Music Triumphs in Tannhäuser

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For those who can’t (or won’t) see the forest of an opera for the trees of performance minutiae, here’s the word about the San Francisco Opera’s new production of Wagner’s Tannhäuser that opened on Tuesday night: Donald Runnicles’ Opera Orchestra and Ian Robertson’s Opera Chorus give a magnificent account of the music, which is among Wagner’s most sweeping and bewitching.

Runnicles and General Manager David Gockley have assembled an outstanding cast for this, the first new production of Gockley’s 20-month-old intendancy. And the cast delivered the goods, in an ensemble performance of international stars, the likes of which has not been heard in these parts for some time.

The Paris Version: Opera to Dance

However demanding and difficult the opera may be vocally and instrumentally, this tale of the 13th-century minstrel torn between Venus’ earthly and “sinful” love and Elisabeth’s idealized and redemptive love is a near-impossible bear when it comes to staging, particularly the 1861 Paris version with its extended ballet scene.

On that point, Graham Vick’s overbusy, occasionally just plain silly, direction will be discussed (and derided) heatedly. Attention-diverting production excesses, especially the primitive overuse of awkward missionary positions, seem close to some of those under Gockley’s predecessor, Pamela Rosenberg.

There is a wealth of greatness squeezed in the four hours that unfortunately opens with a ballet that’s a mix of Pina Bausch, Greco-Roman wrestling, and a Groucho Marx routine, and ends with little boys emerging from the stage floor as if in a prairie dog hunting game. But music, the essential component of the evening, triumphs over it all, making the stage monkey business almost immaterial. Runnicles’ customarily outstanding direction of Wagner holds true here, with rock-solid tempos, balances, sterling support for the voices, and wonderful control of the many climactic passages where he avoids “burping” the orchestra, and presents powerful, convincing, steady high points instead.

The Opera Chorus, handicapped by Vick’s requirement to wave arms, roll on the floor, and act ecstatic or possessed at the most inappropriate moments, gave a memorably solid, beautiful performance, holding back (for good or ill) from blowing the walls down when it had the chance.

Peter Seiffert as Tannhäuser

All photos by Terrence McCarthy

Peter Seiffert — a large man and no actor — was vocally sensational in the title role, fulfilling the dual and conflicting requirements of heroic and lyric tenor. His “Rome Narrative” was powerful, if rather dry. Warmth and beauty, on the other hand, characterized Petra Maria Schnitzer’s Elisabeth. Vocally and dramatically, she gave a true star performance, most notably in the difficult third act, when she created an affecting “female Parsifal,” waiting for Tannhäuser in vain. Mezzo Petra Lang was the bold Venus, singing well, but not quite at her best.

Petra Maria Schnitzer as Elisabeth and Petra Lang as Venus

The young English baritone James Rutherford made a memorable San Francisco debut as Wolfram, with a meaningful, moving “Song to the Evening Star.” All the principals, except for Eric Halfvarson’s mighty Landgrave (and fine horsemanship atop the white quarter horse Alloy), had their local debut in this production.

James Rutherford as Wolfram von Eschenbach

Vocally, one of the most striking performances of the evening came from a young singer in a three-minute role. After being forced to sit motionless on stage for almost an hour, Adler Fellow Ji Young Yang sang the Shepherd’s aria with affecting brilliance, exhibiting both musical intelligence and peerless communication of emotions. When she sang of the sun’s warmth (”da strahlte warm die Sonnen”), you could feel the bright light, the nourishing heat. Yang is an extraordinary talent.

Ji Young Yang

Corybantic, Frenzied Orgy

Ron Howell’s choreography for Venusberg — women in long, clinging white shifts, men naked to the waist — was angular, clinically (and unsuccessfully) sexual, and altogether distracting from some of the most sensual music ever written. The Opera’s program notes decried productions with “unfortunate (and justly parodied) exaggerations … cheap eroticism and a kind of corybantic, danced Kama Sutra” of the scene — and wound up describing perfectly what took place in the War Memorial.

