Prague
State Opera
January
10
Rudolfinum
January
11
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| At the opera, an interwar novel inspires a social satire. |
Mr.
Culture is on the road this month, getting his ears tuned in one of
the great music centers of Europe: Prague. This is the land of
Dvořák, Smetana, Janáček and Martinů, the place where Mozart
premiered Don Giovanni in 1787, and where the Prague Spring
festival continues to draw world-class performers every year. Long
known as “the conservatory of Europe,” the city has two music
academies, five working symphony orchestras, three dedicated Baroque
ensembles – including possibly the best in Central Europe,
Collegium 1704 – and more chamber groups than one can count.
Clevelanders missed a chance to see one of the best, the Prazak
Quartet, when they canceled their appearance at the Art Museum in
October.
The
city also boasts two opera houses, a thriving modern music scene, and
a first-rate roster of jazz musicians, many of whom studied at
Berklee in Boston. With all that to choose from, where does one
begin?
In
this case, with the premiere of a new work at the State Opera, War
with the Newts (Válka s mloky in
Czech). A hybrid
that incorporates elements of opera, musical theater, pop music and
social satire, Newts
is based on an eponymous 1936 novel by Karel
Čapek,
perhaps the greatest Czech writer of the 20th
century. A political allegory cast in the form of a
sci-fi novel, Newts
tells of the discovery of a race of giant salamanders who are
enslaved and exploited by humans, and ultimately revolt. Čapek
casts an acerbic eye on capitalism, nationalism and racism, and
foresees the coming shadow of Nazi fascism.
If
putting all that onstage sounds like a challenge, imagine throwing in
satirical commercials, a dose of heavy metal, and a postmodern score,
and trying to make sense of it all. That it works is largely to the
credit of David Drábek, one of the Czech Republic’s most versatile
and innovative stage directors, who matches the nonstop momentum of
the music with a fast-paced flow of singing, acting, and eye-catching
visuals, segueing seamlessly from comedy to disaster. Costume
designer Simona Rybáková adds to the effect with tall, genuinely
creepy newts, who skulk about with glowing red eyes.
The
weird mix of elements is totally appropriate to librettist Rostislav
Křivánek’s setting: Morgan Bay, a resort town near New Orleans.
Drunks at a beachside bar, exploited workers vaguely reminiscent of
black slaves, ruthless capitalists – it’s all disturbingly
familiar, especially when a monster storm hits, á la Katrina, and
wipes out the town. Composer Vladimír
Franz matches the maelstrom onstage with a tumultuous, driving score
that barely stops for an occasional duet or aria, and unabashedly
throws in an electric guitar when a heavy metal singer entertains the
tourists.
For
a visitor, Newts
is at once enthralling and confounding. Without some background in
Čapek’s novel and Czech opera and theater, there is no way to make
any sense of this. But as a sampling of Central European culture,
it’s riveting – not to mention a bit disconcerting seeing your
homeland through the eyes of foreigners. It’s easy to ignore the
dark side of capitalism when you live in its throbbing heart, but
eye-opening to see the reaction of people still adapting to it after
40 years of communist socialism.
At
the other end of Old Town, the flagship orchestra of the Czech
Republic, the Czech Philharmonic, took the stage last week under the
baton of Ken-ichiro Kobayashi for a roof-raising rendition of
Beethoven’s Symphony
No. 9.
It was another wild mix: a Japanese conductor leading a Czech
orchestra in one of the greatest German works ever written, with an
opening elegy by a Japanese composer for the victims of the 2011
earthquake and tsunami. This combination one can only get in a
musical crossroads like Prague.
 |
| A Beethoven specialist. |
Despite
his Asian origin, Kobayashi is an acknowledged master of the
Beethoven symphonic repertoire, which he performs regularly with the
Czech Philharmonic. A member of the orchestra who happened to be in
the lobby before Friday night’s performance suggested that No.
9
is not the conductor’s forte, and by the end of the evening, this
critic was forced to agree.
Kobayashi’s
interpretations of Beethoven are typically characterized by a careful
balance in the sound and dynamics. He keeps the roiling passions of
the music controlled beneath a finely detailed surface, with
remarkable transparency and a full, three-dimensional quality in the
sound. Perhaps most impressive, there is not a hint of foreign
inflection in his interpretation; Kobayashi connects with the
universality in Beethoven’s music and presents it with worldly
intelligence and restraint.
The
Ninth in his hands had a full-bodied, commanding character, but not
much in the way of subtlety or nuance, with many of the fine points
of the music lost in a surprisingly muddy sound. There was plenty of
power and volume, but not much definition, with individual
instruments sometimes out of balance – an overwhelming timpani in
the first movement, screeching horns in the second and fourth.
Overall, the music was ragged instead of crisp, and often lacking in
color. The result was a performance that moved at a fast clip but
never caught fire, engaging but not satisfying by Kobayashi’s usual
standards.
The
vocals were better, particularly from bass Matěj Chadima and soprano
Simona Houda-Šaturová, one of Prague’s finest opera singers. And
the Prague Philharmonic Choir, filling the empora behind the
orchestra, was lustrous, earning a well-deserved ovation from the
audience. Of course, this was the same audience that applauded
between the movements and leapt to its feet as the final notes were
still hanging in the air, leaving this critic as possibly the only
person in the hall less than satisfied. But the Ninth has that
effect; even imperfectly rendered, it’s one of the most moving
pieces of music ever written.
And
Kobayashi, who did a better job with the nine-minute neo-classical
elegy by Japanese composer Shigeaki Saegusa, is always fun to watch.
He works from a crouch, coaxing music from the orchestra with excited
nods of his head and samurai jabs of the baton, and has everyone take
elaborate, Japanese-style bows at the close of the concert.
Shaggy-haired and wrinkled, he’s been nicknamed Indiánská
babička
(Indian grandmother) by the Czech Philharmonic players, who genuinely
like him – not always the case with this temperamental orchestra,
which has put more than a few visiting conductors through the mill.
Then
there’s the Rudolfinum – one of the finest classical halls in
Central Europe, with acoustics that attract performers from all over
the world, including Norwegian pianist Leif Ove Andsnes, who launched
a project to record all of Beethoven’s piano concertos live with
the Mahler Chamber Orchestra there last year. One can nitpick
individual performances, but the sound is so refined that hearing
virtually anything in that hall is a treat. More from the Rudolfinum
and other historic Prague venues next week.
For
more on War with the Newts:
http://www.narodni-divadlo.cz/en/show/5839
For
more on Ken-ichiro Kobayashi:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ken-Ichiro_Kobayashi
For
more on the Rudolfinum:
http://www.ceskafilharmonie.cz/en/rudolfinum-p395.html
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