Schreker’s Der Schatzgräber, Opéra National du Rhin (at La Filature), 27.11.2022

It is difficult to establish if Franz Schreker’s falling from grace is a result of historical circumstances or an intrinsic failure in pleasing post-war audiences (or a combination of both). The very fact that his operas are rarely staged makes it impossible to form an opinion if you don’t resort to recordings. I saw Der ferne Klang once at the Berlin Staatsoper some years ago and now I’ve seen Der Schatzgräber in one of the performances of the work’s premiere run in France, a production imported from the Deutsche Oper Berlin.   

When I read what I wrote about Der ferne Klang, I realize that back then I must have felt that its unpopularity was self-explainable. On leaving the theatre today, I wonder if Der Schatzgräber is a superior work or if the performance in Berlin of the earlier work just hang fire. Even while listening to Gerd Albrechts (and Marc Albrecht’s) CDs, I couldn’t help thinking how efficient the work is, in spite of its convoluted and weird libretto (as usual in Schreker’s works). And this afternoon’s live performance just confirmed my impression. I mean, if you ask me “La Traviata” or “Der Schatzgräber”, the answer is two thumbs up for Schreker!

It is a very tricky work for a conductor, more or less for the same reasons it is difficult to conduct R. Strauss’s Die Frau ohne Schatten. There is a very big orchestra, the texture is rich, it requires voices with some lyric quality (soprano and leading tenor are often required to produce piano and pianissimo) albeit big enough to pierce through. It is also a bit kitscher than Strauss – this is probably the hardest day of work for a harpist in the complete operatic repertoire – and also a bit wordier in the sense that dialogues are often handled as in straight theatre. Normally when it feels like an aria, the characters are indeed singing in the plot. 

Conductor Marko Letonja is – considering the rarity of Schreker performances – something of a specialist. His mission seems to be luring the audience to join the Schreker-team by offering Karajan-esque deluxe orchestral sound rather than a blueprint of the score’s complex structure. The approach is intense, emotional yet carefully balanced in order to make it possible for the singers to put the text across or at least be heard at all. The Strassbourg Philharmonic responded accordingly in full yet round and soft-woven sonorities  In the acoustics of Mulhouse’s La Filature, one never felt any want of orchestral sound (specially in what regards the string section) yet it never felt too loud. Considering the light-voiced cast, this was essencial for the success of this performance. 

The two leading roles in the opera fall in the grey zone between dramatic and lyric voices. You can’t have Brünnhilde/Siegfried singers here, yet a Pamina and a Tamino would probably suffer yoo. Helena Juntunen, for instance, is someone who still sings Mozart roles. And one can see why – her blond soprano is glitch-free and her high notes just blossom spontaneously. As Els, she showed nerves of steel in her self-discipline. While most singers would just force the tone and pray to God, she would just let the voice spin and gain momentum à la Soile Isokoski. Yet her voice is lighter than Isokoski’s was. Twice or thrice she has to disguise it with acting with the voice. I mean no criticism here –  she did it expertly, sang with reliable intonation and she is also a good actress too. When I first saw Thomas Blondelle, he used to sing roles like Tamino and David at the Deutsche Oper Berlin. Then last year there he was as Parsifal. On writing about his performance then, I noticed he manages to emulate a more important sound by darkening the tone above the passaggio, with noticeable loss of projection. As Parsifal, the tessitura was more congenial and he could shift to the fifth gear with less risk of burning his oil before the end of the run. Here things are a bit higher and stay higher for longer. As a result, one could hear the voice turning grey in exposed moments. On the other hand, his natural assets as a lyric tenor were well employed in terms of tonal shading and cantabile. I have always found him a too studied as an actor, but here it all made sense in a character who wants to be seen as something different from his original status in society. For the context of this performance, he and Ms. Juntunen lived up to the demands of expression within their possibilities. These pieces of casting, however, involved a difficult decision in the choice of singers for the other parts. For instance, the Fool is supposed to go for a tenor lighter than that in the role of Elis. Paul Schweinester’s voice is indeed lighter in than Mr. Blondelle’s. As it is, it is almost a Bach tenor voice. Yet one bright enough to make it into the auditorium, and his diction is very clear. He doesn’t seem to have a naturally flamboyant personality, and this was a blessing in disguise for a part that can veer into the overdone (as in the G. Albrecht recording). Derek Welton’s bass baritone is compatible in volume and size with tenor and soprano in this cast, and his performance as the King was effective and characterful. After hearing Heinz Kruse as Albi in G. Albrecht’s recording made me see how a heroic voice there can make bring out the dangerous side of the part – but I understand that this wouldn’t make sense in this cast. All other minor roles were well cast, also in terms of acting.

Christof Loy’s production is apt in what regards having to stage an eventual and colorful story in a single set with contemporary costumes. The idea of making it all happen in the act 4 party makes sense in an atmosphere à la Règle du Jeu. That said, if one thinks of Schreker’s source of inspiration for this opera – hearing a singer in medieval costume sings ballads accompanying herself on the lute in a small inn in the alps – one misses the quaintness, the oddity, the sincerity of it all. Although Els is seducing all those men around her, it all really remains in the level of “promise”. Act 3 is indeed a new experience to her – and to Ellis. The libretto is so descriptive of his impression of the whole experience as otherworldly. There is no one else in the world – Schreker has a chorus singing “ah”. It is not a collective experience at all. Elis says that they are “in Eden”. The only third character there, as we know, is the snake – not the rest of the cast and some extras in a highly choreographed orgy. I don’t know why directors now feel that all sensuous experience in an operatic stage has to be collective. In the age of internet porn, it doesn’t even look risqué or effective. It’s just embarrassing and distracting. It elicited giggling the row behind mine from two ladies born not long after Schreker’s death.

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