Critic’s Notebook: Haydn as the Highlight with the Concentus Musicus

Also published in Die Presse: Concentus Musicus im Musikverein: So wird Haydn zur großen Unterhaltung

W.A.Mozart, Sinfonia Concertante G.Kremer/K.Kashkashian N.Harnoncourt / WPh DG

J.Haydn, Symphonies No.103/104 N.Harnoncourt / RCO Teldec

Splendid entertainment courtesy of the "Drumroll" Symphony. The double concerto? Less so.

A proper classical evening at the Musikverein: Mozart overture (The Magic Flute), Mozart concerto (Sinfonia Concertante), and a Haydn symphony ("Drumroll") — performed by the Concentus Musicus in the sunlit Golden Hall of the Musikverein. A fine concert that even a — to put it mildly — rather dicey performance of Mozart’s double concerto couldn’t derail.

It’s a tricky piece, the Sinfonia Concertante. Superficially charming and “pleasant” — but don’t be fooled. It demands vigilance. The viola part in particular (especially if, as was commendably done here, one adheres to the original “scordatura” tuning — up a half-step) is rife with pitfalls. Add to that the fact that the Sinfonia Concertante is not exactly a box-office draw, so you rarely get actual soloists (i.e. the expensive kind). Instead, it becomes an occasion for the section leaders to step out of the orchestral shadow every once in a while.

More often than not, that goes sideways. And so it did here: Cohesion among the soloists, intonation, even the basic tonal quality — all were wanting. The first movement, in particular, was limp and mewling; the third showed marked improvement, but not enough to erase what came before. No matter: the audience, especially and understandably fond of the longtime concertmaster for his decades of musical trailblazing, responded with cheers that masked the crooked playing.

Before that, and fittingly rare in this setting, came the Magic Flute overture: lively strings and spirited winds, ably held together by the deputy concertmaster in a performance that sounded fresh and spontaneous.

And then there was Haydn. Symphony No. 103 — unmistakably the highlight of the evening. As it should be, and as it was. Granted, it remains an unfortunate quirk of Vienna — the classical music city par excellence — that Haydn must be sought-and-found in period-instrument subscription series rather than in the main symphonic concerts (Wilhelm Sinkovicz quite rightly lamented this recently in Die Presse: “Die Musikstadt Wien verliert nach und nach ihre Klassiker”). Still, one takes what one can get — especially when it's done as well as here: Snappy and incisive in the first movement, bold accents confidently absorbed. The slow second flowed with life (though marred by an extended solo passage for the erstwhile soloist, now returned to his concertmaster post). The minuet was cheeky, and the finale pulsed with a driving, unhurried, and delightfully agitated energy — culminating in a result both thrilling and gloriously tumultuous.

This is Haydn as high entertainment.


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Critic’s Notebook: A Dreamboot Rheingold in Vienna

Also published in Die Presse: „Rheingold“ an der Wiener Staatsoper: Ein Sternstundenabend

R.Wagner, Das Rheingold H.v.Karjana / Berlin Phil DG

R.Wagner, Das Rheingold M.Janowski / RSO Berlin Pentatone SACD

R.Wagner, Das Rheingold P.Boulez / P.Chéreau / Bayreuth FO Unitel DVD

A harmonious, resplendent, and thoroughly entertaining cast delivers a thoroughly glorious Rheingold at the Vienna State Opera.

That E-flat major chord at the start of Das Rheingold: every time it appears out of nowhere, it stirs something in you: a journey begins. And what a journey it is: a deceptively calm opening that soon gives way to one of the most brisk, action-packed, and downright funny operas in the repertory—two and a half hours that sail by in a steady current. Sven-Eric Bechtolf’s production has been on the books at the Vienna State Opera for nearly two decades, and yet it remains captivatingly fresh. The staging is classically timeless: each scene a sparsely furnished tableau that sparks the imagination rather than smothering it. Add a cast this breathtakingly good—as it was on Wednesday night (May 27th)—and the result is pure delight.

As always, all good things begin with three slinky ladies. The sleek, sinewy water nymphs—Iliana Tonca, Isabel Signoret, and Stephanie Maitland, in clingy green algae-gowns—formed a sonorous, well-blended trio that gave Jochen Schmeckenbecher’s convincing bad-boy Alberich quite the hard time.

“Deiner Hand, Donner, entsinkt ja der Hammer!”

A good example of the production’s thoughtful, cheeky staging: the scene where the giants pay their visit to the gods. Wotan and company strike picture-perfect deity poses—Keeping Up Appearances, Wagner-style. Or the moment when the spears of Fasolt and Fafner (Ilja Kazakov and Kwangchul Youn, dressed like the boulder-beasts from The NeverEnding Story) start heat up as Loge lays a hand on them. Daniel Behle’s Loge, in a performance that would have made Heinz Zednik proud, combined sharp-edged delivery with youthful zing.

