Posts Tagged ‘Munich’

Festive Sides

Friday, August 29th, 2014

West relief and mosaic tympana of the National Theater in Munich

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: August 29, 2014

MUNICH — Staged works and the legendary Lied evenings hold the limelight here at the annual Opernfestspiele, begun 139 years ago. But veins of chamber music and, since 2008, choral programming run through the five-week schedule, lending scope and affirming organizer Bayerische Staatsoper’s depth of musicianship. The chamber offerings can be hit or miss, depending on the precise collaborations of Staatsorchester members and their scores; string trios on July 24 proved a hit. The choral initiatives attempt to thread back to the company’s 16th-century roots as a Kantorei, drawing on Staatsopernchor members passionate about church repertory; Rossini’s Petite messe solennelle on July 23 proved a stretch.

David Schultheiß (violin), Adrian Mustea (viola) and Allan Bergius (cello) teamed collegially at the ornate Cuvilliés Theater. Their nervous way with Beethoven’s C-Minor Trio from Opus 9 left the 1798 piece sounding brittle and oddly pale, but in Dohnányi’s charming, unpredictable, five-movement Serenade in C (1902) things shifted into vibrant high gear underpinned by Bergius (who once had another career), peaking in the chromatically salted Scherzo. Mozart’s E-flat Divertimento, K563 (1788), with its searching Adagio and rich minuet movements, served as flattering vehicle for the stylish and technically assured work of Schultheiß, one of the orchestra’s concertmasters. Mustea’s unusually resonant viola, here and throughout, provided a firm sense of ensemble and ensured a memorable night.

The 1863 Mass was a feasible festival choice for the reborn “Münchner Hofkantorei,” not needing an orchestra. Even so, its ironic jolts and the matter of choral direction versus leadership by the principal piano tended to defeat efforts at the Court Church of All Saints. Staatsopernchor member Wolfgang Antesberger aptly paced the score and directed robust performances of the Gloria and Credo choruses. But Rossini leaves much of the initiative to the first pianist, requiring bold propulsion and phrasing that Sophie Raynaud at times lacked, although her Prélude religieux took good shape. Solo singing varied widely in quality and approach.

Photo © Wilfried Hösl

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Blacher Channels Maupassant

Monday, July 7th, 2014

Blacher’s Die Flut at the Reithalle in Munich

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: July 7, 2014

MUNICH — It was standing room only for Die Flut yesterday (July 6). Not only was Boris Blacher’s 1946 radio opera sold out, but the audience was expected to stand or stroll through it, as directed by Aernout Mik at a former riding hall here. Improbably part of Bavarian State Opera’s summer festival, the event introduced conductor Oksana Lyniv, the attractive new assistant to Kirill Petrenko.

Blacher might not normally draw a big crowd, but we live in visual times and “video-installation artist” Mik has a following. Hiring him must have seemed a safe bet: he could do whatever he wanted to enhance a work conceived for radio. Sadly he brought only distractions.

Visual cues abound in Die Flut, which reworks an 1885 nouvelle by Guy de Maupassant, L’épave (The Wreck), about an insurance appraiser who journeys from Paris to the endless sandbanks of the Île de Ré where a claimant’s boat has run aground an hour’s walk out from shore. The appraiser approaches the wreck:

Elle semblait sortir du sol et prenait, sur cette immense étendue plate et jaune, des proportions surprenantes. Je l’atteignis enfin, après une heure de marche. Elle gisait sur le flanc, crevée, brisée, montrant, comme les côtes d’une bête, ses os rompus, ses os de bois goudronné, percés de clous énormes. Le sable déjà l’avait envahie, entré par toutes les fentes, et il la tenait, la possédait, ne la lâcherait plus. Elle paraissait avoir pris racine en lui.

But Bay of Biscay tides, he has been warned, need rise only centimeters to cut him off. And sure enough he winds up surrounded by rising water and expecting to die as night descends — in the company of others, as it turns out, including an 18-year-old girl who is feeling cold.

Heinz von Cramer’s postwar German libretto for Blacher is the shrewdest of adaptations, retaining the salty scene and perilous sandbanks while exploring through modified roles some harsher effects of the sense of imminent death.

Cramer’s appraiser is a wealthy banker (Der alte Bankier, bass Miklós Sebestyén) who fatally tries offering cash to fellow tide victims (Der Fischer, baritone Tim Kuypers, and Der junge Mann, tenor Dean Power) if they would only swim ashore for help. His money, tellingly, proves irrelevant as the water rises, supreme as it recedes. And then there is the girl (Das Mädchen, soprano Iulia Maria Dan).

