagnerian, but he did a sterling job, with orchestral playing following the surging rhythms of the work's architecture with disciplined lushness. The Opera Australia chorus was equally excellent, with a rousing Pilgrim's Chorus sung with a seriousness at odds with the directorial conceit. The most gorgeous sounds of the night came from Janice Watson's Elisabeth, her large but warm soprano matching her dramatic involvement. Milijana Nikolic was called in at short notice to replace an ailing Bernadette Cullen for this season; her height and imperious manner are perfect for Venus, as is her equally large and accurate mezzo. The title role was sung by Richard Berkeley-Steele, a seasoned English Wagnerian who nonetheless seemed vocally ill at ease in the first two acts (that wig can't have helped). His intonation and tone seemed to firm up in the last (wigless) act however, and his last soliloquy was lyrical and moving. Jonathan Summers as Wolfram was somewhat lacking in charisma, but he also rose to the vocal occasion in Act III, singing smoothly and with feeling. The Landgrave was sung with resonant authority by bass Daniel Sumegi, always an impressive performer. Wagner operas will no doubt always be a difficult proposition for a modern audience, particularly in Australia which has not had a strong tradition of performing this repertoire. Neidhardt's sublime and triumphant Adelaide Ring cycle did much to raise the Wagnerian stakes in this country, and it is interesting to see one of her earlier conceptions; if it does not match the glories of her Ring, it certainly points the way towards it.

Text © Sandra Bowdler

Les Contes d'Hoffmann - SOH - 15 October 2007

Entertaining if not totally compelling by Sandra Bowdler

Offenbach: Les Contes d'Hoffmann Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 15 October 2007

Opera Australia's new production of The Tales of Hoffmann is an enjoyable exploration of the macabre and grotesque aspects of Offenbach's last operatic work, if somewhat at the expense of its romantic side. It provides an excellent vehicle for current star Emma Matthews in (as relentlessly advertised) all four soprano roles, not to mention other cast members in equally diverse parts, particularly John Wegner as Lindorf, Coppélius, Dapertutto and Dr Miracle, veteran Australian baritone John Pringle as Luther, Spalenzani and Crespel, and Kanen Breen as Nathanael, Cochenille, Pittichanaccio and Frantz. Director Stuart Maunder has generated a highly effective if somewhat (by contemporary standards) literal production, although one does wonder about the current OA obsession with mirrors. It opens with a twinkling starry background in which La Muse appears as an exaggeratedly tall figure in tiered skirt with white bodice top, from which she transmogrifies into a trousered Nicklausse. The scene is converted efficiently into an inn with the deployment of tables and the descent of a bank of lights which serves as the back setting of a bar. The Olympia scene is introduced by a revolve, revealing what one can imagine a 19th century mad scientist's laboratory might have looked like, with body parts hanging from hooks (failed experiments? spare parts for continuing creations?). To spark up the faltering doll however a distinctly 20th century defibrillator is pressed into service. A further revolve is used to take us to Giulietta's scene; comment has been made about Maunder's decision to place this before the Antonia episode, which may not have been Offenbach's intention, but both arrangements have dramatic advantages. This is a sumptuous if rather predictable Venetian ball affair, with Giulietta in red languishing in a gondola. After the interval, Antonia's domicile is dominated by a grand piano covered with a shawl. In a stunning coup de théâtre, her mother arises from the centre of the piano, to throw off the shawl and emerge as a dominating baleful figure. A last revolve returns us to the inn, with the final chorus looming from the upper balcony. Richard Hickox conducts Australian Opera and Ballet Orchestra, with the Opera Australia Chorus, in this repertoire in which all seem to feel comfortably at home. All the well-known set pieces are delivered with flowing and melodic ease, with appropriately dramatic highlights. The soloists are all equal to the task, and some more so. Emma Matthews is predictably brilliant as the doll, Olympia. Both musically and dramatically, Les oiseaux dans la charmille is a perfect fit for her equally sparkling (and note perfect) coloratura and stage presence. It might be suggested that she is indeed just too warm and sparky for a mechanical creation, but of course we are seeing her through Hoffmann's magic spectacles. Her Giulietta was appropriately seductive, but Antonia was a real tour de force (and in this sense justifying the positioning of this scene), evoking empathy for the artist's plight while singing with precision and control. She was ably matched by a charismatic Milijana Nikolic as Antonia's mother, singing demonically but fluently in a rich accurate mezzo. Another mezzo, Pamela Helen Stephen, also scored a success as Hoffmann's Muse and companion Nicklausse. Her more restrained tones and subtle yet commanding presence provided a dignified observer of and commentator on, and finally solution to, Hoffmann's tribulations. Rosario La Spina has the right kind of lyric tenor for Hoffmann, capable of ringing tones as in the legend of Kleinsach. If Hoffmann's struggles are interpreted as the romantic soul finally finding its proper outlet in his artistic creativity, La Spina's interpretation fell somewhat short of this goal, suggesting someone who is a more of a blundering loser, falling victim to one manifestation of wickedness after another. These manifestations were well depicted by John Wegner, a delightfully Mephistophelian figure with commanding resonant tones, even if his intonation wandered a bit, as in Scintille diamant. John Pringle was equally adept at his multiple characterisations, even if his elegant baritone is not quite what it once was. Tenor Kanen Breen is one of the most entertaining and versatile singers in the OA stable, and he made the most of the comic possibilities of his roles. Mention should also be made of the reliable Richard Alexander's Schlemil. The Tales of Hoffmann is, as far as its narrative and sensibilities go, an odd fish for contemporary Australian audiences. After the rapturous applause for Matthew's Olympia aria, the audience seemed rather less engaged; there is, perhaps inevitably, a sense of anticlimax at Hoffmann's final indifference to his erstwhile beloved. This production manages to maintain sufficient momentum to sustain interest to the end, and the company is definitely playing to its artistic strengths, in providing an entertaining if not totally compelling night at the opera.

