Critic’s Notebook: Eötvös meets Krasznahorkai — Valuska at the Budapest Opera

Also reviewed for Die Presse: Oper „Valuska“ in Budapest: Lautmalerei der leisen Töne

P. Eötvös Three Sisters Nagano, O.d.Lyon (DG, 1999) US | UK | DE

P. Eötvös Love and Other Demons V.Jurowski, LPO (Glyndeborne, 2013) US | UK | DE

P. Eötvös Atlantis Eötvös, WDRSO (BMC, 2018) US | UK | DE

A Nobel Effort from Budapest

The revival of the Eötvös-Krasznahorkai opera Valuska got a deserving boost.

When the Hungarian State Opera decided to revive Peter Eötvös's final opera, Valuska, this season, following its December 2023 premiere, no one could have known that László Krasznahorkai, on whose novel Melancholy of Resistance the libretto is based, would win the Nobel Prize. Ticket sales for the small alternative venue — the Eiffel Art Studios — moved sluggishly at first. But what a difference a Nobel Prize makes! After the Swedish Academy's announcement earlier this month, all three performances sold out in no time.

It was worth attending, too — provided you can accommodate yourself with Eötvös's brand of music theater. He's written 14 operas in total, which makes him arguably Hungary's foremost opera composer (although I reckon most listeners would trade it just for Bartók's Bluebeard in a heartbeat); and ever since his fourth, Tri sestri, he is one of the most frequently performed opera composers of the last few decades. One thing his works have going for them, although they're never easy listening, is that they're usually compelling drama.

Valuska, named after the novel's (anti-)hero, is his first setting of a Hungarian text (precisely to avoid comparison with Bartók). And what an instinct Eötvös showed in choosing it. Not that Krasznahorkai's novel is an obvious choice to adapt for the stage: without paragraph — let alone chapter — breaks, Krasznahorkai unfolds his story slowly, relentlessly, with immense, whimsical detail, yet remains compelling to the willing reader, manages even to be humorous at times, in the portrayal of his all-too-human protagonists. Only gradually does one realise what is happening in the anonymous little town the book's characters inhabit: the slow undermining of society by the twin forces of anarchy and oppression.

But the selection of text by Kinga Keszthelyi and Mari Mezei (Eötvös's wife), the choices made by Bence Varga's direction, Botond Devich's creative set, Kató Huszár's bold costumes, and Sándor Baumgartner's dramatic lighting, together with Eötvös's atmospheric score, combine to create a theatrical experience that does not reproduce the novel but conveys its sense of pity, melancholy, desolation, and quiet dread. One senses a (presumably unintentional) spiritual kinship with John Kennedy Toole's A Confederacy of Dunces.

To call it a "theatrical" rather than an "operatic" experience is to make a point, because Eötvös's music — for all its proven quality over the years — is not so much the reason why anyone would enjoy the work. Rather, it is a layer of supporting sound, suggesting moods, or making scenes aurally explicit. Valuska thus becomes "music theatre" in the most literal sense, with the emphasis on theatre. No one will be humming arias on their way home from the out-of-the-way multi-purpose theatre — a converted railway depot that doubles as the opera's costume- and prop-depot, and rehearsal facility.

But everyone will have understood the hissing, puffing, and pounding, the chattering and rattling of the train in the first of the twelve tableaux. Likewise, the refuge that Bach's music represents — played by the reclusive Professor (András Hábetler, a retired music-school director in the novel) on the record player for himself and his friend Valuska (Zsolt Haja), who is the innocently-naïve village-idiot with strong overtones of the "holy fool" archetype. Similarly literal is the chirping of the "Prince," who is – unseen, unfathomable, never directly heard – a constant, menacing presence in the travelling circus. Eötvös pulls all manner of onomatopoeia like stops on an organ: The squeaking toilet door in the train is vocalized by the ensemble. If that was one of Eötvös' ways of giving a nod to the humor in the original, it's darn effective.

With few but telling means, the production sketches the drab, disorderly world of a neglected provincial town on the small black stage. The whale — "the largest stuffed of its kind", the circuses' great draw, and catalyst of the action — is only seen after the mob has struck. Mayor Tünde (sung, aptly enough, by Tünde Szabóki) provides a garish pink splash of color amid the greyness. With her little dog-in-handbag (the costume department combined the two hilariously) she is clip-clopping toward totalitarianism. Since the music is not very conventional, conventional means to judge the singers hardly apply; only Haja's Valuska gets aria-like, dissonant-sweet moments in which he sounds bright and lovely — a plausible holy fool, indeed. The rest act, often delightfully quirky, supporting the drama with their vocal resources and acting as effectively as the small but alert State Opera Orchestra under Kálmán Szennai's direction.

