A very present, finally intelligent command of his voice in the main role, showing here Paul ideally sickly, Michael Hendrick is hardly saves himself in Korngold’s tense, copious and demanding score.

If there is one work from the Viennese post-Wagnerian repertoire that still has difficulty establishing itself on our stages, it is Die tote Stadt, seen around ten years ago in Strasbourg [on this production, read our review of the DVD], then at Bastille this fall [read our column of October 9, 2009]. Faced with a subject that is both rich and relatively easy to treat, imposing a dreamlike quality that is altogether less complex than that of many other works, faced, above all, with the renewed interest from which the production of this period benefits and, more particularly , what the henchmen of a certain ugly little man with a mustache called the Entartete Musik, it is difficult to understand the lukewarmness of our opera houses. Let us therefore salute the Opéra national de Lorraine and its director Laurent Spielmann for knowing how to dare it, and for having produced it so aptly.

One rarely encounters such a skillfully chosen cast in a rarely performed work. Vocally, this first proves, overall, perfectly convincing. Clarity of the broadcast for the Count by Alexander Swan, robustness of timbre and musicality for the Victorin by André Post, solidity of the color of the baritone André Morsch as Fritz, beautiful impact on the frank tone of the endearing Franck of Thomas Oliemans, very present, finally intelligent voice leading in the lead role, Paul shown here ideally sickly, by Michael Hendrick who hardly saves himself in Korngold’s tense, copious and demanding score. On the ladies’ side, no disappointment, from the delicate soprano of Aurore Ugolin (Lucienne) and the more pointed one of Yuree Jang (Juliette), to the excellent Marietta of Helena Juntunen, magnificently phrasing this music which she serves in generous means with as much vocal flexibility as stage intelligence, including the remarkable Brigitta entrusted, rightly, to the warm mezzo-soprano of Nadine Weissmann, whom she uses with great art of nuance.

From Philipp Himmelmann, we remember a fascinating Rosenkavalier, Place Stanislas [read our column of March 31, 2005], but recent news also shows a Calisto in Geneva [read our column of April 17, 2010]. His Dead City takes place in the precious and poisoned setting of introspection, anguish, mourning and guilt arising with the awareness of death (to accept disappearance is a bit like killing it , basically; to similarly try to detach oneself from her memory by fantasizing her in another body), of a dream occupying three quarters of the opera – between the exit of a dancer who came to say hello and her return a few minutes later to retrieve a forgotten umbrella – an ultimately beneficial dream since it will help Paul to reinvest the world of the living.

The device skillfully uses two levels where the widower experiences a falsely new passion, outrageously (in both senses of the term) eroticized, the dream giving him access to passages, shifts of affects and other interior upheavals which, suddenly, occur. enlighten the public. The sobriety of Raimund Bauer’s decor gives free rein to the precise direction of the actors, Bettina Walter’s costumes drawing each character in their precise functions (the rigor of Brigitta’s modest attachment, the intrinsic sensuality of Marietta, etc.), while that the light of Gérard Cleven creates auras, that of the deceased whose portrait invades the entire width of the stage frame – video by Martin Eidenberg – certainly not being the least.

The only downside: insufficient pit work for abundant, not to say opulent, orchestral writing, which calls for a large workforce while willingly requiring chamber music talents whose exchanges should be carefully considered. If, overall, the Nancy Symphony and Lyric Orchestra is doing well, despite strings that are sometimes approximate, Daniel Klajner’s baton succeeds neither in drawing a musical coherence nor in developing the subtle moires invented by Korngold in his use of timbres. . Conversely, the contrasts of nuance appear rather strong, sometimes heavily. Beyond these considerations, it is likely that the chef embarks on the path of expressiveness before having mastered that of expression.

http://www.anaclase.com/chroniques/die-tote-stadt-la-ville-morte

by Bertrand Bolognesi

Anaclase