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hardcore silmarillion fans are like. the terrifying and incomprehensible creatures at the bottom of the deep ocean that is the tolkien fandom

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Wiener Staatsoper’s 2022/2023 season has me screaming. Here are some highlights:

Wolfgang Koch sings Beckmesser in a new production of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, alongside Michael Volle as Sachs and Georg Zeppenfeld as Pogner. It’s his only production in Vienna this season.

I need those Meistersinger streamed.

Just three months after his debut in Zürich, Klaus Florian Vogt will sing Siegfried in Siegfried. He doesn’t debut Götterdämmerung before November 2023, so he’ll only sing Siegfried in Vienna, Burkhard Fritz will takeover.

Eric Owens sings Wotan, Ricarda Merbeth Brünnhilde, Tamara Wilson Sieglinde.

Johannes Martin Kränzle sings Wozzeck

Camilla Nylund will perform in the first of three Tosca-Runs. The 2022/23 Scarpias are Erwin Schrott, Luca Salsi and Bryn Terfel.

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There’s a big update.

When I first made this post, I didn’t really expected this to happen. Sure, I was curious to hear Vogt’s Siegfried but doubted he’d be actually cast. His voice is just so different.

And now? The Zurich opera house has announced their new ring cycle featuring two very exciting debuts:

Camilla Nylund as Brünnhilde - which I am very curious for - and Klaus Florian Vogt as Siegfried. While I have been thinking about both and while I knew Vogt was preparing Siegfried, I was surprised when the news got announced. Needles to say, I am beyond excited, for both the debuts and the new ring cycle, which is going to be staged by Andreas Homoki and conducted by Gianandra Noseda.

The cast includes - next to Nylund and Vogt - Tomasz Konieczny as Wotan, Matthias Klinik as Loge, Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke as Mime, Eric Cutler as Siegmund, Katie van Kooten as Sieglinde and Christof Fischesser as Hunding.

I can’t wait to hear this new ring and I desperately hope there’ll be a stream or any kind of recording as not everyone can be in Zürich. If there’s going to be a stream, I promise that there will be reviews on this blog, even though I cannot guarantee I’ll write all four of them, I might resort to hiring guest writers once again.

The performance date are:

Rheingold: 30th April 2022

Walküre (Nylund’s debut): 18th September 2022

Siegfried (Double debut: Nylund and Vogt): 5th March 2023

Götterdämmerung (Again a double debut): 5th November 2023.

The first full cycle is planned for the 2023/24 season.

With a new Bayreuth Ring in the works as well, and a very interesting Parsifal in Bayreuth planned for 2023 - the next two years are going to be intense for every Wagnerian.

Some thoughts on Klaus Florian Vogt and Siegfried

So, Klaus Florian Vogt said he can imagine playing Siegfried one day. To be honest I wasn’t that happy when I first heard it because at that time i hadn’t quite warmed up to his voice yet.

However I’ve changed my mind, so I present to you a small rant (“small” is a lie. You have been warned) why I believe Klaus Florian Vogt could in fact do an excellent Siegfried.

The first reason is a pretty standard one and a requirement that I expect from any singer performing in any role: He’s a decent actor. Actually he’s even a little more than decent. So far I’ve only seen him as Parsifal and Lohengrin (and Parsifal was only on YouTube) but in both roles he was absolutely convincing

However, let’s talk about why I especially see him as Siegfried.

It’s a little ironic but that aspect that first put me off is now my leading argument talking about Vogt as Siegfried: His voice.

It is very light and I used to say it’s too light for a Wagner singer and that Vogt should go back to sing lighter parts - that was before I heard him live. Heard live his voice captures so much emotion and he’s got a strength that you just don’t get when you only have a recording.

Obviously Siegfried was written for a Heldentenor (and I still refuse to refer to Vogt as such) yet he has some parts that require much more agility than a Heldentenor is even able to do. Here I’m referring to that part in Götterdämmerung where Siegfried mimics the Waldvogel that appears in Siegfried. Having started out as a lyrical tenor Vogt would really do those parts justice.

Another aspect of Vogts voice that I now believe would fit Siegfried is that he sounds very young. His voice makes Lohengrin a teenager (that he is, please read @melian12 ‘s post about that) and Parsifal that inexperienced, innocent kid that he’s supposed to be (Just my opinion but I suppose @melian12 would second that too). Now even though Siegfried is physically stronger than those two he’s still a young man who doesn’t know much about how the world works. He is extremely dependent on others - first Mime, then the Waldvogel, and later Hagen.

But even though Siegfried doesn’t make any decision on his own he acts very confident and even kind of rebellious, think about his encounter with Wotan, which is followed by Siegfried being scared of love.

So, in short, Siegfried is just a teenager who has no clue about life, love, and what to do with his strength. That’s a character type I know Klaus Florian Vogt can pull off.

And just in case you’re still not convinced: Siegfried needs to play a Horn. Guess who can play the horn? Klaus Florian Vogt. And wouldn’t it be amazing to have a Siegfried who can blow the horn himself and doesn’t need to “lip-sync”?

~ @dichterfuerstin

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I already mentioned in the notes of @notyouraveragejulie ‘s post I have a lot of thoughts about this. So here they are. I admit, my rant isn’t about the article itself, however the topic Regieoper vs Werktreue (which I, as a German, would rather translate with true to the work, not true work.) is something I spend a lot of time discussing.

In theory, Werktreue is a nice concept, however, I have two big problems with it: How do we know what is Werktreue? Do we know exactly what a Monteverdi performance was supposed to look like? Should we stage every performance in a historically informed manner? Even if we say, Werktreue is simply staging the opera according to the libretto, I’m not sure that’s a concept to be applied to all, or even just a majority of stagings. There’s only one libretto, operas with different versions aside. Productions of Tosca and La Bohème, to name the works most often staged traditionally, tend to all look vaguely the same. They all work beautifully and occasionally doing a traditional staging is important, but overall strictly traditional productions can lack variety, which is what I personally love about opera. I love that after deciding what opera I want to watch, there’s still countless possibilities of how I can watch this opera. On a personal note, I also tend to find Werktreue Lohengrin-Productions quite boring, but that doesn’t really matter here.

Now, let’s get to Regieoper. I am opposed to works where you have to have seen all the explanationary clips provided by opera houses and read the programme booklets (which can be somewhat expensive as well) to understand what is going on on stage. Reading those should enhance your watching experience, it should not be obligatory for your understanding of the opera. Whatever it is happening on stage, you should be able to go in and understand, or, at the very least, enjoy it. I think, the original work should be recognisable, which is the case most of the time as very few directors actually touch the text, save people like Peter Konwitschny (who staged “Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg” had Sachs’ final monologue be interrupted and had another actor ask whether he knew what he was saying, to challenge the very nationalistic Text Wagner wrote) and Christoph Marthaler (who staged his own version of Lehar’s Giuditta, using music from other composers and giving Anita and Pierino a new storyline and depth by mixing Giuditta with Ödön von Horváth’s Sladek). Changing the text is very much common practice when directing plays, no one would complain about Marthaler’s staging if Giuditta was a play. Of course, the differences between opera and “Sprechtheater” Regie are an entirely different topic and I do not intend to go on about this further.

