Classical Music

Although he is best known for his innovative operas and iconic music dramas, Richard Wagner maintained a keen interest in symphonic composition throughout his career. Written in his late teens and early twenties, these two symphonies stand as a tribute to Wagner's passion for his great idol Beethoven. The Symphony in C major absorbs the engertic fire and rhythmic dynamism of Beethoven's Seventh and Eighth Symphonies, while the Symphony in E major was alas left unfinished at its beautifully warm and lyrical Adagio cantabile.

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REVIEW:

If you enjoy the music of Mendelssohn, you will very much enjoy this CD, as it occupies much of the same musical territory. There are hints of Wagner’s reverence for Beethoven, and there is real energy and fire in parts of the writing. Performances here are clear and committed. Jun Märkl has the measure of the scores, and it is good indeed to be reminded of the depth and musical richness of the various radio orchestras found in Germany – there is no need for this Leipzig (how appropriate!) ensemble to hide its light.

– MusicWeb International

Classical Music

A year or so ago Oehms released a CD version of this opera from the same source that was recorded in 2011; this video version was made the following year. I was impressed with the earlier CDs, and this performance has much to recommend it as well. The added visual element is a definite plus–it’s a fascinating production.

Jens Kilian is the set designer and Vera Nemirova is the director. Yes, it is Regie, but there’s neither an overturned chair nor a Nazi to be found. The set is a huge, tilted circle; within it, like the rings of an old tree, are other, smaller circles that rise and fall. Some characters live and work on the lower levels (Mime and Erda), and some above; others travel between. The circle can open into smaller chambers for one-on-one moments–the Wanderer and Mime are chatting comfortably at times in a “comfortable” space. When Brünnhilde is placed on her rock–dead center of the huge ring–it rises to form a pillar, and the fire (real fire, by the way), the circumference of a larger ring, rises to protect her, like a nimbus. Aside from swords, spears, and a forge, there are no props. A most remarkable decision of Nemirova’s is to make the Forest Bird a lithe dancer (Alan Barnes, here) with long, feathery talons, who moves and flaps silently, and also moves appropriately when the off-stage voice of the bird (Robin Johannsen, quite lovely) sings.

Mime, wearing thick glasses, is dirty-looking and clumsy; Siegfried, blonde hair flowing, is in leather and a bear skin at the start (the stage direction, “enter, chasing bear”, has been altered to “enter, wearing a bear”), and later in what looks like a collection of wolf skins. The Wanderer goes from elegant dress pants to long, leather coat, but he’s always natty. In other words, due to the set and costume design, this Ring is universal; it takes place neither then nor now; it weds the phantasmagoric with the literal. Somehow, it all works.

Moreover, the characterizations are vivid. Siegfried may be an insensitive dolt, but he’s genuinely curious about baby animals looking like their parents, touched emotionally by the green around him during the Forest Murmurs, stumped and jumpy when he discovers that Brünnhilde is not a man, and almost maniacally happy at the opera’s close. Wotan is a tough guy in Act 1 with Mime, but is all too human in his confrontations with both Erda and Siegfried. And Brünnhilde’s transformation from goddess to woman is subtle and rings true.

Musically, there is much to marvel at, as there was with the audio-only CDs. Sebastian Weigle, while not holding back, gets a chamber-like effect from the orchestra, and the series of duets that make up the opera have an informality about them that practically turn some scenes into a drawing room comedy or drama. Siegfried and Mime banter irritatingly and Mime and the Wanderer play off one another. Mime’s commentary during the Forging Song is deliciously wicked (diction is impeccable from all singers throughout).

Casting a true Heldenbariton, rather than a bass Wanderer, is one of the keys. I was unfamiliar with Terje Stensvold and assumed him a relatively new find; in fact, he is 68 years old and has been singing for decades, with no deterioration of the voice’s core. As suggested above, his Wotan can be playful and grave by turns, godlike and ready to give up his godhood. It is a wonderful performance.