Mik missed it all. His contribution, trite mini-movies of rescues and rituals looping incessantly on screens over our heads, appeared canned, as if the director had merely used the occasion to showcase unrelated pre-existing work. He failed to set Maupassant’s remarkable scene or exploit its potential.

The action itself proved intense, though, partly because the four protagonists were confined to a platform, along with a commenting chorus and the instrumentalists (a dozen members each from the Bavarian State Opera Chorus and Bavarian State Orchestra). This shunted slowly from one end of the 80-yard hall to the other, and back, as the story unfolded, while two dozen mimes mingled with the fluid audience, gesturing in sync with each mini-movie.

Blacher’s mostly tonal 40-minute score for the singers, five wind instruments and string quintet (augmented to a septet yesterday) places passion in the voices but irony in the jaunty, blues-tinged, light-textured accompaniment. It is alas not especially original or memorable.

Lyniv secured eloquent, vivid performances. Dan, Power, Kuypers and Sebestyén projected desperation, resignation, envy, surprise or relief, as required. For reasons unclear, certain sections of the opera were played twice, to altered dramaturgy, stretching the runtime beyond an hour. A tape of the Prologue from the original 1946 broadcast lent authenticity.

Photo © Wilfried Hösl

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Verdi’s Lady Netrebko

Saturday, June 28th, 2014

Simon Keenlyside and Anna Netrebko at Bavarian State Opera

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: June 28, 2014

MUNICH — Verdi’s Macbeth is back, for its eighth run in six years at Bavarian State Opera, this time to open the dressy Opernfestspiele. The production’s giant chandelier, plastic sheeting, silly tent and field of skulls are now globally familiar, even if they don’t exactly transport us to 11th-century Scotland. Ditto its unison cast whizz during the witches’ Act III Incantation, made possible by a reverse diaper process and plastic tubes. Obsession still trumps oppression (or patriotism or tyranny), as stage director Martin Kušej in 2008 saw the tale. Mute kid supers still enact the witches. Just don’t look for a heath, castle, cave or Dunsinane Hill.

The dramatic instincts and opulent tones of Anna Netrebko as Lady Macbeth ignited last evening’s performance (June 27). After a 3½-month break from staged opera, the soprano brought voice to burn to this role debut and had apparently been expertly tutored for it. Her sound, often ingolato, correlated little with her 2012 Giulietta or 2011 Adina here, but power and a new exploitation of her rich chest voice riveted the ear. Stage skills found her reveling in the excesses of the character without descending to caricature.

She read the letter at the start with Italianate declamation and fresh point. Vieni! T’affretta! and both verses of Or tutti, sorgete paraded the value of a plush timbre skillfully deployed. She sailed over the orchestra and ensemble in a thrilling Act I Finale — Schiudi, inferno, la bocca, ed inghiotti nel tuo grembo l’intero creato being precisely what Hell should do with this staging — and rode other climaxes with comparable apparent ease. Act II brought contrast. After a chilling La luce langue, she mustered a series of expressive, varied trills and strong coloratura for the banquet, Salva, o rè! … Si colmi il calice, flatly defying expectations. She conveyed tameness and defeat in the Sonnambulismo, which in Kušej’s concept involves no walking, and invested Verdi’s last phrase with pathetic charm, touching the D-flat and then plunging with rounded certainty to “ndiam,” albeit in something greater than the stipulated fil di voce.

Simon Keenlyside tried hard as Macbeth, a role he has already documented. He observed the musical values of the part and summoned as much heft and intensity, fury and volatility, as his lyric baritone would permit, preserving beauty of tone. He paired credibly, magnetically, with Netrebko and faced the Act II ghost and Act III apparitions with reasonable histrionic flair, dumb dramaturgy notwithstanding. But he never resembled a killer or hesitant dope. Wisely, he saved his best till last, finding dignity and power for Perfidi! All’anglo contro me v’unite! … Pietà, rispetto, amore. He was singing this next to and over the body of his queen when, awkwardly, the news of her death arrived.

