The Magic Flute at Severance

 It has become a tradition for the Cleveland Orchestra to present an opera at the end of each season.  I’ve been lucky to see Janáček’s The Cunning Little Vixen and Debussy’s Pelléas and Mélisande, both inventively staged, at Severance.  To cap off this season, the orchestra is presenting Mozart’s The Magic Flute – his last opera.

The libretto for The Magic Flute draws on Enlightenment ideas that were blossoming in Europe and the young United States during that era, in particular the ability to overcome human darkness and superstition with the power of reason and love.  This is certainly a welcome message for our time, not merely in the United States, but in much of the world torn by religious, ethnic, and political strife.  This philosophy’s incorporation in The Magic Flute stemmed from Mozart’s status, as well as that of his librettist Emanuel Schikaneder, as Freemasons.  The darkness vs. light theme is demonstrated in the opera mostly via the two characters who act as “puppet-masters” over the others: The Queen of the Night and Sarastro – bitter enemies.  Sarastro is initially presented as the villain, but later shown to be a stern, yet wise and just leader who tests several characters to judge their worthiness.  Sarastro is the epitome of tough-love.  

Our orchestra’s home is not the largest facility.  The hall only seats about 2,200 and is more intimate than, say, Carnegie Hall or Boston’s Symphony Hall – to say nothing of a full-scale opera house.  Yet art sometimes thrives on limitations.  This production was staged with unobtrusive inventiveness; lighting effects were used where one would usually see solid sets.  Several characters made their entrances from the back of the hall.  Both The Queen of the Night and Sarastro were presented with giant puppets placed near the singers, with the Sarastro puppet being confined to a wheelchair.  The costuming was more straightforward, with most characters in formal clothes and the three spirits, amusingly, dressed as waiters. 

As for the singing itself, every performance was on a high level, but it was Kathryn Lewek’s Queen of the Night who stole the show in the well-known "Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen" ("Hell's vengeance boils in my heart") – she nailed every treacherous high note with more than precision, but also with musicality. 

As the stage at Severance was fully utilized for the theatrics, the orchestra, with forces appropriately reduced, was placed directly in front of the stage, where the first several seat rows usually are.  Music Director Franz Welser-Möst drew an almost chamber-like sound from the orchestra, his pacing was ideal.  When everything was put together, this was undoubtedly the climax of the orchestra’s 2023-2024 season.  There were numerous bursts of applause after various arias, and the ovation at the opera’s conclusion was among the most sustained this listener has ever witnessed.

233 years after it was premiered, The Magic Flute’s Humanistic message shines through like bright sunlight banishing the darkness.  

A well deserved ovation

Saint-Saëns and Berlioz with Lang Lang and Welser-Möst at Severance

For the first time since before the pandemic, Daniel and I encountered a sold-out Severance Hall at this evening’s Cleveland Orchestra concert, featuring guest soloist Lang Lang.  A few days ago, an email from the Orchestra cautioned us that both the hall and parking garage were sold out, so we took Lyft to Severance, which I’m finding to be an increasingly convenient option.  The email also warned that the concert would start promptly at 8pm (it started five minutes late), and that latecomers would not be seated.  The implication was that for numerous attendees this would be their first classical concert- and judging by the behavior of some in the audience, it was.  For example, each movement of both works on the program was vigorously applauded.  There was also obtrusive taking of cell phone photos and videos during the performance, frequent talking, and other noisy behavior.

Earl Wild famously referred to Lang Lang as “the J-Lo of the piano.”  Whatever one thinks of his pianism, musicality, or stage mannerisms, Lang’s presence on the program puts butts into seats – and despite all the talk of artistry, Classical music is also a business.  So, how did Lang play Saint-Saëns’ Piano Concerto in G minor?  Unevenly.  Certainly, there was nothing to fault pianistically in Lang’s performance – he has technique to burn and is happy to remind the audience of that.  As for his stage antics, they were not overly obtrusive from my seat near the back of the main floor – at least until he started loudly stamping his foot during the concerto’s finale. 

It must be pointed out that the construction of this concerto is somewhat unusual.  Instead of the fast, slow, fast arrangement of movements, Saint-Saëns starts with a moderately paced opening movement, a scherzo for the second movement, and a very fast finale.  Lang’s strength was in his pacing of the opening movement, treating the introductory piano solo in a quasi-improvisational manner.  Throughout the movement, Lang paid attention to details voicing, pedaling, and nuance that are often glossed over.  The dramatic episode was not rushed.  Things went downhill during the Scherzo, where Lang took off like a bat out of Hell.  His approach to phrasing was scattershot, and there was a campy, effete manner that was off putting – particularly when he slammed on the breaks and poured on the schmaltz during the lyrical sections.  The finale took off at a great clip and didn’t relent.  Lang brought out some bass notes which are almost never heard.  But the movement didn’t built toward a climax – it was just a race, like a player piano on overdrive.  As for the orchestra’s accompaniment, Welser-Möst ensured they performed with their usual smoothness and stayed out of the soloist’s way – which was an accomplishment in itself.  The pianist performed an encore - a quiet piece which was unfamiliar to me.

 

Lang Lang following the concerto

Following intermission, Welser-Möst returned to conduct Hector Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique.  The program behind this work draws inspiration from Berlioz’s own story.  He fell madly in love with Irish Shakespearean actress Harriet Smithson, who was initially resistant to his charms.  This frustration inspired the somewhat overheated program behind the symphony, in which the protagonist becomes obsessed with the object of his desire, is rebuffed, goes mad, promptly poisons himself with opium, and hallucinates all sorts of things, including seeing her in Hell.  In real life, Smithson gave into the composer’s charms and they eventually married – which turned sour when she gave up her career, which resulted in financial difficulties.  Then, discovering Hector had acquired a mistress, she became an alcoholic.  The two eventually divorced.  The lesson is clear: Be careful what you wish for – you just may get it. But the tale inspired a memorable and oft performed orchestral piece, inventively orchestrated and structurally innovative – with Berlioz’s idée fixe transforming itself throughout the work’s five movements.

The performance tonight was what one would expect from Welser-Möst: brisk tempi, exquisite balancing of sections, immaculate solo work – in particular a gorgeous offstage Oboe solo from Frank Rosenwein – and slavish adherence to repeats: in this case, the repeat during the fourth movement March to the Scaffold.  This repeat simply does not work within the narrative of the symphony – which is, after all, programmatic.  It’s as if the guards, taking the condemned to the guillotine, decide to head back to the jail cell and grab him a last cigarette.  But this is a quibble and the ultimate fault lies with the composer – yes, even geniuses can make mistakes.