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The Legend Endures Torino
Teatro Regio
05/15/2024 - & May 17, 19, 22*, 24, 26, 2024
Richard Wagner: Der fliegende Holländer
Brian Mulligan (Dutchman), Gidon Saks (Daland), Johanni Van Oostrum (Senta), Matthew Swensen (Steersman), Robert Watson (Erik), Annely Peebo (Mary)
Coro del Teatro Regio Torino, Ulisse Trabacchin (chorus master), Orchestra del Teatro Regio Torino, Nathalie Stutzmann (conductor)
Willy Decker (stage director), Riccardo Fracchia (revival stage director), Wolfgang Gussmann (sets & costumes), Hans Töldtede (lighting), Vladi Spigarolo (revival lighting)
(© Daniele Ratti)
Wagner’s earliest success, Der fliegende Holländer was first performed in 1843, a few years after other German Romantic operas such as Marschner’s Der Vampyr (1828) and Weber’s Der Freischütz (1821). These operas 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 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).
My first Der fliegende Holländer was in Hamburg in the late 1980s. It was staged in the spirit of the supernatural, much like a horror film, and it was a magnificent production with a masterful use of lighting that made the Dutchman’s ship appear as if made of skulls. An impressionable young man, I was shaken by the horror as much as its glorious music.
Having now seen over twenty productions of the work, I remain haunted by that production, as it followed the opera’s more supernatural aspects. Most stage directors shun the horror element when mounting the opera, perhaps deeming it intellectually facile, but also for challenges in expressing the supernatural onstage. In a programme note, director Willy Decker opted for a figurative representation of the Dutchman’s ship and the ocean, as it’s not possible to represent the latter onstage. I am not sure I agree, and found the production too “figurative”. We never see the Dutchman’s ship or its ghostly crew. Instead, we see ropes connecting it to Daland’s ship like a fetus connected by an umbilical cord. Equally disappointing was the modest representation of the Dutchman’s treasure with which he entices Daland to give him his daughter Senta as his bride. Despite the austere sets and vacant stage, Senta’s obsession with the Dutchman’s legend was well‑conveyed through a huge painting of a turbulent sea.
Before the performance started, it was announced that South African bass Gidon Saks (in the role of Daland) was indisposed, but that he would nonetheless go on with the performance. As this is Italy rather than Germany or Austria, one cannot easily find replacement singers who know German roles inside out. Saks’ diminished condition was sadly apparent. His duet with the Dutchman lacked the proper contrast between the two low voices. Nonetheless, he compensated with good acting, portraying a loving father as well as a greedy man.
After the intermission, the same announcement was made regarding American baritone Brian Mulligan. One could sense a certain fatigue in the final act, but overall he was vocally impressive. His Act I “Die Frist ist um” conveyed the cursed Dutchman’s torment. Endowed with excellent diction, 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!”)
The absolute star of the performance was South African soprano Johanni Van Oostrum, an incandescent Senta. Even before singing a note, she exuded pathos to no end. This Senta was not just haunted by the legend of the Dutchman, she seemed like a psychologically troubled woman. One wished director Decker had given us some clues. Happily, her interpretation of Senta’s ballad was haunting and foreboding. One immediately sensed impending doom. Blessed with a secure upper register, her high notes were assured. Her diction was exemplary, with proper emphasis on critical words such as “Wem ich sie weih, schenk ich die eine; die Treue bis zum Tod” in the second act duet with the Dutchman. Her phrasing of the her final lines, as she chooses to commit suicide, “Preis deinen Engel und sein Gebot! Hier steh ich, treu dir bis zum Tod!” were appropriately the apotheosis of the evening. Intriguingly, Decker chose to have Senta stab herself rather than jump off a cliff to save the Dutchman. Again, this is another twist in the plot without explanation.
American tenor Robert Wilson was an adequate Erik, Senta’s suitor. Unfortunately, he did not exude youth and vitality, and at moments sounded exhausted. The director’s decision to have the Steersman and the rest of the Norwegian crew rough him up intrigued but was not sufficiently explored. The effect was that Senta could not possibly choose a wimp instead of her doomed Romantic hero. On the other hand, German-born American tenor Matthew Swensen was the embodiment of health. Endowed with a glorious voice with squillo, one hopes to hear him again in major roles.
Estonian mezzo Annely Peebo was an adequate Mary, a role that is not demanding vocally. She was as austere as one could be. Interestingly, Decker seemed to insinuate a déjà‑vu idea seen in a couple of stagings of the work: Mary has a special link with the Dutchman! Perhaps she was a woman the Dutchman had previously met but refused to commit to, hence her choice of remaining an old maid. Perhaps it was she who exposed Senta to the legend. This was not emphatically shown, but insinuated. What seemed to give credence to this theory was the young woman rushing to the dying Senta to grab the Dutchman’s portrait, indicating the saga will continue and a new young woman is to bear the torch. Logically, Senta’s suicide should have demonstrated her fealty and saved the Dutchman from damnation. So why the continuation of the legend after the Dutchman has been saved?
Nathalie Stutzmann, previously an exceptional contralto, is a precious rarity: a singer of great musicality who became a masterful conductor. With her past vocation, she is more qualified than most to conduct opera. In this performance, she led the Orchestra del Teatro Regio with panache and passion. Of equal importance was her support of the singers, some of whom were not operating at top level.
The choice of an intermission after the first act (instead of the now more common uninterrupted opera) disrupted the drama, but is perhaps necessary in Italy, where Wagner isn’t a favourite. After all, one act of Götterdämmerung is longer than the entirety of La bohème, Manon Lescaut or Tosca. Italians are unlikely to endure Der fliegende Holländer “senza intervallo”.
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