Kur t Weill Newsletter Volume 14, Number 1 1 3Kur t Weill Newsletter Volume 23, Number 1 1 3

Music

Chamber Music

The Kurt Weill Edition, Series II, Volume 1Edited by Wolfgang Rathert and Jürgen Selk

New York: Kurt Weill Foundation for Music; Miami: European-American Music

Corp., 2004. 192 pp. (Critical Report 107 pp.)

ISBN: 0-913574-63-5

The first two volumes of the Kurt Weill Edition, devoted respec-tively to Die Dreigroschenoper and The Firebrand of Florence, set thehighest standards of scholarship, presentation, and design. Thisthird volume, which covers Weill’s entire output of chamber music,successfully maintains and upholds those standards. Some criticaleditions of recent years have been vitiated by editorial policies thatdisregarded the needs and experiences of performers. Here, follow-ing the guidelines laid down for the entire Edition, a compromise issought between the demands of Wissenschaft and the (often con-flicting) expectations of Praxis. Wolfgang Rathert and Jürgen Selkadopt the principle of privileged sources to establish “best-case”readings, to which end they have not only consulted all availablemanuscript and printed sources, but also checked their findingswith prominent exponents of this repertoire, including the cellistWolfgang Boettcher, the Leipziger Streichquartett, and theBuchberger Quartett (Frankfurt/Main).

Here is a composer at the beginning of his career, intent on find-ing his own voice, while still in the process of learning about therelationship between notated phrasing and its viability in perfor-mance, keen to explore the terra incognita of total chromaticism(tending in some passages of the String Quartet op. 8 towardsatonality), but still prone to overlook the finer points of musicalgrammar. Hence, even where the choice of privileged source isclear, that itself is no guarantee of its dependability; indeed sometextual problems in these works remain ultimately insoluble. As arule, the Edition highlights doubtful readings with the aid of foot-notes, while square bracketing, ossia-staffs, and other such editorialtools are largely avoided. Even if the slightly over-liberal curvatureof the slurs may raise an eyebrow, the quality of the computer-assisted music engraving further enhances the spacious, unclut-tered layout of the scores.

With regard to slurs, their appearance is less of a problem thanthe determination of their end-points. Editors of early Weill areconfronted with an idiosyncratic legato notation, probably influ-enced by the keyboard writing of Brahms and Reger, wherebyrepeated notes customarily fall under the span of a single slur.Previous editors have modified or even suppressed this notation,but Rathert and Selk intervene judiciously, consolidating ratherthan obliterating. The advantages of such restraint are manifest:first, the composer’s intentions are represented faithfully; second,many decisions are shared—in the spirit of Weill’s subsequent the-ater experiences—with the interpreter. A typical case is found inthe Quartet in B Minor, where, in the privileged source, the phras-ing of the first subject appears (over the span of the movement) infive slightly varying patterns. Are these variants of any significance,or do they merely reflect a young composer’s lack of know-how? “It

is impossible,” writes Selk, “to arrive at a single solution whose rep-resentation is incontrovertibly the most plausible of all possibili-ties” (Critical Report, p. 13/ii). In the upshot, all five variants arelisted in the Critical Report, while the score itself offers one con-sistent reading: a triumph of common sense. Sparsely marked pas-sages, such as the fugato theme of the Choralphantasie (op. 8, mm.414ff.), are left as Weill wrote them, even if some phrasings (in thiscase, of m. 415 and parallel passages) are never completely defined.A word of appreciation, too, for the retention of Weill’s irregularbeaming, which many an editor would also have “corrected,” there-by eliminating subtle inflections of phrasing and meter.

It can be argued that Weill never succeeded in finding his ownvoice, that he remained a musical polyglot, capable of adapting him-self to, and expressing himself persuasively in, any number of lan-guages. This volume offers plenty of fuel to such fires, for thegamut of style, form, and feeling in these pages is amazingly wide—and this was only the beginning! Hard to believe that all these works(except for the diminutive Klops-Lied, included here for want of amore appropriate home) were composed within just five years, from1918 to 1923. Behind these rapid changes of direction stands theinvisible, though ever more palpable figure of Weill’s belovedteacher Ferruccio Busoni.1

Even the earliest works in this volume, the Quartet in B Minorand the Cello Sonata, seem to anticipate Busoni’s post-war doctrineof Junge Klassizität (“young classicality”).2 Notably the scherzo ofthis early Quartet includes material later reworked by Weill in thatmost “young classical” of all his works, the Quodlibet op. 9, whilethe brittle textures and acrid harmonies of the Cello Sonata finalelook even further to the future. As Rathert points out, these scoreswere influenced by Pfitzner and Reger, above all in the expansivefugal finale of the Quartet in B Minor. It may be wishful thinking,though, to detect the influence of Mahler, and specifically of the“Alma” theme from the Sixth Symphony, in mm. 74ff. of theQuartet in B Minor (Introduction, p. 16/i-ii), since the two havelittle more in common than their opening gambit. The wistfulLändler, on the other hand, which encircles the fugue, seems asclearly indebted to Mahler as anything Weill ever wrote. Yet this,paradoxically, is one of the earliest occasions on which he sings withthat voice by which the world knows him best—vox populi ratherthan vox angelica, for sure, but that’s what makes him inimitable.

Students of Weill may benefit from tracing the evolutionaryprogress of these works, and will certainly value the exhaustiveness,precision, and insight of Rathert’s commentaries. One thing puz-zles me, however: the Introduction deals with the works in chrono-logical order, but the printed sequence of compositions differs.Presumably this decision was dictated by a policy of categories(1. chamber music without piano; 2. chamber music with piano;3. vocal chamber music). Yet these remain undisclosed, and consid-ering that the Cello Sonata was Weill’s sole contribution to catego-ry 2, chronological order would have been preferable, perhaps evenwith the original version of the String Quartet op. 8 preceding therevised version.