Text © Sandra Bowdler

Les Contes d'Hoffmann - Sydney Opera House le 15 octobre 2007

Jacques Offenbach (1819-1880) Les Contes d'Hoffmann Opéra fantastique en un prologue, trois actes et un épilogue (1881) Livret de Jules Barbier d’après le drame de Jules Barbier et Michel Carré Mise en scène, Stuart Maunder Décors, Roger Kirk Lumières, Nigel Levings Chorégraphies, Elisabeth Hill Olympia, Giulietta, Antonia et Stella : Emma Matthews Hoffmann : Rosario La Spina Lindorf, Coppélius, Dappertutto et Docteur Miracle : John Wegner Luther, Spalanzani, Crespel : John Pringle Nathanael, Colchenille, Pittichinaccio, Frantz : Kanen Breen La Muse, Nicklausse : Pamela Helen Stephen La Mère d’Antonia: Milijana Nikolic Australian Opera and Ballet Orchestra Direction musicale, Richard Hickox Opera Australia Chorus Chef de Choeur, Michael Black Opera Theatre, Sydney Opera House le 15 octobre 2007

Hoffmann aux antipodes Monter un opéra français à l’autre bout du monde, avec une distribution en grande partie locale et non francophone, une gageure… Pourtant ce spectacle démontre que ce genre de pari n’est pas perdu d’avance ! Les impressions premières n’étaient pourtant pas très encourageantes... Pas de distribution disponible au guichet de vente, aucun problème pour obtenir des places pour le spectacle le soir même, et ce quelle que soit la catégorie demandée… Confirmation lorsque l’on pénètre dans la belle salle toute revêtue de bois sombre… elle est un bon quart vide ! Cette faible affluence s’explique-t-elle par le fait qu’il s’agissait de la dernière représentation de la série ou qu’il s’agissait d’un opéra chanté en français ? Chanté en français, c’est d’ailleurs vite dit ! Non pas que la prononciation des chanteurs soit particulièrement défectueuse… non, non, le français chanté ce soir, bien que parfois un peu exotique, est dans l’ensemble bien intelligible, démontrant une très bonne préparation de l’ensemble de l’équipe (1). Non, la principale surprise arrive dès les premiers mots de la muse, « I am the muse »… Si le chant est bien en VO, tous les dialogues sont eux en anglais ! Compréhensible pour un public anglophone (2), ce procédé ne manque pas d’être perturbant pour un auditeur francophone. La version des Contes présentée est une version « traditionnelle », avec coupures habituelles, mais qui replace l’acte de Venise entre Olympia et Antonia. Les décors sont simples et traditionnels (3), mais esthétiques grâce notamment à une lumière soignée, chaque tableau ayant sa couleur dominante. La mise en scène de Stuart Maunder oscille elle entre le réussi et le moins abouti. Dans le camp des bonnes idées, on citera le fait d’avoir traité tous les personnages dans l’acte d’Olympia comme des êtres créés par Spalanzani, sortes de créatures de Frankenstein composant un ballet grotesque autour de la poupée. On ne pourra cependant s’empêcher de remarquer que le traitement de la chanson de Kleinzach ressemble de façon troublante à la mise en scène de Carsen à l’Opéra de Paris… Richard Hickox est certainement un des artisans principaux de la réussite de cette soirée. Sa direction musicale élégante et son attention constante aux chanteurs enchantent. Et le chant me direz-vous ? Que vaut cette distribution composée en majorité de chanteurs « maison » ? Le Hoffmann de Rosario La Spina étonne par une émission assez peu homogène : la voix semble un peu forcée sur toute la tessiture, à l’exception des aigus puissants et libérés. Le chanteur est cependant capable de nuances, et campe au final un Hoffmann très solide mais qui sait émouvoir. Peu de chanteuses osent incarner toutes les femmes d’Hoffmann. Le pari d’Emma Matthews est donc courageux. Cette soprano inconnue en Europe a pour le moment consacré sa carrière à sa seule Australie natale. La voix est d’essence légère (c’est une Lakmé, une Sophie…), ce qui rend son incarnation de Giulietta peu convaincante : la tessiture plus grave la gêne visiblement et elle est souvent couverte par l’orchestre. Dans ces conditions, la barcarolle passe ainsi presque inaperçue. La chanteuse est heureusement plus à son aise dans les autres actes. On a déjà vu des Olympia plus débridées vocalement (4), mais la poupée n’en est pas moins pleinement convaincante, lorgnant là encore vers une vision nymphomane « alla Carsen ». C’est cependant en Antonia qu’elle a semblé la plus libérée, délivrant un trio final avec sa mère et le Docteur Miracle très émouvant. Seul chanteur non australien, l’allemand John Wegner est également l’élément le moins convaincant du spectacle. Rien d’indigne ici encore, mais des aigus tirés, des graves légèrement charbonneux. Mais on regrette surtout une incarnation du méchant un peu sommaire, le chanteur se contentant du recours à l’aboiement comme seule caractérisation. La muse/Nicklausse de Pamela Helen Stephen est charmant mais on sent la chanteuse un peu bridée par une tessiture un rien trop grave pour elle. Enfin terminons par un grand coup de cœur ! Un français absolument impeccable, une grande aisance scénique, une capacité impressionnante à contrefaire sa voix… Bref Kanen Breen est la découverte du spectacle. Il arrive même à faire exister le pâle Pittichinaccio dans l’acte de Giulietta. Il va sans dire que la chanson de Frantz est hilarante dans ces conditions et accueillie par une ovation. Hoffmann n’aura donc pas trop souffert du décalage horaire et l’on est heureux de constater que la France ne brille pas seulement à l’étranger par ses marques de luxe ou sa cuisine : l’opéra français lui aussi s’exporte très bien ! Antoine BRUNETTO Notes (1) Une certaine « Marie-Claire » est créditée dans le programme… (2) Les dialogues s’éloignent d’ailleurs de la version française, étant davantage explicatifs. (3) Un voile rouge, une gondole et un grand miroir central suffisent pour camper le décor de l’Acte de Giulietta. (4) Pas de suraigus stratosphériques notamment que certaines titulaires du rôle aiment à rajout

