United Kingdom Wagner, Der fliegende Holländer: Soloists, Chorus and Orchestra of The Royal Opera House, Covent Garden / Henrik Nánási (conductor). Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, London, 29.2.2024. (JPr)
Production:
Director – Tim Albery
Set designer – Michael Levine
Costume designer – Constance Hoffman
Lighting designer – David Finn
Movement director – Philippe Giraudeau
Chorus director – William Spaulding
Cast:
The Dutchman – Sir Bryn Terfel
Senta – Elisabet Strid
Daland – Stephen Milling
Erik – Toby Spence
Mary – Kseniia Nikolaieva
Steersman – Miles Mykkanen
Repeated again in the programme for the fourth revival of Tim Albery’s Olivier Award-nominated 2009 Der fliegende Holländer (The Flying Dutchman) is an essay by Barry Millington entitled Igniting the Creative Spark and one of his suggestions as to how Wagner came to choose his subject for an opera was: ‘Living in squalid lodgings in Paris, Wagner and his wife [Minna] are forced to pawn wedding presents and other silver items to buy food. Uprooted from hearth and home, persecuted by creditors, unfulfilled in love. Wagner identifies himself with the mythical wanderer, the Flying Dutchman.’ Sarah Lenton in Sighting the Flying Dutchman posits how ‘The Dutch captain … is related to that much older, landlocked hero, the Wandering Jew. The sombre figure, variously called Joseph or Ahasuerus, is supposed to have hustled Jesus as He carried His Cross. Jesus looked at the man and said, “I will find rest soon enough, but you will wander until I come for you [Doomsday].” Lenton says that for Wagner – despite her sacrifices – Minna ‘wasn’t the soulmate he craved. He fantasised about a woman who would love and serve him, and he created her [Senta] for his Dutchman.’ Wagner longed for a woman’s unconditional faith and self-sacrifice for both him and his mission and eventually found such a person in Cosima, his second wife.
The opera is clearly a very autobiographical early work from Wagner, and it underwent many changes by the time it was first performed in Dresden in 1843. This included separating an original one act and three scenes versions into three acts. Millington emphasises how ‘The work underwent further modifications throughout Wagner’s career’ and despite a Redemption theme having been added in 1860 ‘in the wake of Tristan und Isolde … The original “Dresden” ending, however, consisting simply of emphatic D major chords, is occasionally adopted, as in the present performance. The less consoling nature of the “Dresden” ending is perhaps better attuned to readings that stress the tragic aspect of the drama.’
‘Tragic’ Tim Albery’s version of Der fliegende Holländer certainly is. When Senta sings ‘Hier steh’ ich treu dir bis zum Tod’ (‘Here I stand true to you until death’) instead of throwing herself into the water at the end of the opera – and subsequently reappearing with the Dutchman in a Death-and-Transfiguration denouement – she merely drops down clutching the model three-masted schooner which was almost ever-present at the front of the stage during the opera. Nevertheless, it seemed absolutely right! Senta’s death is as much from a broken mind as from a broken heart. Her desire to be loved and redeem the Dutchman by her love is nothing but a futile dream and becomes Senta’s own curse … just as – in his own way – the Dutchman is cursed and never appears to accept he will be freed from it.
I saw this production when it was first staged in 2009 and again in 2015 and it seems to have become more compelling in the subsequent revivals. (Or was that because of this cast and watching my first fully staged Wagner in a major opera house since before the pandemic?) The Overture is played against a frontcloth which billows like a sail in choppy seas and from behind lights – searchlights or from a lighthouse? – shine through it. Also, quite appropriately, we hear a faint trickling of water and there is some at the front when the stage is revealed. Michael Levine’s basic set is the concave upturned hull of a ship: it is eerily suggestive of the Titanic lying at the bottom of the North Atlantic, though without all the rust.