Be that as it may, no discussion of Weill’s progress as a “master-student” of Busoni would be complete without reference to onefurther composition from this period, the First Symphony, for itwas with this work that Weill introduced himself to his new teacher.Later he also performed it, presumably at Busoni’s apartment onthe Viktoria-Luise-Platz, in a transcription for two pianos. One canwell imagine the friendly harangue that followed, probably in thesame tone Busoni had adopted towards his friend H. W. Draber ina letter dated 9 April 1919: “The joy of making music must come

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into [its] own once more. There has been too much brooding andmelancholy and subjectivity [in this young century]. Also unneces-sary noise.”3 The Symphony was set aside, never to be heard againduring Weill’s lifetime. However, Busoni evidently found somemerit in the score, for Weill later salvaged the fugato and “wie einChoral” section of the work (mm. 289 ff.) for the finale of his op. 8Quartet. While rejecting the extremes of Expressionist discordwhich prevail in other sections of the Symphony, Busoni had pre-sumably been attracted to this particular passage by its Mozartianroot, namely the trudging polyphony of the Two Armed Men in TheMagic Flute:4

Example 1:a) Mozart, The Magic Flute, Act II/xxviii, mm. 7–9b) Weill, First Symphony, m. 289 (8va, note values doubled), equivalent to

String Quartet op. 8, m. 414

Recognizing that comparable ideas are found in the pilgrims’choruses of Mendelssohn (second movement of the “Italian”Symphony) and Wagner (Tannhäuser, act I), Busoni evidentlyappreciated the Janus-faced aspect of the passage, Weill’s nascentability to “sift and turn to account all the gains of previous experi-ments” and his aim to include them in “strong and beautifulforms.” This, as Busoni had explained to Paul Bekker in January1920, was the essence of “young classicality.”5

I have underlaid the passage quoted above with words (“hither,thither, we are marching”) from Johannes R. Becher’s stage dramaArbeiter Bauern Soldaten.6 As is commonly known, Weill read thisplay in the fall of 1920 with a view to composing music for it, butto date it has been assumed that nothing came of the project.During the course of researches into the First Symphony, itbecame apparent to me that Weill must indeed have sketched outmusic, at least for some of the scenes, and that he later salvagedthese ideas for the Symphony. My findings, which are based mere-ly on metrical correspondence between verse and music, are admit-tedly circumstantial, but the evidence is compelling enough. In thecrucial scene of the play (literally crucial, in that Becher calls fortwo perpendicular beams of light in the sky, forming the sign of theCross), a multitude of workers, peasants, and soldiers are marchingwearily through the desert. A Holy Man (Der Heilige) calls to thethrong: “Arise! To the Promised Land!” (Auf! Dem Land derVerheißung zu!), and voices are heard in the distance, singing praiseto the new Savior, the “shepherd of change” (Hirt der Wandlung).7

Judging by the perfect match of melody, rhythm, and meter, I sur-mise that these verses correspond to the “wie ein Choral” passageof the First Symphony, hence also to the “Molto tranquillo” sec-tion of the op. 8 Quartet:

Example 2: First Symphony, mm. 302–317, equivalent to String Quartetop. 8, mm. 495–510: (“Come, shepherd of change, we can feel your closeness,your peace waters the gorge of our war. O heavenly burner, warmer of the pallid,you rouse the dead and open their canopy.”)

Likewise, the concluding Largo of the Quartet mirrors the clos-ing lines of Becher’s chorus mysticus, where the gates of thePromised Land are flung open to receive the eager multitude:

Example 3: First Symphony, mm. 393–399, equivalent to String Quartetop. 8, mm. 522 ff. (ending differs): (“A mighty throng is gathered, a nation assem-bles, the procession begins.”)

I sympathize with Rathert when he writes, “Opinions may dif-fer as to whether the final, three-movement version of the [op. 8]quartet is, in fact, an improvement on the original four-movementversion” (p. 19/i), but find it harder to follow him when he detectsBusonian “new classicality” (sic, cf. note 2) in the other movementsof the work. The concept of “young classicality” is woolly enough,and has in recent years been worked almost to death by commenta-tors on this epoch of German culture. Those passages of op. 8which Busoni urged Weill to rewrite bear witness, in my estimation,to a lack of leggierezza and a tendency to “heavenly length,” point-ing perhaps to the influence of Philipp Jarnach. The latter may havecounted as Busoni’s closest collaborator, but to questions of aes-thetics their approach diverged appreciably. “For my taste,” confid-ed Busoni to Volkmar Andreae on 16 January 1921, “Jarnach writestoo many ‘Deutsche Lieder,’ and of the meaningful sort, more-over. . .”8 Busoni had never felt at home in the realm of chamber

[Da hin, dort hin, wir mar schie ren.]

öff nest ihr Zelt.

Bren ner: du Rö ter der Fah len. Die To ten er regst du und

3

3Frie den er wäs sert die Schlucht un

3

3

se res Kriegs. Du himm li scher

Volk sich,

ein Zug

ein Zug be

be

ginnt.

ginnt.

Es sam melt ei ne Schar sich, es ord net ein

Komm, Hirt der Wand lung, schon füllt dei ne Nä he, dein

a)

b)

Kur t Weill Newsletter Volume 23, Number 1 1 5

music, and had indeed written none of any substance since theSecond Violin Sonata of 1898–1900. Nor could he summon upmuch enthusiasm for the German lied (his Goethe settings of1918–24 remain a sole, Faustian exception). For him, such reper-toire brought back unhappy memories of Hausmusik in the man-sions of the wealthy, of concerts promoted by small-town, arch-conservative Società del Quartetto, to which his parents had draggedtheir infant as prodigy and breadwinner. Here, in Berlin, he wasnow obliged to present himself as omniscient and progressive mas-ter of these very arts, “appearing in armour before a dozen criticalyoungsters, withstanding each cut and thrust.”9

Whatever the case, the mutual devotion of master and pupil isabundantly evident in the last major work of this series, Frauentanzop. 10. By now, Busoni’s striving for concision and clarity, foundedon a language of contrapuntal and metric freedom, had become anintegral part of Weill’s own aesthetic program. This is a score thatcomes as close as any to Busoni’s ideal of “the unity of music”(Einheit der Musik), an art conceived beyond the confines of timeand place, floating, as it were, between the nations and the cen-turies.

Rathert asserts (p. 19/ii) that “Weill’s source for the texts [ofFrauentanz] has not yet been ascertained,” but the Critical Reportknows better, at least in some cases, and informs us that the poemswere drawn from anthologies of Middle High German edited byKurt Moreck, Alfred Rottauscher and Alexander Lernet-Holenia,all of which were published in 1922–23. The Edition is also a littlemuddle-headed in attributing the authorship of the vocal score firstto Weill himself (Introduction, p. 20/ii, but with the exception ofthe third song, which was arranged by Busoni), and later, in theCritical Report, respectively to E. G. Klussmann (ms. vocal score)and “not named” (first printed vocal score), the latter with theremark, “The remaining songs […] may well have been arranged byWeill himself.” We are further left in the dark as to whether anypassages of Klussmann’s arrangement found their way into theprinted edition. But these are minor quibbles, which do little ornothing to diminish the stature of this admirable publication.