Similarly, Lance Ryan as Siegfried is more in the Windgassen than the bari-tenor mode (he studied with Gianni Raimondi and Carlo Bergonzi). His tone is bright and forward and his high notes are amazingly big and solid–he even articulates the high C at the end of his entrance laughter. The Forging Song sounds joyous. He’s tireless until the last 20 minutes, where at this point his tone becomes leathery, with pitch issues as well. But he’s exciting, good to watch, and one of the more “complete” Siegfrieds I’ve ever seen.

Susan Bullock’s Brünnhilde is matronly–she actually does look like Siegfried’s aunt–but she acts up a storm and almost makes up for it. She’s in better vocal condition than on the CDs, with the voice solidly produced, a real trill, her enunciation perfect. The voice may not be pretty but she inhabits the role, and the high notes ring out as well. As the pair acknowledges their love, Brünnhilde’s pedestal lowers–they’re finally on the same level. A nice touch, again.

Peter Marsh’s Mime is just right, a slime-ball who thinks he’s smarter than he is, with a voice that’s laser-focused. Jochen Schmeckenbecher’s Alberich, in somewhat regular, modern dress, is not as dark-toned as we’re accustomed to (Neidlinger, Kelemann), but his nastiness is never in doubt. Magnus Baldvinsson’s Fafner, not amplified and hardly a huge sound, becomes all too human, wonderfully curious about the boy who kills him. Meredith Arwady’s Erda, assisted by crucial stillness from Weigle’s baton, makes the best of her scene, albeit with a far-too-wide vibrato.

Conductor Sebastian Weigle has no fear of pulling out all the stops, but he never drowns out the singers; inner voices are audible but not awkwardly underlined. His chosen tinta–lighter than the Furtwängler, Knappertsbusch, Levine crowd–is abetted by the surprisingly brilliant playing by the Frankfurt forces, whose brass is shiny and whose strings shimmer, but also by two other factors: the spotless recording, in which the harps and triangle can be heard even when up against the full complement of strings and winds.

The unhelpful booklet has only a synopsis in German and English; those are the subtitle choices as well. There are only three tracks per act–a really dumb, inconvenient choice. There is wild applause, and plenty of it, after each act. This is a good option for a non-traditional (i.e: the opposite of the Met’s literal set on DG) Siegfried, along with Barenboim’s on Warner Classics, in the Harry Kupfer, Bayreuth production.

-- Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

The Walhall Eternity label is for the first time releasing in it's entirety the legendary 1959 Covent Garden Ring cycle of Richard Wagner conducted by Franz Konwitschny, performances that feature the finest Wagnerian voices of the 1950's, including Wolfgang Windgassen, Hans Hotter, Astrid Varnay, Ramon Vinay, Amy Shuard (student of Eva Turner and Covent Garden regular), Gottlob Frick and more. Franz Konwitschny's gripping interpretations lie comfortably between those of F�rtw�ngler's commanding heights supremacy and Solti's fire and spontaneity. Re-mastered 24bit/96kHz.

This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.

WAGNER Siegfried • Marek Janowski, cond; Stephen Gould (Siegfried); Christian Elsner (Mime); Tomasz Konieczny (Wanderer); Jochen Schmeckenbecher (Alberich); Matti Salminen (Fafner); Violeta Urmana (Brünnhilde); Anna Larsson (Erda); Sophie Klussman (Woodbird); Berlin RSO • PENTATONE 5186408 (3 SACDs: 227:30) Live: Philharmonie, Berlin 3/1/2013

This set has much to recommend it. In many ways, it is by far the finest installment of the PentaTone series so far, including the non-Ring items, and as such increases the impression that Janowski’s is a Ring that evolves and improves as it goes along (Rheingold got a lukewarm reception from me in Fanfare 37:2; Walküre was better: see Fanfare 37:3). The sound quality is superb in this Siegfried throughout. Perhaps this is shown best at the very beginning, where the timpani roll is just there, but audible. If, as it continues, this opening is not quite as evocative as Furtwänger at La Scala (who is more primordial), it remains an impressive achievement. The evil undercurrent of that roll seems to be mirrored by the descending bassoon figure. Janowski keeps it moving, and his orchestra is astonishingly well disciplined; yet there is space for lyricism, too. Janowski’s achievement is to provide a terrific sense of momentum, while never rushing.

