HollandazeOleg Caetani's conducting of this Flying Dutchman was so brisk it was more like the Flying Scotsman! (he brought the whole thing in at just under two and half hours, including a twenty minute interval). The breathless overture, where the damnation and redemption motives were not isolated but driving back into the overriding storm and damnation motives, giving a clear idea of how the story was going to end. Each scene was driven into the next; the sleepy steersman's (Adrian Dwyer) song had no lethargy, no suggestion that the man was falling asleep. The Dutchman's (John Wegner) monologue had little suggestion of timeless damnation. The effect was none the less very exciting, this is Wagner's most exhilarating score and his most direct and seeing it with the orchestra as the main focus for a change gives a listener a chance to appreciate it on its primary terms such as the shaping of the music for dramatic exposition. In, for example, the scene between the Dutchman and Daland (Bjarni Thor Krisinsson) the cunning in the music, as The Dutchman cajoled the dim Daland had sharply pointed rhythms as the Dutchman sings in contrast with the slower, squarer and simpler ones for Daland.
The second act relaxed a little; only the short chorus to get the girls off before Senta and Erik's scene, where the already fast tempo was rushed to the point of gabble. The soprano Lisa Gasteen had cancelled and her replacement, Gabriele Maria Ronge was reported to be unwell herself. She sat through the spinning chorus clutching a handkerchief, nursing two glasses of water and a handbag that matched neither gown or shoes (in fairness it was probably loaded with butter menthols) and things didn't look good. There was little shading in the way Caetani took the Ballad but Ronge had been responding physically as well as musically in her opening scene (she clearly knows this character well) and transported gestures from prior stage appearances in the concert. When she relates how the Dutchman comes ashore every seven years, she accordingly holds her arms up with seven fingers splayed. Her 'Hui's' in the Ballad were hardly mysterious for a girl haunted by the legend but in the coda she opened up a powerful top and displayed one of those broad haus-rawking voices that can ride all but the biggest orchestral tuttis (like the ones Caetani had been saving up all year to deliver in this). But the Ballad was a warm-up for in the scene with Erik (Stuart Skelton) she was on fire, her Senta, after making that pledge to the Dutchman, had become edgy, almost neurotic, just how we like 'em. "Erik, sag'! fürchest Du ein Lied, ein Bild?", she sings, jabbing her finger at him, the voice now revealing a glacial incisiveness. Acts two and three were played together but she left the platform as she would in a fully staged production. When she returned in act three, san handbag, she had total vocal security and her instrument was primed for a big finish. She only had trouble when riding the full orchestra at full volume and the extreme speeds probably caused her to rush the build up toward high lying phrases. Otherwise she rocked the hall, the final lines - mercifully without the orchestra - gleamed with mania, the diabolically high-lying final phrase sounding uncomfortable but, when about to to plunge into the ocean in a floridly spychotic state why shouldn't she? The word 'treu' (on the highest and most exposed note) was more a fearsome yowl. Skelton, like Ronge, was better in characterising throughout the opera. His act two cavatina and act three narration, nice as they were, were nothing compared to the way he work against Ronge and told much more about himself and Senta in their scenes together.
Wegner has developed an almost motionless 'Wieland Wagner' way of singing the Dutchman, the extremes speeds in the first act gave him little room for anguish and his physical stillness, more so when singing alongside the frenetic Ronge, made him appear only malevolent. He has a great way of exactly controlling the number of rolled 'r's when singing important words like 'treu' (1 'r') or 'Hollander' (2 'r's) and builds up phrases so evenly as well, no matter how thick the orchestral texture, only sounding strained on the most exposed high notes. Another bonus was the Icelandic bass Krisinsson, not the cavernous black bass I was expecting but well controlled, almost elegant. His big moment "Mögst du mein kind" was, sadly, on the fast side as well. The big choral scene in the third act was massive - the Melbourne Symphony 'house choir' beefed out with the Victorian Opera chorus positioned on three side above the orchestra was so fearsome that the raw piccolos and wind machine were lost in the din. These MSO operas in concert are all about the music, and how it tells you everything that you need to know making costumes and sets seem like an insult to your intelligence. First and foremost it was about the music which, even with the extreme speeds in the first act, were brought into sharp and appreciable relief.
The Flying Dutchman (1843)
music and text by Richard Wagner
First performance - Dresden 21 January 1843
First Australian performance - Princess's, Melbourne 29 April 1901 (1 performance)
Senta - Gabriele Maria Ronge
The Dutchman - John Wegner
Daland - Bjarni Thor Krisinsson
Erik - Stuart Skelton
Mary - Sian Pendry
Steersman - Adrian Dwyer
Melbourne Symphony Orchestra Chorus
Men of the Victorian Opera Chorus
Conductor - Oleg Caetani
25, 28 & 30 August
Hamer Hall, The Arts Centre
155 minutes (including 1 interval)
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