The staged opera should not only be recognisable by hearing, but also in the staging. This is something, actually not that hard to archieve. Let’s think about Tobias Kratzer‘s production of Tannhäuser. Yes, it’s very modern, it shows a de-mythified Venus in a van, driving through a very normal Germany. The Sängerhalle is old, and apparently the Festspielhaus, an attempt to mock the Bayreuth audience‘s and artists‘ stuck-up ness. It doesn’t sound like it, the production is very clearly Tannhäuser. Additionally to basic elements like the Sängerkrieg, it still has most of the psychological conflicts: The main character itself is still struggling to decide about his path in life, Venus is both intriguing and incredibly dangerous, and Elisabeth, while gaining feistiness, is still the same strong figure who decides to give Tannhäuser a second chance.

Obviously, the opera isn’t always recognisable on first glance, but that’s okay. Regietheater can be challenging and sometimes, this is actually very important. Here I want to talk about Christoph Marthaler’s Giuditta. Giuditta‘s and Octavio‘s love story is relatively unchanged, it’s the buffo couple, Anita and Pierino, that gained depth. I have to admit, I don’t know enough about the production to say it was on purpose, but it’s not as racist as the original. For example, Octavio doesn’t explain is worry for Giuditta‘s loyalty with her „African blood“ that makes her so hot she has to kiss anyone.

This leads to my second big point: Regieopera is necessary, as not all opera plots age well. Take Giuditta. Or Der Rosenkavalier. Take Lohengrin, referenced in the article. Honestly, take the entirety of Wagner. It is important to be critical, especially as a director, and I think it is important to also show the criticism on stage. It’s important to consider who wrote this opera, why did they write this opera, and what do they want to convey. That’s for Wagner’s antisemitism, racism, and most of his political views to be honest. For operas like Strauss’ Rosenkavalier I ask directors to look at the age gap between Octavian and the Marschallin and decide wether that’s something they want to romanticise.

Regie is discourse and for that it is sometimes necessary to put your own ideas on that stage, that might be far from the librettist’s direction. A very nice example for this kind of Regieoper is Barrie Kosky’s interpretation of “Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg”.

I have to admit, my next point is something that only works really well in German Theatre because of the way we are taught to see theatre. Theatre is more than entertainment, it is education. Taking reference and commenting on current event is not only welcome, it is sometimes even expected. It’s a very common starting place for dramaturgy and director to think “what aspect of this work is still applicable today?” and some theatre directors even ask “what work can I use to tell this story?” I think the first question was asked preparing the Bayerische Staatsoper‘s staging of Rusalka, which concentrates less on the fairytale where nymphs and other forest ghosts are real but on the fact Rusalka was basically a prisoner - first her father, then the prince.

Directors in German theatre are also supposed to have their own handwriting, to bring a lot of themselves to their stagings, and they are invited to tell their own stories. In my opinion, being able to do this, is what’s keeping opera relevant. It makes it part of current discourse and/or accessible to audiences, that maybe don’t particularly care for knights in shining armour coming on a swan. A good Lohengrin-Staging can choose to actively challenge Lohengrin’s image as the good one. The fact he’s downright abusive has been talked of many times, and @swanfloatieknight has said some words on how he’s actually “shady as fuck” You can also try to debate on how well equipped he is to save Elsa. After all, he must be very young and just as overwhelmed as she is.

That all being said, I am not a fan of staging a work different for the sake of being different. Don’t just put everyone in modern clothes and call it a day. Don’t put everyone in no clothes at all and call it a day.  Regieopera should be about having something to say and about saying it in an aesthetically pleasing way. Regieopera should come with a lot of background thoughts, however it should be understandable without knowing every single thought. The opera you choose to convey your message should also fit - please do not use Die Fledermaus to criticise the entire German theatre system. But don’t feel obligated to remain true to the work. 

- @dichterfuerstin

alright peeps what do we think about this

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König Heinrich just trying to collect troups in Brabant:

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Wagnerrant Review #7: The essence of Tannhäuser

Work: Tannhäuser und der Sängerkrieg auf der Wartburg House: Bayreuther Festspiele Date of performance: 23.08.2022

Team Director: Tobias Kratzer Conductor: Axel Kober With: Günther Groissböck, Stephen Gould, Markus Eiche, Magnus Vigilius, Olafur Sigudarson, Jorge Rodríguez-Norton, Wilhelm Schwinghammer, Lise Davidsen, Ekaterina Gubanova, Alexandra Steiner, Manni Laudenbach, Le Gateau Chocolat, Kyle Patrick

After more than a century of Regietheater, the debate about what a director should and should not do when creating a new production of an opera is just as loud, if not more intense, than when the concept first started developing. The same questions keep popping up whenever a new production is released. How close should a director follow the libretto? Should the production be accurate to the time of its creation or present contemporary, even political, ideas to the audience? How much should a new production be the director’s work instead of the composers, where’s the line between innovation and destruction of the art? Tobias Kratzer tests the limits of Regietheater in his 2019 production of Richard Wagner’s Tannhäuser. The story he tells on stage takes place in the 21st century, he adds to silent characters and a sex scene definitely not envisioned by Wagner. And yet he never crosses the line. Tobias Kratzer’s innovative production is as different to any “traditional” Tannhäuser as it gets, and yet, what happens on stage is one hundred percent Wagner.