If the misdemeanor of this Macbeth is having the cast pee on stage, its felony is forcing Verdi’s witches to sing from the wings. Pushed out of focus and balance, the Bavarian State Opera Chorus toiled and failed to give the opening Che faceste? dite su! its thrilling edge. And so it was for the Incantation, the Apparizioni and the chorus Ondine e silfidi, music dear to the composer’s scheme. When they weren’t being witches, though, the Sören Eckhoff-trained choristers achieved precise and penetrating results. Joseph Calleja rang tenorial rafters with Macduff’s Ah, la paterna mano, the dynamic details well executed. Ildar Abdrazakov’s firm but agile bass delivered Banco’s Come dal ciel precipita in ominous shades, before the character’s swift hoisting by the ankles and exsanguination, as Kušej has it. The Bavarian State Orchestra mustered warm lyrical playing that could turn dazzlingly martial where required, under Paolo Carignani’s idiomatic if measured command. His reading suggested exceptional thoroughness of preparation, as if a certain other maestro had provided background guidance.

Photo © Wilfried Hösl

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MPhil Vacuum: Maazel Out

Thursday, June 12th, 2014

Lorin Maazel

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: June 12, 2014

MUNICH — Lorin Maazel, 84, has quit the post of Chefdirigent of the Munich Philharmonic, according to a statement this morning by this city’s Kulturreferat, the government entity responsible for the orchestra. Reasons of health were cited. The news follows several weeks of concert cancellations by the American maestro, who is at present in Virginia. No plans were immediately revealed for the many affected conducting slots in the remainder of what was an agreed three-year tenure through August 2015.

The abandonment leaves MPhil authorities with more egg on their faces. Their rift with Christian Thielemann, causing the revered German conductor’s departure as Generalmusikdirektor in 2011, remains a matter of dismay and irritation for many in this community, and their controversial hire of Valery Gergiev as Maazel’s successor for five seasons, to 2020, has already brought embarrassment. Maazel’s interregnum, as he himself saw it, was supposed to be something of a safe bet.

Photo © Wild und Leise

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Rechenberg on Dupré’s Chemin

Thursday, May 22nd, 2014

Helene von Rechenberg

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: May 22, 2014

MUNICH — Composer first, virtuoso second. That, increasingly, is history’s view of Marcel Dupré, the long-lived, globe-trotting Frenchman whose suite Le Chemin de la Croix received a fluent and technically assured performance on Palm Sunday (April 13) from Munich organist Helene von Rechenberg.

The hour-long score follows the sequence of fourteen Stations standard in the Roman Church since the 17th century and widely depicted in the arts, from the sentencing of Jesus to his entombment. Their scriptural basis is partial. Dupré quickly establishes color and emotion in each piece. Encounters with Simon of Cyrene and Veronica summon dreaminess, unreality. The 3rd, 7th and 9th Stations, when Jesus falls, form a plodding dark thread that is never literal; Jésus tombe pour la troisième fois, a march, swirls turbulently.

It was a February 1932 Brussels Conservatory reading of Paul Claudel’s 1911 versets of the same title that led to Dupré’s work, his Opus 29, initially “improvisations” for that event. In finished form, contrarily, the absence of words probably heightens the composition’s eloquence, and Graham Steed has suggested Dupré’s inspiration was essentially visual. Liszt’s vocal and more concise Via Crucis of 1879 offers contrast, not always in Liszt’s favor.

As played by Rechenberg on the excellent Sandtner organ at St Joseph’s Church in Tutzing, south of here on Lake Starnberg, the opening and closing pieces had a roused, tense profile, buttressing the suite: Jésus est condamné à être crucifié an expression of outrage framed by slow, halting sections; and Le corps de Jésus est mis au tombeau, the longest piece at about seven minutes, a progression from noble simplicity through quiet percussive measures to a rising, bright, quiet close. Trained in Freiburg and with Michael Radulescu in Vienna, Rechenberg consistently found satisfying weight and shape for phrases, in music that is less dense than much of her repertory.

Dupré himself performed Le Chemin de la Croix yearly at Saint-Sulpice in Paris, where he was director of music until his death, at 85, in 1971. The work has since gained a following through recordings and is played during Lent on both sides of the Atlantic, although its length and the need for completeness preclude a routine place on recital programs. It is related in subject matter to Dupré’s four-movement Symphonie-Passion, notated in 1924 as Opus 23 but improvised three years earlier on Macy’s 28,000-pipe organ in Philadelphia. The virtuoso gave close to 300 recitals in the United States.

Photo © unknown

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Gergiev Undissuaded

Tuesday, May 20th, 2014

Valery Gergiev at Munich Rathaus in 2013

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: May 20, 2014

MUNICH — In a rambling, two-page “personal statement” to Munich Philharmonic subscribers made public today (May 20), Valery Gergiev stressed the role of music as bridge-builder and affirmed his now divisive assumption of the post of Chefdirigent of the orchestra, effective in fall 2015.

