Regie, pagliaccio
It is not perhaps so surprising that even with the cleverest of the cher public participating, nobody jumped in with the right answer for last week’s Regie quiz. After all, the work depicted was Die Blume von Hawaii, the 1931 operetta composed, as you all know, by Paul Abraham to a libretto by Alfred Grünwald, Fritz Löhner-Beda, and Emmerich Földes.
So there’s this Hawaiian princess, see, who is betrothed to a prince of her own people, but she’s actually in love with this American marine officer, and did I mention that she is traveling incognito as a cabaret artiste in a vaudeville troupe with an African-American jazz singer? And then to top it all off, the volcano erupts. Anyway, the Helmut Baumann production is currently running at the Volksoper Wien.
Now, on to a work less obscure of title, but perhaps even more puzzling as to mise-en-scène:
Ring des Nibelungen or Meistersinger von Nürnberg.
What else?
Hint:
It couldn’t by any chance, be PAGLIACCI? It couldn’t be THAT easy, could it?
Well, I would say either that if we’re going to be obvious, or JENUFA.
Rigoletto too obvious?
Actually, scratch that, I’m going with HOLLANDER in the circus:
1. The Stuermann drifts off to sleep singing endless johojohos.
2. Erik and Senta have it out in the courtyard of Daland’s apartment building, evesdropped on by the chorus in clown gear.
3. The Dutchman, durring “Die Frist ist um”, puts on clown make-up to “rejoin the human race.” He will later tear off his read nose when he proclaims his identity as the Flying Dutchman.
Bloody hell, Baritenor – if this turns out to tbe the Dutchman that I am going to see in Amsterdam this week (Uusitalo, Naglestad, cond. Haenchen), the government will fall.
Oh. Hang on. The Dutch government fell at the weekend.
Anyhoo, I console myself that that is definitely NOT Uusitalo – who seems to have recovered in full from his pre-Met-Tosca ailment – in the final pic.
I was hoping for a staging of the three Church Parables, but this looks far more like ‘Billy Budd’.
1. Act 1 scene 3. This is Squeak. He has just been disarmed by Billy and knocked down onto the deck. Chorus: ‘He took them ear-rings of mine. Always at it! Sneaking swine.’
2. End of Act 1. This is the Novice tempting Billy: ‘Look at them! Touch them! They’re for you!’ I am guessing that Billy is to the right in pink, but could not swear to this. The Novice appears to be more conventionally attired.
3. A perhaps over literal imagining by the director of ‘starry Vere’. Final moments of the Epilogue as he contemplates the events of 1797 ‘…when I Edward Fairfax Vere commanded the “Indomitable”….’ [slow curtain].
I know what this is – anybody who claims to have worked it out is either a (warped) genius or a (brazen) cheat.
Probably PARIDE ED ELENA.
Meanwhile, from what major urban newspaper’s Arts and Leisure section is this clip:
“The one ripple of discomfort comes from Mr. [Manfred] Honeck’s practice of praying in his dressing room with some orchestra members before concerts.
Some musicians, including Jews in the orchestra, “were made uncomfortable by it” to varying degrees, said Louis Lev, a violinist. Mr. Lev, who is Jewish, said he was not one of them, however.”
‘She said the preconcert prayer had a relaxing effect on performance nerves. “When you put yourself in God’s hands, it’s very calming,” she said.”
I guess the orchestral players for the Met’s ‘Attila’ are feeling wonderfully calm, then.
Domestic mots still rule!
Bravo, Monty!
There was a Pelleas in Salzburg and London with Golaud and Pelleas in Pagliaccio gear, wasn’t there.