Dear Madam, So Sorry to Inform You That You're a Hack; or, La mort d'Interpétation?

This evening Mary Zimmerman’s production of Bellini's La Sonnambula at the Met will be broadcast live in HD worldwide. It's the perfect venue for Juan Diego Flórez and Natalie Dessay: they’re sexy, glamorous, born to be on the big screen and in big sound. True twenty-first century opera stars in an unfortunate twenty-first century production. I guess you'd call Zimmerman's staging "controversial" -- like her Lucia last season -- which is an arbitrary word I've grown to despise. I'd rather call it: overwrought, nonsensical, amateurish, hacked out to the maxxx, or even just plain bad.

For many operagoers in NYC, this is so two weeks ago. The whole affair has been covered nicely in this cool blog, the Financial Times, and the Sun-Times, among others. Everyone has an opinion. I do, too. Yawn. Don't get me wrong: I saw it last Saturday and had a nice evening out. Dessay and Flórez are a mighty pair -- my gosh, the crowd went wild a few times, even waving a gigantic Peruvian flag after "Ah, perchè non posso odiarti” in Act II. Real Bellini fireworks! Whoever said bel canto was kaput?

So what's the problem? It's a silly opera! This production is certainly everything Vinnie B. could've ever wanted or imagined for his trifle little bel canto semiseria -- “famously light and, even for the world of opera, a little incredible,” states Zimmerman in her Program Notes. Don't worry, she’s fixed all that.

Synopsis: Mary Zimmerman’s new production is set in a contemporary rehearsal room, where a traditional production of La Sonnambula,set in a Swiss village, is being prepared. In that rehearsal space, all the events and relations that Bellini’s characters experience also happen to the rehearsing performers in their own “real” lives. In this staging, Amina and Elvino are played by two singers (also named Amina and Elvino) who are, like their fictional counterparts, lovers. The chorus constitutes the population of the Swiss village, and Lisa, the innkeeper of La Sonnambula,is the stage manager.

"Incredible," indeed. Here's the deal: this isn’t “interpretation.” Not by a long shot. Mary Zimmerman’s production of La Sonnambula is the anti-interpretation. There is nothing in Romani’s libretto or Bellini’s music from which the play-within-a-play “concept” was interpreted. It was merely attached -- rather carelessly -- to a dramatic work that doesn’t sustain it, creating an entirely new set of obstacles on top of existing ones, effectively placing us in square negative two.

Of course, this ain't nothing new. It’s standard procedure! Setting Shakespeare in the Wild West or giving Molière a colorful Saved By the Bell makeover. B- drivel at best. Hack directors shoot themselves in the foot before they even start rehearsals and then waste time poring over details. If you wanna do a play, then you gotta love language. Same thing with opera: you’ve gotta love the language of music. But what's true in music is true in storytelling: you gotta hit all the notes. Same thing with the events, the relationships, the drama. The basics you follow before you break a single rule. I'm not saying you need cowbells and Lindt bars to do La Sonnambula (it can -- and should! -- be done a thousand different ways), but I need to care about the characters and their journey.

What makes for marketable interpretation these days? Here’s a buzz word: cleverness. Delicious, decadent (Nietzsche’s word), Family Guy-esque and oh-so-blissfully-unaware-of-actual-human-emotion, randomly awkward yet smartly sardonic and even ironic (in the true sense of the word): too cool, too calculated, too, too clever. Cleverness can fix everything! All this frivolity -- this “lightness” -- these dated, unsophisticated art makers of our past.

Do we really think we're more sophisticated? That people in the past lacked any kind of humor? Zimmerman must see them as black-and-white, soot-faced, standing in line for sugar and dying in a Holocaust or something that must not resemble our culture. Did she even read the chorus parts? They’re hilarious. So much self-awareness, so much ridiculous Commedia joy. And Count Rodolfo’s explanation of Amina’s sleepwalking: laugh-out-loud! Don’t pretend the 1830s cast-- and audience! -- wasn’t aware of its own shallowness. C’mon! These people knew good art! They had Shakespeare and Cervantes! Not to mention Mozart, for chrissake: they at least knew good opera! So it’s "light." What’s wrong with that? Not everything can be King Lear, nor should it be. If you don’t like it, then don’t stage it. No opera is realistic! That’s what opera is: huge, sweeping metaphor. Where’s the imagination? The love? The life?

Worst of all, none of it even matters. Because Ms. Zimmerman is not smarter than Vincenzo Bellini, as much as she probably fancies herself to be. After all these years La Sonnambula is still in the repertoire. Why? Listen to the music. Bellini knew this. His whole goddamn creative team knew this. The music will overcome everything else. It isn't merely “beautiful and tuneful” (so dismissive -- so American -- UGH!); the music is the thing. Zimmerman writes that La Sonnambula hasn’t been staged at the Met in 36 years and thinks the “light” plot is to blame. Outrageous! Does she think someone on the artistic staff penciled it into the season because her staging idea was such a brilliant Bridges-of-Fucking-Amsterdam puzzle solution to Bellini? No! It’s because it is difficult music and even great singers can’t manage it. They booked Flórez and Dessay. That's why. IDIOT.

For more info on Opera in HD go here. Wanna see it live? Bellini's La Sonnambula runs till April 3rd (Barry Banks replaces Flórez as Elvino on the last performance).