The cast is strong, although inevitably one always finds oneself pining for perfection. (From this stance, it is easy to see Richard Caniell’s point over at Immortal Performances with his “Dream Ring.”) Christian Elsner’s Mime is wonderfully angry, not a caricature at all (Peter Bronder’s Mime, in Barenboim’s Ring at the BBC Proms this year, was lighter, and clipped and wheedling in the more traditional way). The Wotan/Wanderer here is Tomasz Konieczny, as it has been in the previous two installments. Here he seems to come into his own, a completely different take to that of Hotter yet still big enough of voice and interpretatively sound. Ironically, perhaps, for Head God, Konieczny’s Wotan is one of the most human interpretations on the market today. A darker sound would also have emphasized the differences between Wanderer and Alberich in the second act.

But it is the titular hero that carries the work. Gould has a wonderfully lusty voice (a shame he sounds a tad rushed, by Janowski, in the Forging Song). His exchanges with Mime throughout are expertly managed, and the extended Wanderer/Siegfried part of the final act is enlivened by Gould’s splendidly healthy voice, even at this stage.

Each act fits neatly onto a single disc (Janowski is generally not one to linger). Act II begins with a perfect sense of darkness and foreboding, and both Alberich (Jochen Schmeckenbecher) and Wotan are in top form, especially perhaps Schmeckenbecher in his invoking of Fafner. The grumpy (and excellent) Fafner on this occasion is the experienced Matti Salminen. For the final act, perhaps the “Heil dir, Sonne” is only well done by Urmana rather than radiantly done, but the fault really lies with Janowski, who after excelling so much in this reading does not quite step up to the final moments. Ecstasy is not quite achieved. The final act suffers from a loss of momentum around half way through, which contributes to this.

Despite this, this remains a valuable, involving and rewarding Siegfried that demands to be heard.

FANFARE: Colin Clarke

The Zurich Opera Orchestra recently re-branded itself as the Zurich Philharmonia. Along with its relaunch it launched its own CD label. With an energized, undistracted Fabio Luisi at the helm, this is paying big dividends in this CD of popular Wagner overtures. The sensual, calm flow of the Rienzi Overture is exemplary for his Wagner: Luisi unfolds the music with a resting, slow magnificence before rolling out the full brunt of this powerful overture. The whole two-CD album continues in this vein. Indeed, this is now my favorite disc of orchestral Wagner!

– Forbes (Jens F. Laurson)

Richard Wagner
PARSIFAL

Amfortas – Falk Struckmann
Titurel – Matthias Hölle
Gurnemanz – Hans Sotin
Parsifal – Poul Elming
Klingsor – Ekkehard Wlaschiha
Kundry – Linda Watson

Bayreuth Festival Chorus and Orchestra
Giuseppe Sinopoli, conductor

Wolfgang Wagner, stage director and set designer
Recorded live from the Bayreuth Festival, 1998.

Picture format: NTSC 16:9 anamorphic
Sound format: PCM Stereo / DTS 5.1
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Subtitles: German, English, French, Spanish
Running time: 268 mins
No. of DVDs: 2 (DVD 9)

R E V I E W:



WAGNER Parsifal • Giuseppe Sinopoli, cond; Poul Elming ( Parsial ); Linda Watson ( Kundry ); Falk Struckmann ( Amfortas ); Hans Sotin ( Gurnemanz ); Ekkehard Wlaschiha ( Klingsor ); Matthias Hölle ( Titurel ); Bayreuth Fest Ch & O • ORFEO 10561 (2 DVDs: 268:00) Live: Bayreuth 7/6–13/1998


