Johan Botha & Eva-Maria Westbroek in the Metropolitan Opera's "Tannhauser" (photo: Marty Sohl) |
It's been a decade or so since the Metropolitan Opera
has revived their production of Wagner's mighty “Tannhäuser”.
It's a favorite of Met Music Director James Levine, so it should be
no surprise that he chose himself as its Conductor. The production by
Otto Schenk is an aging one (almost forty years old in fact) but the
freshness of the singers' voices was what made the day. Since it's
been a while since the Met has presented the opera, perhaps a brief
synopsis might be helpful.
Minnesinger Tannhäuser
(tenor Johan Botha), after a year in the underground realm of Venus,
Goddess of Love, (mezzo-soprano Michelle DeYoung), yearns to return
to the human world, angering Venus. He enlists the aid of the Virgin
Mary and is transported to a valley near Wartburg Castle (in medieval
Germany). After some pilgrims on their way to Rome pass by, a hunting
party of knights known to him and led by the Landgraf Herman (bass
Günther
Groissböck)
arrives. One of them, Wolfram (baritone Peter Mattei), begs him to
return with them, as Tannhäuser's
singing once won him the love of Elisabeth (soprano Eva-Maria
Westbroek), the Landgraf's niece. When Tannhäuser
hears her name, he decides to join them. Back in the Hall of Song in
Wartburg Elisabeth tells Tannhäuser
how she has missed him and the Landgraf declares that love will be
the subject of a song contest, with the winner able to request
anything from Elisabeth. While Wolfram sings of idealized love,
Tannhäuser
sings of more earthly pleasures, ending with a prize song to Venus,
horrifying the guests, which leads to the knights drawing swords
against him. Elisabeth stands between them and begs mercy. Landgraf
decrees that Tannhäuser
may go free but only if he joins the pilgrims headed for Rome to do
penance. At that, Tannhäuser
falls at her feet, then rushes out. Months later, Wolfram finds
Elisabeth praying at a shrine as a band of pilgrims passes her on
their way back from Rome. Since Tannhäuser
isn't among them, she prays that the Virgin Mary receive her into
heaven. A lone pilgrim arrives; it is Tannhäuser.
Having been told by the Pope that he could no more be forgiven than
the papal staff sprout green growth again, he summons Venus, though
Wolfram brings him to his senses by mentioning the name of Elisabeth.
At that very moment, her funeral procession is wending its way past
him and Venus cries out and disappears. Begging Elisabeth to pray for
him in heaven, he collapses and dies. As dawn arises, another group
of pilgrims passes, spreading the news of a miracle: the Pope's
staff, which they are carrying, has blossomed.
The singing was exquisite, including DeYoung and
Westbroek, but it was the male singers who truly shone. Botha was
magnificent, as was Mattei, and even the mezzo shepherd solo by Ying
Fang was memorable. Levine's love for the piece was evident in his
wonderfully nuanced conducting. The Chorus under Chorusmaster Donald
Palumbo once again stole the show. The Set Design was by Gunther
Schneider-Siemssen, with the Costume Design by Patricia Zipprodt, the
dark Lighting Design by Gil Wechsler and the Choreography by Norbert
Vesak.
It was a marathon outing for both performers and
musicians, not to mention the audience, a solid five hours, but worth
every minute of it.
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