On Leopold Stokowski’s birthday, a transcendent performance of the “Good Friday Spell” from Wagner’s “Parsifal”
Tag: Parsifal
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Loving the Tedious: “Parsifal” and Art’s Slow Burn
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:
https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=1074150483504014&set=a.883855802533484
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
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Wagner’s Parsifal Good Friday Soundtracks
I mean no disrespect in saying that, for me, Good Friday is made better by Wagner’s “Parsifal.” I try to listen to it every year, whether I need it or not.
Here’s my annual posting of Leopold Stokowski’s transcendent Houston recording of the “Good Friday Spell” from Act III.
Also, a fascinating 1927 recording of the Transformation Music and Grail Scene from Act I, set down at the Bayreuth Festspielhaus. The recording employs the original bells designed by Wagner, which were later melted down by the Nazis for ammunition during World War II. A rare opportunity to experience “Parsifal” as Wagner actually knew it. (The bells begin at 5:57.)
The conductor, Karl Muck, was associated with the Bayreuth Festival since 1892. He became its principal conductor in 1903. Between 1901 and 1930, he conducted “Parsifal” at Bayreuth 14 times.
Another conductor who was a pillar at Bayreuth was Hans Knappertsbusch. Of Kna’s 95 appearances there, 55 were conducting “Parsifal,” for which he was especially renowned.
I was going to post a link to one of his performances of the Prelude to Act I , but then I couldn’t help it. Here’s the whole blessed thing – all four hours of it – from 1962. The live recording is regarded as the benchmark by many, rivaled only by Kna’s performances from the 1950s.
Sacrifice, compassion, healing, and rebirth. Every Friday is good, but Good Friday with “Parsifal” is subime.
The metal canisters used to produce Bayreuth bell sounds from the 1880s to about 1929:
https://www.monsalvat.no/parsifal-bells.htm
IMAGE: Set design by Paul von Joukowsky for the 1882 Bayreuth debut of “Parsifal”
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Parsifal Good Friday Music from Wagner & Stokowski
For Good Friday, here’s my annual posting of Leopold Stokowski’s sublime Houston recording of the “Good Friday Spell” from Wagner’s “Parsifal.”
As an added bonus, enjoy a fascinating 1927 recording of the Transformation Music and Grail Scene from Act I, set down at the Bayreuth Festspielhaus. The recording employs the original bells designed by Wagner, which were later melted down by the Nazis for ammunition during World War II. A rare opportunity to experience “Parsifal” as Wagner actually knew it. (The bells begin at 5:57.)
Muck had been associated with the Bayreuth Festival since 1892. He became its principal conductor in 1903. Between 1901 and 1930, he conducted “Parsifal” at Bayreuth 14 times.
IMAGE: Set design by Paul von Joukowsky for the 1882 Bayreuth debut of “Parsifal”
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Like Microplastics, Wagner Is Everywhere
Every year during Holy Week, I try to listen to Wagner’s “Parsifal” – whether I need it or not. This year, I am especially interested to do so, since I have been reading Alex Ross’ recent book, “Wagnerism.”
Ross, music critic at The New Yorker for the past quarter century, makes a convincing case that Richard Wagner was the single most influential artist, not only in music, but in all spheres of life, of perhaps the last 180 years.
A mite hyperbolic? I thought so too, but as chapter is laid out upon chapter, over the course this 700-page tome, one soon comes to realize – from Tannhäuser’s Venusberg to Lohengrin’s swan-boat, from Alberich’s Ring to Amfortas’ wound – that in fact, he’s absolutely right!
And not simply because of Wagner’s prominent, recurrent archetypes, but also because of his underlying ideas, and how they’re processed and presented in his overwhelming music dramas.
Literature, poetry, visual art, architecture, design, theater, dance, movies, politics, economics, religion, philosophy, nationalism, prejudice, psychology, technology, and sexuality – for better or worse, there is almost no one who has not been influenced in some way or other by Wagner. Not only in the West, but in the entire industrialized world.
This applies even to those who have never heard of Wagner, or even a note of his music. It would seem that one embraces, rejects, or grapples with Wagner, or affects indifference or lives in ignorance, but sooner or later, even the most skeptical will be steamrolled by someone or something driven by his ideas. Seriously, once you take in the evidence, your head will explode.
To be honest, I found Ross’ approach to be a little lightweight at first, the kind of book that would impress readers who don’t really know that much about a subject. The writing is not particularly stylish. Most of the supporting evidence is not dwelt upon for more than a few pages. Some examples are little more than namedropped. That’s not to say it’s not well-written and that there aren’t plenty of insights along the way.
But it soon becomes apparent that Ross has a longer, larger aim, and that he knows exactly what he’s doing. The sheer scope of the narrative serves to illustrate the inescapable accumulation of Wagnerian influence on the development of human society.
I hasten to add, this is not an academic exercise. It is not at all dry or abstruse. The book is geared toward a popular audience, not the ivory tower. Furthermore, it can be ridiculously entertaining.
From the Department of You Can’t Please Everyone comes this delicious assessment of “Parsifal,” by the Futurist firebrand Filippo Tommaso Marinetti. Without going too much into the history behind it, Marinetti was fed up with the “Parsifal” craze that swept Europe in 1914. Previously, the opera had been permitted only to be performed at Wagner’s own specially-outfitted Festspielhaus in Bayreuth, where it had been staged since 1882. The monopoly was lifted on January 1st. In the next six months, “Parsifal” was performed in no fewer than 50 European opera houses.
Marinetti responded with a two-page screed, titled “A bas le Tango et Parsifal!” (“Down with the Tango and Parsifal!”), from which this is but an excerpt:
“If the tango is bad enough, ‘Parsifal’ is even worse, as it inoculates the dancers, swaying to and fro, bored and listless, with an incurable musical neurasthenia. How can we avoid ‘Parsifal,” with its downpours, its puddles, and its floods of musical tears? ‘Parsifal’ is a systematic devaluation of life! A factory cooperative of sadness and despair. Tuneless stretching and straining for weak stomachs. Poor digestion and heavy breathing for forty-year-old virgins. Whining of flabby and constipated old priests. Wholesaling and retailing of bad consciences and a stylish effeminacy for snobs. Blood deficiency, feebleness of the loins, hysteria, anemia, and greensickness. Prostration, brutalization, and violation of Mankind. Ridiculous scraping of failed, mutilated notes. Snoring of drunken organs sprawling in the vomit of foul-tasting leitmotifs. False tears and pearls flaunted by a Mary Magdalene with a plunging neckline more suited to Maxim’s. Polyphonic pus from Amfortas’ festering scabs. Worn-out wailings of the Knights of the Holy Grail. Nonsensical Satanism of Kundry… Antediluvianism! Antediluvianism! Enough of it!”
Ouch!
Yeah, that about sums it up. I can’t wait to listen to it again.
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