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Critic’s Notebook: A Flying Dutchman from the Budapest Opera

R.Wagner, Der fliegende Holländer F.Fricsay, RIAS SOB DG/Eloquence

R.Wagner, Der fliegende Holländer F.Konwitschny, StaKap Berlin Berlin Classics

R.Wagner, Der fliegende Holländer D.Barenboim, StaKap Berlin Teldec/Warner

A Pleasing-Enough Dutchman

The point was to come to Budapest and witness the Hungarian Premiere of Nixon in China, but en passant it only seemed fitting to stop by the opera house proper (Nixon took place in a different venue) for a Flying Dutchman. It was celebrating its 140th birthday and, owing to it having been shut down for several years for comprehensive renovation work until its re-opening in 2022, I had never actually been. High time to change that, after all, it’s one of the finest examples of the neo-Renaissance style, a jewel among opera houses, perfectly sized (unless you want to make money with it), and now glowing again in its new-old splendour that had (allegedly) elicited the congratulatory grumble from Emperor Franz Joseph I at its opening that he “prescribed it to be smaller than the opera house in Vienna” but should also have “decreed that it not be more beautiful”. And indeed, it’s a truly grand opera house, all gilded, marbled, satined, and candelabraed. And yet just small enough to be intimate. (Far away enough to be ignored by the Western press, you’d think it’s the ideal stage for trying out new rôles for ambitious singers.)

So the Flying Dutchman it was. Earlier that day, a matinee of Carmen had already been produced… and apparently exhausted the Budapestian’s hunger for opera that day: The attendance was somewhere between “low” and “pitiful”, but certainly below 50% capacity of the roughly 1000 comfortable seats (fitted with subtitle screens) that the new post-renovation arrangement provides. What the hardy Wagnerians got was a fine Dutchman with some good singing in a production by János Szikora that means to offend no one or maybe just doesn’t mean much at all. The costumes (Kriszta Berzsenyi) are toned down, except for the slightly more elaborate getups of Senta and the Dutchman (a red dress and coat, respectively, with matching concentric yellow and orange circles painted on them) and a brief appearance of the Dutch sailor’s chorus as clunky papier-mâché zombies. Incidentally, that was the production’s only veritable failure. When the Norwegians call on, invite, and tease the Dutchman’s crew, their delayed, eventual response is supposed to be positively overwhelming. Various directors have come up with variously successful means of creating that effect. Amplification of the voices, as done here, is often among them. But then it should really be overwhelming. Here, it was an electronically distorted whimper that never got particularly loud and certainly never intimidating. A damp squib. The cowering visible chorus on stage was shivering for no reason.

Everywhere else, the production did not stand in the way of the music or the singing, which some more conservative audiences (for whatever that’s worth) might consider a good quality. The set by Éva Szendrényi is highly economical; two, three props (large ropes, a large frame, a loom) and otherwise it’s an empty stage, framed by frames with fabric stretched across them, doubling as a projection screen and revolving doors for getting all the seamen on and off the stage.

The singing had a few positive surprises in store. András Palerdi’s was a very pleasantly understated Daland, subtle, with good pronunciation. A bit on the soft side but never trying to overcompensate. Like his Steersman, István Horváth, who seems a fine all-purpose character tenor, à la Kevin Conners, he could be easily found on any international stage in that rôle. Anna Kissjudit’s Mary with a huge, natural, controlled voice that easily rang throughout the round was quite

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On ClassicsToday: Checking Out The Budapest Orchestral Scene Part III

Jenő Koppándi & Zsolt Hamar

For my ongoing survey of Budapest’s orchestral scene, I picked out an all-Bartók evening with the Hungarian National Philharmonic after having heard a great Concerto Budapest concert and the Hungarian RSO in the Ring. The National Philharmonic came to (Western) fame under its longtime director János Ferencsik and again when it was led for two decades by Zoltán Kocsis until the latter’s death in 2016. The ambitious bill on this season-opening night included the Two Portraits Op. 5, the Third Piano Concerto, and Bluebeard’s Castle for the main course. Fab stuff, mosty:

All-Bartók Season-Opener With The Hungarian National Philharmonic

Below are a few photos from the concert to go with that review.

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Bayreuth on the Danube: The Budapest Wagner Days. Production Photos from Die Götterdämmerung 2019

The Chorus: Honvéd Male Choir (Honvéd Férfikar) & Hungarian Radio Choir (Magyar Rádió Énekkara)

From the third day of the 2019 Budapest Wagner Days come these pictures of Die Götterdämmerung. (See production pictures of Das Rheingold here, Die Walküre here, and Siegfried here - and the ClassicsToday review here.) If the Rheingold stunned with a (largely) no-name cast that was absolutely bona-fide world class (most especially Alberich, Loge, Mime, and Fasolt along with the established Wotan of Johan Reuter's), this most popular opera of the Ring boasted a cast with world class names that, happily, lived up to their billing. Stuart Skelton, Johan Reuter, Camilla Nylund, and especially Catherine Foster gave of their best.