Antony Beaumont

Bremen

Notes

1. Busoni returned from Zurich to Berlin not in 1918, as Rathert states (p.14/ii of the Introduction), but in October 1920, shortly before Weill enrolledin his master class.

2. The original epithet, “young,” should be retained. The translationfavored by Selk (p. 18/ii), “new classicality,” runs too great a risk of confu-sion with “neo-classicism.”

3. Ferruccio Busoni, Selected Letters, transl. and ed. by Antony Beaumont(London: Faber, 1987), 284.

4. Busoni himself was to transcribe this music, as the last of Fünf kurzeStücke zur Pflege des polyphonen Spiels auf dem Klavier, completed in 1923.

5. All passages in quotation marks adapted from Ferruccio Busoni,“Young Classicism,” in The Essence of Music and other papers, trans.Rosamond Ley (London: Rockliff, 1957; reprint, New York: Dover, 1965), 20.

6. Johannes Robert Becher, Arbeiter Bauern Soldaten. Der Aufbruch einesVolks zu Gott (Leipzig: Insel-Verlag, 1921), 194ff.

7. Ibid., 204.8. Busoni, Selected Letters, 347.9. Ibid., letter to Edith Andreae, 13 June 1921, 337.

Books

“Ein Fremder ward ich im fremden Land. . .”: Max Reinhardts Inszenierungvon Franz Werfels und Kurt Weills “TheEternal Road” (Der Weg der Verheißung)1937 in New York

Karin Kowalke

Munich: Hieronymus, 2004. 2 vols. 427, 319 pp.

ISBN: 3-89791-330-5, 3-89791-331-3

The Literary, Cultural, and HistoricalSignificance of the 1937 Biblical StagePlay “The Eternal Road”

Jonathan C. Friedman

Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 2004, 136 pp.

ISBN: 0-7734-6325-9

“Ein Fremder ward ich im fremden Land” [I have become a strangerin a strange land], Karin Kowalke’s published dissertation in the-ater studies, offers the results of extensive source studies in clear,unpretentious prose, showing her aptitude for systematic scholar-ship. In two volumes (the second volume consisting of a complete,annotated transcription of the director’s script), the authorattempts a “full account of the multi-faceted genesis of The EternalRoad, an analysis of the most important staging elements accordingto the director’s script, and a comprehensive analysis of the recep-tion at the time” (p. 10). Questions of exile, the religious identitiesof the artists involved, and reasons why the project failed are alsosome of the issues that she promises to address within the frame ofher study.

A complex work such as The Eternal Road has the potential tobe a highly rewarding case study for scholars of theater history,German literature, and musicology. But neither the European pre-miere in the German city of Chemnitz in 1999 and the ensuing dis-semination in the media (e.g., television broadcasts), nor the edito-rial achievements of Edward Harsh have sparked the kind of inter-est that one would expect. In the same vein as Atay Citron’s disser-tation (“Pageantry and Theatre in the Service of JewishNationalism in the United States, 1933–1947,” New YorkUniversity, 1989), Kowalke’s book once again looks at The EternalRoad from the angle of theater studies. Literary scholars still havenot taken up the challenge, and musicologists have by no meansanswered all the questions raised by Weill’s fascinating score. KarinKowalke deserves praise for restricting her scope to MaxReinhardt’s influence on The Eternal Road. At the same time it isunfortunate that her approach devotes far more time than necessary

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to the work’s genesis. This aspect in particular has been thorough-ly investigated by scholars since the 1980s. Now we must read againabout the uncertainties that plagued the rehearsals, the postpone-ments of the premiere, broken water pipes, and so forth. No doubtKowalke’s archival research has unearthed a significant number ofpreviously unknown documents—the Reinhardt Archives inBinghamton, NY and Salzburg proved to be especially rich fields—but by and large they all seem to confirm what we already knew. Arewarding exception is the way in which Kowalke traces variousconcepts for the set design, progressing from Werfel throughStrnad, Reinhardt, Bel Geddes, and Horner. The set design was anessential component from the very beginning and its ramificationsproved difficult to estimate. Reinhardt recognized the importanceof the problem: “The terribly long preparation time, the deplorableamount of chatter and newspaper gossip about the costs and thecomplexity of the set unfortunately have raised the expectationsthrough the roof. We have to be able to offer something in this area”(p. 155). Similarly, Kowalke’s account of the efforts to rescue theproduction is based on many intriguing documents hitherto unex-plored (p. 147ff.). But generally speaking, the unknown documentsrarely shed new light on the work’s genesis. This is all the moreregrettable since Kowalke’s approach reveals a systematic mindwhose energy might have produced more valuable results had shegone in a different direction. Still, she manages to show that, of thethree unequally matched artists, it was Reinhardt who suffered themost from the dragging preparations, the endless postponements,and especially the production’s financial disaster. While Werfel andWeill, after relatively short periods of fiscal crisis, managed to gaina foothold in the U.S., Reinhardt—contrary to his own expecta-tions—never enjoyed another artistic or financial success before hedied in 1943.

The fourth chapter finally sets forth the analysis of theRegiebuch, indicating the study’s potential. Reinhardt’s workingscript is an interpretation of the piece and at the same time a toolfor production. It deals with the drama and its theatrical realizationin great detail. Along with the score and libretto, the Regiebuchbecomes an equal part of the work as a whole, and, from Reinhardt’sperspective, the director’s efforts themselves seemed to be the truework of art. A production such as The Eternal Road was first of alla “Reinhardt production”—precisely the reason why the project’sinitiator, Meyer Weisgal, picked Reinhardt to begin with. Only hecarried the required fame for New York audiences, whereas Weilland Werfel were hardly known in the U.S. at that time.

