OPERA
A Slow Boat Ride to Nowhere
Met’s “Dutchman” held promise but never took fl ight
BY ELI JACOBSON
It looked good on paper. Canadian
fi lm and theater director
François Girard scored a
home run at his 2013 Metropolitan
Opera debut with a revelatory
“Parsifal” production. Wagner’s
“Der Fliegende Holländer”
was his long awaited follow-up. Sir
Bryn Terfel was down for his local
debut as Vanderdecken, the Flying
Dutchman of the title, a role
he sang with success in London.
Respected German Wagner soprano
Anja Kampe was set to make a
long delayed Met debut as Senta.
Valery Gergiev was conducting
— well maybe that didn’t look so
good, but who knows… Perhaps he
would surprise us?
Unfortunately, a series of external
and internal failures rendered
the Metropolitan Opera’s production
of Wagner’s “Der Fliegende
Holländer” a total dud — perhaps
the biggest disappointment of the
season.
The external problems started
with Terfel fracturing his leg just
before starting rehearsals, which
required surgery. Gergiev wangled
Mariinsky bass-baritone Yevgeny
Nikitin out of engagements in St.
Petersburg to step in — Nikitin had
been Girard’s Klingsor in the “Parsifal.”
Unfortunately, Gergiev reportedly
could not wangle himself
into New York to conduct rehearsals
until just before the fi nal dress.
Nikitin arrived sick with a cold and
unable to rehearse.
The biggest internal problem
was Girard’s static “park and
bark” staging that gave this the
feel of a semi-staged concert performance
(which could have been
an improvement). Girard’s production
interprets Wagner’s drama as
a fantasy seen through the eyes of
Senta. The show curtain was one
huge eye that doubled as the portrait
of the titular Flying Dutchman,
the legendary cursed sea
captain damned to sail the ocean
for centuries until he can fi nd one
pure woman who will be faithful to
him.
The entire overture was staged
Anja Kampe in the role of Senta in the Met production of Wagner’s “Der Fliegende Hollä nder.”
with a dancing Senta double rolling
around and gesturing in front
of this eye while storm cloud projections
(by Peter Flaherty) surged
around her. Carolyn Choa’s choreography
had very few ideas, which
were spread thin over the entire
seven-minute span of the overture.
The concept of the opera as
the fever dream of one character is
not new — in 1979, the Met premiered
a new Jean-Pierre Ponnelle
production with this same “Wizard
of Oz” framing device except that
the dreamer was the Steersman. It
was booed to the rafters.
It would have been not a total
loss if the vocal performances were
stronger. Gergiev led a listless, autopilot
reading of the score with
little rhythmic contrast or forward
propulsion — not sloppy but dull.
Nikitin, possibly still indisposed,
sang weakly in the title role. His
light, grainy bass-baritone lacked
resonance and weight and seemed
to fade away as the evening progressed.
He sounded smaller than
life and ordinary — anything but
supernatural or sinister. Nikitin
failed to project inner torment and
was generally visually and emotionally
disengaged.
KEN HOWARD/ METROPOLITAN OPERA
Kampe revealed a strong stage
presence with expressive textual
delivery and a full, resonant middle
register. But the tonal gleam and
purity of her strong soprano does
not extend above high A. Senta’s
most ecstatic outbursts on high
B’s and B-fl ats emerged as squally
screams that were suspect in pitch.
Had the Met hired Kampe 15 years
ago as Sieglinde, she would have
made a stronger impression.
The supporting cast did better:
Mariinsky tenor Sergey Skorokhodov
in the usually undercast role
of Erik produced vigorous youthful
Heldentenor tone and projected
virile energy and intensity. Veteran
bass Franz-Josef Selig brought authentic
style to Daland. David Portillo’s
slender tenor was occasionally
pressed as the Steersman but
produced sweet tones in his opening
song. The Met Orchestra and
Chorus acquitted themselves well
despite the failures in musical and
dramatic direction.
In interviews, Girard has proposed
that Wagner’s 1843 German
Romantic opera prefi gures Wagner’s
fi nal gesamkunstwerk“Parsifal.”
His Met “Flying Dutchman” production
stressed symbolism, spirituality,
and myth. However many
of his visual motifs were lifted from
Wagner’s “Der Ring das Nibelungen.”
John Macfarlane’s set had not
one seaside village hut visible — it
was all dark sea, cloudy sky, and
rocky terrain. The Act II spinning
song had the female chorus twining
thick rope suspended from the
fl ies — according to Girard, they
“weave the thread of Destiny.” But
these were not the fateful Norns of
the Ring Cycle but mundane village
maidens against whom the
obsessed Senta was starkly contrasted.
The gold that the Dutchman
offers Daland as Senta’s
dowry was here glowing rocks that
resembled the cursed Rhine gold.
The Dutchman himself had long
hair and a black tunic resembling
the “Rheingold” Wotan. Moritz
Junge’s costumes mostly looked
timeless or ancient like they were
designed for gods, not village folk.
In his music and dramaturgy,
Wagner carefully delineates everyday
reality clashing against the
supernatural and bizarre, which
is entirely absent here. The Dutchman
(despite being a ghost) and
Senta seemed more normal and
ordinary than the sailors and villagers
who surrounded them. In
fact, the Dutchman’s vessel was
entirely invisible — the Dutchman
arrived walking on water like Jesus
and the cursed ghostly sailors
were simply an offstage chorus.
The chorus was dressed in identical
outfi ts performing synchronized
gestures and dance moves:
not individuals but some kind of
faceless Terpsichorean spiritual
entity like a Wagnerian cross between
Shen Yun and Riverdance.
In the fi nal apotheosis, Senta
and the Dutchman were not reunited
in death and the cursed
ship did not disappear — Senta
and the Dutchman simply walked
into the massed choristers and
Senta was lifted up and down to
symbolize her leaping into the sea.
A light change and we were done
for the night. No redemption, no
apotheosis.
Well, the Met saved money I
hope…
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