The statement covers a grab bag of topics, from Realpolitik to the Russian Orthodox faith, from Mariinsky Theater duties to a Munich Stravinsky cycle, from Glinka’s Europeanization of Russian music to recent Ukraine “events.” Coyly, it acknowledges that “future political developments could give rise to problems.”

One bizarre paragraph refers to the Russian people’s continuing support for “taboos that have not applied in Western countries for many years,” presumably a reference to non-advances in human rights. “With respect to my personal stance,” it states, “there is no one in my ensemble and team who could accuse me of anything. One of my most important principles is respect for others and their personal lives.”

This effort by Gergiev was in part an outcome of a politically forced meeting he had with the orchestra’s Intendant Paul Müller and the City of Munich’s Kulturreferent Hans-Georg Küppers three days ago (May 17) in Linz during a Mariinsky Orchestra visit to Austria. The encounter had been expected to take place in Munich late this week when the touring Russians arrive here, and it may have been moved up (and away) to refract attention.

Photo © 2013 Wild und Leise

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Bolshoi Orchestra Stops By

Saturday, May 17th, 2014

Alan Buribayev

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: May 17, 2014

MUNICH — Something has happened to Moscow’s Bolshoi Orchestra. Perhaps steady funding? It has lost its old woolly sound, judging from an April 9 Bell’Arte tour stop here at the Gasteig, and found another: a gleaming, uniformly virtuosic persona that commands attention.

Vassily Sinaisky, overseer of this transformation, curiously lost his job as Bolshoi music director last December after clashing with front-office boss Vladimir Urin, and he was replaced at lightning speed by Tugan Sokhiev. Although less dramatic than the infamous acid attack, the sudden switch deserved more attention than it got, not least as an exemplar for slow search committees.

In any case, Sokhiev could not take on last month’s nine-city Middle Europe tour, and duties fell instead to the perky Alan Buribayev (pictured), principal conductor of Dublin’s RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra. Program backbone: Dvořák’s Cello Concerto and D-Major Sixth Symphony. Results: mixed.

The Kazakh maestro and the soloist, Mischa Maisky, conspicuous in a saggy mustard jacket, ran breathlessly through the concerto’s first movement but better paced the rest. The Adagio sailed along on Maisky’s full ripe tone and graceful phrasing. The Finale gelled well enough that the composer’s key modulations and guileful dynamic markings could work their wonders, capped by a potent last solo crescendo and an emphatic Allegro vivo.

Buribayev beat time energetically through the symphony but, released from the need to accompany, appeared short on ideas. The Furiant sections of the Scherzo came off best. Elsewhere, eloquent woodwind contributions mitigated a loud-or-louder, inflexible reading.

Photo © Simon van Boxtel

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Honeck Honors Strauss

Friday, April 11th, 2014

Manfred Honeck

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: April 11, 2014

MUNICH — Watching Manfred Honeck lead the Munich Philharmonic in Strauss last Sunday (April 6), a question came to mind. Why isn’t this the man replacing Lorin Maazel next year?

With refreshing conviction and broad arm gestures à la Carlos Kleiber, Honeck drew polished performances from the orchestra in three contrasted scores; the horns played dazzlingly. He waltzed with shrewd abandon through the 1944 Rosenkavalier-Suite, injecting drama and nailing Artur Rodziński’s (or is it really Strauss’s?) hearty coda. He elegantly accompanied in the Vier letzte Lieder (1948) as Anja Harteros painted the words and sent ravishing soprano tones around the acoustically deficient Gasteig hall. Perfect flute trills graced Im Abendrot. If her consonants did not always project, blame the architect. After the break, the Pittsburgh-based conductor richly indulged the melodies of Ein Heldenleben (1898), a work he played in Vienna under Kleiber 21 years ago, and he managed its counterpoint to gripping effect. Sreten Krstič’s sweet and poised but light-bodied solo violin fit in neatly. The MPhil will repeat the program tomorrow in New York, where Fabio Luisi conducts.

Photo © Felix Broede

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Kaufmann, Wife Separate

Thursday, April 10th, 2014

Bamboo grove at Hokokuji Temple near Kamakura, Japan

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: April 10, 2014

MUNICH — Local tenor Jonas Kaufmann and his wife, mezzo-soprano Margarete Joswig, have jointly announced their separation. The musicians began their careers in the middle 1990s. Both sang early on for the Saarländisches Staatstheater and at the Brahms Days festival in Tutzing, just south of here. They have three children. Kaufmann sings Schubert’s Winterreise today in Prague.