With great precision, Kowalke describes the four volumes of thedirector’s script, now housed in the Max Reinhardt Archive atSUNY Binghamton. Her informed and astute observations docu-ment Reinhardt’s decisive impact on the New York production. Thedirector reworked Werfel’s text to a degree hitherto unknown.While scholars were already aware of most of the (substantial) cuts,it is surprising to find numerous textual insertions that Reinhardtmade without Werfel’s knowledge (let alone approval), often givingseveral versions; most of them can be found in the synagoguescenes. But nowhere near all of Reinhardt’s changes made it ontothe stage of the Manhattan Opera House. In particular, lines thatalluded specifically to the political situation in Germany were gen-erally dropped. Kowalke’s brief commentary, “Particularly by dis-carding the thorny passages, he [Reinhardt] missed the chance ofmaking a statement with his production” (p. 234f), is not a satisfy-ing explanation. Of all people, Reinhardt loathed “making a state-ment” with his art. He clearly stated just how strongly he rejectedtaking over the theater for the proclamation of political messages

(see Max Reinhardt, “Konzepte für eine Rede,” in Max Reinhardt:Die Träume des Magiers, eds. Edda Fuhrich and Gisela Prossnitz[Salzburg: Residenz, 1993], p. 165). Also, Kowalke seems to beoverwhelmed by the director’s creativity, tending to creditReinhardt with essential stage devices, including music, whereasshe assigns Weill only the role of musical assistant. This misjudg-ment culminates in her remark: “As in many other productions, thestaging of Eternal Road, too, utilizes music and sound effects asatmospheric background or an evocative element” (p. 293).

Critical issues such as the question of genre remain unad-dressed. An assessment from the vantage of theater studies couldhave been illuminating, especially since the question of genre mightbe the key to explaining the work’s failure. Yet there can be nodoubt that the two volumes of Kowalke’s dissertation represent animportant source for future research. Thus it is regrettable that shedidn’t manage to utilize her impressive research and archival workmore fully for the understanding of The Eternal Road, a singulartheatrical work. It seems that the author lost sight of the goals sheset in the introduction. In addition to “an analysis of the mostimportant staging elements according to the director’s script” and“a comprehensive study of the reception at the time,” her purposewas to offer suggestions that would illuminate the issues of exileand religious identity. To state that The Eternal Road “is only part-ly exile theater” (p. 374), since Reinhardt and Werfel emigrated tothe U.S. only after the premiere, is just as perplexing as her deci-sion to limit the discussion of “the religious identity of the Bibleplay’s creative team” (p. 372) to a mere two pages. Here, the energyshown by Kowalke in the first chapters would have been far moreuseful.

The year 2004 saw the publication of another book on the samesubject, written by Jonathan C. Friedman, Director of Holocaustand Genocide Studies and Associate Professor of History at WestChester University in Pennsylvania. As indicated by the title,Friedman’s book sets out to explore the “literary, cultural, and his-torical significance” of The Eternal Road, and in the introduction healready reaches the conclusion that its significance lies “in its sin-gular moment of expression of Jewish pride by several colorful,albeit complicated, dramatis personae.” Not only does this broadstatement lack all support, the publication also seems to be sloppi-ly researched. Claims that The Eternal Road “sold out its 153 per-formances” (p. 1) or that “after two in the morning, the play hadfinally ended” (p. 105) are simply incorrect. Friedman is also unableto resist the temptation to dedicate far too much space to the gene-sis of the Bible play, and it remains his secret how this relates to its“literary, cultural, and historical significance.” Where the studydoes raise interesting issues—such as the attitudes of Reinhardt,Weill, and Werfel towards their own Jewish backgrounds—Friedman merely scratches the surface. All in all, the book mayserve at best as an introduction to the work, but because of its manyfactual errors it is difficult to recommend it.

Christian Kuhnt

Lübeck

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Performances

Aufstieg und Fall derStadt Mahagonny

BariTeatro Piccinni

4, 6 March 2005

First staged in Messina, Sicily in 2001,Daniele Abbado’s production of Aufstiegund Fall der Stadt Mahagonny turned itin-erant last winter, with more or less thesame company moving from Reggio Emiliato Rome and finally to Bari, in southeastItaly, under Jonathan Webb’s expert leader-ship. In each city local orchestras and cho-ruses were used, which must have involvedquite a lot of extra rehearsals, but judgingby the success of the first performance atthe Teatro Piccinni (part of a season orga-nized by the Fondazione Lirico SinfonicaPetruzzelli e Teatri di Bari), it was wellworth the effort. It proved in fact to be aremarkably vital and intelligent produc-tion, well thought out and spontaneous inevery detail, and in this intimate setting(the orchestra pit is so small that the per-cussion had to be housed in boxes), the rap-port between stage and audience wasalmost tangible.

Giacomo Andrico’s set was simple andsufficiently well lit for one to be able to readevery emotional nuance on the characters’faces. The city of Mahagonny consisted ofmakeshift corrugated iron shacks on a dunein the desert. His costumes and make-upwere generically 20th century, difficult topin down to a specific era. Only theGerman actress Dinah Helal’s expert andinsinuating Speaker—who occasionallyoffered some phrases in Italian in herdelightful accent—offered a playful parodyof the Weimar Republic cabaret style oftenadopted for this work. The other characterswere presented without any distancing“period” effect or expressionistic overlay,and as a result emerged all the more con-vincingly as real human beings. Jenny andher friends were young and genuinelyattractive: in this case (appropriatelyenough) Mediterranean beauties oozingsensuality. Jenny herself was played byValentina Valente, the first Italian sopranoto sing the role of Lulu in the original lan-guage. Her command of the German textwas equally impressive on this occasion,and although the center of gravity of hervoice is perhaps a bit high for the role, herphysique was ideal, and her singing consis-tently musical and often touching.

It was refreshing to hear the warm andsupple voice of Gabriella Sborgi, in arole—Leokadja Begbick—too often as-signed to singers reaching the end of theircareers. Her ability to do full justice toWeill’s music in no way detracted from thejaded cynicism of her portrayal. Arnold

Bezuyen’s Jim had the touching naivety ofa young Heldentenor (this singer is ahabitué of Bayreuth): the voice not alwaysrefined, but potent in both volume and dic-tion, compelling the audience to believe inthe character and experience his death asmuch more than a mere ironic twist of fate.The most experienced singer in the compa-ny was the American baritone DaleDuesing as Trinity Moses: a complete the-atrical performer with a total command ofrhythm and word coloring combined with amagnetic, chameleonic stage presence.There was much to admire also in LorenzoMuzzi’s Alaska Wolfjoe (although heincongruously appeared weightier thanDuesing’s Moses in the deftly staged box-ing match) and George Mosley’s Bill.Francesco Marsiglia’s well-focused tenorvoice (as Jack O’Brien and Toby Higgins)proved particularly incisive in ensemble,and Fabrice Dalis offered a well-drawnFatty.

The opera was performed with oneinterval (after the first scene of the secondact) and a few not too compromising cuts(properly indicated in the program libret-to). One could not fail to be impressed bythe stylish and assured playing of the main-ly youthful Orchestra della Provincia diBari and by the singing and dancing of theCoro Ente Autonomo L’Opera (AlessandraSini devised the simple but teasing chore-ography). And conductor Jonathan Webbsucceeded in capturing the contrastingmoods of the single scenes within a narra-tive structure that never lost momentum

and reached a rather devas-tating climax in the finalscenes of the opera.

