The mother of all art forms. According to opera lovers.
When both nu.co.uk, BBC news and virtually every German newspaper simultaneously cover an opera, something must be going on. And there is: Nazis! Wagner! Outraged spectators! More than that: doctors had to be called in!
In one year the AKO and Libris prizes? The front pages of newspapers would be full of it, not to mention the dozens of pages in book supplements. Composer Michel van der Aa has to make do with small announcements, tucked away in newspapers, while receiving the Grawemeyer Award and the Mauricio Kagel Music Prize is a never-before-seen double.
What makes an opera a success? The eccentrics, airheads, comedians, lyricists and tragicists think they know, proclaiming their point of view at the craziest times and not even bothering to intervene in the action. Welcome to the wonderful world of Prokofiev's L'amour des trois oranges, back on stage this month at the Amsterdam musical theatre.
In 2005, director Laurent Pelly and conductor Stéphane Denève enchanted Dutch audiences with their vision of L'amour des trois oranges By Sergei Prokofiev.
After more than four hours, it happens: emotion. Free Switzerland is bathed in golden sunlight and the choir swells over the most beautiful orchestral sounds Rossini composed. Unworldly sounds, which have little to do with the best-known sounds from Guillaume Tell - The canter from the overture.
What does a dissertation on a forgotten Victorian novelist have in common with a rushrelease from multinational Sony?
Einstein on the beach: a five-hour minimalist opera with no plot, no intermission. An opera with an almost mythical status, with images that have become theatre icons, but which hardly anyone has actually seen.
Two years ago he was acclaimed for his staging of A Dog's Heart by Alexander Raskatov, now he is lavishly believed for his production of Mozart's Die Zauberflöte. It premiered last week at The Netherlands Opera and last night too, the sold-out audience responded enthusiastically. Yet the high expectations were not quite met.
A sound engineer making deafening sounds on stage with wads of paper. Puppetry that flows seamlessly into film projections and singers dubbed by actors. A primitive stage on stage that is, however, high tech. A performance in one of the largest halls in our country, but reminiscent of a flat-floor performance. A flat floor that can move in all directions, though, and could just as easily be a slope or a ceiling, that is.
They were almost thrown away: George Tsypin's immense sets for Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen. Not because his staging was unsuccessful or would have become obsolete by now, but simply because the storage was too hefty a cost for the Netherlands Opera.
Classical music on television always has something boring about it. Often a short introduction by a neat gentleman or lady, followed by the concert itself. Close-ups of the conductor and soloist, a longshot of the entire orchestra and applause afterwards. As if the medium is trying to emulate concert hall etiquette as scrupulously as possible. Even the webstreams that more and more large orchestras are increasingly turning to barely deviate from this formula.
The final applause after the premiere of Götterdämmerung stormy, is an understatement. It seemed as if the completely sold-out auditorium wanted to surpass the primal forces extracted from the Gelders Orkest by Ed Spanjaard. History was made here: on stage, by the soloists and choir, in the orchestra pit and behind the scenes, for six hours and 20 minutes.
It is the first mass scene in Wagner's Ring: Siegfried leads Brünnhilde to the Gibichungenburg and Hagen summons all his men. From the side stage there is literally a deafening blare of horns, but conductor Ed Spanjaard allows the play to continue. And rightly so: the orchestra has a spark. The whole stage is filled in an instant and the choir swells in strength, louder and louder, ever louder, until the ecstatic apotheosis:
"That fairytale world has never been my world," director Ivo van Hove declared before the premiere of Schreker's fairytale opera Der Schatzgräber. Remarkable, as Van Hove and his regular scenographer Jan Versweyveld were previously responsible at De Nederlandse Opera for Tchaikovsky's Iolanta and Janáček's The Makropulos case - also fairy tales rather than grand dramatic works.
It begins beautifully. Prominently displayed on stage is Breitner's painting The Red Kimono. And not a copy, but the real thing, which is further underlined by the Stedelijk Museum's large number of crates, on which the musicians of the Hexagon Ensemble are also placed. Actor and dancer Michael Schumacher casually walks up to it and looks at the painting for about a minute - the average time a museum visitor looks at a painting.
That Pierre Audi does not shy away from religious symbolism is well known, but the true miracle with Parsifal by the Netherlands Opera is in the pit. There, in the hands of master conductor Iván Fischer, the Concertgebouw Orchestra sets a new Wagner standard. Despite a gigantic orchestral strength, almost chamber music-like lightness, extraordinarily transparent and, thanks to careful tempo choices, with wonderful dramatic tension. Five hours long.
Or: the familiar becomes utterly alien here. Or: embracing meaninglessness as the first principle. One hundred years after his birth, John Cage takes centre stage in HF weekend.
Ever since Reinbert de Leeuw played it in the fastest talk show on Dutch television, John Cage's 4'33" has been a well-known composition in our country. For exactly four minutes and thirty-three seconds, the musician does not play a single note and the audience hears nothing but the ambient sounds.
In his Requiem for tenor, narrator and ensemble, Micha Hamel makes the most of the space of Amsterdam's De Duif church. Musicians play on the altar, from the balconies, mingle among the audience and push out a piano. - But what does Hamel really want to say? In front of a sold-out house, Micha Hamel's Requiem premiered last night. He ...
A classic mistake: Andries Knevel describes Richard Wagner as Hitler's court composer. And is not contradicted by anyone.
To bring in an extra five tonnes, the Netherlands Symphony Orchestra and the Gelderland Orchestra are pulling together. And with success: the provincial governments of Overijssel and Gelderland are absorbing the state's subsidy cut. However, it now turns out that the plans used to rake in that bailout are dubious. Politicians have hardly looked into it. Questions about the business plan came mainly from the PVV in Overijssel, but in Gelderland that same party enthusiastically agreed to the injection of millions after a - remarkably damning - counter-expertise.
Nearly thirteen million The Gelderland Orchestra (HGO) asked for the province of Gelderland. It got three-and-a-half. Just enough to absorb the reduction in the state subsidy for the next two years and to work towards a new organisational structure and a new revenue model, as described in a very ambitious business plan, which...... wait for it. We have already written about this, haven't we?
We already wrote extensively about the name change of the Orchestra of the East in the Netherlands Symphony Orchestra (NSO). The curious opera grant application based on a business plan that carries huge risks had our full attention. Regular partner the National Travel Opera was not amused.
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