Kratzer makes it clear from the very beginning that this is not your classic Tannhäuser. At first, there isn’t even any action on stage, instead, the overture is accompanied by a video, showing the Wartburg for just a few seconds, before the camera zooms past it and follows a van driving through the German countryside. The journey is peppered with references to the real world: In 2019 during the premiere the van encountered a biogas plant, which was the centre of the latest Tannhäuser-production, in 2021 this was replaced with showing the passengers in the van getting tested for the corona virus – and the testing crew looking shocked when they noticed who they just tested – The chaos group they already knew from 2019. Those are: The goddess of love, Venus herself, is driving, next to her sits Tannhäuser in a clown costume. And in the back of the van sit two extra characters, actor Manni Laudenbach as Oskar from Günther Grass’ The Tin Drum and Le Gateau Chocolat, a drag queen of colour. Especially the latter was heavily boo’ed when Kratzer’s production premiered in 2019, for no other reason than his skin colour and gender non-conforming presentation. “To be the ONLY character; Le Gateau Chocolate as Le Gateau Chocolate, (non speaking or singing role) to be boo’ed on that stage, says a lot about who you (still) are”, the artist posted on Facebook after the performance. One cannot argue that the booing was aimed at the director, otherwise Oskar would have been booed as well. Le Gateau Chocolat did not return to Bayreuth, his character was played by Kyle Patrick, who was not booed. Luckily, the 2021 audience has indeed arrived in the 21st century and did not follow the intolerant premiere audience’s footsteps. Technically, Kratzer did not invent extra characters. Oskar and Le Gateau Chocolat are his “nymphs” as they help illustrating what Venus stands for. Pleasure and lust, sure, a sexual relationship between Venus and Tannhäuser is strongly implied, but more importantly freedom. Kratzer showcases four individuals living life their own way, following a quote from young Richard Wagner: “Free in willing, free in action, free in pleasure”. They have the quote printed on flyers and wallpapers and thus carry it through the entire production. Especially Venus profits from this new characterisation. Elena Gubanova got the chance to give personality to a role that often becomes a mere symbol instead of a character. She was already scheduled to sing Venus in 2019 but had to withdraw from the production due to an injury. After the 2020 festival being cancelled, she finally had the chance to sing and act the role and seems to have genuine fun on stage. Her Venus is agile, iridescent, and to just the right extent insane. Not only that, with a light and yet powerful voice she was also a joy to listen to. It’s the freedom, the complete lack of rules, that becomes too much for Tannhäuser in Kratzer’s production. Living with Venus seems all fun and games, until Tannhäuser realises that no rules means indeed no rules and the goddess of love doesn’t even shy away from manslaughter: When being caught stealing dinner from Burger King and gas from another car she runs over a policeman with the Van. Killing people is where Tannhäuser draws the line. Venus’ crime and the realisation that this woman doesn’t know any limits pushes him into a depressed state in which he isolates himself from the group and ultimately jumps out of the driving van. On the surface this is not Wagner’s libretto, but the conclusion stays the same: Living completely free of rules may seem nice but it’s hard not to get cold feet when seeing reasonable rules slaughtered, when the individuality becomes too much.

Tannhäuser leaving Venus is followed by a short episode of actual freedom in which Tannhäuser doesn’t have to follow any agenda. This idyll is beautifully reflected in the orchestra part and very well executed by conductor Axel Kober and the Bayreuth festival orchestra. Kober’s conducting also extraordinarily represents another important aspect of the opera: Contrast. Between seductive and divine, cursed and pure, powerful and soft. Kober makes it all hearable retells the story happening on stage solely with music. For Stephen Gould’s Tannhäuser the contrast between Venus and Wartburg becomes clear once again as soon as he’s reunited with the other singers. On the first sight it’s clear that the Wartburg society is different to Venus and her “kingdom”. Individuality is replaced with uniformity that is not just present in the costumes. Tannhäuser is dressed as a clown, Venus has her glittery jumpsuit, Oskar is Oskar and Le Gateau Chocolate always as extra as possible. The uniformity at the Wartburg is already prevalent in the costumes, the knights are all dressed in black and gold, just as the other guests at the Sängerkrieg. And while Venus does what she wants, every movement on the Wartburg is choreographed. While Venus stands for modern individuality, the Wartburg is stuck in the past. Literally. The set for the Sängerkrieg is wildly different from the set of the first act, it’s the inside of a medieval castle, a clever reference to both the history of Wagnerproductions as well as the old-fashionedness of the Wartburg people. The reference is served with a hint of irony as the Sängerkrieg does not take place on the Wartburg, even though the inside looks like it. The building Tannhäuser and the other singers enter is the Bayreuth Festspielhaus. Visitors of the Festival are presented as pilgrims, and it’s true, quite a lot of Festspielgoers, not all of them, I have met a lot of incredibly nice people in Bayreuth, act like their visit is a pilgrimage, while being stuck-up and protesting everything new, such as Tobias Kratzer’s Tannhäuser production or every other new production that doesn’t follow the Libretto word for word.

And in some way the actual audience in the Festspielhaus is even part of Kratzer’s production as he doesn’t stop at showing the Festspielhaus on stage. The entire area is part of his production which is achieved through projections that take up half the stage during the second act. It’s not always a good sign if a production heavily relies on projections and videos. Often it’s either an indication that what happens on stage isn’t enough to properly convey the production’s concept, or the projections are unnecessary, sometimes even distracting from the action on stage. Both is not the case in Tobias Kratzer’s Tannhäuser. The video is thoroughly an enrichment to the action, seeing what happens backstage is important, when the chaos of the Sängerkrieg going wrong unfolds – but if you want to you can only watch the stage action directly and it would be enough.

During the introduction of act two, Tannhäuser and Elisabeth are seen in their respective dressing rooms preparing their entrance, Elisabeth anxiously peaks into Tannhäuser’s room and is shown being very nervous before Dich Teure Halle. She’s got every right to be. The Sängerkrieg is her first big appearance after Tannhäuser left and his return doesn’t make it better. Elisabeth is not just glad about Tannhäuser returning. Him leaving drove her to a suicide attempt, this is something not being fixed by a duet. And while she goes from slapping Tannhäuser in act one to demanding a second chance for him in act two, their relationship stays tensed, which is a nice change to many far too naïve Elisabeths. Lise Davidsen, who only debuted in Bayreuth in 2019, is just the right casting for this stronger, but still as hurt and forgiving Elisabeth. Her voice convinced with incredible power but softness where it’s needed, while always keeping a clear phrasing and combining her exceptional voice technique with fine acting choices that reflected in her singing without taking away from melody and intelligibility. Stephen Gould in the title role cannot really keep up with her. While his acting as depressed Tannhäuser is convincing, he played not just sadness, but also tiredness and emptiness, the disappointment into all of his life plans failing, his voice leaves much to be desired. Tannhäuser is a dramatic but very musical role, it lives from subtle, pretty melodies. Gould and his Siegfried-trained voice struggled with those; it doesn’t quite want to sing the small ornaments Wagner composed into Tannhäuser’s melodies. He had his shining moments especially during “Inbrunst im Herzen” but even there he could never quite avoid his voice sounding somewhat inflexible and strained during high notes. Still, I cannot imagine this production of Tannhäuser being performed with another cast. While Tannhäuser is trying to win back Elisabeth’s heart, Venus, Oskar and Le Gateau break into the Festspielhaus. Their journey is displayed onscreen, the audience sees them climbing the balcony from which the fanfares play and put a poster on display – Free in willing, free in action, free in pleasure. Said poster is actually hanging on the balcony during the second intermission, because Tobias Kratzer doesn’t just make the entire area his stage via video productions. During the first intermission a small extra performance takes place at the pond where Le Gateau Chocolat, Oskar and Venus dance, play, and prepare the poster for act two. By capturing a young singer and stealing her costume Venus eventually makes it into the hall and is a witness of Tannhäuser professing his relationship to her. Le Gateau Chocolate and Oskar follow her onstage and they have some kind of family union, interrupted by the police, called by Katharina Wagner herself. They arrest Tannhäuser. Instead of deliberately joining the pilgrims he is forced to seek forgiveness which while bringing a new perspective still captures the essence of the end of act two. Even in the libretto it’s not Tannhäuser’s choice to go with the pilgrims, Landgraf Hermann and Elisabeth don’t give him a choice.