Open plea to Peter Gelb: I beg you, please please please tear up Zimmerman's contract and find someone -- anyone! the ninja monkey! -- to direct Rossini's Armida in 2010 and stop the insanity!

Hot Messe!

I've been on a "Sacred" music kick lately. Maybe it's Eschatological.

I really like John Eliot Gardiner's recording of Bach's Mass in B minor. I'm wondering if I should be satisfied with it?

I'm hardly an expert on Fauré (and French music in general) but Herreweghe's reading of the Requiem is superb, and I'm thinking about laying down the big bucks for his Matthäuspassion. Even though I couldn't live without my Furtwängler, it's incomplete and with less-than-decent mono sound. Actually I wouldn't mind having all of Bernstein's, even though it's in English; Donaldson Bell's rendition of "Make Thee Clean" still moves me to tears and beyond.

In both cases: what about Klemperer?

Bernstein seems to be a controversial top choice for Mozart's C Minor, and while I don't hate it, I'm eager to hear Gardiner's. Get this: since it's on period instruments, the tuning is different (baroque A 415 vs. modern A 440). By our standards, C minor was actually B minor. Amazing!

I'm fine with my Klemperer/Schwarzkopf/Fischer-Dieskau Brahms, but (of course) I'd like to hear the Kempe/Grümmer (also with Fidi). Recommendations?

(Pretty) Good Friday Music

I'm exploring the varied output of live recordings from Hans Knappertsbusch's thirteen-year stint with Parsifal at Bayreuth. My digital Barenboim is first-rate , but after listening to an old LP of the 1951 Kna, I'm craving more. My question is: how could it get any better?

Apparently it does. The standout seems to be the 1962, which is now part of the excellent Philips 50 series. It's got a great cast, and I'm sure it's worth the hype. I can predict, though, that the cast is just as good (or better!) on the 1964. Is the 1962 better because Philips says so? And again, how can you beat the 1951 cast? I'll find out for myself. When I get around to it.

Also, I'm quasi-obsessed with Hans-Jürgen Syberberg's visionary 1982 film version, despite some head-scratching shifts in Act II. The Flower Maidens' scene is overwhelming, and the Clever/Minton combo for Kundry is perfection. Minton reminds me (yet again) to seek out more contributions from Kubelik. Man, I'm an uncultured hack.

This is 'bout as geeky as I get.

Did Rudolf Schock ruin the greatest opera set of all time? Not really, but yeah, kind of.

EMI, please re-issue this. I recently purchased the complete 5LP set on eBay, and it has changed my life. Kempe's 1956 Die Meistersinger might be the all-time best recording in the catalog -- maybe of any opera ever captured in the studio.

I'm not sure yet. Here's what I do know: Kempe was a consummate Wagnerian in every way. He's full of warmth and charm, of spirit and occasion, of clearly communicated theatricality -- the whole nine yards -- without blurring into exaggerated sentimentality. The late '50s BPO is flexible, firm, authoritative, and yet refined. When I was first getting to know this opera, Karajan's second recording really hit the spot; it's still satisfactory, especially in its fine choral work and exquisite pair of lovers in young Donath and Kollo. But Karajan's overbright, overly polished and at times turgid reading can be pretty dull. Kempe's so-called "conversational" approach (I like to call it "no-nonsense") allows for all of Wagner's varied changes of mood, thought and tone to unfold so beautifully, so specifically, that I'm able to enter into the human experience of it all. And hear it for what it's really worth.

The jewel of Kempe's set is, of course, Elisabeth Grümmer as Eva. In a lot of ways she was the Maria Callas of the lyric German soprano roles: she sings and acts with spontaneity and forward motion, clarity of phrasing, an inherent sense of overall structure and timing -- it's unbelievable. I can't say enough about her. She's the real deal. The rest of the cast is (mostly) stunning: Unger, Höffgen, Frick, Neidlinger, Clam, & Co. provide superior support, and Frantz delivers an interpretively competent, well-sung Sachs.

I haven't heard all of the highly praised Kubelik (now on a new Arts Archive release), so I won't get ahead of myself. I anticipate that Kubelik's greatest strength, however, is Kempe's biggest setback: Walther. And Sandor Konya's Walther, specifically. Rudolf Schock is merely passable on the Kempe; he doesn't ruin the set by any means, but he lacks passion and spontaneity (alongside Grümmer it's doubly painful), and his singing in the Prize Song leaves a lot to be desired. Sure, he has his moments, especially early on, but I prefer even Kollo's more impetuous and athletic style to Schock's general and unfocused characterization. What's infuriating is that Konya worked with Grümmer just THREE years after Kempe's Meistersinger, at Bayreuth in 1959! I know, I know: record label politics are tough. But, wow, here I sit, fully half-a-century later, wondering what could have been. In any case, it's a pity that Konya didn't receive more studio attention.

But none of this matters at all. Why? Because the Kempe is OUT OF PRINT. Other listeners will want to own Karajan's 1951 (beware of Hans Hopf), Solti's first and possibly second, and maybe even the Jochum (which I can't stand, even with a great supporting cast and fabulous conducting). That's all fine. I MUST hear the Kubelik and then I'll know for sure. Right now Kempe is my fav. Have I said enough? Yes. Happy Valentine's.