English National Opera
25 May 2013
Trailer from here.
Perhaps a little is lost in
translation, but this English version is otherwise so good that it doesn’t
matter. I hope a DVD recording is imminent.
Director Carrie Cracknell sets it in or around a contemporary army base, and makes indirect links to
the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. This dilutes some of the class concerns of
Buchner’s original drama, but it does at least provide a clear social context
for Wozzeck’s distressed mental health.
Sara Jakubiak's Marie perhaps has too posh an accent, but could conceivably be an army brat. Otherwise,
the production and performances are exemplary. In particular conductor Edward
Gardner gives the finest account I have heard. His pacing screws the tension to
unbearable levels, and the orchestral playing remains restrained until the key
climaxes, when the sound swells to levels I have not experienced before in any
theatre.
Among
the singer-actors, Tom Randle and James Morris must be singled out for the secondary
roles of the tormenting Captain and Doctor respectively, but the whole cast is
amazing, somehow convincing us that these are real people.
An
essay in the programme claims that a famous problem with the opera is how such
a tightly constructed composition could be used to convey the title character’s
descent into homicidal madness. But really this presents no greater problem than
Verdi’s Otello ie none at all.
The
more substantial problem with the work is that it so perfectly imposes a
structure on Büchner's fragmentary collection of scenes. True, these fragments
are probably intended to reflect growing madness, but more importantly they
convey the vicious meaninglessness of life.
The
original drama, then, can leave the spectator dispirited but questioning: how
might our awful lives be improved? Berg’s music drama instead gives the overwhelming
impression that its protagonists’ lives are predetermined towards misery and
wretchedness.
Further,
in a musical performance as good as this one, there is no alienation. None of
the singers succumbed to caricature, despite the grotesqueness of their
characters. The orchestral sound, at times shattering, nonetheless conveyed as
much beauty as noise; the influence of Mahler was obvious, and nowadays opera
audiences don’t find the music exceptionable.
Ironically,
then, Berg could be accused of employing bourgeois means to defang what might
otherwise be a devastating critique of capitalism. I left feeling utterly
powerless to even consider options of preventing the tragedy onstage.
I want
to be clear: from one perspective, Berg is more mature than, say Brecht or
Shaw, to take examples of alienation and satire respectively. His drama
presents us with an unbearable situation, and doesn’t allow us to flinch. In
fact, that is precisely how I felt watching it – that I must focus all my
attention on what was happening, when i would otherwise want to look away.
At the
same time, however, this is a drama that provides no possibility for hope. For
many of us, the music itself is no longer ‘difficult’ or unenjoyable; but the
music drama most certainly is unenjoyable. It is not flawed, nor is it
frivolous, and so is a masterpiece but so bleak that it can only be adequately confronted occasionally.
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