The very first work
performed in German at the Metropolitan was Richard Wagner’s Tannhaüser, the opera the “Live in HD”
global audience will hear and see this coming Saturday, October 31. Tannhaüser premiered during the Met’s
second season, 1884-1885, and has been a staple of the repertoire ever since.
That is not to say
that Wagner was absent during the Met’s inaugural season. Lohengrin was on the calendar, albeit in Italian, in 1883-1884. That
was the year the Met’s founding impresario, Henry Abbey, brought his Grand
Italian Opera to 39th Street and Broadway, the Met’s home until the
move to Lincoln Center. In that first season, all opera, whatever the intended
language, was sung in Italian. That tradition would have held had Abbey not
driven his company deep into the red, causing the Metropolitan board to seek
another general manager and a more fiscally viable performance practice.
As the board was
deliberating, along came Leopold Damrosch, a well-established symphony
conductor, who proposed a season entirely in German, its repertoire principally
consigned to works composed on German texts, with casts recruited in Germany at
fees far lower than Abbey’s stars had commanded. The orchestra would be drawn
from the German players of his New York Symphony Society, by all accounts
superior to the Italian instrumentalists Abbey had
hired. Damrosch would do all the conducting. In making his case,
he contended that the German speakers of New York, the population he was
confident of luring to the half-empty upper tiers, was interested neither in
Italian opera nor in German opera sung in Italian. Ultimately, and despite
resistance from influential boxholders who preferred the embellishments of bel
canto to the declamations of music drama, the bottom line won out. Like
the Met’s many devoted connoisseurs, the critics were delighted. One Gemanophile
reviewer pointed to the German-language Lohengrin
as proof of his axiom: that the “sincere and realistic” interpretation of
German artists was in all ways superior
to the Italian manner of privileging “a few tuneful numbers.”
Skipping ahead to
Lauritz Melchior’s 1926 Met debut, as Tannhaüser, we note with surprise that the
Danish tenor was not particularly well received. But after five or so seasons
of sporadic appearances, he became recognized as the world’s dominant
heldentenor. In this recording, he makes easy work of the role of Tannhaüser, one
of the most strenuous in the Wagner canon. In Act I, having betrayed the order
of courtly love, the minstrel languishes in the arms of Venus herself. His hymn
in praise of the goddess demands great stamina, but also a touch of grace not
often accessible to heroic singers.
A Wagnerian
Golden Age at the Met centered on Kirsten Flagstad’s pre-war New York
engagement, from 1935 to 1941. The Norwegian soprano, along with Melchior and their
remarkable cohort, assured a level of performance perhaps unsurpassed in the
company’s history. During this period, Flagstad shared Tannhauser’s Elisabeth with Lotte Lehmann. These superlative
artists, and sometimes professional rivals, had distinct approaches, timbres,
and techniques. At the opening of Act II, Lehmann’s impetuous greeting to the
Hall of Song overflows with rapturous anticipation. Her beloved Tannhaüser has
renounced the pleasures of Venus and is about to return to her.
In Act III, near
death, Elisabeth prays for Tannhaüser who has gone to Rome to seek redemption
for his sins. Flagstad’s timbre--massive, pure, unerringly in tune--conveys her
character’s saintliness with utter directness.
Just moments
later, Wolfram, the minstrel who champions chaste love, sings the opera’s most
familiar melody, the “Hymn to the Evening Star.” Hermann Prey, who appeared
only infrequently at the Met over a thirty-year span, made his 1960 debut there
as Wolfram. He invests the aria’s long phrases with the silken legato and lyric
timbre that made him an unforgettable lieder recitalist.
A word about this
Saturday’s simulcast. Tannhaüser is
the oldest active production in the company’s repertoire. Designed by Günther
Schneider-Siemssen and directed by Otto Schenk, its style delighted critics and
audiences in 1977 and continues to be a successful example of literalist
staging
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