A Sensuous, New Tannh

By William Bender

Richard Wagner has not been particularly well served at the Metropolitan Opera in recent seasons. One reason, to give the Met the benefit of the doubt, is that neither Tristan und Isolde nor the Ring cycle makes much sense without Heldensoprano Birgit Nilsson, who has been away from the U.S. for several seasons and gives no sign of returning. Last week the Met considerably shored up its Wagnerian wing with a new production of Tannhaeuser that was spectacular to behold, breathtaking (with one major exception) to hear and immensely satisfying in the way it made dramatic sense of the churchiness that infuses the work. The performance also emphatically implied that Music Director James Levine, 34, is fast becoming a skilled Wagnerian conductor.

This was the first Tannhaeuser Levine had ever led and only his second Wagner opera (the other being the Met's Lohengrin last year). The current season is only his second as music director, and the verdict about his abilities as a collector and builder of talent is not yet in. But on the podium this young man is clearly an unceasing source of adrenaline for his singers and players. The sensuous darting about of the violins in the Act I bacchanal was all gossamer. The onstage trumpets during the entry march of the minnesingers in Act II were like a close-order drill in their precision. The delicate--and decidedly Mendelssohnian--woodwind passage accompanying Elisabeth's farewell was appropriately ethereal. The chorus, which has many roles in this opera (sirens, pilgrims, knights, ladies), sang like the virtuoso ensemble it is fast becoming under Levine and Chorus Master David Stivender.

Based on Wagner's own adaptation of medieval German legends, Tannhaeuser opens in the magical mountain home of Venus, where one of the great orgies in opera is taking place. One avid participant is the minstrel Tannhaeuser, who is found snuggled up to Venus herself. Tannhaeuser, of course, spends the rest of the evening trying to atone for his sins. Of the two versions of the opera that exist today, Levine has wisely chosen the revision Wagner made for the Paris premiere in 1861. By that time Wagner had written Tristan and was a much more sophisticated composer than he had been in 1845. The expanded bacchanal contains vivid writing, all right, but it is gripping stuff. The trimming back of the song competition in Act II--a bore in the original--is Wagner at his most judicious and, from the audience's point of view, kindest.

The production is the work of two Austrians, Stage Director Otto Schenk and Set Designer Guenther Schneider-Siemssen. Schenk treated the story simply and with his designer's help has placed it against handsome, mood-filled back drops. The inside of Venus' home, for example, is a steadily shifting vision of pools, waterfalls, trysting places and writhing bodies. Much of its look is achieved with rear projections on a curved, cyclorama-type screen. The dissolution of Venusberg as Tannhaeuser is expelled is both swift and wizardry.

As Tannhaeuser, James McCracken was attempting his first leading Wagnerian role, and, alas, not doing an especially good job of it. His dramatic tenor voice is now quite dry, and he seems to spend much of his time groping for the good notes he has left. Leonie Rysanek, the Elisabeth, has a rich, creamy soprano that had a bad curdle in it a few years back. Last week, though, she sang with almost the same luster and accuracy she displayed when she came on the scene 19 years ago. As Venus, Grace Bumbry was enticing, both visually and vocally. Best of all was German Baritone Bernd Weikl, who made his Met debut as Wolfram. He has appeared not only in most of Europe's major opera houses but in German productions of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and Marat /Sade. His theater experience showed in his manful, compassionate acting style. His voice is as sweet as a lieder singer's and as powerful as a Verdi baritone's, and one hopes to hear more from him.

The new Tannhaeuser was rapturously received by the Met audience, and during the final curtain calls Maestro Levine came out for a bow, as well he should have.

But the stage director, designer and others involved in the production were not so honored--an omission that has become a frequent practice at the Met. Why? If they were once again allowed to greet the audience, especially when a new production is on the order of this Tannhaeuser, it would be good for the company and good for the audience.

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