The pilgrims are the only aspect of Tobias Kratzer’s Tannhäuser production where one could accuse him of discontinuity. In act one he presented the Bayreuth audience as the pilgrims’ chorus, in act three the pilgrims are presenting as a group of homeless people. It’s the big picture that matters. While in the end of act one the hope that it might get better dominates, act three is resignation and hopelessness. Tannhäuser isn’t forgiven and therefore doesn’t have any perspective of returning to society and to Elisabeth. This hopelessness is mirrored in the chorus of homeless people dominating the stage in act three. The place also isn’t the majestic Festspielhaus anymore. Again, the location is a parking lot, a different one than the one where the first act took place. It’s another parking spot for Venus and her companions, a place far away from society. It’s where Elisabeth waits for her lover. Tobias Kratzer made the interesting decision to let Tannhäusers two worlds collide, Venus’ and Elisabeth’s world. Elisabeth meets Oskar, who offers her food and shelter in the van. She learns that Tannhäuser did not only find Venus, that he also found an accepting and somewhat loving society. Maybe she imagines herself running away with Tannhäuser and his friends. However, when Tannhäuser doesn’t return with the other “Pilgrims” Elisabeth’s hopes of a reunion are crushed. And at this point, right after her prayer, Tobias Kratzer makes a decision that is irritating at first but, after just some consideration, is the best conclusion of every character arc that he opened during the course of his production. Wolfram dresses up as Tannhäuser, using his clown wig and coat, and him and Elisabeth have sex in Venus’ van. This is irritating on first sight as the only sex scene one might expect in Tannhäuser is maybe some action between the title character and Venus, but nothing involving the pure Elisabeth, especially it’s not with Tannhäuser. And yet this sex scene is neither unnecessary nor unfitting. All of both characters more or less hidden desires are addressed. Wolfram loves Elisabeth, he wants to sleep with her, but he knows he’s not Tannhäuser, so he tries to at least give Elisabeth the illusion of consuming her relationship with Tannhäuser. At the same time Elisabeth has physical, sexual desires, and feelings for Wolfram, who never let her down, other than Tannhäuser, whom she loves nonetheless. The sex scene is a mixture of Wolfram pretending to be Tannhäuser to fulfil Elisabeth’s desires and both characters allowing themselves a bit of selfishness to fulfil their own desires. But while Wolfram can be Tannhäuser for some minutes in a van, he isn’t enough to replace him forever, which he is well aware of. He lets Elisabeth go who commits suicide. When Tannhäuser returns after all, he only finds her corpse. The final chorus is accompanied by video projections, this time on a giant billboard, showing what could have been: Tannhäuser and Elisabeth travelling together in the van. Being together and being free. This way, Tobias Kratzer makes the ending of Tannhäuser a tragedy rather than a redemption. And again, makes it different to the libretto and still accurate. Kratzer’s interpretation is innovative and obvious at the same time, and maybe because of this feels just right.

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Wagnerrant Review #6 - Tristan und Isolde

Work: Tristan und Isolde Bayerische Staatsoper Date of performance: 31.07.202

Team Director: Krzysztof Warlikowski Conductor: Kirill Petrenko With: Jonas Kaufmann, Anja Harteros, Okka von der Damerau, Wolfgang Koch, Mika Kares, Manuel Günther, Dean Power, Christian Rieger

Review: @beckmessering

Here’s an entirely hypothetical question: when not very familiar with an opera, is a Regietheater production with hotly anticipated role debuts the best opportunity to form an emotional understanding? Answers may vary, but take it from a someone whose opera education had a shamefully large Tristan-shaped hole: Krzysztof Warlikowski’s Tristan und Isolde at Bayerische Staatsoper is a production to to gnaw on – conceptually elusive and a puzzle with many pieces, but finally a great reward in scenery and in music.

Jonas Kaufmann lends Tristan his well-known baritonal timbre, although it’s not quite as prominent as usual. His voice is dense and rich, though not artificially darkened, and brings delicate piani as well as strength to the role. The third act with Tristan’s near-incessant monologues of increasing volume and intensity provide an audible challenge that doesn’t leave Kaufmann’s voice untouched: he sounds somewhat taxed by the time he’s finally allowed to collapse once and for all. Granted, it’s a punishing and brutal feat; the sheer amount of energy required to sing oneself to death likely isn’t equivalent to the amount a badly wounded man would still have. Kaufmann thus doesn’t quite look to be on death’s door despite a shirt soaked in progressively darker shades of red, but he nonetheless he provides a well-grounded interpretation of one titular character. He steers away from classic hero territory into something more nuanced and disconcerting if one only looks closely enough – Isolde, for that matter, hits the nail on the head when she replies “Frag deine Furcht!” to his “Und welchen Feind?”. He’s scared – or perhaps haunted by thoughts that won’t leave him alone, unable to keep his hands and his gaze still when not singing. He doesn’t outright long for death, but from the very start, he sure doesn’t seem at ease with life, either. Something isn’t quite right with Tristan – and just the right person is needed to unleash it fully.

That just-right-person is Anja Harteros as Isolde, who deserves perhaps the audience’s grandest ovation. Vocally, she is still in excellent shape until the last measures of her delicately sung Liebestod, having preserved her gleaming heights and pristine sound over all three acts. Her middle register, uniquely crystalline and incredibly poignant, could conceivably serve to distinguish her voice from thousands. Yet her singing by far isn’t too pretty to show feelings – Harteros’ voice suits a seething young woman with a rich inner life that progressively unfolds throughout the opera. “Lass’ uns Sühne trinken!“ is an actual threat, one that Tristan wholeheartedly embraces. After losing herself in love in the second act, she reemerges from it lonely and bitingly aware of it. Her grief, like her rage, is controlled yet bone-deep, and it inevitably leads her to die. Perhaps something wasn’t quite right with Isolde, too.

Wolfgang Koch sings Kurwenal with a vivacious, robust baritone that energetically prizes life – a great contrast to Tristan’s inclinations. However, Koch stays far from acting clownish, particularly in the third act, where he wears the worry about his friend on his sleeve, but ultimately remains powerless against Tristan’s impending death. While the latter ecstatically sings himself into delirium, Koch remains comparatively static, demonstrating his character’s inability to help and by extension, vastly different attitude towards life.