Photo © unknown

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Gergiev, Munich’s Mistake

Wednesday, April 9th, 2014

Valery Gergiev signs contract at Astana Opera in April 2014

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: April 9, 2014

MUNICH — Not a week goes by here now without media mention of Valery Gergiev. The musical friend of Vladimir Putin and, more to the point, high-profile employee-to-be of the City of Munich inspires comment even in modest suburban newspapers. Many want his alarmingly long contract (2015–20) shredded.

But the Russian maestro was already a rotten choice as Chefdirigent of the tax-payer-funded, city-run Munich Philharmonic before Putin upset Pink List politicians over human rights and the Green Party over Crimea.

His repertory limitations, his work habits and his first loyalties all portend a discordant, creatively stunted tenure during which Munich, despite its €800,000-a-year* wage, has no hope of being the artist’s top priority. If not shredded, the contract of Feb. 2013 should certainly be adjusted.

Gergiev is globally known from his base at St Petersburg’s Mariinsky Theater, where he operates a network of répétiteurs and conducting assistants who extend brand “Gergiev” beyond the physical and temporal limits of one person.

Seven days ago, for instance, he entered a principal guest conductor agreement (pictured) with Astana Opera, the expensively housed company of Nursultan Nazarbayev in the flat and flashy Kazakh capital.

Munich’s old and Astana’s new money follows Gergiev earnings at the London Symphony Orchestra, where his stint as principal conductor (2007–15) resembles good preparation for the job here.

But London’s one-night, one-program pattern suits the Russian’s lickety-split scheduling better than Munich’s (American-style) weekly program iterations. Example: he is this week able to dart to New York for a Strauss concert between two different LSO Scriabin programs three days apart.

As one MPhil insider earnestly phrased it last December, peripatetic Gergiev “must reinvent himself” so that he can stay in one place, with one program and one group of musicians, for a whole workweek, build partnerships through rehearsals he himself leads, and mine the interpretive depths.

Good luck with that. And the reinventing would need to extend to repertory: Munich concertgoers enjoy their Slavic diversions but expect passionate leadership in Beethoven, Brahms and Bruckner. Alas, in 25 years as a star, Gergiev has acquired no reputation in these composers. Ditto for Haydn, Mozart, Schubert, Schumann and Mendelssohn.

“It’s political,” everyone says, when asked why Gergiev was chosen. They mean he was chosen by city politicians — not friends of Putin, of course, but people whose collective knowledge and consensus thinking permit little beyond the purchase of a big name, which Gergiev undeniably is.

In their wisdom, in 2009, they “lost” the MPhil’s hot-property Generalmusikdirektor Christian Thielemann, and followed up in 2010 by replacing him with the jaded Lorin Maazel (for 2012–15). Decline has followed.

The politicians do not decide unaided, however. A consulting board called the Philharmonische Rat liaises between the orchestra’s Intendant Paul Müller and Munich’s city council, which approves budgets and major contracts. The Rat includes councilors, orchestra members, Müller, and Hans-Georg Küppers, the city’s Kulturreferent. If nothing else, processes are peaceful. The recent difficulties in Minneapolis and San Diego cannot be imagined here.

Ironically, while Rat members can speak freely, Gergiev is expected to constrain his speech — not weigh in on matters like Crimea that needn’t concern a Moscow-born Ossetian based in St Petersburg — and acquire the diplomatic tact of a City of Munich employee, a world-roaming cultural ambassador whose every move and view will reflect on Munich, Bavaria and Germany.

Predictably he hasn’t. By hailing the Crimea change, even in his current status as an MPhil guest, he may have done more to curtail his Munich future than any problem of scheduling or repertory weakness could have.

The Green Party on Mar. 27 forced instructions to Küppers and Müller: chat with the maestro during his next visit, bitte, and illuminate the boundary between free speech and employee discretion.

They can try. Gergiev is in town next month with his beloved Mariinsky Orchestra. More productive, though, would be a chat that dilutes the publicly signed Chefdirigent deal into a guesting plan like Astana’s. Time remains on Maazel’s contract to research and court a more suitable replacement, allowing Gergiev to remain Gergiev, and Munich to savor the scores he leads best. Without the negative attention.

[*The salary reportedly paid to Christian Thielemann, whose title indicated a slightly loftier position. The incumbent, Lorin Maazel, is Chefdirigent, as was James Levine before Thielemann.]

Photo © Astana Opera

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