Embora a imprensa americana não embarque totalmente na onda entusiasta, a Europa mantém a sua toada de deslumbramento, em resposta à histórica produção da citada ópera de Wagner, que o alla Scala revelou ao mundo, a 7 de Dezembro, Ano da Graça do Senhor...
«The offstage distractions instantly ended once Mr. Barenboim picked up the baton. He led a grave and shockingly intense performance, one all the more remarkable considering that half of the opera’s starring duo was a disappointment.
The veteran mezzo Waltraud Meier was Isolde. She was marvelous. A poised, unflaggingly intelligent musician able to call upon reserves of power, she sang without glamour but with her familiar drama and intensity. Tristan was Ian Storey, a British tenor favored by Mr. Barenboim who must have been suffering from nerves in his first time singing the part at La Scala.
It’s an impossible role, it’s true, but Wagnerites know not to expect perfection. With a pleasant, warm voice Mr. Storey struggled to rise above the orchestra and to heights of passion. Grizzled and enormous, he looked the part, at least, and he acted decently.
Mr. Chéreau, the distinguished director, proved how much acting counts. He stripped away all the usual silly Wagner theatrics and had the cast make every little movement count too. The chorus stayed in the background, stirring unobtrusively. Shifts of gaze and small gestures conveyed deep emotions. After the doomed lovers drank the fateful potion in Act I, they separated, lingering nearly motionless for several minutes, waiting to die, before Tristan, approaching Isolde, slowly fell before her, bowing his head, which she gently touched as Wagner’s famous love theme swelled.
That subtle exchange of gestures was then echoed hours later, at the instant that Tristan really does die, a moment whose authenticity stunned the audience. There was another moment like it, when Tristan admitted to King Marke his betrayal with Isolde, and the two men silently embraced, a clench that would have seemed inexplicable had it not already been made clear, in all sorts of unspoken as well as spoken ways, just how much they still loved each other as virtual father and son.
A few Italian critics grumbled during intermission about that embrace, and also about Richard Peduzzi’s gray-on-gray sets, which actually dovetailed nicely with Mr. Chéreau’s moody, uncluttered direction. This is one of those operas that prosper without too many stage pictures, and the pocked, whitewashed ancient brick wall that was the production’s scenic leitmotif, along with a few cypress trees and a rusty, fog-shrouded freighter, sufficed to evoke an industrial, remote northern clime of indeterminate modernity. The mood vaguely brought to mind an Ingmar Bergman movie. Wearing long dusters, black and white respectively, Tristan and Marke strode around like a pair of stoic, depressed Scandinavian sailors.
As Marke, Matti Salminen, his mature voice sometimes hoarse, befitting the part, performed magnificently. The audience yelped and stomped during his curtain call. Michelle DeYoung, the gifted American mezzo, brought tenderness to Brangäne, Isolde’s attendant.» (in The New York Times)
(Daniel Baremboim, o Maestro)
«(...) mais la plupart à l’instar des grands de ce monde, ont été subjugués par la prestation de l’orchestre et la direction du chef israélien qui fait couler avec une rare intensité cette lave musicale incandescente.
Un classicisme épuré
Les applaudissements s’adressaient bien entendu à l’incomparable Waltraud Meier, interprète encore insurpassable d’Isolde qui, au fil des ans, gagne en émotion ce qu’elle perd en puissance. La distribution faisait entendre Matti Salminen, magnifique basse chantante, interprétant un roi Marke bouleversant d’humanisme. Ian Storey campait un Tristan moins à l’aise dans les affres de la mort que dans le duo d’amour. La soprano américaine, Michelle DeYoung, et le baryton, Gerd Grochowski, ont fait des débuts honorables à la Scala dans les rôles de Brangäne et Kurwenal.» (in Le Figaro )
(Patrice Chéreau, o encenador)
«Since then, concept productions of Tristan have become so much the norm that Chéreau's naturalism comes almost as a shock. Richard Peduzzi provides an industrial-era set of tall, wharf-like brick walls; the king's bride-to-be arrives on a barge, like any other cargo. The characters, drably costumed by Moidele Bickel, are very much real people, and none more so than Waltraud Meier's magnetic Isolde, radiant-sounding except at the very top. The love potion is less a lightning bolt, more an excuse for she and Tristan to reveal their feelings. It's an honest production that only falters when it brings an unwanted sense of domesticity to the love duet.» (in The Guardian)
(Ian Storey e Waltraud Meier, respectivamente Tristão e Isolda)
«The offstage distractions instantly ended once Mr. Barenboim picked up the baton. He led a grave and shockingly intense performance, one all the more remarkable considering that half of the opera’s starring duo was a disappointment.
The veteran mezzo Waltraud Meier was Isolde. She was marvelous. A poised, unflaggingly intelligent musician able to call upon reserves of power, she sang without glamour but with her familiar drama and intensity. Tristan was Ian Storey, a British tenor favored by Mr. Barenboim who must have been suffering from nerves in his first time singing the part at La Scala.
It’s an impossible role, it’s true, but Wagnerites know not to expect perfection. With a pleasant, warm voice Mr. Storey struggled to rise above the orchestra and to heights of passion. Grizzled and enormous, he looked the part, at least, and he acted decently.