Here is part two (of two) of my review on ClassicsToday: A Magnificent Budapest Ring, Part 2: Walküre, Siegfried, & Götterdämmerung
Here is part one of my review on ClassicsToday: A Magnificent Budapest Ring: Prelude and Rheingold

Below are loads of production photos from Die Götterdämmerung to go with that review (or titillate you all on their own.)

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Bayreuth on the Danube: The Budapest Wagner Days. Production Photos from Siegfried 2019

Siegfried (Stefan Vinke)

From the third day of the 2019 Budapest Wagner Days come these pictures of Siegfried. (See production pictures of Das Rheingold here and Die Walküre here - and the ClassicsToday review here.) If the Rheingold stunned with a (largely) no-name cast that was absolutely bona-fide world class (most especially Alberich, Loge, Mime, and Fasolt along with the established Wotan of Johan Reuter's), this most popular opera of the Ring boasted a cast with world class names that, happily, lived up to their billing. Stuart Skelton, Johan Reuter, Camilla Nylund, and especially Catherine Foster gave of their best.

Here is part two (of two) of my review on ClassicsToday: A Magnificent Budapest Ring, Part 2: Walküre, Siegfried, & Götterdämmerung
Here is part one of my review on ClassicsToday: A Magnificent Budapest Ring: Prelude and Rheingold

Below are loads of production photos from Siegfried to go with that review (or titillate you all on their own.)

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Bayreuth on the Danube: The Budapest Wagner Days. Production Photos from Die Walküre

Hunding (Albert Pesendorfer) and his dogs

From the second day of the 2019 Budapest Wagner Days come these pictures of Die Walküre. (See production pictures of Das Rheingold here - and the ClassicsToday review here.) If the Rheingold stunned with a (largely) no-name cast that was absolutely bona-fide world class (most especially Alberich, Loge, Mime, and Fasolt along with the established Wotan of Johan Reuter's), this most popular opera of the Ring boasted a cast with world class names that, happily, lived up to their billing. Stuart Skelton, Johan Reuter, Camilla Nylund, and especially Catherine Foster gave of their best.

Here is part two (of two) of my review on ClassicsToday: A Magnificent Budapest Ring, Part 2: Walküre, Siegfried, & Götterdämmerung
Here is part one of my review on ClassicsToday: A Magnificent Budapest Ring: Prelude and Rheingold

Below are loads of production photos from Die Walküre to go with that review (or titillate you all on their own.)

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Bayreuth on the Danube: The Budapest Wagner Days. Production Photos from Das Rheingold

Freia (Lilla Horti), Fasolt (Per Bach Nissen) & Fafner (Walter Fink)

The Budapest Wagner Days are a 15-year old institution that I only got to know this year. Shame on me. At the heart of the Wagner Days, initiated by Ádám Fischer and taking place at the Müpa, Budapest’s splendid modern arts center, has been an annual Ring Cycle, always coupled with another Wagner opera. Last year, this cycle was on hiatus in favor of two non-Ring Operas. The feedback was immediate: "We want our Ring back", chanted the international crowd that had come to love the tradition and the semi-staged production by Hartmut Schörghofer & his wife. I don't know if they went to the Müpa Center with placards in their hands and horns on their helmets, but the Wagner Days were quick about bringing the Ring back, with the videos - an essential part of the production(s) - overhauled and brought up to technological date. Blood now splatters in HD. A good thing that they did that, too, one must assume (not having seen the previous incarnation), because these things tend to stale quickly. (Take the La fura dels Baus' vapid Ring Cycle, where the video elements looked like HAL 9000 had mated with a Windows 95 Screen Saver soon after that Ring first hit the stage.) To make up for the hiatus, the Ring was put on twice, from June 13. until 16. and from June 20. until the 23.

Here is part one (of two) of my review on ClassicsToday: A Magnificent Budapest Ring: Prelude and Rheingold

Below are loads of production photos from Das Rheingold to go with that review (or titillate you all on their own.)

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A Stunning Orchestral Surprise in Budapest

A Budapest Miracle? Concerto Budapest's "Wow" Moment

Budapest, March 27, 2019: Müpa: Ever since Budapest’s new concert hall—known as “Müpa” or “Palace of Arts”—with its combination of high-tech echo chambers and its traditional common-sense “shoebox” design opened in 2005, I’ve wanted to hear it in action. Located at the edge of downtown—alongside the Danube, right next to the comically hideous 2002 National Theater—it is not an imposing building from the outside, but welcoming and logically laid out on the inside. The main hall, the Bartók National Concert Hall, is a soft-curved wooden shoebox with a very sensible capacity of 1700. Its acoustic was overseen by Russell Johnson. The massive organ, built by the Pécs Organ Manufactory and Mühleisen Stuttgart, features an imposing prospect—including a battery of pipes protruding from the façade—and is one of the largest of its kind.

