What is this anguish that each of us carries inside?

What is this anguish that each of us carries inside?  That’s the central question of Thomas Larcher’s chamber opera Das Jagdgewehr that premiered at the Bregenz Festival in 2018.  It’s based on a 1949 novel by Yasushi Inoue about a hunter, the three women in his life and the poet to whom he sends the women’s letters.  It’s a stark, intense tale of love, death, secrecy, loss and betrayal told in a prologue and eleven scenes over about an hour and a quarter.


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ETA 6th December 2019:

Rewatching Le Grand Macabre after four years has rather changed my opinion.  It still seems weird and sometimes hard to watch but I think I see a certain logic in it now that completely escaped me before.  So the End of the World is approaching and all the Powers that Be can do is squabble, exchange scatological insults and get very, very drunk while the one sane (if rather weird) character (Gepopo) can’t find a language to communicate the enormity of what’s happening to them.  Sound vaguely familiar?  (Coincidentally, I’m writing this on the day that Andrew Scheer said that the Federal Government should give more heroin to the addicts in Alberta because otherwise they’ll get in a snit).  Of course, in Ligeti’s version Death gets so drunk that he screws up terminating the space-time continuum but we probably won’t be so lucky.  So yes the fart jokes and the raccoon on bins orchestra is still there but it now seems to me in service of something rather more profound than I previously gave it credit for.  Also, Hannigan is not just brilliant vocally.  It’s also, even by her standards, an amazing physical performance. (Original review under the cut).


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The dream is over but the night not yet

So closes Aribert Reimann’s 2010 opera Medea.  It’s a two hour piece in four “pictures” that premiered at the Wiener Staatsoper in 2010 and the Blu-ray/DVD recording is taken from that initial run.  Actually there’s a good deal more nightmare than dream in this version as, I suppose, there is in just about any version of the Medea story.  This one draws on Franz Grillparzer’s version for the libretto and is entirely concerned with events after Jason and Medea reach Corinth.  It’s unusually sympathetic to Medea herself with Jason and Kreon very much the villains.

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The other Khovanshchina

There are only two video recordings of Mussorgsky’s Khovanshchina currently available. The 1989 Vienna recording, which I wrote about yesterday, and a 2007 production from Barcelona’s Gran Teatre del Liceu which I’ve also just had a chance to see.

The two productions make for interesting contrasts on many levels. In Barcelona, music director Michal Boder, while opting to use the Shostakovich orchestration as a basis modifies it in places with elements of the Rimsky-Korsakoff version. He also uses Voronhov’s lower key alternative to the Stravinsky in the final chorus and he makes some cuts; most notably the Susannah scene in Act 3. He also gets quite a different sound from the orchestra. Where Abbado in Vienna is very refined, one might almost say Viennese, Boder is brasher. In places the music almost sounds like Shostakovich with the characteristic braying brass. Admittedly some of this may be due to the quality of the recorded sound. The Vienna recording is rather soft focussed Dolby 2.0 while Barcelona gets very crisp and detailed DTS 5.1 (There’s LPCM stereo too but I didn’t check it out).

The stage productions too are very different. Stein Winge in Barcelona eschews the opulence of 1620s Russia and opts for a bleak 1950s setting. This actually works quite well in bringing out the self serving agendas of the three main characters as well as their essential smallness when deprived of their bullying platform. There are some neat touches. Khovansky senior has a dwarf. The respect and affection with which he treats the dwarf compared to his son highlights the impotence and irrelevance of the latter. Chillingly it’s the dwarf who delivers the fatal blow in act 4 after a scene with his dancers that makes Khovansky seem more like Silvio Berlusconi than a powerful warlord. It’s even oddly unerotic. The Persian dancers are straight out of a Disney version of the Arabian Nights which is a rather stark contrast with Kirchner’s lesbian BDSM near porn scene. The final mass suicide in Barcelona is played out in a low key but effective way with the stage lit only by candles that are extinguished one by one. The pathos is heightened by the inclusion of children among the Believers.

In terms of performance there are pros and cons to both recordings. The acting, clearly more closely directed, is more theatrical and less old fashioned operatic in the Barcelona production. Vocally, it’s a mix. Ghiaurov for Abbado is a much more charismatic Khovansky than Vladimir Ognovenko. Graham Clark’s Scribe in Barcelona makes much more of the part than his Vienna equivalent and Vladimir Vaseev’s Gosifei for Boder is more lyrical than his opposite number. I didn’t see much to choose between the other male characters. The biggest differenceis in the Marfas. Elena Zeremba’s vibrato is really quite excessive and mars a good acting performance. She’s very much a weak link compared to the excellent Ludmila Semtschuk in Vienna.

Technically the newer recording is much, much better. The sound, as mentioned above, is far superior and the 16:9 anamorphic picture is much better than Vienna’s near TV quality. The Barcelona disc also has useful extras; a synopsis and a good interview with Boder as well as documentation including a useful essay by Winge. The subtitles; English, French, German, Italian, Castilian and Catalan, are much less obtrusive though quite legible.

Surprisingly the video direction for Barcelona isn’t a huge improvement on Vienna. Angel Luis Ramirez does manage to stay back from the action more than Brian Large but he gets rushes of blood to the head in the big choruses in both Acts 3 and 5. In both cases there is a very full stage and a picture carefully composed by the director. In both cases Ramirez keeps cutting back and forward between wide shots and completely irrelevant close ups with a full arsenal of fades, dissolves and superpositions (see the third screen cap above). The farcical drunken chorus of the Streltsy in Act 3 can almost survive the treatment but it does much to undermine the deliberate simplicity of the final suicide.