Andreas Schager / Reseñas

Musically the evening was in a class by itself, superior even to the previous Festtage performances. The Staatskapelle had reached a state of grace even before the curtain had gone up, with fulsome strings and subtle woodwinds giving way to tidal swells of brass. Daniel Barenboim has always been good at drawing mysterious solemnity from the Vorspiel, but on this evening he achieved something close to perfection. The intensity of those opening moments in the dark of the theatre carried over into the first act, bringing momentum to the action without compromising the spacious tempi and ineffable majesty at the heart of Mr Barenboim’s reading. Gurnemanz’s journey through the backstory proceeded with unerring focus, and his lament for the dead swan was bolstered by a sad luminescence.

Moreover, the grandeur and ambition of work, production, and orchestral performance notwithstanding, not to forget the work of the excellent chorus, there was something winningly intimate, in the opéra comique tradition to what we saw and heard from the singers on stage. That is not to suggest a lack of vocal scale, but simply to point to their convincing performances as characters on stage. If Roman Trekel and Wolfgang Schöne both proved somewhat dry and stiff, the rest of the cast more than compensated. Peter Sonn’s Max was fresh toned, enthusiastic, vulnerable, Falk Struckmann’s Kasper very much his dark, virile antagonist (even, in this context, alter ego?) Anna Samuil gave perhaps the strongest performance I have heard from her as Agathe, exhibiting a fine sense, scenic and vocal, of tragic catastrophe before the last. Anna Prohaska’s more colourful, spirited Ännchen, despatched words and coloratura not only with ease but with intent and meaning. Performed in this new ‘version’ without an interval, the work emerged, Goldilocks-like, just right: neither too short nor too long. That, however, should remain a dark fairy-tale for another day.

Andreas Schager portrays an impressive Tristan, combining vocal endurance with convinced acting. The brilliance of the timbre is exploited in a balanced way, as demonstrated by the smooth transitions between registers, in which the peaks are never shouted and the descent is always well cared for (even after several hours of performance, it maintains refined gradations) . The metaphysical crisis in the third act is a show of vigor, uniting the warmth and roundness of the timbre with impeccable precision, even on the flank of the vocal steepness that reflects the mental state of the character suspended between life and death. Alongside Schager 's Tristan , Barbara Haveman 's Isolde is sometimes in a competitive relationship, sometimes in harmonious collaboration. The assertion of his stage presence is initially quite difficult in the first act, but increases gradually. The timbre is endowed with a double aspect which coexists harmoniously, velvety but also radiant, capable of impregnating itself with gravity when it draws on the expressive nuances of the high register. Despite a few abrupt moments during the climbs, the transitions between the registers generally take care of the balance of the textures and the melodic quality of the voice. The Nuit d'amour borders on the brilliance of that of Tristan in the high register and the long-awaited Liebestod(song of love and death) is delivered with refinement and thoughtful sensitivity down to the last momentum. The silky timbre of Khatuna Mikaberidze in Brangäne is noticed during the Nuit d'amour where she sings from a side box. On stage, she sometimes struggles to free herself from the power of Isolde's timbre, missing the balance between intensity and softness (the low register then disappears into the flow of the orchestra and the intensity comes out too sharp). But the song is otherwise melodious, with soft resonances. Thomas de Vries portrays an imposing Kurwenal as soon as he enters the stage, freeing the character from the stereotyped representations of the “faithful and simple-minded companion”, here uniting his vocal strength with the clarity of his diction. The opaqueness and robustness of its timbre shines through in the third act and complements Tristan's vocal expressiveness. Young Doo Park embodies King Marke with the fullness of his voice and his empathy. The deep and robust timbre resonates with the dignity of the betrayed king, but also in his vulnerability, carefully captured by the richness of the vocal nuances. The low register is particularly solid, and its balanced resonance serves as a pivot for transitions between registers. The rises are refined and at the same time maintain the body of the voice and its flexibility. In the secondary roles, Julian Habermann 's sailor values ​​the transparency and warmth of his timbre to open the opera in a harmonious and delectable way. Yoontaek Rhim 's helmsman is attentive and sensitive to the details of the song, fully aware that his role is important despite his brief stage appearance. Andreas Karasiak convinces in Melot by his vocal expressiveness as well as by his gestures. Erik Biegel in the role of the shepherd maintains the dreamlike dimension of the beginning of the third act and highlights its crystalline timbre, which mixes with its melancholic – and almost supernatural – old melody. The musical direction of Michael Güttler gradually imposes itself as the acts progress. In the first act, the valorization of the colors of the instruments is sometimes confronted with the problem of fragmentation of the sound mass. This is less the case in the second act, where the patience and the care given to the dramatic slowness unfolds in the mid-bass of the strings and their contact with the robust resonance of the brass instruments (notably the trombones). The almost flawless musical accompaniment of the third act makes the strings whisper in a noticeable dramatic moment that sets the stage for the intense episodes to follow. Accompanying Tristan in his delirium, the sound mass is lively and encouraging. The production thus captures the spirit of an inner drama and focuses it on the intensity of the music despite certain stage strategies that shock some. The enthusiastic reaction of most of the spectators, however, goes so far as to maintain their standing ovation, until the very last appearance of the artists on stage.

Viele schöne Operetten gibt es. Doch die unangefochtene Königin aller Operetten, die sich just zum Jahreswechsel immer einen Stammplatz im Programm der großen Opernhäuser der Welt sichert, ist des Wiener Walzerkönigs komödiantische Fledermaus. An der Wiener Staatsoper in einer bewährten, seit 2011 unveränderten Inszenierung des Regisseurs Otto Schenk, die auf ein nostalgisches Bühnenbild und opulent ausschmückende Requisiten setzt, erlebt sich 2021 ein intensiv prickelnder Musikgenuss mit exquisiten Sängerdarstellern in einer grandiosen Besetzung. In überschwänglicher Champagnerlaune, in der die satanische Unterhaltungssucht der Protagonisten in einem Zusammenspiel von Sentimentalitäten, Frivolitäten und einem lockeren Sittenverständnis verwechslungskomödiantisch zu einer großen Blamage führt, geben sich Sängergrößen wie Rachel-Willis Soerensen, Andreas Schager, Christina Bock sowie Vera-Lotte Boecker und Clemens Unterreiner musikalisch im alten Jahr noch die Ehre.