What is obvious throughout, and what I think those early appreciative audiences got right away (though not, it seems, the critics - ha!) is that the composer is utterly in control of his craft. The drama of the music, in the music, is unrelenting, from huge gestures to the tiniest nuance. It's odd trying to cite moments, as there are so many of them, but just one: the music preceding the emergence of Jokanaan from the cistern has an extraordinary power. The horns sound Wagnerian, but they blend in to the texture in a way that avoids Wagnerian triumphalism and vulgarity and create a sense of something akin to the numinous, exactly right for the genuine prophetic power of Jokanaan's first and only appearance on stage. When we hear him sing without the odd halo effect that has accompanied his disembodied voice earlier it's a genuine shock to the ears. I loved that, just one moment out of many.
But the question is whether Strauss gets beyond the dramatic spectacle, the wonderful moments, to say anything of real worth. I'm still not too sure. It's easy to understand why early audiences, in Freudian times, would have thrilled to the underlying - well, in truth, more than that - I suppose the overlying, overt sexuality of the opera, but it's in danger of slipping into bathos in a post-Freudian age. There are moments you can imagine having a bit of a giggle at the over-heatedness of it all.
I must say though, the version I've been listening to pulls it off, I think, with the brilliance of the voices which are just so right, so perfectly characterised that they draw the listener, this one anyway, into the steaminess and convince you these are real people suffering out there. Funnily enough I thought I'd blundered when I got the CDs home as I'd bought the set on spec, trusting to the fact that this version is conducted by Sir Charles Mackerras and I know he's highly regarded. I overlooked the information, clearly marked on the sleeve, that the recording is in English translation. This suggested to me some lack of authenticity - and I like reading a translation as I listen to stuff in the original language. However, as far as I can tell, the English seems to work well and the experience of listening directly to opera I could immediately grasp has proved rather refreshing. The main point is though that the singing is so good on the disk that I'm deeply in love with it and wouldn't trade it for another. Herod, sung by John Graham-Hall, is sensational, sort of funny and chilling at the same time, beautifully contrasted to the power, almost glory, of John Wegner's Jokanaan. And Susan Bullock's Salome won me over as soon as I listened closely - though I'll admit my first reaction was too fruity - before I got my ears tuned in. (I'm always like that with the female voice in opera though - I mean the too fruity bit. I suppose it's my upbringing.)
It would be interesting to catch a performance on stage, but pace Trebuchet, I don't think a production would need to strive to be overly spectacular. In some ways this is a bit of a chamber opera - despite a huge orchestra. A lot of scenes reduce to two key voices and there's no chorus as such, no attempt to create a sense of the community of Herod's court, as far as I can tell. Strauss is more interested in the (twisted) psychology of the individual and you can get at that with minimal props. I suppose this is why it works well simply on disk - the spectacle is in the music.
Isn't it great, by the way, that there are performers of this level of talent (the word seems inadequate somehow) making material like this so readily available? I mean the playing, the singing, the whole thing is just so darned good.
No comments:
Post a Comment