For the most part, in recent decades the Bayreuth Festival has been a veritable chamber of horrors when it comes to opera stagings, the most recent example being the widely publicized Katherina Wagner abomination of Die Meistersinger . (Andrew Quint gave it a glowing review in Fanfare 34:6; he and I usually have antipodal views on virtually everything Wagnerian—a useful reference point for Fanfare readers, no doubt—and here I could not possibly disagree with him more.) Thankfully, especially since Parsifal is one of my three or four very favorite operas, this time we have instead an instance of what Bayreuth can produce at its considerable peak. While not flawless, this is one of the best-sung and -staged productions of any Wagner opera, let alone Parsifal , yet to grace a DVD, and thus a significant addition to the Wagner discography.


Dating back to 1999, this release is a belated tribute to conductor Giuseppe Sinopoli, whose premature death in 2001 from a heart attack while conducting Aida at the Deutsche Oper in Berlin deprived the classical-music world of one of its more polarizing figures. Like many others, I found some of his interpretations to be illuminating but others maddening, the latter mainly for their perverse manipulations of tempi. Here, he is on his best behavior; his pacing of the score is quite broad, lasting almost four and a half hours, but somehow does not feel as extreme as either the monumental Hans Knappertsbusch or torpid James Levine. (Paradoxically, his one serious miscalculation is the opening of act II, taken at a manic clip faster than any other rendition I’ve ever heard and unfortunately losing some of its profoundly sinister edge as a result.) Taking proper advantage of the unique acoustics of the Bayreuth Festspielhaus —for me, a virtual sine qua non for this score—he produces an orchestral sound that is luminous and radiant, with superb balance of all the instruments and uncommonly clear delineation of oscillating string figurations typically obscured by melody lines in the brass and winds. The great irony here is that no camera was stationed in the covered orchestra pit, so we never get to see either Sinopoli or the orchestra, since no curtain calls were filmed, either. (Thankfully, following the longstanding custom for this work of which I heartily approve, there also is no applause after the acts.)


The staging, abstract in principle but naturalistic in impact, is quite effective in suggesting a mythic timelessness. During the act I prelude, in a clear nod to that of Lohengrin , the chalice gradually becomes visible, descends from Heaven, fills the screen, and then gradually recedes and disappears. The outdoor scenes—the forest of the kingdom of the Grail Knight, the garden of the Flower Maidens—are dominated by flanking sets of tall columns with multifaceted irregular planar faces. By skilled and imaginative use of lighting, these assume various colors appropriate to their settings. For the forest scenes in act I they turn an intensely dark forest green that provides a far more intense impression of trees and dense vegetation than does the foliage used in completely naturalistic stagings. In act III their color is bleached to a far more pale green, symbolically indicating the subsequent decline of the Grail kingdom. For the Flower Maidens scene they are bathed in a ghostly twilight blue when the maidens first enter, and then take on shimmering dark blue and red hues during the seduction scene “Komm, komm, holder Knabe!” Other physical aspects of the staging have also been thought out with care. An opening aperture for the hall of the Grail knights, in which the gravely wounded Amfortas is positioned (in the simple sedan chair used to transport him) to preside over the Eucharistic rite, is symbolically shaped like a casket. The floor of the hall, defined in the back by attractive slate-blue and gray walls, is given an octagonal shape—presumably a reference to the shape of a traditional baptismal font—inlaid with an intriguing maze figuration. This not only evokes a medieval church labyrinth, but also intuitively suggests both the laborious path the knights must pursue to attain holiness and the confusion caused by the fall of their leader into sin. The octagonal shape is used as a unitary device in several other ways to great effect; it is the shape of both the “kitchen island” style altar in the hall, the pit from which Kundry emerges at Klingsor’s command in act II, and the seat on which she reclines in her attempt to seduce Parsifal, insightfully signifying that endeavor to be a sexual profanation of the chaste Eucharistic rite. Likewise, the abstract fortress walls of Klingsor’s castle, with the magician confined between them and visible through only a narrow aperture, aptly suggests a claustrophobic realm of evil. In act III an egg-shaped fountain as a symbol of spiritual rebirth also emerges from an octagonal opening in the stage. (Though not bad-looking, it unavoidably brings to mind Anna Russell’s “Erda the green-faced torso” popping out of the earth.)