Stephen Hastings

Milan

The opening scene,

with Dale Duesing,

Fabrice Dalis, and

Gabriella Sborgi.

Photo: Vito

Mastrolonardo

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Performances

One Touch of Venus

LeedsOpera North

Premiere: 8 December 2004

Almost the most encouraging aspect ofOpera North’s undeniable success with thisnew production were the reactions of bothpublic and press. The humor of the Nash-Perelman book and lyrics is firmly of itstime and place, Broadway in 1943, which toa British public sixty years later might seemas remote a setting as Gluck’s Crimea,despite a helpful glossary in the programbook reminding us who Don Ameche was.But maybe the steady diet of ’40sHollywood movies on afternoon televisionhas made it seem less remote; anyway, thefirst-night audience in Leeds respondedfrom the start with gales of laughter (thegag about Mr. Sciatica got them going) andgreeted the final curtain with a prolongedovation.

Perhaps more surprising were the pressnotices, from writers largely unfamiliarwith the work. The only previous UK air-ing was in 2001, with severely reducedorchestra (just two, to be precise), and wascovered by drama critics. This time, the

London Times reviewer wrote that“it is surely time to acknowledgethat his American works representthe peak of Weill’s achievement,”adding that “this first major Britishstaging . . . confirms again his mas-tery of musical theatre.” In the con-text of traditional European reac-tions to the “two Weills,” that issomething of a turnaround. TheGuardian critic wrote that “it maybe among the most subversivepieces [Weill] wrote,” and theObserver detected a “quasi-Brechtian anarchy” in the piece,before recommending a transfer tothe West End. There is little chanceof that, since potential audiences formusicals in London (unlike those inLeeds) have been lobotomized byLloyd Webber, and something assophisticated as Venus would nolonger find its rightful constituency.But it was being taken seriously atlast.

And sophisticated is the word for thisproduction. The director Tim Albery isbest known here for stagings of such epicsas Wagner’s Ring and Berlioz’s Troyens, buthe lavished just as much care on Venus as hedid on those mighty projects. Especiallyimpressive was his direction of the dia-logue, so often the Achilles’ heel of operacompanies when they tackle musicals. It

crackled along, colorfully inflected, withthe breakneck speed of a Marx Brothersmovie. Speed was indeed of the essence:there were no breaks in the action, in whichrespect Albery was much aided by thewitty, flexible décor of Antony McDonald.His ever-adaptable cloths and set piecespaid proper tribute to Edward Hopper andGeorgia O’Keeffe, and, one touch mysteri-ously, to Hergé and Tintin. Emma Ryott’scostumes were just as helpful; maybe thebright blue Sandra Dee skirts for OzoneHeights were a few years out of period, butthey were very funny. The two importantdance sequences were brilliantly choreo-graphed by William Tuckett and smoothlyperformed.

Not the least “authentic” aspect of theproduction was the blessed absence ofamplification, which is in danger of killingoff serious music theater. True, there weremoments (but only moments) in sungnumbers in which the words were covered,but balance could and should be sorted outafter the rigors of this first night. In gener-al the orchestra under James Holmes, wholoves and understands Weill, were having athoroughly good time fielding a Big Bandsound, and paid due attention to whatevery Weill-lover relishes in both hisGerman and American scores, the variedaccompaniments to verses and in reprises.

Rodney (Loren Geeting), Mrs. Kramer (Carole Wilson), and Gloria (Jessica Walker) perform “Way out West in

Jersey.”

Savory (Ron Li-Paz) with the statue

of Venus before it comes to life.

Kur t Weill Newsletter Volume 23, Number 1 1 9

The duet-reprise of “Speak Low” wastruly a moment to treasure.

Opera North had prudently engagedfour excellent U.S. singers for the leadingroles. If anything, Karen Coker marginallyunderplayed Venus, which is infinitelypreferable to overplaying her, especially ina number like “That’s Him,” in which sheyielded little to Mary Martin. Her coolbeauty suited the part to perfection, andshe sang with the musicianship that Weilldemands. Maybe she will find a touch moreedge in later performances. Loren Geetingmade Rodney much more than just a sadsack, rather someone you cared about, andin the context of a generally satirical workthe manufactured “Happy End” was oddlytouching. Geeting has a healthy high-bari-tone voice, and so has Ron Li-Paz, whosang Savory: both could step easily intoHoward Keel roles. Li-Paz was given “Who

Am I?” at the opening of the second act,which was cut before the Broadway open-ing, probably rightly. It is not on the samelevel as the rest of the score. The fourthU.S. guest was Christianne Tisdale, who allbut stopped the show with her biting deliv-ery of “Very, Very, Very.”

The home team declined to be intimi-dated by these stars, with Carole Wilson’smonstrous Mrs. Kramer, Jessica Walker’sGloria and Eric Roberts’s hilarious double-act as Taxi Black and Dr. Rook deservingspecial mention. The Opera North chorusis one of the most versatile in the U.K., andenjoyed themselves as much as the audi-ence. This was a very, very happy evening.

Rodney Milnes

London

Top left: Attended by her minions, Molly

(Christianne Tisdale) sings “Very, Very,

Very.”

Top right: Venus (Karen Coker) and

Rodney in “Wooden Wedding.”

Bottom right: The “Venus in

Ozone Heights” ballet is

danced in front of a monu-

ment to domesticity formed

by Brillo boxes.

All photos: Stephen Vaughan

2 0 Volume 23, Number 1 Kur t Weill Newsletter

Performances

Kurt Weill FestDessau

Happy EndPremiere: 25 February 2005

The Firebrand of Florence4 March 2005

“What is feminine?” was the headline ofthe German weekly Die Zeit, copies ofwhich were available for free in the lobby ofthe Anhaltisches Theater in Dessau. Ayoung author, Jana Hensel, describes theway women are portrayed in the media as“pretty, but weak.” How all of this relatesto Happy End, a comedy written by a cer-tain Dorothy Lane and staged during thisfestival, raises questions—at least at first.When Silke Wallstein as Miriam, a slightlydolled-up cocktail waitress, steps in frontof the curtain to make her first announce-ment, the theater is immediately silencedby her strong presence. She’s not reallypretty, even though she bravely totters onhigh heels for the three hours of the action,making occasional announcements. When

the curtain goes up, it reveals the wide stageand Marianne Hollenstein’s set: a simple,somewhat shabby hotel lobby which makesclever use of the stage’s dimensions. A win-dow in the background shows the skyline ofChicago and a walkway leads down to thehotel’s entrance.

