Wagner’s Tannhäuser
Metropolitan Opera
October 24, 2015
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| An Orphic rival at the epic song contest. Photo credit: Marty Sohl |
The way hip hop and pop
singers run their vocals through the Auto-Tune audio processor to sound like
vaguely robotic dance machines, there are many baritone roles that I would like
to run through the Peter Mattei processor to sound like the Orphic
divine incarnate. He is just so smooth. In fact, in tonight's stellar
performance of Wagner's Tannhäuser, Mattei's singing was so swooningly
delightful that it was hard to believe his character when in Act I he says that
none of his songs have managed to move the princess Elizabeth since the
accomplished songsmith Tannhäuser had left the picture. How could that be?
Mattei is simply irresistible every time he opens his mouth. Even just intoning,
"Where have you been?" to his friend Tannhäuser, Mattei makes you
melt on the inside. His sound is so round and suave. He holds every syllable in
his mouth and pushes it out through the skein of seductive expression. There's
really just nothing like it. Peter Mattei is the reincarnation of Orpheus for
our time. And there are so many roles that I would love to hear sung the way he
sings. I could listen to him always and forever. Mattei’s embodiment of
Wolfram’s Song to the Evening Star in Act III, O Du, mein holder
Abenstern, was one of the most transcendent things I've heard at the Met,
certainly so far this season.
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| Tannhäuser searches his soul. Photo credit: Ken Howard |
Jonas Botha is always a competent Wagnerian tenor. He has the stamina to
withstand for the entire roughly four-hour duration and the power to project
out over the massive orchestration with clarity. But he has little feeling and
does little for me. Not like Peter Mattei. I also feel like he lacks something
of the unbridled Dionysian that should exude especially from the early arias he
performs at the bequest of Venus in Act I, Scene I, Dir Töne Lob! Die Wunder
Sei’n Gepriesen! There he is, the star poet who has become the closest
bosom buddy of the goddess of love herself. You would think that he would sound
the part: manly and guttural, virile yet chthonic. Oozing testosterone out of
his every note in the most raw and powerful way, the way he can sound in some
of the best recordings. Botha is always just a little too contained and a
little too strident to fully embody this important element of the Wagnerian
cosmos. Jonas’ stage presence, too, is pretty flat to say the least. Granted,
all he needs to do most of the time is strum his harp, yet he managed to make
even that simple gesture look unnatural and borderline ridiculous (particularly
when compared to the elegant and savvy stage presence of Peter Mattei).
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| The denizens of the local Venus Massage Parlor. Photo credit: Ken Howard |
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| Wolfram works the crowd. Photo credit: Ken Howard |
In any case, it is clear by
now that he loves song competitions. One of the modern feeling moments is the
“rap battle” in court that features most prominently in Act II (but only after
an interminably long processional in which every one and his mother slowly make
their way out onto the stage). The song contest that climaxes in the
denunciation of poor Tannhäuser for his frequenting the Venus Massage Parlor is
really one of the only scenes in the whole opera with any action at all. And
what offensive action it is. All of court society publicly lambasts him. And
so, is it just me or does the story hinge on bigotry? For his lecherous lifestyle he is banished from court though his ladylove
defends him and he is urged to make haste to Rome to repent of his sins. Good
Lord! The horror! Frankly, how can anyone relate to this? No matter how good
the music, when the plot is so flat and uninteresting I struggle to really
enjoy an opera.
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| Wartburg Castle in all its splendor. Photo credit: Ken Howard |
Nevertheless, I get the
symbolism of this uniquely Protestant opera. It's not like the point of the
allegory is hard to grasp. It's there for the grasping, right on the surface.
In fact, there isn't much else to get. It's not like it's terribly multifaceted
as a work of art. In terms of the chronology of the setting of the opera in
historical time, it takes place in Wartburg Castle, which is where Martin
Luther will later live, as well as where he will later translate the New Testament
from Greek into German. It is a place of great symbolic import. In fact,
Tannhäuser will go off to Rome only to encounter a Pope who has little more
than eternal damnation to offer him. Which is very disconcerting for the poor
promiscuous poet.
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| Tannhäuser digests eternal damnation. Photo credit: Ken Howard |
As it turns out, this is a
Protestant world, avant la lettre, and so it's not over until it's
over. The Catholic Church of course is nothing more than a mere human
institution by this account. The Pope has no direct access to the word of God.
He can eternally damn whomever he wants, as much and as often as his heart
desires, but it’s not binding. Individual prayer can save. God always gets the
final word on salvation and damnation. And what's more, in a finale that echoes
that of Goethe’s Faust, it is apparently the love of an ordinary mortal
woman that saves the profligate troubadour in God’s eyes. The love of a
pure-hearted woman is a better route to salvation than confession to the Pope himself.
In addition to its Pagan-Christian dichotomy, it also seems to operate between
the poles of the Protestant-Catholic divide. Again, that’s not opera material
to me by any stretch of the imagination.
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| Pilgrims approach, with token body strewn upon the ground. Photo credit: Ken Howard |
This classic Met production
was moderately effective, especially in the Venusberg and subsequent forest
scenes. I found the trompe-l'œil sets and lighting effects very
captivating. They really created compelling space on the familiar Met stage. At
the end of Act III, when Tannhäuser is momentarily tempted to go back to his
old debauched ways, the eerie optical illusion of the sudden appearance of
Venus on her throne again in the deepest reaches of the stage at the same
height of the evening star was a striking bit of stagecraft. Other than that,
though, the blocking was pretty poor, with singers inexplicably throwing
themselves face down on the ground in every other scene. Very strange!
Wagner, I'm still hopeful
that you're going to win me over one of these days. So far, we’re 0 for 2.
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| Tannhäuser prostrate before the corpse of his beloved savior. Photo credit: Ken Howard |
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| The object of desire. Photo credit: Ken Howard |
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