Striving for a similarly timeless atmosphere, but somewhat less successfully, are the costumes, stage props, and acting. In act I the squires and knights of the Grail kingdom wear short coats and pants bearing a risible resemblance to those worn by soldiers of the Empire in the original Star Wars film. Fortunately the other costumes are better. Gurnemanz and the knights bearing Amfortas are clad in simple full-length robes with matching tunics, in subdued shades of blue and green-gray; Amfortas is clad in a dark red tunic at his first appearance and a purple one in the scene of the Eucharistic rite, respectively signifying his wound and his royal rank. By contrast, the sorcerer Klingsor parodies the plain garb of his erstwhile fellow knights, sporting a dark forest-green robe overlaid by a tunic with broad stripes in brilliant metallic shades of violet, light red, dark red, and blue. Kundry wears simple white habits in acts I and III but exchanges those for an alluring pink gown in act II. In act III the Grail Knights are much improved in appearance by the addition of full-length white capes, metal cap helmets, and swords. As for the props, the dead swan and Parsifal’s bow are suitable, but the spear and chalice are risibly hokey. The former looks like it was ordered from an Ikea catalog, and its tip glows an electronic pink after its healing touch to Amfortas in act III. The chalice has an ornately carved crystal glass upper portion; after the wine is consecrated a red light bulb glows ludicrously inside it, and interior radiance is badly bungled by use of a white strobe light. One hates to criticize attempts to realize the composer’s detailed specifications, and perhaps these elements looked much better at a distance from the audience, but a close-up camera is most unforgiving. The acting by one and all is conscientious but staid and wooden, and there is one badly miscalculated piece of stage business at the very end: Instead of Kundry dying as the libretto states, she steps forward and quite impossibly—in a medieval Catholic order of knights!—assists Parsifal in celebrating the Eucharist. A thoughtless piece of happy-ending sentimental slop? A theological-political plug for women’s ordination? Your guess is as good as mine.


Fortunately the singing is at a level of excellence matching the staging. Top honors go to the always superb Hans Sotin as Gurnemanz. In his previous DVD outing in the role from 17 years before (also at Bayreuth) he sang very well indeed, but was somewhat light in timbre and could not match the solemn nobility of Ludwig Weber and Kurt Moll; but here both the voice and interpretation have deepened to provide a portrayal joining theirs in the very top echelon. Equally superb is Linda Watson, who has the rare combination of qualities needed for a complete Kundry: a voice that is rich, warm, vibrant, powerful, and absolutely steady, and sweetly seductive, impassioned, and earthy by turns. As Parsifal, Poul Elming is that rarity of rarities, a true Heldentenor with a properly baritonal timbre and vocal heft. The vibrato is steady and the top notes secure and effortless; an occasional slight bleatiness presages the vocal decline that would beset him a few years later, but here adds a welcome touch of vulnerability to the interpretation. If not quite on the stellar level of Siegfried Jerusalem in the aforementioned 1982 Bayreuth performance, he is the equal or superior of other rivals, including Wolfgang Windgassen and Plácido Domingo. Falk Struckmann and Matthias Hölle are two singers of whom I have generally fought shy due to unfocused, wobbly vocal production, but here both are on best behavior. As Amfortas, Struckmann is still a bit diffuse, but not to a degree I find disturbing, and here in alliance with a plangent tone that actually adds to the character’s pathos and wounded vulnerability, while Hölle as Titurel is rock-solid and suitably sepulchral. Only Ekkehard Wlaschiha as Klingsor is on a somewhat lower plane; his voice is still powerful and stable and his interpretation impassioned, but wear and tear from years of heavy use have set in and the emission is now forced and dry, with a certain degree of barking rather than singing. Still, while he is no Hermann Uhde, he is better than most other alternatives.