Okka von der Damerau’s Brangäne is a well-meaning figure trying her best to put Isolde at ease in this admittedly highly tense situation. While initially reminiscent of a caring aunt, the two women’s bond becomes far more sisterly in nature once the first act’s dialogue – or perhaps conspiracy – around Isolde’s secret potion stash unfolds. She braves the act’s finale with top notes of impressive volume and provides a surprisingly bright, silvery metallic sound for a mezzo. Considering the standout dynamic between the two women, it’s perhaps fitting that her voice blends so smoothly with Isolde’s and even elicits comparisons to a soprano’s sound.

Mika Kares as King Marke packs much disappointment into his clear, well-articulated bass, though it’s about far more than the good old besmirching of honour – this betrayal is personal to him and runs deep. Regrettably, he’s given little to do once he has discovered the wrongdoers in each other’s arms except stalk back and forth between Tristan and Isolde, so he resorts to various pronounced eye movements that verge on accidentally amusing. Brangäne’s single look of horror upon assessing the scene says more than any eye movement could.

Kirill Petrenko’s conducting is fluid, gentle, a statement in and of itself never at the cost of the singers. He crafts the prelude into an intensely lyrical treat, promising much and delivering on that by keeping the orchestra’s sound light yet rich enough to satisfy. He eschews heaviness, but never at the expense of intensity. Particularly the tense moments of the first act are played out very well, and the performance is audibly a successful collaboration between singers, conductor and orchestra: the singers are never drowned out, the orchestra makes its mark, and Petrenko himself brings both together with excellent timing to savour a spectrum of emotions.

Director Krzysztof Warlikowski transplants the setting into a wood-panelled room with high ceilings that traps all characters within its high ceiling, allowing them little escape from what troubles them. This room serves as a continuous backdrop throughout all three acts, although each act adds elements uniquely suited to the current happenings. During the prelude, two silent dancers dressed as almost frighteningly life-like dolls, one male and one female, appear. Their movements are tentative, childlike, evocative of a fragile state as they interact and cautiously touch each other. In the second act, a projection that previously illustrated the view outside a ship’s porthole serves as perhaps an emotional window into the lovers’ psyche. It shows grainy, black-and-white footage of Isolde sitting – waiting – alone on a bed, suggestive of a security camera’s spying eye. In the film, Tristan enters only during “O sink hernieder” and the two sit silently next to each other sans any eye contact, while the real-life Tristan of course has of course entered the stage some time ago. While both of these elements receive their resolution in the final act, the act two film is already subtly reflective of the singers’ actions onstage. While the first act was far more dynamic in terms of interaction, much of this movement disappeared once Tristan and Isolde fell in love, causing the lovers to remain comparatively static during their time together. This takes some time to notice and even more time to get used to, but it allows for much inference on the nature of this love. It’s of the paralysing sort, and it can’t coexist with normal life and regular interaction. There is wallowing in this love or interacting with the rest of the world – but ultimately, a choice will be have to be made. It’s a consuming love, yet clearly not of the physical or even romantic sort, judging from the frequent lack of touch and eye contact – perhaps it’s more of a kinship, a matter of two people having found a part of themselves in each other that they had lost. In any case, the concept avoids the stylisation of Tristan and Isolde’s love as something bright or pure – they may be enraptured, but their state of intoxication doesn’t induce wishful thinking in the audience. The music, more than anything else, connects the lovers with the onlookers. It’s a maddeningly subtle concept of interaction that can easily be taken as stiff or confused with lack of ideas, and the only time it doesn’t pay off is during King Marke’s confrontation in the second act, where Mika Kares isn’t given enough space to physically communicate the emotions of the normal world.

The place of Tristan’s youth in the third act finally unites the previously introduced ideas: Tristan awakes at a table surrounded by dolls seated at a dinner table and dressed like the one representing him in the prelude. As he recalls the early death of his parents, the suggestion that he grew up in a boarding-school atmosphere and carried the burden of being orphaned plants the core idea that he comes from a place of loneliness. Absent a place of emotional safety and affection, his outlook on life is shaped by the inner fragility and unsteadiness he was instead endowed with, and causes him to escape into a love – or a construct – that opposes this life. The question of whether his love is static and at odds with life by nature or rather by Tristan’s nature remains somewhat open, but both are conceivable. During Isolde’s Liebestod, the projections return, showing the lovers lying side by side on the bed again while the room floods with water. As the two inevitably drown, they gaze into each other’s eyes for the first time while the film turns colourful. What initially seems oddly romanticising of death and clichefully pleasant becomes exceptionally poignant when seen as the lovers’ attitude towards death and final fulfilment rather than the director’s views.

It’s an interpretation that becomes more wrenching the longer one thinks about it – multi-layered, elusive, and it refreshingly strays from unduly heroic characterisations that don’t fit the story well. Admittedly, the focus is somewhat aimed at Tristan, and by necessity of the set, much of the psychologization of Isolde in the first act has to occur in the same setting Tristan’s mind will eventually be dissected in. Partially bound by the story and partially by the staging, she can’t be given the same due, which, considering Harteros’ standout Isolde, is a slight shame. Nonetheless, the production doesn’t feel uneven, and when adding music and singers, it becomes a harmonising whole entity. I myself may have closed my eyes in an attempt to fall in love, and I don’t see anything more befitting this opera.

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Wagnerrant Review #5 - Not enough Holländer

Work: Der Fliegende Holländer Bayreuther Festspiele Date of performance: 25.07.2021

Team Director: Dmitri Tcherniakov Conductor: Oksana Lyniv With: Georg Zeppenfeld, Asmik Grigorian, Eric Cutler, Marina Prudenskaya, Attilio Glaser, John Lundgren

Trigger warning: S*icide mention, mass m*rder mention.

Review: @dichterfuerstin

Dmitri Tcherniakov’s Der Fliegende Holländer looks more like the latest episode of Netflix Germany’s Dark than like an old sailor’s tale. The audience is presented with the foggy image of a small town. Grey brick buildings, grey pavement, grey streetlight. Just the rubber boots that are part of most of the costumes pay a small tribute to the original setting. Maybe the small town is a fishing village. And just like the sets, the story told on stage has little to do with what’s written in Wagner’s libretto.

It’s a crime story, rather than a mystery. Instead of being a sea captain, the Holländer appears as a man referred to as “H” who according to the writings on stage has a “strange, returning dream”. This dream, or rather memory, is shown during the overture. “H” is shown as a little boy whose mother has an affair with no one less than Daland himself. When her affair is discovered, the village shuns H’s mother to the point where she commits suicide in front of her son. The set is a little too calm for how booming and fast Oksana Lyniv’s overture is, and it’s radically different to what Wagner wrote in his libretto, but it works with the music pretty well during the first two acts. He remembers Daland, Daland has a vague idea who the stranger is. And Mary, excellently sung by Marina Prudenskaya and in this production upgraded to Daland’s wife and Senta’s (Step-)mother, seems to know exactly. She carries the Holländer’s picture around and is visibly scared of him. Add to this the perfectly spooky and mysterious atmosphere. It takes a while for the audience to realise that the “dream” is in fact a memory that the wondering of how much of it is true and what’s going to happen is always prevalent, especially every time the Holländer walks past the house where his mother died.

