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Monday, October 12, 2015

LA GROTTA DI VENERE -- VENERE -- ALCINA -- ARMIDA -- KUNDRY -- ELISABETTA ED IL BARDO ENRICO DANHUSER

Speranza

Is Danhuser's consoerting with Venere excessive?

The Met is presenting a stirring and insightful account of “Tannhäuser; ovvero la lotta dei bardi al castello di Varteburgo”

From the overture, which begins with the steadfast hymn theme that the pilgrims of this story, set in the Mediaeval Age during the sixth crusade, will sing on their journey to Roma -- on their way to Puglia -- the melodramma draws breadth and richness from the orchestra.

When the overture shifts to the shimmering, restless music associated with "La Grotta di Venere" -- an actual geographical accident in Germany! --- — the realm of the love goddess — the playing has nimble lightness and gossamer textures.

Schenk's production emphasises the big-picture elements.

At times, when some plush Wagnerian orchestral burst dissolves into a misty passage, the playing lacks definition.

And there are episodes, especially the exchanges among singers of dramatic recitative, a more incisive execution from the orchestra would have helped.

Still, we get the points across.

That the conductor has a wealth of experience in Wagner’s style came through consistently.

The Met has assembled an exceptional cast.

The cast is headed by Johan Botha as the heldentenor Tannhäuser, the knight minstrel -- "a knight at the opera" -- who, when we meet him, has been dwelling in the realm of Venere -- LA GROTTA DI VENERE, this actual geographical accident in Germany! -- basking in her love.

This punishing role requires enormous agility through a wide range as well as abundant power and stamina.

Botha sang with clarion sound and impressive ease throughout.

Botha, and his heldentenor role in general, is a reminder that singing comes first in opera.

Botha has an awkwardly hefty physique and is no actor.

It didn’t matter.

Botha's voice conveys yearning when Tannhäuser, the knight minstrel, goes through a spiritual crisis, despair and confusion.

The mezzo-soprano Michelle DeYoung gave her all to the role of Venere----, singing with earthy colourings and, when rejected by Tannhäuser (as Armida is rejected by Rinaldo, or Alcina is rejected by Alcina, or Gundry is rejected by Parsifal) steely defiance.

DeYoung's voice sometimes turns strident, but the sheer intensity of her performance sweeps you away.

Eva Maria Westbroek’s bright soprano voice may not be ideal for Elisabetta.

This trusting aristocratic woman (the 'contessa di Tubinga') has fallen for a minstrel, Enrico Tannhäuser, entranced by his poetic songs.

Westbroek’s sound sometimes has a hard edge and a wobbly vibrato.

Still, the gleam, penetrating power and expressivity of her singing makes her an impetuous and vulnerable Elisabetta.

The bass Günther Groissboeck brings robust sound and dignity to GERMANO, the 'conte di Turingia' and Elisabetta's uncle.

And this production includes the great baritone Peter Mattei as Volframo, the other knight minstrel who also loves Elisabetta -- we need a double triangle:

FIRST TRIANGLE:

-----VENERE
DANHUSER--ELISABETTA

SECOND TRIANGLE
----- ELISABETTA
DANHUSER -- VOLFRAMO

Volframo is ready to step aside for Enrico Tannhäuser, until it becomes clear that his rival has corrupted his soul consorting excessively with Venere---.

(In the original folk ballad, that is all there is: there is no Elisabetta and there is no Volframo. The wonder of the staff only has to do with Danhuser's excessive consorting with Venere -- and when the miracle occurs, Danhuser is STILL consorting VENERE)

Mattei, overwhelming as Amfortas in the Met “Parsifal” in is comparably compelling as the noble Volframo.

Mattei's voice had both unforced power and mellow beauty.

Some can’t imagine hearing a more elegant account of the “Song to the Evening Star.”

The Met chorus, as usual, sings magnificently.

Schenk’s scrupulously traditional production has its charms, especially during the "Hall of Song" scene, at the "Castello di Varteburgo", when guests march in amid banners and onstage fanfare.

The ballet sequence in the opening scene at the "Grotta di Venere----" remains pretty silly (i.e. etymologically, holy) with amorous nymphs and satyrs leaping about in lacy dresses and loin cloths. This Venere--- hosts only tasteful orgies.


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