Is there an opera, or even a movie, that you find boring as hell, and yet somehow you also love it?
For me, it’s Wagner’s “Parsifal.” A music drama steeped in Christian symbolism involving the Knights of the Grail and their redeemer (a “pure fool, enlightened by compassion”), the opera can be ponderous in the extreme. But it took a cinematic genius like Hans-Jürgen Syberberg to turn it into, at times, an even more tedious 4-hour-plus movie (short by Syberberg standards) in 1982. I finally sat down to revisit the film on Saturday for the first time in 40 years. You can read all about my first viewing, in the early ‘80s, here:
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In Syberberg’s telling, Act I is especially stagnant, at nearly two hours (the length of a movie in itself), for most of it Gurnemanz supplying his prolix exposition while seated on a boulder. Amusingly – and I didn’t pick up on this when I was a teenager – the long-suffering Amfortas, afflicted with a wound that will not heal, is played by the conductor, Armin Jordan – an interesting casting choice, with a subtext (intended?) of martyrdom for one’s art.
Most of the singers on the soundtrack are doubled by actors, who lip-sync. A fresh performance was recorded for the film, since Syberberg managed to alienate descendants of the Bayreuth Circle with his earlier, five-hour documentary about unabashed Hitler-sympathizer Winifred Wagner (the composer’s daughter-in-law, who confided things like “For us, he was not the Führer; just a wonderful family friend”).
Two of the singers actually do appear in the film: Robert Lloyd as Gurnemanz, elder knight of the Grail, and Aage Hauglund as the magician Klingsor, who castrates himself because of his inability to stay chaste. Act II is full of hilarious phallic imagery. Also, some of the action is carried by marionettes (brought back from the opera’s Prelude).
Edith Clever is excellent, the most intense and invested of the onscreen actors, even as she mouths Yvonne Minton’s vocals, as Kundry. But it is Karin Krick who truly mesmerizes, when she takes over the title role, midway into Act II, lip-syncing to the unmistakably male tenor voice of Rainer Goldberg. Syberberg has his reasons, I’m sure, but I notice she appears at the moment that Parsifal experiences the epiphany that awakens him to compassion. Is compassion then, to be considered a feminine trait? In a work of art that’s built on the iconography of Jesus’ sacrifice, it’s a peculiar observation. Perhaps in his denial of Kundry, sidestepping the snare that claimed Amfortas, the character attains a kind of androgyny. Or perhaps the director was aiming for some sort of statement about Parsifal’s universality?
Whatever Syberberg’s rationale for the gender-swap, Krick is superb. I find her riveting in a way her male counterpart in the role (Michael Kutter) is not – even though they both portray the character as a kind of disembodied dreamer – and I am very curious to know what became of her. Numerous Google searches yield nothing beyond her participation in this film. If she’s still alive, she couldn’t be any older than about 60.
The mystery remains unresolved, even as Syberberg’s Mystery has run its course. It took me six hours, but once again I managed to get through his vision of “Parsifal.” Now I can set the opera aside for another year. Since the last act is set on Good Friday, and the legacy of Christ infuses the entire work, understandably I associate it with Easter.
Of course, art exists outside of time. Part of what makes it so frustrating to be trapped in a world of texting and soundbites is their incompatibility with a spirit of reflection. Art requires space to breathe. Equally, one needs space in order to prepare oneself to enter into an alternate reality that reflects and yet somehow transcends our own. The noise, pace, and distractions of contemporary life are totally at odds with the needs of the spirit.
I think of the current state of our classical music stations, many of which no longer play complete works over a certain length, except occasionally perhaps, if they happen to be the most famous. As if music is nothing more than a string of pretty tunes. There’s no opportunity to get lost in the imagination, the fantasy, or even the logic of the music. You’re drawn into the first movement of a symphony and then, bam, you’re yanked back into the prosaic world by some inanity being spouted by the announcer. What about the rest of the piece? When I was in a position to do so, I fought this trend for a long, long time.
For me, “Parsifal” is like a narcotic. Undoubtedly there are some who believe I should enter a 12-step program. But the high is too good, even if it sometimes puts me through hell to get to heaven.
I’m curious, are there any works of art, in whatever medium, that affect you like that? If so, I would be curious to hear about them. Don’t just sit there. That’s what the comments are for!
PHOTO: The duality of Parsifal – Karin Krick and Michael Kutter – presented before Wagner’s death mask