The Final Scene of Tannhäuser

Stage directors have forever tried to “improve” on Elisabeth’s quiet, offstage death as she is sacrificing her life for Tannhäuser’s salvation. Vick’s direction on that point will cause much controversy, but in fact it makes sense, while remaining true to the meaning of the text. In a kind of assisted suicide, Wolfram reluctantly, gently, lovingly snaps Elisabeth’s neck when she begs for death, and he goes on to sing to the Evening Star: “Wie Todesahnung, Dämm’rung deckt die Lande … ” (As a presentiment of death, twilight covers the land).

Paul Brown’s stage design uses a hangarlike unit set, with large windows. Opulent costumes enhance all the scenes, as well. But Brown and Vick are provoking the audience to shout “fire!” in a crowded theater by using gallons of propane, which flares for long periods as a large circle on the ground and as branches of a tree.

Just how crowded was the theater? A startling fact from opening night, and something clearly indicating what a tough row Gockley must hoe to attract audiences back to the War Memorial: In this once Wagner-mad town, on the opening night of a major new Wagner production, the second balcony — with its affordable seats and best acoustic in the house — was half empty. Wagner fans, opera lovers: You don’t know what you’re missing.

Janos Gereben (janosg@gmail.com) is a regular contributor to San Francisco Classical Voice.

Comments

I am in complete agreement with Janos’s comments about Tannhauser. The music was transcendent, but the staging was overindulgant and unnecessarily vulgar. I too felt embarrassment for the male choristers.
I’d like to add a note of praise for Matthew O’Neill, an Adler fellow, whose voice soared in the small role of Heinrich der Schreiber. I kept wishing he had a bigger part–I hope we’ll hear more from him.

When I go again next week, I’ll keep my eyes closed and avoid the discomfort.

Posted by Elsa Tranter on September 19, 2007 at 3:16 pm
Dear Editor,
On the whole, I found that there was very much to enjoy about the San Francisco Opera Tannhäuser - on the musical front. However, the ballet, nearly always the weakest feature of San Francisco Opera, was downright awful. The gyrations, contortions and body slamming was anything but sensual and if it was meant to represent fertility rites - I would anticipate immediate crop failure and population declines. It was a pity to hear the most sensual, erotic, sex-charged music imaginable staged as Druid/WWF Wrestling match.
The director’s feeble probing of the early childhood of Tannhäuser was ludicrous(voyeruism & purification)and detracted to further the storyline. The vain attempt to tie this together with the Pilgrims’ salvation, by having pure sweet boys pop up from the earth like so many little daisies, was laughable.
But the singing of Sieffert and Schnitzer as the doomed couple, now that was heaven on earth.
Best regards

Posted by Terri Stuart on September 19, 2007 at 4:06 pm
I found this production arresting in part because of the ballet sections. Wagner’s mode of overdetermination, of making every aspect of the opera point to a single moment with thematic impact, asks us to integrate as much as possible into the obvious moment in this opera, Tannauser’s redemption. The innovations of this production, as I experienced it, were to deny both Venus and God as potential causes. The Act I ballet, a parody of fulfillment whose very length and repetition intimates failure of consummation, reinforces half of this equation by rendering the bacchanal infertile, a visual dessert, that the flesh is not just weak, but empty. The second and third acts in effect deny God as an instrument of Tannhauser’s redemption. I do not know how many other productions have Wolfram slicing the throat of Elizabeth, but it surely removes the ethereal from her death. As I saw it, Tannhauser finds peace only once he realizes that he has lost the one thing that actually produces love; that is, being loved, not by God, but by Elizabeth. Tannhauser redeems himself. For what its worth, I would add the odd use of the tree and the equally odd movement of the harp on stage (the ironic stand-in for art, also incapable of producing redemption) as contributing gestures.

Posted by Kim Maxwell on October 4, 2007 at 8:54 am