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Dr. Klepper Will See You Now: Opera as Psychotherapy Dresden
Semperoper
08/29/2024 - & September 1*, 20, 2024
Richard Wagner: Der fliegende Holländer
Michael Volle (Dutchman), Georg Zeppenfeld (Daland), Jennifer Holloway (Senta), Mario Lerchenberger (Steersman), Tomislav Muzek (Erik), Christa Mayer (Mary)
Sächsischer Staatsopernchor Dresden, Jan Hoffmann (chorus master), Sächsische Staatskapelle Dresden, Axel Kober (conductor)
Florentine Klepper (stage director), Martina Segna (sets), Anna Sofie Tuma (costumes), Bernd Purkrabek (lighting), Bastian Trieb (videography), Sophie Becker (dramaturgy)
(© Semperoper Dresden/Matthias Creutziger)
It’s awe-inspiring to attend a cherished work in the very opera house where it premiered under the composer’s baton. In fact, Der fliegende Holländer (1843) and two other works by Wagner, Rienzi (1842) and Tannhäuser (1845) were premiered in the venerable Semperoper. Named after the architect who designed it, Gottfried Semper (1803‑1879), it’s one of the most beautiful opera houses in the world. Like Dresden itself, the venue boasts a glorious history. In addition to Wagner’s aforementioned works, it also witnessed the world premieres of nine of Richard Strauss’s operas: Feuersnot (1901), Salome (1905), Elektra (1909), Der Rosenkavalier (1911), Intermezzo (1924), Die ägyptische Helena (1928), Arabella (1933), Die schweigsame Frau (1935) and Daphne (1938). It also hosted the premieres of several early twentieth operas by Busoni, d’Albert, Hindemith, Pfitzner, Schoeck and Wolf‑Ferrari.
Notable as Wagner’s earliest success, Der fliegende Holländer was first performed in 1843, some time after other German Romantic operas such as Marschner’s Der Vampyr (1828) and Weber’s Der Freischütz (1821). All share a common thread in the supernatural, an important element of early Romanticism.
The story is based on Heinrich Heine’s retelling of the legend in his satirical novel Aus den Memoiren des Herren von Schnabelewopski (1831). It’s a variant of the legend of The Wandering Jew, a man cursed to wander the ocean on a damned ship, from which he may set foot ashore but once each seven years. He may only be freed from his curse if he finds a loyal woman who can truly love him. In his memoirs, Mein Leben (1870), Wagner claimed the inspiration came during a stormy crossing on the North Sea from Riga, where he experienced the force of a severe storm. Indeed, the opera’s overture is possibly the best musical portrayal of the sea, alongside Debussy’s La Mer (1905).
Eerily reminiscent of a riveting production seen a couple of months ago in Düsseldorf, director Florentine Klepper’s vision is decidedly disturbing and bleak. Gone is the Wagnerian redemption of the Romantic anti‑hero through the love and sacrifice of a woman. While the sacrifice of women in Romantic opera is incongruent with today’s values, are opera and literature necessarily a reflection of drab quotidian life, or are they an imagined escape from reality? Klepper opts for both the dullest of realities as well as escapism.
In Klepper’s vision, the opera is no longer concentrated on the tormented Dutchman, but rather on Senta, the daughter of a ship owner in a Norwegian coastal town where drunkardness, sexual violence and possibly incest are the norm. Senta endured a fearful childhood, constantly threatened by men. During the overture, we witness a funeral in an austere hamlet. Senta, who has long left the town, returns for her father’s burial. The distant townsfolk do not greet her but engage in gossip upon seeing her. Oddly, two priests leading the funeral procession are dressed in ornate Catholic (possibly Anglican) robes, and not stern Lutheran clerical garb. The landscape and the clerics evoke Catholic Ireland rather than Protestant Norway, where the action takes place, for reasons never elucidated.
Thoughout much of the opera, a little girl who represents Senta as a child is present on stage. Both Sentas (child and woman) are redheads in a town of uniform y blond women, an allusion to her being the “other,” different from them, passionate and non-conformist.
The opening chorus, according to Wagner’s libretto, takes place on Daland’s ship. But here, it’s on shore, mostly at a pub, with three barmaids, two of whom are also the town floozies. Daland’s crew sing longfully of returning home to their women, but instead cavort with those at the bar. More alarmingly, they chase little Senta, who initially escapes. Then, they use their fishermen’s net to catch the child, place her on the bar’s counter and gaze upon her lustfully while her father Daland cheers them on. Just as they are about to pounce on the child, the Dutchman appears and sings his first words “Die Frist is um”, interrupting the sailors’ rowdy proceeding and possible rape. It would seem the poor child is actually violated and that she has conjured up the Dutchman, whose legend is known to the town, to comfort her during the outrageous act. Alternatively, she may have been saved in time by the Dutchman who appeared. Whichever the case, throughout the opera the two scenarios remain plausible, which is the saving grace of this controversial staging. One can almost ignore it and enjoy a riveting performance, thanks to glorious singing, music making and, truth be told, austere yet effective sets. As the Dutchman promises treasure to Daland in return for one night’s shelter, and much more in return for a faithful wife, the child‑Senta conjures up a trove of riches, supporting the dreadful first alternative.
Act II opens with the spinning chorus of townswomen weaving ship masts and nets, awaiting the return of their men. Klepper transforms this scene into a feminist outcry against the subjugation of women and their maternal “duty” of childbearing. Reminiscent of Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale (1985) or the film The Stepford Wives (1975), two dozen heavily pregnant choristers go one‑by‑one onto a bed to birth babies, which are then given immediately to the collective. Red‑headed adult‑Senta sings her ballad “Johohoe! Traft ihr das Schiff im Meere an” to a chorus of uniformly-attired blond women with 1960s hairdos. The feminist lamentation has turned into a nightmare. Mercifully, the glorious singing helps one forget.