Just to the right of the window is thehotel band, featuring players of theAnhaltische Philharmonie. Music directorGolo Berg conducts in the manner of asuave band leader, but nevertheless withgreat precision and nuance. The placementof the band indicates a more general ten-dency: The play rather than the music isfeatured in the foreground, with Brecht’sworkshop (head carpenter ElisabethHauptmann) taking precedence overWeill’s compositional approach. Thus, forstarters, Bernd Lambrecht as a good-look-ing Bill Cracker delivers a somewhat tired“Bilbao Song.” Generally speaking, theentire beginning just drags.

But then all of a sudden we hear “Derkleine Leutnant des lieben Gottes”through a bullhorn. A small SalvationArmy squadron marches down the walk-way, led by Julia Zabolitzky as LilianHoliday. They pass through the entrance,head downstage, surround and then burstinto the headquarters of the gang, whosedumbfounded members look to the audi-ence for help. Director Herbert Olschokmakes expert use of the space, showing usthe fight for territory that ensues betweenthe gangsters and the Salvation Army,

eventually resulting in a strategic balancebetween the two parties.

The rather delicate Lilian, clad in uni-form with her hair tied back, turns out tobe a splendid activist with astonishing skillsas a speaker. But her boss (Rainer Böhm),too, has strong leadership qualities. Thetwo successfully represent the religious andmoral “high ground” of their organizationagainst the masculine pragmatism of the“cool” Bill Cracker and the staunch cyni-cism of his boss, the Lady in Gray (RegulaSteiner-Tomic). And while the gangsterswaste little time in taking a life, the Majorand his troops are shrewd and just as quickin recruiting lost souls. The way they con-vert people into pious worshipers in frontof the altar draws laughs from the audience(also because of a hilarious allusion to DaVinci’s Last Supper), but it is, in fact, animpressive feat of brainwashing. The suc-cess of the process is not only guaranteedby the songs but also by the impendingChristmas celebrations referenced timeand again. And suddenly one notices thatthe song “Geht hinein in die Schlacht”quotes three measures from a well-knownGerman Christmas carol with the tellingtitle “Morgen, Kinder, wird’s was geben”(“Tomorrow, children, something’s goingto happen”).

Who will win the battle remains unde-cided till the very end. But since Lilian andBill are more sensitive than their under-lings, they are not hampered by ideologicalblinders or the dulling effects of daily rou-tine. Their initial confrontation turns into aconversation about their worldviews, andbehind a mask of virtue marked by charityand chivalry an erotic attraction begins tomake itself felt. Lilian proves to be moredaring, since she is used to taking initiativeas a missionary—thus punching a hole inthe cliché of the weak woman. Olschokprepares this development carefully.During the “Matrosen-Song” the musicmoves to the forefront and carries theentire scene, where the young woman canexcel. Zabolitzky assumes a northernGerman sailor’s accent and makes her storymore and more explicit and less and lesspious, until she ends by kissing the non-plussed Bill. “The end justifies the means,”she’ll later explain to her boss, after he firesher because of the incident.

In “Surabaya Johnny,” a stonefacedLilian sits on a chair, playing the betrayedlover. The hardboiled gangster is almostfloored. After a while she lets her hair down(literally), the two exchange places likesleepwalkers, and finally she crouches on a

Bill Cracker (Bernd Lambrecht) at right with three Salvation Army soldiers. Photo: Claudia Heysel

Kur t Weill Newsletter Volume 23, Number 1 2 1

small table. When the music stops, she asksthe silent Bill if the music had a grippingeffect. He shrugs it off with a casual“nope” and launches into the “Lied vonder harten Nuss,” giving an entertainingdescription of his embarrassment. When,finally, he takes Lilian in his strong arms,the Lady in Gray announces his death sen-tence, but it is Lilian who protects Bill bystepping between him and the mysteriousboss. There are a few departures from thescript in this scene, but they all go to showjust how strong a female characterHauptmann had created in this play.

•The Firebrand of Florence shares the fate ofHappy End in that both works did miser-ably during Weill’s lifetime. Sixty yearsafter Firebrand flopped on Broadway, theorchestra and chorus of the MitteldeutscheRundfunk presented the German premiereof this Broadway operetta in theAnhaltisches Theater. The work was per-formed in a concert version conducted byWayne Marshall, this year’s artist-in-resi-dence.

Firebrand features a male protagonist, tobe sure, the goldsmith and sculptorBenvenuto Cellini as celebrated trouble-maker. The book by Edwin Justus Mayerrelocates his escapades from France toFlorence and reverses the direction of hisflight: Cellini accepts an invitation by theFrench court, rather than fleeing from it.As a womanizer and daredevil, he resem-bles Threepenny’s Macheath, except thatthe pending execution and the monarch’sriding messenger appear in the work’sgrand opening (this time, we even get tohear the clatter of hooves from the orches-tra pit). Regrettably, both the plot line andthe role of the music fade towards the end.A comparison to the finales of DerKuhhandel shows just how much potentialwas lost in a compositional process ham-pered by a weak book and tight deadlines.

Following Kuhhandel, Firebrand wasWeill’s second response to a surge ofoperettas in contemporary musical theater.Hence, it is not surprising to find thebeginning of the national anthem fromKuhhandel in Firebrand’s ducal march. Andthere are further European echoes. Whenthe Duke pardons Cellini, we encounter abrief descending motif from the“Bananentanz” in Der Silbersee. The threechords which Weill uses to mark Cellini’sthree regrets during his “last” speechreminded me of the beginning ofMendelssohn’s overture for A Midsummer

Night’s Dream. And the finaletto for thefirst act, where Angela, Emilia, Cellini, andthe Duke are expressing their wildly differ-ing feelings, recalls Mozart’s Figaro, asdoes the nocturnal hide-and-seek game inthe castle garden. Even though Weill’smusic starts to swing every now and then,the plot and the bulk of the score evoke afictitious Europe (just as Happy End evokesa fictitious America).

Yet Weill’s pride in his score is stillunderstandable. We find delicious compo-sitional subtleties not only in the tongue-in-cheek allusions to Renaissance vocal

polyphony and in the use of the whole-tonescale in the sphere of the Duchess, but alsoin the frequently deployed descendingmelodies that are raised cleverly time andagain. The humming male quartet as thebackground choir for the Duchess ironical-ly reflects the women’s chorus for Cellini.And the main chorus is used with great wit:Whether prompted or not, it comments onand interrupts the action, often at surpris-ing moments. The main characters canhardly enjoy a moment of privacy.Ultimately, the choristers are told by theDuke that now is not the time for “studiesin counterpoint.”