Tannhauser - October 10, 2007

Tannhauser

Peter McCallum, reviewer
October 10, 2007

Opera Australia's subverted Wagner is a triumph of theatre.

Richard Berkeley-Steele as Tannhauser.
Photo: Anthony Johnson

First a note about the birthday boys and girls. Were the Australian Opera and Ballet Orchestra really to play music that reflected their current situation in the Opera House pit, they would play nothing but Scene III of Wagner's Das Rheingold, where enslaved heavy metalsmiths, excluded from air, light and human comfort, ceaselessly hammer out priceless objects from gold ore.

On this occasion, the 40th anniversary of their founding as the Elizabethan Trust Orchestra in 1967, the ore they were given was an earlier though no less demanding Wagner score, Tannhauser, but the hammering, under Richard Hickox, was more than usually effective, particularly in the smooth, well-tuned woodwind and brass chords of the overture and the energised string playing at the beginning of Act II. No less resplendent was the chorus, who were exhilarating in the pilgrims' chorus at the close. Hickox's tempos were firm but occasionally they could have tolerated more space and flexibility to allow light, shade and detail to emerge more distinctly.

Wagner would have hated Elke Neidhardt's productions for the way they subvert his grandiosity and self-mythologising. I love them and would go further to say that after the unfortunate nazification of Wagner's obnoxious (but in his case not genocidal) anti-semitism, subversion is one of the few honourable routes.

The tour de force of subversion is in the second act where the hall for the song competition is grandly assembled but plagued by marvellous human bats and a sordid cupid representing lust, whose revoltingly comic phallus is strangely resistant to the refractory detumescence that normally afflicts human males unassisted by chemicals.

The opening scene, performed by wonderful, freakily dressed dancers on and through a virtual, laser-generated platform of smoke and air, is a brilliant coup de theatre. But Neidhardt's setting of this scene stressed debauchery over seductive sensuality, which for me was a failing.

Richard Berkeley-Steele's Tannhauser, with flaming red hair and school sports jacket, was, as my companion remarked, reminiscent of one of the more wilful manifestations of Dr Who, and the brilliantly precise edge and clarity that he brought to his singing fleshed this out nicely in musical terms. However, the first moment of truly glorious vocal outpouring came in Act II from Janice Watson as the angelic, forsaken Elizabeth, with a voice of powerful, glowing warmth.

Milijana Nikolic, stepping in at short notice, sang Venus with colour, force and imperiousness. Jonathan Summers was popular as Wolfram von Eschenbach, though I found the sound not quite smooth and suave enough for the famous Song of the Evening Star in Act III. As Hermann, Daniel Sumegi blended vocal power with Neidhardt's delicate lacings of hypocrisy in the characterisation. Wagner would not have been proud. Opera Australia can be.