The Flying Dutchman is a magnificent opera, and never more so than in its overture—one of the most cherished overtures in the entire operatic repertoire. Some people think the overture is the best thing in the whole show.
Years ago, my friend Fred Kirshnit, the critic, was taken to see The Flying Dutchman by his uncle Syd. This was at the old Met. When the overture ended, Syd leaned over to his nephew and said, “It’s all downhill from here.”
But it need not be. And it was not at the Met—the “new Met”—on Saturday night, when the company again presented this Wagner opera. And yet the overture was certainly a high point of the evening.
It began precisely—very, very precisely. This makes a difference, setting a tone, setting a standard, for a performance at large. The overture continued in precise fashion as well. It had the right tension and swells and arc. It was “all that it can be,” to borrow from an old Army slogan.
Who led this excellent reading of the overture? Thomas Guggeis, a German, born in 1993. Young Guggeis did not let the audience applaud for the overture, as it wanted to. He plowed straight ahead, as he would again, after the Dutchman’s Act I aria, or monologue. The audience wanted to applaud, and did—but Maestro Guggeis would have none of it, conducting straight through.
Did this show admirable integrity or pigheadedness? Yes.
The entire opera was alert, vital—properly dramatic. There was always “energy in the executive”—but proper musical energy, not freneticism or overanxiousness. Thomas Guggeis served Wagner very well.
In The Flying Dutchman, there is an outstanding soprano role, that of Senta. But what you need, really, for this cast is “stouthearted men” (Oscar Hammerstein II). And stout-voiced men. The Met’s cast on Saturday night had them.
Serving as the Dutchman himself was Tomasz Konieczny, a Polish bass-baritone. He had the necessary gravitas and pathos. The necessary voice as well: big, glowing. He was forceful, but never forced. He never bellowed but sang. Early on, he suffered some “spread” in the voice, but this was minor. To say that he was a bona fide Dutchman is to say a lot.
The role of Daland was taken by Dmitry Belosselskiy, a Ukrainian bass. He was solid. Richard Trey Smagur, an American tenor, was the Steersman. It will be interesting to see how his instrument—a fine one—develops. And the Erik? That part was taken by another Erik, or rather Eric: Eric Cutler, a tenor from Iowa.
In the Met’s 2012–13 season, Cutler was Iopas in Les Troyens (Berlioz). I wrote that he “made a veritable star turn out of the role.” You know, he did it again on Saturday night, as Erik? He was well-nigh a romantic lead, singing gorgeously.
And now, our Senta. She was Elza van den Heever, the South African soprano. There were imperfections in her singing—imperfections of intonation, for example. This was a live performance, not a studio recording, thank heaven. But she sang splendidly: with understanding, lyricism (strong, Wagnerian lyricism), and heart.
At the end, she executed a smooth backflip into the sea. (The production, I might note, is that of François Girard, from 2020. For my review of the premiere, go here.)
Dutchman has a mezzo role, or a contralto role: Mary, Senta’s nurse. On Saturday night, she was Eve Gigliotti. We have seen her in many supporting roles at the Met in recent seasons. This season alone, she has sung five of them. Is Ms. Gigliotti now the James Courtney of mezzo-dom? In any event, she has never disappointed, in my experience. A reliable, commendable performer.
Not to be forgotten is the chorus. In 2020, I wrote,
The chorus—men and women, singing separately and together—was top-notch, providing almost a foundation to the performance, I would say. The chorusmaster, Donald Palumbo, earned his bows.
So it was on Saturday night.
This performance had no intermission, by the way. It began at 8:30 and went straight through, till 11. Some of us thought of Das Rheingold, the first installment of Wagner’s Ring. It is by far the shortest of the four installments but can seem long, for it is one sit, intermission-less.
Saturday night’s Dutchman was a long sit—but an awfully good one, too.