The characterisations in Tcherniakov’s production are on point. Mary is just strict enough, Georg Zeppenfeld’s Daland is not only audibly full in character, his facial expressions are on point throughout the entire opera. Of course, the modern setting does make him basically trading away Senta more awkward and actually less understandable. Especially since Senta is very young. Daland’s daughter doesn’t seem much older than sixteen thanks to Asmik Grigorian’s brilliant acting. She’s way younger than the Holländer, even Erik seems too old for her. But she’s sassy. She’s impudent, she smokes, she dyes her hair. She isn’t that dreamy girl carried away by the tale of the mysterious dutchman, she rather seems to mock him, and yet falls in love when she meets him in at dinner. Asmik Grigorian conveys all of this not only in her acting but also in her voice. Of course, she sounds older, but it doesn’t matter. The sound is clear, the diction well, and the Festpiel-debut successful. John Lundgren’s Holländer is equally well-acted. Though he doesn’t do much. The Holländer’s a very passive character, spending most of his time watching, and being strange. He constantly seems out of place thanks to his white sweater in contrast to the rather brown costumes everyone else, including Senta, wears. Making the Holländer stand out is a standard decision, but it is very well executed by costume designer Elena Zaytseva. Lundgren’s voice fits as well, apart from becoming audibly strained in act three. He isn’t as booming as most Holländer’s, rather pretty, but that is perfect for this characterisation, where the Holländer isn’t punished for cursing on God but traumatised because he saw his mother getting hounded until she killed herself. He isn’t even a captain, he’s alone. To the end of the opera, a handful of men he met at the pub who listened to him telling his story become his crew and get spared when the Holländer shoots into the crowd gathered on the town square to celebrate. For two hours the audience wonders where the production will lead. Will Senta die where the Holländer’s mother died? Will they die together as it’s written in the libretto? And in the end, it’s a mass shooting and arson committed by the Holländer. Although this ending makes perfect sense for the Holländer the way he’s set up in Tcherniakov’s production, it’s a somewhat disappointing ending. Daland doesn’t even appear on stage. Shouldn’t he have some kind of reaction to the Holländer’s doing? For the first time Grigorian’s acting isn’t sufficient enough for the audience to understand what she’s feeling, the production doesn’t really provide good answers. And while making Mary Daland’s wife made her more important, the character didn’t have enough to do to explain why it’s her who eventually shoots the Holländer and then has to be cared for by Senta. The ending is an ending for a crime story. It’s a thriller, but not the one Wagner intended. For the Holländer, the focus should be a little more on the bond between Senta and the Dutchman. But on it’s own, the story told by Dmitri Tcherniakov is interesting and thought-through.

At least Oksana Lyniv’s conducting stays consistently emotional. The 43-years-old Ukranian conductor makes her Festspieldebut in this production, as the first ever woman to conduct an opera at the Bayreuther Festspiele, and she does it well. She manages to remain unfazed by the many interruptive noises in this production. Be it chairs or tables collapsing in act one, or gunshots in act three, and she’s singer-friendly. Maybe a little too singer-friendly, sometimes the orchestra does seem too much in the background. But overall, she does an amazing job. Her overture stands out the most, but the entirety of her Holländer is nothing short of beautiful. And fulfils the most admirable task of holding orchestra, soloists and chorus together, which is especially difficult this year: Due to the pandemic, half of the chorus acts on stage, the other half sings in the chorus-hall and their singing gets transmitted into the audience via speakers. And somehow this needs to sound natural – and be on time. Lyniv and chorus master Eberhard Friedrich work together well, so the audience doesn’t hear that something’s different this year.

This by the way also isn’t noticeable in the production. Neither does the stage seem empty nor are there six feet distance between every two singers. It’s a standarf production, and just as it’s standard for Bayreuth, director Dmitri Tcherniakov got booed by the audience. Undeserved, it’s a captivating and interesting to watch production, but it won’t make history as one of the strongest Bayreuth-productions either - it just isn’t enough Holländer.

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Wagnerrant Review #4 - Mishaps and Emotion

Work: Tannhäuser House: Bayerische Staatsoper Date of performance: 11.07.2021

Team Director: Romeo Castellucci Conductor: Asher Fish With: Georg Zeppenfeld, Klaus Florian Vogt, Simon Keenlyside, Dean Power, Andreas Bauer Kanabas, Ulrich Heß, Martin Snell, Lise Davidsen, Elena Pankratova, Sarah Gilford, Soloists of the Tölzer Knabenchor

Review: @dichterfuerstin

With Jonas Kaufmann’s Tristan debut right next to Anja Harteros’ Isolde debut (Watch the stream on staatsoper.tv, July 31st, 5PM CEST, it’s worth it), it’s hard to believe that the event I was looking forward to the most in the 2020/21 opera season was a performance of a four-year-old production that I’ve seen online before. But it was and so I did everything to get my hands on tickets for this season’s only performance of Tannhäuser at Bayerische Staatsoper. I cannot describe how happy I was when I got them and how sad I am now that it’s over. I hope that writing this review will help me revive those five hours at Bayerische Staatsoper – truly a special evening.

The best part of the entire production is the opening scene. Romeo Castellucci uses the fairly long overture and Venusberg music to visualise Tannhäuser being lured to Venus. A group of topless woman shoots arrows at a picture of a human eye, later the picture changes to that of a human ear, bewitching Tannhäuser’s senses until he gives in. A Tannhäuser-double walks on stage and climbs up the backdrop. This entire scene is choreographed flawlessly, every arrow compliments the music, and their placement on the backdrop is planned in a way where it works both for the picture of the eye and for the ear.