The recorded sound is excellent, capturing the Bayreuth acoustic to the full. The camerawork is solid but cautious and unenterprising; the 12-year delay between filming and commercial release makes me wonder if it was filmed for archival purposes rather than public distribution. Whatever the case, it now ranks as one of three Parsifal s on DVD to which a hearty recommendation can be given, the other two being the 1982 Bayreuth production and the 1992 Metropolitan Opera staging, both on DG. The 1982 Bayreuth version features dull, drab sets by Wolfgang Wagner and some absurd stage business (notably, in act III the knights move in to kill Amfortas just as Parsifal arrives to save the day), but it boasts committed acting and a uniformly strong vocal cast of Eva Randova, Siegfried Jerusalem, Bernd Weikl, Leif Roar, Hans Sotin, and Matti Salminen, with Horst Stein leading a swift but never rushed performance; it’s worth getting just for the audio portion. The 1992 Met outing features an attractive naturalist staging by Otto Schenck but more uneven musical values. A decade older, the voices of Jerusalem and Weikl are now noticeably more strained though still quite acceptable; Kurt Moll and Waltraud Meier are magnificent, but Jan-Hendrik Rootering is a somewhat woofy Titurel, one must try to tolerate the intolerable Franz Mazura as Klingsor, and James Levine is mired in his slower-than-molasses-in-January podium mode of that time, though somehow he stills mostly makes it work. All other DVD versions feature Eurotrash productions with horribly inept singing to boot. On CD I would especially recommend the fabled 1951 Bayreuth performance, available on several labels, with Martha Mödl, Wolfgang Windgassen, George London, Hermann Uhde, Ludwig Weber, and Hans Knappertsbusch (vastly superior to the oft-recommend Knappertsbusch Bayreuth performance of 1962) and—despite the inadequate Peter Hofmann in the title role—the 1981 DG recording with Dunja Vejzovic, José van Dam, Siegmund Nimsgern, Kurt Moll, and the Berlin Philharmonic under Herbert von Karajan. Worthy if lesser alternatives include a 1953 Bayreuth outing, also issued on various labels, in which Ramón Vinay and Clemens Krauss replace Windgassen and Knappertsbusch, and a 1971 Bayreuth performance on Melodram with Janis Martin, Sandór Konya, Thomas Stewart, Gerd Nienstedt, Franz Crass, and Eugen Jochum. Finally, mavens of historical recordings with high tolerance for poor recorded sound will look to the 1936 Teatro Colón performance on Marston with Marjorie Lawrence, René Maison, Martial Singer, Fred Destal, and Alexander Kipnis led by Fritz Busch, and the 1938 Met broadcast (with 10-second gaps in sound every four minutes due to use of a single recording turntable) featuring Kirsten Flagstad, Lauritz Melchior, Friedrich Schorr, Arnold Gabor, and Emmanuel List, with Artur Bodansky leading acts I and III and Eric Leinsdorf stepping in for his temporarily indisposed colleague in act II. The Guild label has issued an intact act II of this performance in superior sound preserved from a different source.

FANFARE: James A. Altena

A mythical performance from la Monnaie - Bruxelles.
Parsifal is a strange and enigmatic work. At the end of his life, did Wagner wish to celebrate asceticism, which he himself had never practised? Did he fall upon his knees before the Cross, as claimed by Nietzsche? And what does the secret society of knights based on pure blood signify, desperately waiting for the saviour to regenerate it? What is the true nature of the opposition between the worlds of Klingsor and the Grail? What can Parsifal tell us today? In his artistic will and testament, Wagner condenses his moral idea of the world and returns to the roots of love and religion - to the very heart of art according to him.
With the participation of conductor Hartmut Haenchen who is passionated by the score, Italian stage director Romeo Castellucci proposes an original reading of this brilliant work and explores the essence of Wagnerian ‘Kunstreligion’ in a different light.