Along the walls above the upper tier—vaguely colored like a Scottish tartan—are the resonance boxes that can be closed or opened to give the desired length of reverb for the program at hand. Although closed on this occasion in late March, they are apparently in regular use—in contrast to fancy features like the Sala São Paulo’s adjustable ceiling, which is very cool in theory but hardly used in practice. Now: one visit to a concert hall cannot begin to give an adequate idea of its acoustic. But this one impression of hearing the Concerto Budapest, one of five symphony orchestras in Budapest, suggested that at its best, the acoustic is superb.

The Rambunctious Joy that is King Ubu’s Dinner Music

BAZi, 'Ubu Music', Symphony in One Movement, Giostra Genovese, Concerto for Strings P.Hirsch/WDR-SO Wergo

And what a concert it was. More specifically: What a first half! On the far side of intermission, a very finely played, generally soft-edged Rite of Spring awaited the listeners, full of well-shaped individual contributions, sexy contrabassoon notes, and fierce highlights. It didn’t have the ferocious bite I look for in the work, delivering—*de gustibus*—rather urbane suaveness instead. A bit like the Concertgebouw Orchestra might play that work. Indeed, like in Amsterdam, the perception may have been shaped by the acoustic which gave the impression of some orchestral energy dissipating upwards: even the greatest *fff* climaxes were not shrill or harsh or even particularly loud.

It would have been a more impressive performance, hadn’t that first half rocked as hard and delighted as much. Bernd Alois Zimmermann’s Musique pour les soupers du Roi Ubu—which incidentally throws out a quote from Le Sacre right off the bat on the organ—is a tumultuous, riotous, quintessential musical collage: None of the music is, *en détail*, original. But collectively the phrases as put together by Zimmermann, create a unique, decidedly original work.

It certainly sounds, in parts, like a “who’s that composer” guessing game. But more to the point, it is a riveting, compelling work all of its own which has, not in any individual incident but structurally, parallels in the music of Gustav Mahler and Charles Ives. And then there are four solo basses fiddling for their life up front in episodes that make Mahler’s “Frère Jacques” episode seem like child’s play. Perhaps most notably, instead of being doom-and-gloom as one would might reasonably expect from the composer of the *Ecclesiastical Action* (“I turned and beheld all the injustice perpetrated under the sun”), it is very often very funny. The classical bits (from plainchant to Stockhausen’s banging, repetitive chords of Klavierstück IX, and with plenty Wagner in the middle) are interrupted by Jazz-outbreaks that sound like someone turned the knob on the radio… eventually blending it with a medieval flute consort and then an ever-increasing amount of musical layers. E-guitars and basses are thrown into the mix, too. Altogether a bit like someone was taking Schnittke, Purcell, Monty Python and started juggling. What a joy!

Supple Pianism and a Lesson in Orchestral Alertness

J.Brahms, F.Liszt & W.Lutosławski, Paganini Variations & Paganini Rhapsody Tzimon Barto/Schleswig-Holstein FO/C.Eschenbach Ondine

The rest of the front-loaded first half of the concert consisted of the two piano-and-orchestra humdingers, the Rachmaninov Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini and Lutosławski’s Variations on a Theme of Paganini. Andrei Korobeinikov played with rare feeling: short notes were still soft-edged. There was no incident of harsh banging, although banging is certainly required by at least Rachmaninov. What a *very* pleasant surprise in works where technical efficiency and accuracy, however necessary, would be so very much insufficient.

If that hadn’t been enough for enthusiasm, the Concerto Budapest—long established but revived and raised to new heights by its current music director András Keller (of Keller Quartet fame)—performed with absurd accuracy and sensitivity. The turn-on-a-dime-agile brass was secure; the strings warm and wispy-velvety in the true pianissimos; the woodwinds colorful. Moreover, the collective responded in such minute detail to Keller’s instructions that it just about took your breath away. Climaxes were approached not with a permanent swell but only quick peaks followed by an immediate and gentle receding of the strings. It’s just the way you think a string quartet player would want to make his orchestra play. You just don’t think he’d actually achieve it. Astonishing… just as it was impressive how the band could disappear into the background by becoming pure atmosphere—both in the pointillism of Lutosławski and the Delacroix-like tone painting of Rachmaninov. At one point I pinched myself: Is it really that good or am I hearing things?

After the concert an exhausted Keller said, with refreshingly level-headed pride: “They really are that good. And they play more than 40 programs – not concerts: programs! – a year. I think Concerto Budapest can claim to be the second best orchestra in Budapest [after Iván Fischer’s Budapest Festival Orchestra].” A second-best—assuming this concert was not a positive outlier—that would be the very best in most cities. I know I’ll keep my ears peeled for them.

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