Castellucci did everything himself in this 2017 production of Tannhäuser. He directed, designed the sets, the costumes, and even the lighting. Solely the choreography by Cindy van Acker isn't his work. The result is a stunning unity of visuals on stage. It’s those that tell the story, not the characters. Elena Pankratova, who returned to the production to replace Daniela Sindram, pretty much only had to sit around as Venus, but she doesn’t have to move. It’s the mountain of flesh she’s sitting in, and the fact that both her and her lovers seem to melt away in fat and skin, that explains to the audience that Venus is a personification of both Lust and Gluttony. In act two, the singers could just stand in the wings to sing their lines. Not their acting tells us how they define love, but a single word written on a cube serving as altar and speaker’s desk at the same time. When Tannhäuser finally bursts out the confession that he’s been with Venus the words disappear and instead black colour gets spray-painted around in the cube. The black, forbidden aspect of Tannhäuser’s soul. The entire production gradually becomes blacker. While act one is even fairly colourful – fleshy pink for Venus, and bloody red for the Wartburg-knights’ costumes the deer they’re hunting, act two is white with only implied skin and nudity, though a lot of it, and act three is black until the curtain-call. This third act is the most impactful part of Castellucci’s production. It doesn’t raise nearly as much questions as act one and two – why do the knight’s costumes look like BDSM-fetish outfits? Why are there feet all over the stage during the Sängerkrieg? It shows the passage of time in the most impactful way. While more and more ridiculous numbers appear on the black screen – millions and millions and millions of year pass, the audience is shown the process of corpses rotting. And it’s not Tannhäuser’s and Elisabeth’s corpses, the names on the graves are those of the singers – Klaus and Lise. The message of this image? Tannhäuser and Elisabeth can’t be together in this timeline, but their story surpasses their lifetime. But no matter how powerful the imagery: Once again the singers do pretty much just stand and sit around while the stage speaks for them. Thus they can’t convince through their acting choices, but have to put everything into their voices.

And they do. Especially Georg Zeppenfeld convinces as Landgraf Hermann. He is probably the most reliable singer of our time, he doesn’t seem to have off-days. And as always he’s at his best in this performance. His voice carrying easily through the performance and singing a dignified, powerful Landgraf. And no matter what happens, he always remains calm.

The opposite of calm is obviously Tannhäuser. Klaus Florian Vogt debuted the role in this back in 2017 and hasn’t been replaced for even one year ever since. With good reason: His unusually light voice is a perfect fit for the sometimes too self-assured, sometimes insecure Tannhäuser. In addition to this, Vogt noticeably puts his whole soul into his performance, even though he apparently did not have the time to fully revise his, which led to a kind of sad “In ihr liegt in Maria” instead of the famous “Mein Heil liegt in Maria” and other mishaps. He makes up for his mess-ups by making his Tannhäuser especially emotional. He’s not afraid of letting a character’s emotions influence the sound and spices up the Romerzählung by singing with a different voice when quoting the pope, in comparison to when he’s just Tannhäuser. Lise Davidsen as Elisabeth is equally impressive. Having heard her as Sieglinde just some weeks before, I remembered her sometimes not being loud enough to get over a Wagnerian orchestra. This time however, she was in perfect form and every single one of her notes reached the audience, even the more quiet and scared lines in act three. I loved those especially. Davidsen dares to give her Elisabeth an insecure, questioning tone for “Sie sind’s” and “Sie kehren heim” and thus makes the audience really understand how much she fears Tannhäuser not coming back. With their voices harmonizing perfectly, with their acting skills, their creativity and emotion, Davidsen and Vogt make a great duo and we can only hope to hear them together in many more productions – next up is Die Walküre in Bayreuth.

The most impressive performance, however, delivers Simon Keenlyside as Wolfram von Eschenbach. Stepping in for another singer with just one day’s notice is hard, especially if this singer is Christian Gerhaher, munich’s favourite baritone. But Keenlyside, most well-known for his Mozart-interpretations mastered his unexpected Wagner-Challenge with ease. He acted as if he’d been rehearsing the production for weeks, and his big voice filled the Nationaltheater with ease, while always embracing Wolfram’s character. Not once he slipped into just singing his lines. Of course one could criticise that he never seemed to keep his hands still, unusual, when you’re used to Gerhaher’s interpretation of Wolfram von Eschenbach, but let’s be honest: This would be nothing more than beckmessering. Keenlyside is not the only one stepping in, though the others had about two weeks to prepare for their roles. Elena Pankratova, returning as Venus for Daniela Sindram, who was supposed to take over the role this season, and like Zeppenfeld and Vogt an original cast member in Castellucci’s production sings, as if she had planned to come back to Venus, her strong Soprano outshines the unflattering costume her director gave her.

Last but not least, Asher Fish conducted the performance for Simone Young. While it would have been nice to see a female conductor for diversity’s sake, opera is a world still very much dominated by men, one cannot complain about Fish’s conducting. He works out orchestra parts that are hardly noticeable, sometimes works them out too much, like when Tannhäuser is discovered by the Wartburg-society in act one he pronounces the more rhythmic parts so hard the music ends up sounding like traditional dance music you’d expect at German fairs. But just like Vogt seems to have finally found his libretto in act two, the conducting gets more balanced and with sensible dynamic- and tempo choices Fish gives the opera the amount of tragedy and sadness it needs, together with the mixture of euphoria and anger Tannhäuser’s descriptions of love in act two need.

Even if not everything went well – the choir could have been more balanced, the very first set change in act didn’t go as smoothly as it’s supposed to go, and not everyone knew their lines – the performance was touching, very nice to see, and fantastic to hear. I’m so glad to have been there, and cast and crew deserved all of the applause they got – certainly more than ten minutes of clapping and cheering.

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Wagnerrant Review #3: Das Rheingold  im Hafen

Work: Das Rheingold House: Theater Regensburg Date of performance: 03.07.2021

Team Director: Andreas Baesler Conductor: Chin-Chao Lin With: Adam Krużel, Brent L. Damkier, Oliver Weidinger, Philipp Meraner, Seymur Karimov, Selcuk Hakan Tiraṣoğlu, Vera Egorova-Schönhofer, Deniz Yetim, Tamta Tarielashvili, Anna Pisareva, Vera Seminiuk

Review: @dichterfuerstin

It’s already a tradition and always sold out: For the third time Theater Regensburg rented out the Bayernhafen, a port in the east of Regensburg, to put on an opera. Two years ago, it was Tosca, four years ago, the first open air spectacle of this kind, it was Der Fliegende Holländer. This year the  theater took on the ambitious challenge and produced Das Rheingold. Needless to say, when 800 additional tickets got released, I grabbed a front-row seat and went to check out this production.

Abridging an opera is one thing. Abridging a Wagneropera is another. With lyrics and music being so tightly connected, with leitmotifs and nothing even remotely resembling an aria, it seems nearly impossible to put on anything that isn’t the original. Theater Regensburg did it anyway: They staged a version of Das Rheingold edited and abridged by  Eberhard Kloke, lasting merely 90 minutes, reducing the libretto and completely omitting Donner an Froh. I’m not sure why they went for an edited version. There aren’t any restrictions on how long an opera can be, and as long as you have a testing concept you can also have productions of unlimited size. They also don’t lack singers. I could name a handful of singers working at Theater Regensburg not employed this evening.