“Thanks to the telling contributions of Mr. Castellucci and Mr. Haenchen, the Monnaie’s ‘Parsifal’ casts new light on a difficult opera.” NY TIMES

Parsifal: Andrew Richards
Kundry: Anna Larsson
Gurnemanz: Jan-Hendrik Rootering
Amfortas: Thomas Johannes Mayer
Klingsor: Tómas Tómasson
Titurel: Victor von Halem

Orchestre symphonique de la Monnaie
Hartmut Haenchen

Stage direction: Romeo Castellucci
Choreography: Cindy Van Acker
Set & costume designs, lighting: Romeo Castellucci
Dramaturgy: Piersandra di Matteo
Recording: La Monnaie / De Munt, Bruxelles - 20/02/2011

R E V I E W:
WAGNER Parsifal • Hartmut Haenchen, cond; Andrew Richards (Parsifal); Anna Larsson (Kundry); Jan-Hendrick Rootering (Gurnemanz); Thomas Johannes Mayer (Amfortas); Tómas Tómasson (Klingsor); Victor von Halem (Titurel); O symphonique de la Monnaie; Ch de la Monnaie; Ch de jeunes de la Monnaie • BELAIR (DVD: 239:00) Live: Brussels 2/20/2011

The Parisian daily Le Monde called this 2011 Le Monnaie production “un Parsifal hallucinaire.” That’s putting it mildly. Wagner’s operas have long inspired “extreme” treatments and this is one of the most extreme I’ve encountered. Some of it works, some of it doesn’t. It’s not for the faint of heart. And I wouldn’t want to be without it.

Parsifal is the first operatic undertaking for the Italian playwright and stage director Romeo Castellucci, well known for his avant-garde tendencies. In the hyperbolic language sometimes employed by men and women devoted to dramaturgy, Castelluci explains his method in the liner notes. “As I approached Parsifal, I tried to forget everything I knew. I put myself in the shoes of someone who knew nothing. I closed my eyes, and I listened once, twenty times, and then a hundred times to the music, this thing. Then I slept. I reworked the whole of Parsifal in a state of amnesia, from the beginning to the end. A work like this needs a vision coming from one’s deepest places … not just an illustrative approach.” OK, that’s a little over the top. But there truly is a dreamlike quality to what you witness here. One remembers images rather than scenes when it’s all over. Act I’s setting is a dense and dark forest in which one can, at first, barely make out the principal singers. (Gurnemanz’s costume covers him from head to toe in leaves, so he fits right in.) Act II is borderline pornographic, as Castelluci dispenses with singing Flowermaidens on stage and, with the vocalists out of sight, has Parsifal tempted by platinum-wigged nude dancers (and, as the credits acknowledge, “Shibari bondage performers” and “contortionists.”) One dancer lies down on a pedestal and aims her external genitalia at the audience for a good 20 minutes. Kundry’s and Amfortas’s act of sexual congress, barely alluded to as a historical event in run-of-the-mill Parsifals, is graphically projected as a hologram. Act III is a complete change of gears, with the chorus joined by a large crowd of non-singing supernumeraries in modern-day dress that, from the Transformation Scene onward, are seen to be slowly striding forward, presumably to a better future world. There are clichés, to be sure—the face paint, Kundry’s application of a few words, graffiti-style, to a blank wall, etc.—and some familiar visual theatrical features are missing: there’s no spear, no non-healing wound, no sign of the Cross when Klingsor’s realm is vanquished. But for contemplative Wagnerians, this will be a very rich experience indeed.

