Autre temps: as Paul Thomason reminds us in his program note on Ariadne’s complicated origins, Strauss had in mind for Zerbinetta Selma Kurz, or, by way of example, perhaps Frieda Hempel or (thinking purely vocally, I assume) Luisa Tetrazzini. And we might throw in Margarethe Siems, who did sing the premiere. If you know those singers, however primitive their recordings may be, you have a grasp on the fulfillment of this writing. Thomason further cites Strauss’s argument with Hofmnnsthal over setting the Komponist for female voice, as he’d done for Octavian. After all, Strauss remonstrated, for such a part “an intelligent female singer is available anywhere.”

In supporting assignments, a couple of positive notes can be struck. Although I prefer a voice of deeper color for the Musiklehrer, Johannes Martin Kränzler was entirely competent, and did what he could to hold the Prologue in some kind of order. And Sean Michael Plumb, the American baritone who coped well with both Melot and Thomas Gottschalk’s intermission interview on the above-noted Munich vidop Tristan (see Regie-Auteurs Gone Feral, 3/9/21), showed a firm voice of good quality as Harlekin. The speaking role of the Haushofmeister was taken by Wolfgang Brendel, remembered for his fairly lusty baritone and stage smarts. I suppose the days of specialist character actors for this part, the Neugebauers and Muzzarellis, are stylistically bygone. But Brendel’s approach, quite naturally conversational, making most of the formerly ostentatiously underlined points matter-of-factly or slyly, needed more theatrical size to establish the character’s function in the operatic context. As to the production: not only the Met’s auditorium, but its stage expanse as well, is far beyond the desirable for this work. Yeargan’s set for the Prologue, with its separate levels and acting areas and its staircase curving upward into the house, is fun to look at, but made to accommodate such a welter of activities and personages (the commedia company has been expanded to Ringling Bros. proportions) that focus is lost. The second act is frigid and abstracted in look, and the action of the opera marmorealized into a faux-mythical tableau, except when intruded upon by the energetic but charmless comedians. The final scene does not even attempt any development between its characters—they grimly cross and counter on a bare deck till it’s time to leave.

˜ ˜ ˜

A Nozze di Figaro follow-up: Several readers have written to remind me that on the RCA Victor/Leinsdorf recording, the roles of the two peasant girls, designated as “Elysia Field” and “Appassionata Schultz,” were taken not by members of the Vienna State Opera ensemble, but by the Susanna and Cherubino of the recording, Roberta Peters and Rosalind Elias. It’s among the many things I once knew. And another correspondent, Jay Kaufmann, points out that although the 1940 San Francisco broadcast of Act 2 did indeed precede the Met broadcast under consideration, there had been a Met transmission late in the previous season (with Bidú Sayão the Susanna and Virgilio Lazzari the Bartolo, rather than Licia Albanese and Salvatore Baccaloni, respectively). So San Francisco didn’t “beat the Met to the punch,” after all. My thanks for these corrections.

˜ ˜ ˜

NEXT TIME: My two remaining dates at the Met fall on April 26 (the new production of Lucia di Lammermoor) and May 3 (my return to Turandot for its second cast, and for reconsideration of the final scene with new materials on hand). These fall rather out of synch with my normal posting schedule, and though I also have an end-of-season thought piece in mind, it makes little sense for it to come before these final visits. So I’m extending the target date to Friday, May 6, when I’ll comment on both the Lucia and Turandot performances.

# # #