Wagner as a blessing
The “Dutchman” as a flashlight opera in Hamburg
Source: Hans Joerg Michel
56 years after Wieland Wagner, Michael Thalheimer is staging the “Flying Dutchman” again at the Hamburg State Opera. Almost without props, but with real choirs, the spirits of the present and a great gesture of solidarity.
Ka sea, not a ship. That was of course to be expected when the great, strict director Michael Thalheimer stages Wagner’s “Flying Dutchman”. Instead, his personal stage designer Olaf Altmann built a short, tapering box in black in the Hamburg State Opera, which is closed at the back with 1,000 nylon cords, which were illuminated quite magically by Stefan Bollinger. You can stretch it and then step through it, which is why the performers often adopt a fairly typical position with their arms spread and continue to sing like that.
At first, however, they still hang limp and glitter, of course, it is also said “With thunderstorms and storms from far away seas”, as the prominent helmsman Peter Hoare proclaims. And somehow that also fits in with the sparse symbolism of the previous Hamburg production by Wieland Wagner. His Bayreuth clone from 1966 was his last work performed on stage until the early 1990s.
And currently, Richard Wagner’s journeyman on the Alster, wandering over the waves, is once again very symbolically displayed. And without props. Nearly. While later on three sinister fuzzies with veiled heads and bare torsos, only decorated with a black cross, scurry around as a Dutch entourage (they also remind you a little of Daft Punk) waving garbage bags, one of them peels off, even during the overture the Senta in the black dress.
Jennifer Holloway sings the Senta with a bright, penetrating soprano and an increasingly beautiful opening high register. Is she already dead and experiencing the story backwards? That won’t be clear. In any case, in the end the helper syndrome sufferer sacrifices herself for her Dutch idol by suffocating herself with the black bag.
Light falls from behind, making the plastic ropes shimmer like waves. There are great effects when flashlights shine behind them frontally into the audience or irradiate the crowd from below. The light sometimes comes from an angle, sometimes from the front, sometimes from the side and creates immense effects, better than any plastic sea. And as a ship’s rope, that might also work just fine.
Jennifer Holloway as Senta in The Flying Dutchman in Hamburg
Source: Hans Joerg Michel
At least that’s how the protagonists can stay fabulously in their arias, duos and trios, installative, static, but never boring – if you’re willing to do without any directorial psychology. Wagner’s youthfully lashing, foaming score does the rest. The Kent Nagano fans out very leisurely, structured, he doesn’t have to put any pressure on. Some meter could swing out even wilder, it could flash more garishly, but the excellently laid-up Philharmonic dovetails very closely with the scene. A serenely accurate reading that gains urgency through the breathless piece itself.
The Dutchman of the experienced Thomas Johannes Mayer is a healthy mix of residual voice and professional appearance. He stands there – long gray mane, full beard, tattoos, bare skin, leather – looking grim like the Berlin Berghain bouncer Sven Marquardt. Hardly anyone will come through Mayer’s ship’s hatch either.
Senta in an apron
Exactly seven years later, Michael Thalheimer has staged again with Kent Nagano at the Hamburg Opera. So the deadline is over, their “Dutchman” has become much rounder, more exciting than his dull, dull, nasty shortened “Trojaner” at the start of the directorship Georges Delnon / Kent Nagano. This is also due to the balanced cast. The tradesman Daland, who shows off his treasures as flying gold dust, also has mildew on the voice of the bass veteran Kwangchul Youn, but that doesn’t go badly with the character. And he still has temperament.
Katja Pieweck is a round, youthful woman Mary, who playfully has her drooling ladies’ choir in a red apron in the spinning room’s grip – even without the little wheel turning. The best singer is of course the tenor Benjamin Bruns in the unloved part of his weak rival Erik. The way he begs and pleads for his Senta as a stubborn giant baby, how tenderness and despair become beautiful, bright, strong tones, that is a blessing of sovereign Wagner singing.
And it’s also great that in Hamburg the Dutchman’s cursed ghost choir doesn’t come off the tape, but is tamed, wild and sonorous singing as the second section on stage, in – a nice act of solidarity – the form of the male choir of the Kyiv Opera. The Ukrainians as rearing phantom schemes of the seas, even if they unfortunately have no chance with Wagner, this goes far beyond the reason for the premiere and gives the production, which is sufficient in its cold aesthetics, but also captive, a touch of topicality.