message remains a huge mirror to the
human condition,” says Hampson,
“
and the challenge to each individual
to resolve that mirror in their life.”
A deep complexity pervades the major
characters
–
particularly Amfortas, who
embodies the opera’s essential conflict
between the sacred and profane. Before the
opera begins, he’d yielded to sensuality in
the seductive form of Kundry. The spear
with which Christ was wounded on the
Cross had been Amfortas’s to guard, but
he lost it to Klingsor, who then wounded
him with it. The core of Amfortas’s despair,
says Hampson, is that “he has betrayed
himself, his own soul, his own heart, his
own existence. He must find a way to make
himself whole again. In some ways it’s
a wound that can be closed only by this
other person [Parsifal] who understands
and forgives him as he forgives himself
–
that is the essence of compassion.”
For Amfortas, as well as for Kundry,
Gurnemanz, and the title role, Wagner
created devastatingly moving arias. The
grandeur of the choruses and extended
orchestral interludes remains unsurpassed
anywhere in the entire operatic repertoire.
“
It took so long for Wagner to get Parsifal
written,” says Hampson. “Perhaps he
knew that he had to wait to find his
musical language. It seems to me that
Wagner is reinventing himself in Parsifal.
The piece doesn’t seem to knock open the
edges of atonality the way Tristan does,
but I don’t think you can listen to Act
Two of Parsifal and not completely accept
that Elektra was around the corner.”
The Bayreuth theater was ideal for
the musical side of Parsifal, but Wagner
also wanted his detailed stage directions
(
spelled out in the libretto) brought to
life in performance. “You don’t ignore
Wagner’s stage directions,” explains
production designer Johan Engels. “You
absorb them. I think opera is a living piece
of art. There’s always a danger that if you
slavishly follow the directions, you end up
with a piece that should be in a museum
somewhere as the one and only production
of Parsifal! As with Shakespeare, each
new production of the piece can take on
new meaning for each generation.”
Caird’s thinking began with his desire
“
to come up with visual imagery that is
comparable in some way with the sheer
scale, beauty, and majesty of the music.”
Collaborating with his designer, he had to
examine how to present the opposites
existing in this piece: “a natural and an
unnatural world, a world of monasticism
and a world of sensuality, a world that is
strictly regimented that turns into a world
that is destroyed and dysfunctional.” The
formidable visual challenges of each act
include “the very long transformation
scenes in which something has to be
continuously happening in order to keep
the stage picture alive.”
Lyric’s new production begins in the
forest where we first meet Gurnemanz,
Kundry, Amfortas, and finally the
youthful Parsifal. The stage eventually
transforms itself for the opera’s second
scene in the hall of the Grail. Within the
hall is a symbol created by Engels as a
strong focus of the space: a large, open,
gold-colored hand. This, for Caird, is “a
metaphorical symbol of brotherhood” and
“
an emblem that unites the brotherhood
in its quest for simple humanity.”
Act Two brings more challenges,
beginning with the opening scene:
Engels has given Klingsor “a lava-like
world of pulsing red,” in which Klingsor
summons Kundry to his service. “He’s
set himself up as a god,” says Caird, “so
his world has to be intensely sensual but
completely unnatural.” Then, in Klingsor’s
magic garden, Parsifal is tempted by the
Flowermaidens. Engels’s inspiration
here is Loie Fuller (born in what is
now Hinsdale, Illinois), who captivated
turn-of-the-last-century Paris by using
long pieces of silk in her dancing.
By Act Three Amfortas’s agony has
increased almost beyond endurance, and
the brotherhood has totally deteriorated.
The hall of the Grail, says Engels, is now
“
ripped apart, columns have fallen, and
we’re taking out pieces of the floor, so
the knights will literally be climbing
through holes trying to form some kind
of order in that space.” Relief comes
with Parsifal healing Amfortas and
becoming the brotherhood’s savior.
The opera ends with a benediction-
like chorus sung by women’s voices,
traditionally from offstage. It has always
bothered Caird that “Wagner has created
a world that ignores the very existence
of women as independent beings.” The
women’s voices represent to the director
“
a clear indication of a return to the idea
of the feminine in the last five minutes
of the opera.” Caird enables them to
appear, sharing in the redemption.
The director adds, “Personally I can’t
see how that story can possibly end
with only the blokes as celebrants.”
There’s one more innovation, recalling
Caird’s legendary staging of Nicholas
Nickleby, where certain non-human
production elements (a coach being the
most memorable example) are brought
to life by human performers. Examples
in Parsifal are the swan in Act One,
then in Act Two the spear thrown by
Klingsor and caught by Parsifal. In such
cases “we never hide the tricks that we
do,” says Engels, “but at the same time
you generate the imagination of the
audience, letting them create the world
and giving them the ability to take flight.”
New Lyric Opera production generously
made possible by an Anonymous
Donor, Marlys A. Beider, and
the Kenneth L. Harder Trust.
Paul groves
Parsifal
daveda karanas
Kundry
thomas hampson
Amfortas
kwangchul youn
Gurnemanz
D i s cov e r y S e r i e s :
Panelists include:
Johan Engels, production designer
Thurs., Oct. 10 at 6pm
Art Institute of Chicago –
111
South Michigan Avenue
312-332-2244
ext. 5600
for tickets
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