The most powerful scene in the opera was Senta’s Act II duet with the Dutchman, which, in addition to being movingly sung, felt and looked like a traditional staging. Only towards the end of the duet, when Senta sings her fealty and devotion “Wem ich sie weih, schenk ich die eine; die Treue bis zum Tod” does the wall of Senta’s room flip, a totally plausible allowance, given the power of this scene. Both protagonists feel delivered: the Dutchman from his curse, and Senta from her oppressive small town life.
The staging of the third act was the wildest and least clear, possibly corresponding to Senta’s troubled subconscious. The chorus of Norwegian sailors is transformed into mourners attending Daland’s funeral service. The corpse of Daland then rises mysteriously from the dead, almost pushing Senta into the gates of Hell. The Dutchman’s crew is terrifyingly represented by three beasts, a bird of prey, a wolf and a third hard-to-define creature. Both the adult and child Senta stand with this frightening assembly, signifying imminent perdition. As the Dutchman surprises Senta with a pleading Erik, her sweetheart prior to the Dutchman, we have a striking tableau of Senta between the two men. Senta pleads with the Dutchman that she has not forsaken him, but to no avail. The opera ends with Senta taking her luggage, walking with a self‑confident swagger and leaving town – never to return one assumes – and little Senta dancing about, merrily. The Dutchman has not been saved it seems, but Senta has undergone a shake‑up that’s cured her childhood trauma. If only it could be this simple, Dr. Klepper!
The two singers interpreting the leading roles could not have been surpassed. German baritone Michael Volle, today’s leading Dutchman, was in even better form than a couple of months ago in Düsseldorf. Other than a beautifully virile voice, his diction was the best I have ever heard in this role, on stage or disc. Every single word was clearly enunciated, and the emotion spot‑on. His interpretation was stirring in phrases such as “Nirgends ein Grab! Niemals der Tod! Dies der Verdammnis Schreckgebot” and “Vergebne Hoffnung! Furchtbar eitler Wahn!” (“Nowhere a grave! Never death! This is the terrifying commandment of damnation” and “Vain hope! Dreadful vain delusion!”). Despite the bizarre staging, his torment was palpable throughout the opera. Even when enraptured by Senta’s declaration of eternal faithfulness and loyalty, he managed to convey both rapture and anguish at the same time. Without a doubt, he’s the uncontested Dutchman of his generation.
Soprano Jennifer Holloway was an incandescent Senta. Her lirico spinto soprano was ideal for the role. Endowed with brilliant high notes, she also has a strong middle and lower register that she uses to nuance her interpretation. Hearing her bright high notes, one can hardly conceive that the American singer started out as a mezzo. Totally consumed by her role, she was truly moving and completely convincing. Her final line “Preis deinen Engel und sein Gebot! Hier steh ich, treu dir bis zum Tod!” was earth shattering, despite Senta’s lack of sacrifice. Either Holloway ignored the distorted retelling of the story, or it was the rapture of patient Senta being released from her childhood trauma.
German bass Georg Zeppenfeld was an effective Daland, thanks to first‑rate acting and a strong stage presence. He brilliantly conveyed the character’s greed and eagerness to have Senta marry the wealthy Dutchman. His basso cantante is on the light side, but it didn’t contrast sufficiently with Michael Volle’s baritone in their Act I duet. The fat sound of a deeper bass is more evocative of paternal love, although that may be totally absent according to the director’s vision.
Croatian lyric tenor Tomislav Muzek was an ideal Erik. His sweet voice was seductive and touching. No wonder he’s sought by leading opera houses for roles such as Tamino, Rodolfo, Pinkerton and Don Carlo. Thanks to his beautiful timbre and ardent portrayal, his reproaching and beseeching Senta was powerful and moving. Klepper had to add some male‑bashing to the role by having Erik behave violently with his sweetheart to an extent that approached physical abuse. This was totally gratuitous.
German mezzo Christa Mayer was an appropriately austere Mary. In the spinning-scene-turned-delivery-ward, she was almost comical as the overbearing matron directing factory childbirth. A funny Mary! Now that is an accomplishment by Klepper.
The Sächsischer Staatsopernchor Dresden under chorus master Jan Hoffmann reached a pinnacle of choral singing. Despite the sometimes absurd staging, they gave it their all with total seriousness and conviction. Recently acclaimed conducting the same opera in Düsseldorf, Axel Kober led the forces of Sächsische Staatskapelle Dresden with even more passion and panache this time. Obviously, as this is one of the world’s finest orchestras, much can be achieved with such a rich score. Kober managed to render the overture truly menacing. This was enhanced by a video of terrifying birds of prey roaming the Norwegian coast. As a veteran opera conductor, Kober deftly supported his singers, especially Senta, in her ballad, and the Dutchman, in his Act I narration “Die Frist ist um.”
As touching is the character of Senta, especially in the hands of a singer as luminous as Jennifer Holloway, the Dutchman is the true focus of the opera. One can always be “creative” and make Cassio the center of Otello, Fricka of Die Walküre, and Herodias of Salome, but it would be mere inanity rather than creativity. The seriousness of sexual violence as an issue doesn’t justify hijacking the plot of Der fliegende Holländer. This was a flawed production that failed to provoke the emotions Wagner intended. Instead of being a paean to the nobility of love (albeit through the sacrifice of a woman), we needlessly endured a two‑hour session of dubious psychotherapy. Luckily, the singers and the conductor remained as true to Wagner as was possible.
Ossama el Naggar
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