Donner’s hammer, housed in a Swarovski-encrusted instrument case, still elicits an inner chuckle. That he was sung by Martin Hässler—fresh-faced, cocky, and with a whiff of Falco—only made it better. (When his hammer slipped from his grip—not in Scene II, as scripted, but in Scene IV—it caused a brief moment of audience amusement, but was professionally played off.) There really wasn’t a whole lot one could have wanted more, cast- and acting-wise, though Freia’s dutifully serious “Dünkt euch Holda wirklich der Lösung werth?” (“Are you certain I am worthy the ransom?”) might have benefited from a hint of sarcasm.

Wotan, head of the celestial household, was sung by Scottish bass-baritone Iain Paterson, making his role debut at the house. There have been louder Wotans, or nobler ones—but few as articulate. Paterson’s flawless diction, extraordinarily sensitive phrasing, and text-driven intensity were a constant dramatic asset. A strong match: Monika Bohinec’s commanding, penetrating Fricka—mature, but (just) not yet overripe.

Michael Laurenz’s young, wild Mime, decked out in a mechanic’s jumpsuit, was a casting luxury—proof that this role doesn’t need to be handed to a wheezy character tenor. If one were inclined to quibble about Regine Hangler’s sonorously squeaky Freia—more siren (the maritime, not homeric kind) than goddess—well, that would be nitpicking at a very high level. Contributing to that level of luxury was Anna Kissjudit, making her house debut. She’d already made an impression as Mary in The Flying Dutchman in Budapest; as Erda—earthy and with a distinct vocal hue—she was even more convincing and earned a round of special applause.

The orchestra held up remarkably well through it all. The scenes involving the Ring’s powers burst out with sharp, overwhelming force. The unstable-sounding brass during the prelude was submerged in the the surging musical waves—and soon regained their footing. The anvils, alas, clanged on irritably: too loud or too tinny—probably both. Philippe Jordan’s conducting, strict but ever-forward-flowing, was a far better fit here than in his unsensual Tannhäuser. One could argue about Jordan’s Wagner—but who wants to quibble after an evening like this?


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Forget if Frankenstein was the scientist or the monster - it's all about Elizabeth

Rebecca S'manga Frank as Elizabeth in Frankenstein, Shakespeare Theatre Company.
Photo: DJ Corey Photography

Emily Burns is familiar to theater-goers lucky enough to experience last spring's Macbeth, starring Ralph Fiennes. After adapting Shakespeare's text for that production, the London-based playwright has updated Mary Shelley's Gothic novel for her own direction at Shakespeare Theatre Company, seen Saturday evening at the Klein Theatre. Adaptations of Frankenstein abound, as recently as last year's uneven film version, Poor Things. Burns has also pursued a feminist reading of the work, not by feminizing the monster but by viewing the entire story through the character of Elizabeth, given "the agency of a contemporary woman," as the program note put it.

If it's been a while since you read the novel, Elizabeth is the girl adopted by Victor Frankenstein's parents. Mary Shelley made changes to the character as she revised the book: in the original version, Elizabeth and Victor were cousins, but in later versions she was an unrelated foster daughter. In both cases she is betrothed to her step-brother, but their wedding night turns bloody when the monster that Victor brought into the world, in a fit of jealousy, murders Elizabeth. (The character, who never knows her biological mother, has much in common with Mary Shelley herself, raised by a stepmother not as kindly disposed to her at all.)

(Spoilers ahead) Burns centers the action in the Frankenstein family home, near the end of the novel. Victor Frankenstein has returned from his studies in Ingolstadt, but he is not being at all truthful about what happened there or why his father had to nurse him back to health. Disaster strikes when Victor's younger brother, whom Elizabeth raised almost like a child, is murderered, and the family maid, Justine, is arrested and executed for the crime. Burns alters the ending significantly: rather than the monster murdering Elizabeth, there is a somewhat nonsensical story about her and Victor's child, left to an orphanage and somehow raised by the monster.

Rebecca S'manga Frank made a striking STC debut as Elizabeth, a 19th-century waif transformed by a modern sense of independence and frankness. As the downtrodden Justine, Anna Takayo made an equally worthy debut, bringing a remarkable range of emotion to the role, from outrage to tragic resolve. As a fast-talking Victor with a malleable sense of the truth, Nick Westrate never quite convinced, although Burns's adaptation was perhaps more to blame for making him a far less sympathetic character. With his entrance delayed to the final scenes, Lucas Iverson had even less of a chance to make an impression as the Monster, frightening only in a few flashbacks and voice-overs.

The decidedly 21st-century idiom of Burns's language in the adaptation is off-putting, given the 19th-century setting established by the shadow-filled Gothic set (scenic design by Andrew Boyce, lighting by Neil Austin) and romantic-period costumes (Kate Voyce). Music and sound, designed and composed by André Pluess, are responsible for most of the chills, such as they are. The most faithful parts of the novel to be reproduced are the voice-overs, mostly taken verbatim from Shelley's text.

Frankenstein has been extended through June 29. shakespearetheatre.org.