THE
LOS ANGELES OPERA STAGES A “TANNHAUSER” LONG ON NUDITY AND
SEX
Richard
Wagner had already composed Lohengrin, Das Rheingold, Die Walkure, a
portion of Siegfried, and all of Tristan und Isolde, when he staged
his latest masterpiece, “Tannhauser”, in the Hoftheater
of Dresden on October 19, 1845.
Thirty-nine years later, it was “Tannhauser” that was to
inaugurate the German regime at the New York’s Metropolitan Opera
House on November 17, 1884.
The
so-called Paris version of the opera, deemed a dismal failure because
of intrigue and interference, and for which Wagner found the opportunity
to make certain revisions he had cradled in his mind, was heard at The
Met on January 30, 1889.
The
Los Angeles Opera, once again adhering more strongly to the axiom that
it craves to be an appendix of Hollywood, produced a Tannhauser that
was long on nudity (female frontal views were covered only by thongs)
and raunchy sex than a respectable spectable of a story adorned with
great instrumental and vocal music.
No,
we are not prudes in the truest sense, but the spectacle of nearly all
nude female and male bodies writhing on the stage in various sexual
positions (supposedly to illustrate the frenzied passions of Venusberg)
is not to our liking since it detracts from truly appreciating Wagner’s
lofty musical gifts.
Nudity
and sex do not belong on the operatic stage, especially since the story
calls for languorous youths, who urged on by the enticement of nymphs,
lead in a wild dance that grows even more riotous as it progresses.
Stripping
to the bare skin and raw sex cause coarse distortions and unwanted shock
to family values when presented on the operatic stage. To continue on
in this vein would be saying farewell to growth and development since
no paterfamilias, no matter how degenerate, would be willing to indoctrinate
his young children in the beauty of opera when it is thusly defamed.
But
no, stage director Ian Judge could not resist the temptation of creating
a monster of carnal dissipation and raunchiness on a fabric of metaphors.
No!
And
Set and Costume Designer Gottfried Pilz could not avoid to use revolving
walls of tall doors, adapted from a Salzburg Festival production of
Mozart’s “The Abduction from the Seraglio”, to further
aggravate the fragility on which this particular “Tannhauser”
was built.
Outside
of the above objections, the opera itself has all the accoutrements
to coat it with brilliant colors: splendid and glorious orchestral music
which Music Director James Conlon ably and characteristically extracted
from the Los Angeles Opera Orchestra most of the time, strong choral
forces of Maestro William Vendice which on the particular evening we
attended nobly rose to the occasion, and reputable singers who, by addressing
their roles with high degrees of diligence, could tip the scales successfully
in favor of Wagner’s masterpiece.
Tenor
Peter Seiffert, a mustachioed big man who fatigues as an actor, may
be heading downhill vocally. He labored in the first act with the tessitura,
and even though he redeemed himself partially towards the end of the
opera, he had to muster every ounce of savvy and courage to paint the
figure of the otherwise touching protagonist who seeks redemption.
Much
better, and far more distictive, both vocally and figuratively, the
Elizabeth of Austrian soprano Petra-Maria Schnitzer, who invested the
role of Elizabeth with warmth and ardor.
Less
so but also attractive the Venus of mezzo-soprano Lioba Braun.
It is unusual and a rarity indeed that a sextet of secondary singers
(in importance related to the story) can be better than the main protagonists.
But it happened in “Tannhauser”.
In
lyric baritone Martin Gantner we found an ideal Wolfran von Eschenbach.
His voice is natural, pleasant sounding and replete with suavity.
And
to a degree so are bass Franz-Josef Selig (Hermann), baritone Jason
Stearns as Biterolf, tenor Rodrick Dixon as Walther von der Vogelweide,
tenor Robert McNeil as Heinrich der Schreiber, and baritone Christoph
Feigum as Reinsmar von Zweter. All five are disciplined, they acted
their respective role with aplomb and diligence, and all six, especially
Herr Gantner, reaped the considerable and well-earned public’s
plaudits.
The
voice of the Shepherd belonged to Karen Vuong, and the Four Noble Pages
were depicted by Leslie Dennis, Renee Sousa, Sara Campbell and Michelle
Fournier.
Lighting
Designer Mark Doubleday bathed the first scene in the vivid red worn
also by sexual participants as he should have.
Luigi
Smaldino