Zurich Opera at the Royal Festival Hall, Southbank Centre
12th May
First I must stress that this review refers to Zurich Opera’s concert performance of Der Rosenkavalier at the Festival Hall, not to the production recently previewed by Hairy McMungo. If I appear to be writing absolute twaddle, it is most likely to be due to my own personal shortcomings as an opera critic, but there is a small chance that you are reading the wrong review.
Although the company have previously given excellent semi-staged performances in the small space accorded to them behind the orchestra – a particularly engaging L’incoronazione di Poppea comes to mind – Der Rosenkavalier allowed for only minimal movement from the singers. However, a good concert performance can be no less involving than one that is staged – after all, were this not the case, it is highly unlikely that orchestral concerts would be anything like as popular as they are.
Der Rosenkavalier was particularly successful in this regard. Indeed, for much of the performance, I completely forgot the opera was not staged. Such moments as the opening scene lost some impact, perhaps, and the duel, such as it is, between Octavian and Baron Ochs is more effective when swords make an appearance. But one of the joys of opera is the way in which the characters relate to one another. In a concert performance this aspect can very easily be lost if, for example, the head of one or more singers is buried in the score; if some of the singers are uncomfortable with the idea of acting without a set or costume to help them; if one singer on one end of the row is attempting to make eye contact with someone at the other end of the row, only to discover one of the other singer has put their music stand in an obstructive position. I could go so far as to say it is always surprising to find a performance where these problems don’t arise at all. Indeed, Der Rosenkavalier is particularly problematic in this regard, being a strong ensemble piece which relies on secrets’ being exchanged –quite a feat when the person standing between the scheming characters is the one who is not supposed to hear. These problems were avoided to some extent by the frequent standing-up and sitting-down of the singers. Perhaps this was taken to extremes, as even singers who were very much present in the scene but had nothing to sing for a few minutes often sat – but it did help to make it clear who was speaking to whom.
Der Rosenkavalier is so long that a start-time of 6.30 or thereabouts cannot be avoided, and sometimes (often due more to the hardness of one’s seat rather than the music), it can seen interminable. However, under the baton of Franz Welser-Most, the opera simply flew by, an utter delight from start to finish. The ‘Rose’ theme, one of my favourite moments in this opera, sounded particularly lovely, perhaps even magical, and if I weren’t far too old and respectable even to consider such a thing, I would certainly have been tempted to stand up in my box and dance along to Baron Ochs’ waltz. Wonderful.
The title translates as ‘rose carrier’, and I can quite understand why this never seems to be translated: the English lexicon, despite its vast size, cannot express the importance of the position in its literal translations, and even ‘rose cavalier’ tends to bring to mind a reliable not particularly romantic car. The role of der Rosenkavalier himself, Octavian, is these days almost always by a mezzo-soprano, and so it was on this occasion. Michelle Breedt gave a riveting performance as the young man: it is easy to imagine how Miss Breedt might perform the role in a staged production. As she sang, one could almost believe it was staged. She was not only very involved in the character of Octavian, and his conflicted feelings for the Marschallin and Sophie, she also had a wonderful way of drawing the other singers into the drama. Miss Breedt was also excellent in those wonderful moments when Octavian is in disguise as a female servant. Even without a costume (she was dressed like the gentlemen), and without the opportunity to walk around the stage as Octavian believes a lady would, the characterisation was nevertheless beautifully defined. Even her singing was lovely in these moments, striking the perfect balance between amusing her audience yet still producing a sound that was musically satisfying.
The Marschallin is a relatively small role, not appearing at all in the second act before making only the briefest of appearances at the end of the third. The story of Octavian and Sophie’s love could in theory have been told without the Marschallin’s appearing at all, although I sincerely hope no director ever attempts such a thing. The Marschallin is undeniably one of the most important characters in the opera, and the opera would be a very different world without her. She appears first on cast lists ostensibly in order of importance, and few would question this. But this means the singer has a very difficult job to do. She needs to have not only a voice but also a stage presence to hold the attention. She needs to be someone who remains at the very least in the back of your mind throughout the quite considerable time she is absent from the stage. Nina Stemme has a great advantage over many Marschallins because her voice has such a distinctive yet almost indefinable quality. When she made her highly acclaimed Glyndebourne debut in the role of Isolde, almost every critic described her voice as ‘gleaming’, and they were absolutely right, but there is much more to her voice than that, and I only wish I could do it full justice. It is a voice that can be very soft, yet will still ride over the orchestra with ease. It is a voice that moves seamlessly and easily, without any impression of moving from one register to another. Miss Stemme also has has, in voice and demeanour, an almost palpable dignity and grace which were ideal for the Marschallin. Perhaps, to some, she might seem a little cool, but for me, while she did not display her emotions outwardly like the other characters, Miss Stemme gave a very strong sense of what she felt.
Sophie is quite the opposite. In Laura Aikin’s interpretation, this was particularly marked. There was sometimes a slight shrillness in Miss Aikin’s higher notes, but this seemed not so much a sign that she was having trouble with the tessutura (most unlikely), but a sign of Sophie’s character. Sophie is impulsive, and very much governed by her emotions, and it is very easy to believe that, under moments of great strain (and most people would feel rather strained when faced with the prospect of marrying Baron Ochs), Sophie’s voice might develop a certain edge. Sophie is fifteen years old and Miss Aikin’s Sophie, despite living in a very different world, has a strong resemblance to some of the young people of that age today.
These are the roles many would consider the three principals, but we must not forget Baron Ochs, who could have been the eponymous character had Richard Strauss and librettist Hugo von Hofmannsthal not decided Octavian would be more a more suitable choice. Alfred Muff was, of course, magnificent in the role. His strong bass goes down easily to the depths of bottom C, and his characterisation was marvelous: delightfully boorish, emphatically not someone one would like to have proposing to one’s daughter, but, at the same time, so entertaining, it was somehow difficult not to feel some affection for the character despite the atrociousness of his behaviour.
One of the best-known names in the cast was that of Piotr Beczala, recently acclaimed for his performance as Lensky in the Royal Opera’s Eugene Onegin. He made what I suppose one would call a cameo appearance as the Italian Singer in this German opera. His appearance adds nothing to the plot, yet the aria is always most enjoyable, particularly when sung as spectacularly as by Mr Beczala. The duplicitous Valzacchi and Annina were wonderfully brought to life by Rudolf Schasching and Kismara Pessati, while Rolf Haunstein gave a very fine performance as poor Herr von Faninal, who, as usual, had my deepest sympathy.
Barry Tone
primi-divi at hotmail.co.uk