“Ja, ja!”
In the comments section of this post, you are invited to offer your opinion on why Renée Fleming‘s broadcast performance (as heard tonight, October 13) strikes you as a great portrayal of the Marschallin.
The best comment in this section will win the new Decca DVD
Deadline for entries in this competiton will be midnight, Wednesday October 14 when the comments section in this thread will be closed. In honor of Our Own JJ, all eligible responses should be 300 words or less, and, while your doyenne invites your comments, nominations and general egging-on, her decision as to the winning essays is final. She also reserves the right to substitute alternate prizes to winners residing outside North America.
Those famous recordings of Viennese operettas Schwartzkopf recorded (EMI) in the late 50′s or early 60′s -encapsulate it perfectly. Schwarzkopf’s mannerisms: leave any Fleming is accused of, for dead.
#5: The stage directions for this production are all as
Strauss indicated and refreshingly conventional. This
is an opera NOT to fool with by the regiemonsters, and
the excellence you heard last night was, in part, due to
the high quality conventional production..
More talk like that and you may get banned from this blog.
I think Carsen’s Salzburg production worked precisely because it transferred the action to the period when the opera was written. It suddenly made much more sense because it made me realize that the characters have very fin-du-siecle sensibilities and setting it around 1909 suddenly liberates them. I thought it was pretty brilliant, especially the pretty rowdy 3rd act, Ochs remarking “what the HELL was that?” after a completely naked man rushes past him, instead of the usual stage business.
Was Renee Fleming’s portrayal of the Marschallin great? You bet. Can I tell you why? Sure can’t. As a relative newbie to opera, I lack the knowledge, expertice, and exposure to know what it takes to make a great Marschallin. I have no other singer to compare Fleming to. I come to this role with fresh ears and no musical background so what I have to go from is that feeling that you get when you listen to something new for the first time and something just clicks. You don’t know what it is, but you just “get it” and understand what opera is all about – why people go crazy for this stuff.
Why was Fleming’s a great portrayal? Because despite the lack of exposure and the language barrier I face, she pulled me into the world of the Marschallin until that last final moment when she lets go. And when it gets to the final trio and the characters intertwine and climax, etc. that’s when you want to go to your friend who doesn’t get opera and say “this is what it’s all about.” So much emotion and feeling, so much depth of character and all in six minutes. That is why Renee Fleming is a great Marschallin. And that is why I love opera.
La Cieca, I’ve been a lurker for a year and a half, and this little competition brought me out of the woodwork. Just wanted to thank you and your readers for educating me as I’ve sat back and listened in on all these conversations. As a disclaimer, Fleming was the voice that introduced me to opera, so she’ll always hold a soft spot in my oepra loving heart.
Last night Die Rosenkavalier made yet another triumphant return to the MET in the 40-year-old Merrill-O’Hearn production. Minor quibbles aside, it was every bit a treasurable experience musically and dramatically; and pride of place must go to the seasoned Marschallin of Renee Fleming, a welcome return after a decade since her initial assumption of the role in the house. Having found myself both transfixed and transported by the experience, I needed a day to come back down to earth before I could collect my thouts and add my humble praise to Fleming’s performance.
Beautiful of figure and of voice, Fleming offered an emotionally wide-ranging portrayal full of subtleties and remarkably free of sentimentality. It was as if she has rediscovered the cliches of “letting the music speak for itself” rather than overinterpretation; and the purity of line that had been the hallmark of her beautiful voice is thankfully shown to its refreshing advantage, mostly free of the mannerisms that have given good cause and amunitions to her detractors in the past dozen years or so. Honeyed tones poured out as the curtain rose on the first act (despite a rather rough and tumbling prelude from Edo de Waart), and during the breakfast scene as the Marschallin and Octavian exchanged cooing tenderness. But Fleming’s was no pallid Marschallin predisposed to melancholy, as she could show some high-spirited horseplay with Octavian and amused leg-pulling tease of Baron Ochs by occasionally clipping the phrase and dipping down to chest voice for good effect. From her anxious dreamy recollection the Feldmarschal having given a scare to a former paramour (about whom she was in no mood to humor Octavian’s curiosity) to her frantic fear for Octavian upon the unexpected noise of an intruder, Fleming subtly drifted in and out of extroversion and introversion at the turn of a phrase, before regaining her gaily composure for an extended scene of self-amusement with the boorish Ochs and the cross-dressed Octavian-Mariandel. There was enough mischief in this Marschallin to egg on the clueless Ochs to boast ever more of his vulgar qualities, and to initiate the fateful involvement of the reluctant Octavian in Ochs’ marriage affairs. For this early part of her portrayal Fleming deployed an impressive arsenal of vocal felicities from tender and coy pianissimis to judicious chest dips and cackles. But once Ochs’ vulgarities reached their climax at the end of the levee scene, the mood of Fleming’s Marschallin took a decided turn for philosophical disillusionment. The famous monologue started out with scornful disdain of Ochs in particular but quickly got projected to all men in general, neither in self-pitying lament nor self-empowering call to revolt, but wise (and not merely resigned) philosophical disillusionment which then led to some profound meditation on the “mystery” of time and the changes it brings. Some of the most heavenly music and singing came to pass during this chamberlike interlude before Octavian came bursting back in with passionate declarations of love in the face of an increasingly moody and detached Marschallin. Just as Susan Graham’s ardent Octavian poured forth glorious ardent tones to ride the orchestra in waves of impetuous infatuation, Fleming countered no less effectively with contrasting soft tones and pallid pianissimis as she drifted again in and out of introversion during a dialogue that was as much for and with herself as with an incresingly confused and frustrated Octavian. The soft perfumed tones of the earlier part of the act had turned into soft disembodied sighs that wafted over the meditative musical phrases. The poignant references to the impulse to want to stop the clocks in the middle of the night, or the need to be “light of heart and light of hand” (as their clinging fingers parted, the Marschallin