There are just some long ropes and a stage-deep ladder at the back in the first ‘scene’; in the second ‘scene’ there four rows of benches with sewing machines for the girls in the ‘clothing factory’ and a couple of chairs and a single lightbulb for when Senta and the Dutchman are left alone; and near the end part of the ‘hull’ lifts up to allow space for the sailors’ party and appearance of the ghostly crew. Finally, the Dutchman exits up a gangway. That just about sums up this most anti-romantic – yet engrossing – of stagings which is very atmospherically lit by David Finn: the arrival of the Dutchman’s ship as a dark shadow which crosses the stage is particularly stunning. In 2015 it was by far the best Wagner I had heard recently at Covent Garden and – like much of this review so far – I write that again. This is now tempered of course by my lack of ‘live’ Wagner lately! I still believe most British audiences – and some critics – don’t really know what Wagner should sound like, but they will now if they hear this Der fliegende Holländer.
I have to repeat my 2015 review again verbatim by writing it was Bryn Terfel who set the standard for this superb performance and how his Dutchman was some of the best Wagner I have heard from him. I auditioned Terfel at the start of his career and in 2024 I thought his days singing Wagner were behind him and it was significant that he was appearing in less demanding roles such as Don Basilio, Balstrode, Dulcamara … and even Scarpia. Terfel’s voice sounded amazingly rested and fresh so from his first words (‘Die Frist ist um’) to his last, he was simply outstanding. He sings the role with a rare beauty and open-throated vibrancy: especially amazing was Terfel’s gift for quiet singing with those inimitable colours that his voice can create. How rarely too will you have heard every word the Dutchman sings. Terfel was dramatically convincing from his first, painfully slow, round-shouldered trudge across the stage pulling on a mooring rope – as if it was the fetters Marley’s ghost from Dickens’s A Christmas Carol says he has ‘forged in life’ – right through to his anger and resentment at Senta’s perceived betrayal at the end.
Almost his equal was Stephen Milling’s Daland, a gruff and grizzled old seadog who was by turns overly avaricious or fleetingly paternal. When Milling and Terfel were singing together negotiating over the price of Daland’s daughter’s hand in marriage I was riveted. Miles Mykkanen sings with an impressive musicality as the Steersman and perhaps is a future Erik. I suspect Mykkanen’s voice would be more suited to the role than Toby Spence’s who actually was Senta’s hapless suitor Erik and – as pleasantly sung as it was – sounded as if a Tamino had turned up on the wrong night. Kseniia Nikolaieva’s voice is sumptuous, and she is perhaps the first contralto-like Mary I have heard whilst she portrayed a suitably fussy, maternal and sympathetic companion to Senta.
Elisabet Strid in her Covent Garden debut as Senta was not as blazingly fearless as some I have heard but her restrained singing seemed to fit perfectly with Albery’s production. It was a very intense interpretation and Strid seemed so utterly possessed by the music and the character that moments such as her manhandling by the Dutchman’s crew made for uncomfortable viewing. One of the most visceral images of the evening was when she held on to the rising gangway unwilling to let the Dutchman leave without her.
I doubt I have ever heard an enhanced Royal Opera Chorus – the men especially – sing better on the Covent Garden stage and I cannot remember all they have to sing sounding as good at Bayreuth. Anyway, I cannot recall having seen and heard as good a Der fliegende Holländer on the Green Hill and that must be due to Henrik Nánási’s conducting. With the full support of the orchestra playing at their very best – probably because they have been released from the endless Puccini they are needed for this season – Nánási was alive to all the intricacies of Wagner’s score. What we heard was full-on loud, stormy and muscular where necessary, yet Nánási brought nuance and lyricism elsewhere, revealing all the true romantic sweep and dramatic drive necessary to make The Flying Dutchman sail ahead and not become becalmed. Henrik Nánási is a former general musical director of Berlin’s Komische Oper and it may be a pity that Antonio Pappano’s replacement is already known.
Jim Pritchard
Featured Image: Tim Albery’s The Flying Dutchman © Tristram Kenton