Much to my surprise the abridged version worked out musically. Without having a score or libretto at hand, which I obviously did, you’d barely notice the changes, especially as a non-Wagnerian. However, some of my favourite parts got omitted. I never again want to se a Rheingold without Donner’s iconic call. The abridging was actually most noticeable in the plot. Due to shortened conversations the only characters ever mentioning Freia’s golden apples were the two giants, which resulted in a rather sudden decision to go to Nibelheim, and Froh’s absence eventually resulted in Loge being low-key in love with Freia. This however turned out to be a showcase for Brent L. Damkier who not only proved he could sing an excellent Froh but was also a more than satisfying Loge. He isn’t what I’d call a character tenor, yet his voice fit the part perfectly. Together with his nice acting he made up for the weaknesses of the shortened libretto and his costume, which could have been way more fiery. While he profited from the shortened libretto, Fasolt, sung by Seymur Karimov, suffered. The abridged libretto left him with not much more than two lines. One of the nicest characters in the entire opera got lost this way, together with an amazing voice. Karimov is one of the best singers Theater Regensburg has to offer. His voice and acting would have landed him Alberich, or at least a longer Fasolt if I had been in charge of casting this production. Overall, the singers were good. An important mention is definitely Adam Krużel who has sung at Theater Regensburg for 30 years and who will now retire, after having done a fine Wotan. Singing this powerful role must be a satisfying last performance for him. The audience thanked him with lots of applause.

Being open air, the theatre obviously used micmicrophones and speakers, and sitting very close to one of the speakers, it was clearly audible for me that the sound was not coming from the orchestra and singers performing live on the other side of the water, which is why it took me a while to get into the performance. This got better during the performance and in the end I was fully invested in the musical experience, until the director decided that the best time for the finale fireworks is while the final orchestra bit is still playing. This is not only unfair towards the audience, but also towards orchestra and composer.

The rest of the production is more difficult to judge as it initially was supposed to be put on indoors. As this wasn’t possible due to corona, director Andreas Baesler had to move. Adapting a concept for a moderate sizes opera stage to the 200 meters long harbour stage is a challenge that needs to be kept in mind. Andreas Baesler made the best of it: Following the tradition of previous open air productions he incorporated the setting into his production, for example by letting the giants sit in two cranes. However only for their first appearance, after this they walked on the ground and were the same size as anyone else. As the audience sat far away from the stage it was hard to recognise the singers, especially ALberich, who’s costume had the same colour as the backdrop. This is why the production was supported by projections on the Stadtlagerhouse, a huge building serving as the backdrop of open air productions, created by Clemens Rudolph. While the pictures were hard to recognise at first, they helped understanding the plot after dark, by establishing the setting of the scenes and sometimes showing close-ups of singers. The only thing I did not like about the projections was the lack of continuity regarding the Rhinemaidens, who’s singers only got on stage for the final bows, during the performance they remained in the orchestra tent. In the final scene Rudolph projected video footage of swimmers, in the opening scene three dancers on a boat acted as the rhinemaidens, thus making the water part of the stage and allowing Alberich to actually pull the gold, a giant golden ball, out of the water. Personally, I’d appreciate it if the same characters were portrayed by the same singers. However, I understand why the decision was made: Recognizing projections in daylight is hard, and having three women dance on a small boat in the dark is dangerous. Overall the lack of continuity is something I noticed in this production a lot. The costumes did not fit together at all. While Alberich was dressed in gray, old-looking clothes, the giants had neon coloured suits resembling rain jackets, while the Rhinemaidens on the boat wore flapper-style dresses with fishtails underneath. It seamed like Baesler struggled to decide on a concept.

While the fireworks and the lack of continuity were off-putting, I’d still be lying if I said I did not enjoy the evening, as did the rest of the audience. The singers were good, the atmosphere nice, and it’s a pity the planned second performance had to be cancelled due to the weather – when cast, crew and audience had already arrived at the location.

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Update: As there now will be a stream (On July 31st from 5PM CEST, will stay online for 24 hours) I have found someone to write the review. Get ready for the first ever guest post on this blog!

Guest Writer wanted!

Some of you may be aware that today the new Tristan und Isolde production in Munich had it’s premiere. I’d love to post a review, however: it’s sold out and there’s no stream scheduled. And the only person I know, who is both willing to write a review and has seen the production, worked there and thus doesn’t feel able to properly review it.

So: If you have Tickets for Tristan und Isolde in Munich and are not affiliated with this production or the Bayerische Staatsoper: You are most welcome to write a review and submit it on this blog.

[officialwagnerrant]

🔥 (go wild with the topic)

Wagner didn’t do Bayreuth a favour by building the Festspielhaus there.

Obviously the city profits massively from wagner tourists coming every summer, hotels, restaurants, they all can make a shit ton of money from people that already pay way too much for festival tickets. But basically everything in Bayreuth that is not Wagner related gets lost. They have smaller music festivals for jazz and contemporary music - but the concerts people heard most about were those when Wagner singers decided to sing in Bayreuth without the Festival. They do have the Margravial Opera house, yet the „opera lovers“ coming to Bayreuth will just walk past it.

And when there’s a year without the Bayreuther Festspiele taking place, the whole city is screwed.

Of course it’s cool when you have a famous person who lived in your town or event taking place in your town, but it’s getting bad when this event starts to take over everything.

A bigger town could cope with the Festival better, but alas, he couldn’t build it in Munich.

I did some research about the university in Bayreuth because they have a nice opera related programme. First sentence of the website „You don’t need to be Tristan or Isolde to like Bayreuth“. First shot of the trailer: The Festspielhaus. This is actually one of the reason why I’m fairly sure I won’t study in Bayreuth.

[officialwagnerrant]

Guest Writer wanted!

Some of you may be aware that today the new Tristan und Isolde production in Munich had it’s premiere. I’d love to post a review, however: it’s sold out and there’s no stream scheduled. And the only person I know, who is both willing to write a review and has seen the production, worked there and thus doesn’t feel able to properly review it.

So: If you have Tickets for Tristan und Isolde in Munich and are not affiliated with this production or the Bayerische Staatsoper: You are most welcome to write a review and submit it on this blog.

[officialwagnerrant]

Random recommendation: If you haven’t yet, listen to the Carlos Kleiber recording of Tristan and Isolde. It has the most beautiful O sink hernieder I’ve ever heard. Margaret Price is jus such a good Isolde.

[officialwagnerrant]

Due to pre-premiere stress the next review will be posted around the middle of July. To make up for being late it’s gonna be a real special one: The production is TANNHÄUSER at the Bayerische Staatsoper and for the first time I will review a production I saw live.

- dichterfuerstin

[officialwagnerrant]

Brangäne: Switches the death- and love potion to avoid Isolde dying

Tristan and Isolde: Completely loose their minds, actively seek out dying together and betray Marke, get discovered, Tristan gets killed and Isolde dies her Liebestod.

Brangäne: