Speranza
For many
years, Bernard Levin was a frequent contributor to the London Times. His
eclectic articles addressing cultural and political issues, usually with a dry
and very English wit, were often provocative and always entertaining. The
following extracts are from an article in the issue of 18 February
1988.
The 1979 Production at Covent Garden
Directed by Terry
Hands, conducted by Georg Solti
that time, Mr Hands had directed only one
opera - Otello, in Paris - and although I wished him well, I foresaw disaster;
not because I didn't believe him talented enough for the task, but because
directing opera is not the same as directing plays, and a lifetime on the
dramatic stage will not guarantee success upon the lyric; a wholly new approach
(and, of course, technique) must first be understood and assimilated. Moreover,
Wagner demands an approach and a technique different not only from the theatre
but from other composers; a long course of immersion in his work and thought and
assiduous attendance backstage throughout the production of more than one of his
operas is essential to success (which is not, even then, by any means
assured).
The 1988 Production at Covent Garden
Directed by
Bill Bryden, conducted by Bernard Haitink
et's get it over quickly: the idea
of the production is that Parsifal is the end-of-term play at a minor public
[i.e. fee-paying] school in the 1930s, put on in the ruined church next door,
with the doting parents of the performers scattered round the stage - handbags,
hats, three-piece suits and all (Gurnemanz is the headmaster, incidentally);
from time to time the parents are called upon to do things, such as light
candles and hold them in their laps. I truly believe that it was only by the
direct intervention of Almighty God - who, after all, has a substantial interest
in the matter -- that the Grail was not inscribed, The Mrs. Featheringay-
Fawcett Cup for Outstanding Prowess in the Gymnasium. (Perhaps it was; my sight
is not of the keenest). You will doubtless suppose from that gloomy introduction
that I had a bad time. Your supposition, though understandable, is baseless.
Musically, it was without exception the finest Parsifal of my life; I have never
before been so entirely overwhelmed by its force and
meaning.
Wagner's Operas
ver the years, the Wagner operas have
rearranged themselves again and again in my mind in order of priority. The Ring
(its constituent parts also go up and down in my ordering) stayed at the top of
my charts for many years, but has slipped a little, while Mastersingers grows
and grows; to Tristan I go resisting all the way, only to be drowned full fathom
five the moment the Prelude starts; Tannhäuser I wouldn't much mind if I never
heard again, and I have never really warmed to Lohengrin (though I hope to hear
Domingo sing it here in June even if I have to be carried in a chair, like
Amfortas, or even in a coffin, like Titurel).
ut Parsifal, which I took a
good many years to understand (it is not a work for youth) and have not yet
finished understanding, and never shall, now stands at the very head of the
page, beckoning me at one and the same time into Klingsor's Magic Garden, which
is death, and the Temple of the Grail, which is eternal life.
he contrast
between Wagner's prodigious genius and his horrible personal nature has been
discussed endlessly and fruitlessly; there's no art to find the mind's
construction in the music. Some great artists have been of the most beautiful
and loving nature, and some have been anything from dishonest to the most
frightful swine ... Wagner, to be sure, takes the dichotomy to lengths
unparalleled in all history (Georg Solti calls him det old gengster) but there
is nothing to be done about it, and surely Parsifal is the greatest testimony in
all art to the terrible truth that so enraged Shaffer's Salieri: that any
channel, even an unworthy one, will serve as an aqueduct through which the pure
water of art can flow from Heaven to earth, and not be tainted by the corrupted
vessel that serves it.
Redemption
here is a moment, some
two-thirds of the way through Act Two, when this lesson is driven home in the
most violent possible way. Consider: the raging tempest of sensuality which the
central act consists of, is constructed out of musical materials very different
from those of the two outer acts. This is reflected in the leitmotives which
Wagner uses throughout the act; naturally, Kundry's dominates the list, together
with those closely associated with her and her past.
hen Parsifal enters, he
adds strains from another world, and for a long time Herzeleide, the Wound, the
Spear, Kundry's Wildness, Torment of Sin, Longing, Fool and of course Klingsor,
weave in and out of the heaving, flooding orchestral and vocal texture.
Suddenly, without warning, we hear, for the first time in three-quarters of an
hour, the Grail. It is like a blow in the face, so enmeshed are we in the
struggle between good and evil; but I never remember that it is approaching,
with its glorious news that the battle is almost over and light has triumphed
over darkness. Well, this time, when it rose from the orchestra like Excalibur,
I thought it would stop my heart, so far had I been drawn into the furnace of
the struggle. Surely this is what the shepherds who were tending their flocks
must have experienced when the angel appeared to them with glad tidings of great
joy.
he tidings in Parsifal are brought in Act Three, when the Spear that
pierced Christ's side heals the wound of Amfortas's guilt; even the poor
production could not spoil that moment, so powerful and so complete was the
spell of the conducting, playing and singing. But the spell of the performance
was as strong as it was because it served, with the utmost fidelity, the spell
of the opera - its drama, its meaning and its consummate ability to steep the
whole evening in the balm of hope. And when you come to think of it, what is the
Christian message but hope? Of course it is an oversimplification to read
Parsifal as orthodox Christian witness; Wagner wove much besides Christianity
into his final work. But if we generalise a little, we can demonstrate that the
redemption of Amfortas is indeed the symbol of redemption of the world; remember
that we hear, as Parsifal moves with the healing instrument towards the stricken
man, the Grail, not Parsifal's own theme; and as the spear point closes the
wound, it is not the weapon that sounds, but Amfortas himself. Surely Wagner is
saying that Parsifal is neither the Christ nor John the Baptist, but the
Paraclete of St. John's Gospel, who is sent to comfort the world: Peace I leave
with you, my peace I give unto you. And it is man, sinful but capable of
redemption, who receives the divine gift from the hands of the innocent fool,
made wise by pity. (© Times Newspapers Ltd.)
Saturday, February 23, 2013
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