The many reprises employed by Weilldo not necessarily detract from the score’smerit. The farcical workings of the pieceturn repetitiveness into a principle, playful-ly juggling different stereotypes. A few sit-

uations recur throughout in slightly alteredgroups of characters and no individualundergoes any real development. The factthat the 1945 Broadway run featured threeballets with commedia dell’arte dancersheaded by the French star dancer JeanGuélis, shows, on the one hand, the over-loaded staging concept, but on the other itreveals the right instinct for the work’sstyle. It is a comedy of types that dependson the stage presence and theatricalinstincts of the protagonists. If Lenyaindeed had had Walter Slezak at her side,the operetta might have added a few weeksto its meager run.

Strong stage personalities also gracedthe performance in Dessau, even thoughthe plot was given only by a narration.Rodney Gilfry portrayed a Cellini with astrong baritone and physical charisma; onlyin the very last measures did his voice showsome strain, and he seemed to enter a bitlate in a few passages. Alexander Güntherembodied the type of the powerful butdense monarch. The audience went wildover Kim Criswell’s mezzo; she embodiedthe Duchess with great virtuosity as a mostunusual type, that of a comic femme fatale.Anna Maria Kaufmann delivered Angela asa true ingenue; her voice tended to be a bitthin, but she made up for it with her charmand acting. The concert version would havebenefited if the other singers had sharedher expressiveness.

Several soloists from the chorus expert-ly divided the remaining parts amongthemselves. Marshall got the orchestraswinging with his vigor and evocative ges-tures; he ensured precision and a balancedsound, and he handled the pauses and tran-sitions cleverly. With great wit FriedhelmEberle read the ironically colored narra-tion, whose authorship remained undis-closed in the program. Of course, it’sregrettable that a large part of Gershwin’singenious lyrics is lost on a German audi-ence. One wonders about the viability ofthe piece on the German stage. The firstprerequisite would be an intelligent recre-ation of Gershwin’s lyrics in German. Thisdoesn’t seem a hopeless task. German hip-hop and the enduring nostalgia for the1920s (including new compositions in thatstyle, as popularized by Max Raabe and hisPalastorchester), have resuscitated anappreciation of this kind of verbal wit.

Andreas Hauff

Mainz

Cellini (Rodney Gilfry) and the Duchess (Kim

Criswell). Photo: Jens Schlüter

2 2 Volume 23, Number 1 Kur t Weill Newsletter

Performances

Die sieben Todsünden

PotsdamHans Otto Theater(Schlosstheater im Neuen Palais)

Premiere: 11 February 2005

“How sad the triumphs will be,” reads theprogram heading for the double bill ofClaudio Monteverdi’s dramatic madrigal,Il combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda(1624), and Kurt Weill’s ballet chanté, Diesieben Todsünden (1933). Taken fromCombattimento, the motto appears to be theonly specific clue to the thoughtprocess that led to the combina-tion of these two considerablydifferent pieces (aside from avague reference to the emotionsor “gestures,” anger and pride,which play a crucial role in bothWeill’s and Monteverdi’spieces). The “sad triumph,”achieved by the crusaderTancredi over the SaracenClorinda (he kills Clorinda,whom he loves, when she faceshim in battle disguised by herarmor) is seen as a link to thesocial ascent which can be hadonly for the price of self-renun-ciation in the Sins. This some-what forced analogy comesacross as a weak conceptualbracket for Gisbert Jäkel’s dou-ble bill (the cast was identical forMonteverdi and Weill).

A more obvious parallel betweenCombattimento and Sins lies in their “epic,”narrative nature, but in addressing thisaspect the director chose a path that ulti-mately pointed out differences rather thansimilarities. The scenic representation ofthe narratives—adhering in part to theoriginal scenario for the Sins—seemed tobe an unnecessary duplication in Com-battimento, whose music possesses a strongillustrative quality that was furtherenhanced by the lively playing of theLautten Compagney.

A bridge from Monteverdi to Weill wasattempted by way of music: Prior to theSins we heard a “Monteverdi Overture”

arranged by Gisbert Näther for the orches-tral forces of Weill’s work (the programoffered no further information) that didn’tquite suit what followed, while the “family”assembled for a group photo in front of thepit. Anna I (Stefanie Wüst) and her alterego, Anna II (Geta Bahrmann), began andended their journey to “the big cities,”which led through sepia-toned film-noirscenery, in a kind of waiting area. The set,also created by Jäkel, gained more con-creteness in “Pride” (a cabaret) and“Anger” (a film studio). The 1940s settingcontrasted with the scenes for the familyquartet (Christian Immler, Tye MauriceThomas, Maximilian Schmitt, andHenning Kaiser), who were equipped withtimeless and current insignia of the under-privileged: curlers, a bathrobe, sweatpants,and a baseball hat.

Despite an announcement that certainsingers were indisposed, Stefanie Wüst

gave a commanding performance, carefullybalancing recitative and arioso passages,and tenor Maximilian Schmitt delivered achiseled rendition of the law of trade (“Inthe measure you give . . .”) in “Covet-ousness.” The Kammerakademie Potsdamled by Wolfgang Katschner performed withboth verve and precision. One could havewished for a more gradual unfolding of theexpressive melodies in “Anger” and“Lust,” and the Alla marcia in “Envy”turned out to be so light-footed that itsmoralizing gestus was in danger of gettinglost. An idea that was apparently generatedby an undersized orchestra pit turned outto have surprising and fascinating acousticand scenic effects: The brass was placed onstage but kept out of sight except for the

cabaret scene. Weill’s music took well tothis artificial split, as the score’s trans-parency seemed to be heightened.