It helps enormously that the musical values are first-rate. Hartmut Haenchen is an experienced and insightful Wagner conductor and, as with his excellent Ring cycle for Etcetera (Fanfare 31:3), he consults the notes of Wagner’s assistants and other artists involved in the first Bayreuth performances. Haenchen definitely eschews the draggy tempos that have become common, but this Parsifal is not the least bit rushed. (For the record, the timing is a half-hour longer than Pierre Boulez’s famously brisk 1970 Bayreuth recording.) Castellucci is not alone in finding Kundry to be the central character in Parsifal—she’s alive and well when the curtain comes down at the close of act III—and Anne Larsson does a terrific job with the wide-ranging dramatic requirements of her role. Jan-Hendrick Rootering is a magisterial Gurnemanz and the American tenor Andrew Richards has a pleasing, well-supported voice well suited to Parsifal. This is Richards’s first Wagner role and, from the sounds of it, Siegmund and Walther, at least, should be on his radar. Thomas Johannes Mayer appears and sounds agonized without scenery chewing. (Remember, he’s got no wound to show off.) Tómas Tómasson is an excellent singer, though perhaps his Klingsor should be a bit less robust to contrast better with the other male characters that still have their “equipment” intact.

Most opera videos released nowadays are carefully planned, with a film director assigned to the project; this video, we are told, is “purely an archive.” No apologies are necessary. The camera work is skillful and editor didn’t feel obliged to always show us who was singing at the moment. (How long can you watch Gurnemanz explaining the back-story, anyway?) The medium was clearly analog film. The sound is good and even though the resolution of Dolby Digital is lower than the stereo PCM option on a DVD, the surround sound program here is sonically very satisfactory. Subtitle choices are English, French, Dutch, and German.

Clearly, this shouldn’t be anyone’s introduction to Parsifal. But for those who want to explore new levels of meaning and emotional power in Wagner’s final work, BelAir’s release deserves the strongest consideration.

FANFARE: Andrew Quint

Classical Music

Following his commercial recording of Parsifal in 1951, one can find a recorded live performance of Parsifal led by Hans Knappertsbusch, one of the finest mid-20th century Parsifal conductors, in every subsequent year up until 1964. + This 1958 Bayreuth undertaking features a cast including Hans Beirer, Jerome Hines and Régine Crespin who was making her Bayreuth debut in the role of Kundry here. + This 4-CD set has been newly re-mastered for this release.

"•This live recording from the Milan La Scala of a 1960 performance of Wagner's final opera “Parsifal” features a stellar cast, including tenor Sandor Konya in the title role, a much-admired singer in his day and far more deserving of being better known today. • The then-young ,pre-legendary Andre Cluytens conducts."

The essential meaning of Wagner’s magnum opus ‘Der Ring des Nibelungen’ is wrapped up in the composer’s own lifetime pursuit of transcendent romance, with the redemption of eternal love one of the primary tenets of this and his other music dramas. Wagner’s gift for orchestral color and scenic characterization make his operas highly suited to the genre of the tone poem, and these seven tableaus evoke major scenarios in the saga, as well as providing a sense of the course and spirit of the greatest operatic drama ever written. JoAnn Falletta serves as music director of the Buffalo Philharmonic and Virginia Symphony, and is the principal guest conductor of the Brevard Music Center of North Carolina. She has guest conducted over a hundred orchestras in North America, and many of the most prominent orchestras in Europe, Asia, South America, and Africa.

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REVIEW:

Conductor JoAnn Falletta creates a magical Forest Murmurs when Siegfried first understands the meaning of the songbird, and sends the Valkyries on a really wild ride. The sound coming out of Buffalo for the Naxos label is some of the best.

– David's Review Corner (David Denton)

Under the dual influences of Goethe and Berlioz, Wagner wrote A Faust Overture in Paris. Years later, in 1855, he returned to the work, revising it to create an even greater sense of drama and narrative conviction. In the excerpts from his romantic opera Lohengrin we hear the visionary Prelude to Act I and the Act III Prelude, which includes the well-known Wedding March. Elsa’s Dream is sung by the internationally acclaimed soprano, Alessandra Marc. The orchestral music from Parsifal contains some of the most transcendent music Wagner ever wrote.

Includes work(s) by Richard Wagner. Conductor: Leif Segerstam.