Currently, the Metropolitan Opera is staging Beethoven’s Fidelio. It is that composer’s only opera. But as a friend of mine was saying the other night, “What more do you need? What more do you want from him?” There are very few encores after Fidelio.
The Met’s production is that of Jürgen Flimm, from 2000. I wish to praise one particular aspect of this production—an aspect pertaining to stage direction: this production pays attention to the strange relationship between Jaquino, Marzelline, and Fidelio.
To review: Jaquino loves Marzelline, but she loves Fidelio, who is really a woman, disguised as a man, because her husband, Florestan, is kept in the dungeon of the prison where Jaquino, Marzelline, and “Fidelio” all work, under the supervision of Marzelline’s father, Rocco. Rocco gives Fidelio his daughter’s hand. And this, in the Met’s production, turns Jaquino into an almost Iago-like character: vengeful.
Also, once Fidelio reveals who she really is—which changes life convulsively for Marzelline, and, to a lesser degree, Jaquino—what’s everyone supposed to do? Just shrug? That’s what they do in many productions. Not here. There is some sorting out to do.
Anyway, on to the music. I attended the performance of last Friday. In the pit, as for all the performances, I gather, was Sebastian Weigle, a German conductor. He was competent from beginning to end. But I often wanted more: more sublimity in the quartet; more slyness and crispness in the march that precedes Pizarro’s entrance; more underlying tension at several junctures; more exultation in the final, pounding C-major chorus.
A chorus is very important in Fidelio—specifically, a men’s chorus—and the Met’s was impressive in its unity and modulation. In its flexibility and adaptability, if you like.
From the orchestra, one player was singled out—singled out in our program booklet. That was David B. Krauss, the trumpet. A few years ago, I interviewed Andris Nelsons, the music director of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, who once played the trumpet in an opera orchestra. “What sort of music does a trumpet have in operas?” I asked. “Well,” he said, “you announce things. You herald arrivals.” So it is in Fidelio.
Portraying Marzelline was Hanna-Elisabeth Müller, a German soprano. In her singing, she was bright and forward; now and then she was strident, but that was dismissible. In her acting, she was duly animated. Jaquino was an American tenor, David Portillo. He showed a lovely instrument, and he did what the stage director apparently wants: turned the character nicely sinister.
There is a little tenor role in this opera—a little role for lyric tenor—and it belongs to the First Prisoner. You can steal a bit of the show in this role. Beethoven gives the First Prisoner some beautiful, transcendent lines. On this night, they were taken by Kang Wang, from Australia. He did well with them.
Earlier in the Met season, Kang Wang appeared in Strauss’s Salome as Narraboth, the Captain of the Guard. (For my review, go here.) There is much beauty in that voice. No doubt we will later hear it in major roles.
In Fidelio last Friday, Falk Struckmann was Rocco. The veteran German bass-baritone was in gorgeous voice, and he handled his part with much musicality. His spoken German was almost as beautiful as his sung German. Another bass-baritone, Greer Grimsley, a veteran American, was Pizarro. To my ears, he tended to swallow his sound, especially in the early going. But he is another singer who owns an enviable instrument, and his Pizarro was indeed a Pizarro: virile and nasty.
I think of Günther Groissböck, the Austrian bass, as a Baron Ochs—from Strauss’s Rosenkavalier. And that’s exactly whom he’ll play at the Met next month. In Fidelio, he was Don Fernando, and appropriately beneficent. He’ll have more fun as Ochs . . .
The leading tenor role in Fidelio, of course, is that of Florestan, the prisoner. It was taken by Klaus Florian Vogt, another German member of the cast. He has a beautiful instrument, and not only that, it’s a right weight for Florestan. Or at least it is by my concept of Florestan. It’s not heavy, by a long shot; but neither is it too light. It’s a fit vehicle for Florestan’s music.
Vogt had some trouble. He was occasionally wayward in his intonation and he was tight up top, where beauty left his voice. But he was nonetheless a commendable Florestan.
Adrianne Pieczonka, I have heard and reviewed for many years. She is a Canadian soprano, and she is a Leonore, a.k.a. Fidelio. Indeed, I reviewed her in this role two years ago from Salzburg (here). She has always been a good singer. But she wasn’t that on Friday night. She was more like a great singer.
Her singing had strength, beauty, virtue—everything necessary for Leonore. “Komm, Hoffnung” can be an awkward aria, hard to shape. It was sensible and touching from Pieczonka. Throughout the night, her high notes were free and easy. She has the ability to sing loud without shouting. In sound, technique, and feeling, I think she was pretty much what Beethoven had in mind when he heard Leonore.
For years, I heard and reviewed Sondra Radvanovsky, the American soprano. She was usually good, sometimes very good. But one day, one year, at some point, she was actually great. Maybe the same has happened to Adrianne Pieczonka. She is not a hyped singer, but some who are, are less deserving.
“Adrian!” screams Rocky, famously. At the Met, one could just as well scream, “Adrianne!”