Mr. Chéreau, the distinguished director, proved how much acting counts. He stripped away all the usual silly Wagner theatrics and had the cast make every little movement count too. The chorus stayed in the background, stirring unobtrusively. Shifts of gaze and small gestures conveyed deep emotions. After the doomed lovers drank the fateful potion in Act I, they separated, lingering nearly motionless for several minutes, waiting to die, before Tristan, approaching Isolde, slowly fell before her, bowing his head, which she gently touched as Wagner’s famous love theme swelled.
That subtle exchange of gestures was then echoed hours later, at the instant that Tristan really does die, a moment whose authenticity stunned the audience. There was another moment like it, when Tristan admitted to King Marke his betrayal with Isolde, and the two men silently embraced, a clench that would have seemed inexplicable had it not already been made clear, in all sorts of unspoken as well as spoken ways, just how much they still loved each other as virtual father and son.
A few Italian critics grumbled during intermission about that embrace, and also about Richard Peduzzi’s gray-on-gray sets, which actually dovetailed nicely with Mr. Chéreau’s moody, uncluttered direction. This is one of those operas that prosper without too many stage pictures, and the pocked, whitewashed ancient brick wall that was the production’s scenic leitmotif, along with a few cypress trees and a rusty, fog-shrouded freighter, sufficed to evoke an industrial, remote northern clime of indeterminate modernity. The mood vaguely brought to mind an Ingmar Bergman movie. Wearing long dusters, black and white respectively, Tristan and Marke strode around like a pair of stoic, depressed Scandinavian sailors.
As Marke, Matti Salminen, his mature voice sometimes hoarse, befitting the part, performed magnificently. The audience yelped and stomped during his curtain call. Michelle DeYoung, the gifted American mezzo, brought tenderness to Brangäne, Isolde’s attendant.» (in The New York Times)
(Daniel Baremboim, o Maestro)
«(...) mais la plupart à l’instar des grands de ce monde, ont été subjugués par la prestation de l’orchestre et la direction du chef israélien qui fait couler avec une rare intensité cette lave musicale incandescente.
Un classicisme épuré
Les applaudissements s’adressaient bien entendu à l’incomparable Waltraud Meier, interprète encore insurpassable d’Isolde qui, au fil des ans, gagne en émotion ce qu’elle perd en puissance. La distribution faisait entendre Matti Salminen, magnifique basse chantante, interprétant un roi Marke bouleversant d’humanisme. Ian Storey campait un Tristan moins à l’aise dans les affres de la mort que dans le duo d’amour. La soprano américaine, Michelle DeYoung, et le baryton, Gerd Grochowski, ont fait des débuts honorables à la Scala dans les rôles de Brangäne et Kurwenal.» (in Le Figaro )
(Patrice Chéreau, o encenador)
«Since then, concept productions of Tristan have become so much the norm that Chéreau's naturalism comes almost as a shock. Richard Peduzzi provides an industrial-era set of tall, wharf-like brick walls; the king's bride-to-be arrives on a barge, like any other cargo. The characters, drably costumed by Moidele Bickel, are very much real people, and none more so than Waltraud Meier's magnetic Isolde, radiant-sounding except at the very top. The love potion is less a lightning bolt, more an excuse for she and Tristan to reveal their feelings. It's an honest production that only falters when it brings an unwanted sense of domesticity to the love duet.» (in The Guardian)
(Ian Storey e Waltraud Meier, respectivamente Tristão e Isolda)
Entre as leituras que destacam a veia naturalista da produção, e as que insistem no classicismo (?!) da mesma, vale tudo! O melhor é esperar ansiosamente pela edição da obra em dvd...
Ao que vejo, a coisa parece mais na linha do naturalismo que, como se sabe, pretende retratar o real com "luvas de borracha", em contraponto ao realismo, que o faz... com "luvas de pelica"! Voilà, voilà!
Ao que vejo, a coisa parece mais na linha do naturalismo que, como se sabe, pretende retratar o real com "luvas de borracha", em contraponto ao realismo, que o faz... com "luvas de pelica"! Voilà, voilà!
2 comentários:
Visto o Primeiro Acto (sem Prelúdio nem a Cena Final), percebe-se porque a récita é tão elogiada. A qualidade é muito grande. Baremboim destila a longa melodia wagneriana, que nunca acaba, não sublinhando nada, num perfeito equilíbrio. A encenação sem pôr em causa o texto, é bela para o olhar e faz-nos sentir o elemento húmido da história. Os intérpretes neste Primeiro Acto são excelentes: barítono impecável, um mezzo que é um soprano, uma quase Isolda e um tenor com um timbre wagneriano lindíssimo. Quanto à Meier só uma coisa em seu desfavor. Depois da narrativa, as palavras finais, onde a Morte é desejada, verdadeiro jorro vocal, são um desastre. É pena, porque separa as vozes que podem cantar este papel. Tirando este pormenor muito importante, tudo o resto é perfeito, nomeadamente o domínio total da personagem, que se apresenta muito humana e nada heroica, e a beleza do seu timbre wagneriana. É claro que estamos a lidar com alguém nativo da língua do texto, coisa que conta muitíssimo.
No Segundo Acto a Meier vence mais ou menos as duas grandes dificuldades vocais: o crescendo do final da Primeira Cena e as duas célebres notas do início do dueto. No resto continua a ser uma suprema intérprete, embora a zona vocálica do "I" soe estridente. Tenor, mezzo,e barítono continuam excelentes, mas o grande momento interpretativo deste acto é sem sombra de dúvida é a presença do grande, duplamente pensando, Matti Salminem. Que interpretação espectacular! Quanto a Baremboim, fabuloso.
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