stepping forth and not looking back at a prostrate and pleading Octavian), and the implied farewell were painted in
breath-taking (and time-stopping) pastels. The brief return to reality in recognition of having sent Octavian away
without a kiss notwithstanding, the melancholic mood of the final tableau was exquisitely framed by slowly descending
curtains and Fleming picking up a rose from her dresser to savor its fragrance …
The re-entrance of the Marschallin in Act 3 offered a striking image of the handsome Fleming in loopdress with
feathered cap. Her sweet and attentive tones toward the Police Commissioner – a former orderly of her husband –
contrasted with her bemusement turned impatience toward the obdurate Ochs. Having dismissed the brouhaha at the inn
as a mere Viennese farce, and exposing herself to potential questions about relations with Octavian, Fleming sounded
out Ochs’ intentions with tones ranging from light-hearted tease to clipped emphasis to ensure his cooperative
silence. But she soon lost patience with his obstinate pursuit of the Faninal girl and fortune, and dismissed him
with dignified authority, with which she also put in awe the young and lovesick Sophie. The calm surface could barely
hid her own turmoil, however, as she faced the sudden imperative of sending off her young lover to his new love —
philosophical meditation in the first act was one thing, but the reality of the third act was another — but having
sounded out both Octavian and Sophie, the wise Marschallin decided on a rather unsentimental high road. Fleming then
launched the soaring phrase of the celebrated trio in pure tone with very little vibrato (not throbbing of passionate
self-pity like many other no less compelling Marschallins), and the way that gloriously beautiful voice soared up and
lingered a bit on the high note on “lieb”/”love” was something to make time stop and take one’s breath away (if not
to die for!) And the fruity voice of Miah Persson’s Sophie made for interesting contrast in the trio by allowing
Fleming to keep her floating ethereal quality of the unforced voice wafting in and out of the staves. She did not
even try to force her voice to ride over the swelling orchestra in order to be heard during her exit phrase “In
Gottes Namen” — to keep it consistent with a portrayal of self-sacrifice without regret, almost as a murmur to her
own self rather than an outcy of sadness and self-pity directed at either the young lovers or the audience. As for
the ultimate “Ja, ja”, Fleming put the initial stress and then lingered on the first word with a slight chuckle
toward the end – as if to signify she’s old enough to know better, and was therefore amused by the idea/sight of
puppy love – before trailing off with a rather weak and poignant second word – as if to mark her
resignation/acceptance of the wisdom of time/age even as she still felt a tinge of wistfulness about its sudden
arrival upon her. (Note: It’s quite a different touch from her treatment 10 years ago on the broadcast, in which the
first word was stress and drawn out but played straight in tone and only the second word received another stress and
chuckle as if to signify a mischievious yet optimistic view of the future). It’s a fitting close to a touching
portrait of a wise unsentimental Marschallin, one which might not be the last word for the character, but one which I
would consider a treasurable one and one of the great ones of our time. “Ja, ja!”
When Renée Fleming started performing this role, and when I first heard her in 1997 and then in 2000, there was a detachment to the role. She was watching things around her happen to her.
From the radio broadcast, it seems she has changed her vision of the role.
The effect that time may have had on her in the past 10 years, the passing of time, the aging she herself has gone through, and the departure of her husband may have been major factors.
Indeed, too much of her life starts to reflect that of Resi.
The opening was sung with full bliss, the emotional elements of a woman who has been truly satisfied. From the very beginning, it seemed quite clear that she was “on” on Tuesday.
The monologue was heartbreaking. It was a revelation to me in her dramatic interpretation capabilities. She recounted the past and the present with a sense of bewildered fright, as if she were realising the truth about time as she was saying the words, growing more and more terrified as she was uncovering the reality of her age.
By the third act, there was a sense of resignation in the voice that added a level of honesty to her trio. She sounded as if she had mulled over her discoveries of act I and accepted the fate she has to face.
Vocally, it was also an especially satisfying evening. She sang with a pure line, straight forward phrasing and elegant tone. There was a constant shimmer in her voice, and she made very enthusiastic use of her chest tones.
Renée, Die Zeit is indeed ein sonderbar dinge. With time, she has matured fruitfully in this role, to present a very personal approach to this role. I was convinced, and listened to the trio through tears. I understood the sense of overwhelming love she felt for Octavian, and the terrible sadness that his departure causes her: for her, it may represent the departure of all the men in her life.
Renée thank you for making me feel alive through the Marschallin’s pain!
Ja, Ja!
Yes, Renee was enjoyable, convincing and memorable. I’m glad I was in the house for this. On the other hand, the recording I have of Betty Blackhead will always bring tears to my eyes because of its sublime perfection. Renee was wonderful, but for me there is only one Countess in Nozze, and one Marshallin, Elizabeth.