The Seven Deadly Sins is a very timelypiece in today’s Germany, where society isundergoing a neo-liberal transformation.The sermons of political and economicelites nowadays on topics such as “cov-etousness,” “sloth,” and “envy” are fatalreminders of the paradoxical intensifica-tions which Brecht uses for exposing theChristian concept of sin as an essentialmoral component of capitalism. Citizensare supposed to accept dwindling wagesbut spend more money on consumer goodsand save more for retirement; they shouldhave more children but stay “mobile” and“flexible”; they should get ready to worktill a later retirement age while the HR divi-sions are ruled by a youth cult; they shouldrelinquish their social “privileges” whilethe truly privileged expand their wealth in

unprecedented ways. ThePotsdam production, re-grettably, does not utilizethe Sins’ potential for illu-minating such contradic-tions, instead focusing onindividual tragedy. The“Gluttony” scene wasplayed with great comiceffect: Seated on camp-stools, the family membersgorge themselves on thecontents of a cooler, sug-gesting that Anna’s hard-earned money didn’t go toconstruction of the housebut was wasted on sheerconsumption. In the end,everybody except Anna IIsits in the waiting area, andAnna I, all by herself for

once, might be in for a rude awakening. This interpretation leaves a shallow

aftertaste: Contempt for the so-called lowerclasses is a conformist stance that is easy tocome by and doesn’t open any new per-spectives. This criticism aside, the Potsdamtheater delivered a solid, splendidly cast,and worthwhile staging.

Tobias Faßhauer

Berlin

For the third sin, Stolz (Pride), Anna II (Geta Bahrmann) dances in the cabaret flanked

by two men in sharks’ heads. Photo: Bernd Uhlig

Kur t Weill Newsletter Volume 23, Number 1 2 3

Performances

Aufstieg und Fall derStadt Mahagonny

Staatstheater Darmstadt

Premiere: 22 October 2004

Why has Aufstieg und Fall der StadtMahagonny found a home on at least oneGerman stage every season for the last fif-teen years? Let’s go inside the mind of aprogram executive: Unlike many othermusical theater works of the twentieth cen-tury, Weill’s opera is entertaining and itscontent is still highly charged; capitalism,consumerism, corruption, and crisis domi-nate our times just as they did in the late1920s. Ex-chancellor Helmut Kohl’s noto-rious talk of the “communal amusementpark” (1993) seems to have been the cue forthe escapist “fun society” that ensued, butthese days German society has reached thedepressed stage of the opera’s third act(“There is no money in this land”). WhenJohn Dew, new head of Darmstadt’s Staats-theater, decides to program Mahagonny asthe season’s second offering (after Monte-verdi’s Orfeo), we can safely assume that heis committed to socially relevant musicaltheater.

Philipp Kochheim, the new Oberspiel-leiter, directed the new production. In hisprogram notes he underlines the criticalmessage and the “quasi-intellectual mobi-lization of the audience” which requires amodernization “appropriate for the work”:“Daily life in Mahagonny would be markedby a health and fitness craze, by an over-whelming ubiquity of modern mass mediaand communication devices, and by impro-vised politics of fear and compensation,similar to those of George W. Bush. Onewould watch Michael Moore’s films, savorhamburgers and sushi (rather than chewtobacco), and click one’s way through videogame characters and cyberspace.”

The hall’s atmosphere evokes a movietheater before the performance starts, withlounge music coming through the speakers.The gangster trio’s founding of the cityhappens in virtual reality. They sport 3-Dglasses and stare at the audience as theyoperate a cyber glove. But the true virtualplayer of the evening is the director whose

uninhibited stream ofideas produces onefigure after another inthe green artificialspace created by setdesigner ThomasGruber. The stage isgradually populatedwith scantily-cladwomen and men inbusiness suits. Fourjoggers do lapsaround the stage, andin the background wesee a woman undergo-ing plastic surgery.Finally, the four lum-berjacks jump ontothe stage from a metal grid in the back, butthe opera’s plot seems to be performed onlyfor the sake of form.

The overture is performed expertly bythe orchestra under the baton of RaoulGrüneis. But soon after, the sounds fromthe pit turn rather dry, the music stays inthe background and fails to fulfill its dra-matic purpose. Perhaps the acoustics of thesmall house make the sung texts incompre-hensible throughout the evening; at anyrate, they don’t seem to interest the direc-tor. The songs are played only briefly; mul-tiple-strophe musical numbers are cutdown to one stanza as a rule. I can’t recallhaving seen singers and actors of aMahagonny production performing in sucha pale, nondescript, and insignificant way.There is nothing between Jenny and Jimthat would suggest any kind of relationship(the “Crane Duet” was omitted). But evenwhen Jenny (Anja Vincken) starts to singthe hit “Ich kenn die Jimmys aus Alaskaschon,” nothing is set in motion—exceptfour go-go dancers on the upper stage levelwho are shot one after another by twogangsters with cowboy hats.

When Jim (Kor-Jan Dusseljee) goesballistic, he simply slashes the throat of alittle boy who happens to run across thestage. But it doesn’t matter; in Act 3 theboy surfaces again, as do the four restlessladies. Under the banner of “Du darfst,”Jim campaigns briefly for Bush II whilebeing filmed by Michael Moore. But this,too, remains a small idea that goes nowhere.

Is the sequence of “eating, loving, box-ing, drinking” more exciting? Jack O’Brien(Jordi Molina Davila) eats fromMcDonald’s bags, but spends most of histime on a toilet throwing up. The brothelscene is done without any passion whatso-ever. In the boxing scene we have Trinity

Moses (Hans-Joachim Porcher) dressed asa Ronald McDonald-type clown; the fightis staged as a comical promotional event,and Joe (Andreas Daum) is left spinning atthe end as if his computer program hadfrozen. The bar and trial scenes come outlabored. Jim sings “Wenn der Himmel hellwird” in an orange prisoner suit. Time andagain Dusseljee’s pleasant tenor is drownedby the clanging of his chains. To compen-sate he is spared execution at the end, grin-ning happily from the electric chair. Andsince he doesn’t die there is no reason fordemonstrations. Instead, the director hasthe whole ensemble come on stage onemore time accompanied by the music forthe protests.

Kochheim explains in the program thatJimmy sees through the workings ofMahagonny: “We watch him strippingaway masks, denouncing hypocrisy, andputting the Begbickian principle into over-drive, knowing that it might bring his owndownfall.” It would have been nice to see atleast some of that onstage. Overdrive?What we saw in Darmstadt was at best aleisurely stroll. Something is missing. Onthe occasion of the opera’s premiere inLeipzig, Weill mentioned that the workdealt with “the great concepts of humancoexistence that have been expressed in alltimes and in all the arts: friendship andbetrayal, poverty and wealth, acquiescenceand resistance, fear and courage.” ButKochheim’s cyberworld is devoid ofhuman relationships and thus he pulls therug out from under his social criticism.

Andreas Hauff

Mainz

The boxing match between Trinity Moses (Hans-Joachim Porcher) and Alaska

Wolf Joe (Andreas Daum) in act II. Photo: Barbara Aumüller

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