Richard Strauss: Capriccio
Usher Hall, 25/8/24
Philharmonia Orchestra, Alexander Soddy (Conductor)
The final concert of the 2024 Edinburgh International Festival, a concert performance of Strauss’s last opera, ‘Capriccio,’ was a magnificent triumph – a great orchestra, a dynamic conductor and a superb, world-class cast. It was dedicated to the memory of Sir Andrew Davis, who was scheduled to conduct it, but sadly died in April at the age of 80. Many of the singers appear to have had direct contact with Sir Andrew, and one can see his hand in much of the casting. I myself met him in 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, where I was understudying the role of La Roche in ‘Capriccio’. He was conducting the opera in the lovely John Cox production, which had started at Glyndebourne, and in which I had sung La Roche at Scottish Opera in 1984, and, amusingly, I was understudying Peter Rose, who sang the role in The Usher Hall tonight. Another coincidence was that the Met understudy of the Countess was Erin Wall, the brilliant Canadian soprano, who had just sung the role with me in Canada. Both of us had been heard by the Met casting director in Victoria on Vancouver Island, and had been invited to the Met as understudies. Erin went on the record Strauss’s Four Last Songs with Andrew Davis, before her tragic death in 2020.
We were enormously lucky that the rising star conductor, Alexander Soddy, an Englishman who has followed Sir Donald Runnicles lead by moving to Germany (even mirroring Sir Donald’s role as Musical Director at Mannheim!), was able to take over the conducting of this concert with the Philharmonia Orchestra, bringing his own interpretation to this most magical of scores.
Before I eulogise this performance, though, I have to bring to your attention another disastrous failing on the part of the EIF publicity department. The artist engaged to sing the Italian soprano singer in this performance was replaced (at whatever notice, I don’t know) by the promising Northern Irish soprano who now lives in Edinburgh, Emma Morwood. This was a great, and possibly career-changing, moment for Ms Morwood, but, apart from the online cast list on the EIF website, there was no mention of her in any publicity. The free sheet listed the name of the original singer, as did the ‘Souvenir’ programme, and biographical details were about this singer. The EIF did not even have the courtesy to put a slip in the programme or to have someone from management make an announcement at the beginning, telling the audience of the cast change. This is simply unpardonable! On such occasions can careers hinge, and it beggars belief that no one was prepared to take responsibility to make an announcement.
In addition, and I’ll get back to my hugely positive review soon, the eight solo singers who performed the amusing scene of the Domestic Servants towards the end of the opera were totally anonymous, and uncredited. I have literally no idea who any of them were. Nothing in the programmes, nothing online, zilch. Now these are solo roles, individually scored, and we should know who was singing. If I had appeared in an International Festival concert as a soloist, albeit not a star role, I would have been absolutely livid. I hope we can find out their names and publish them soon on the Edinburgh Music Review.
Richard Strauss had been contemplating an opera on the theme of a battle for supremacy between words and music for some time, but it was only in October 1942, as the Second World War raged, that the first performance took place in Munich. Strauss was, by this time, 78 and the Grand Old Man of German opera. We marvel at the swan songs of Verdi and Puccini, those astonishing final operas, ‘Falstaff’ and ‘Turandot,’ but I venture to suggest that ‘Capriccio’ should be viewed in the same light. Sparkling wit, great roles for several singers, and some of the most beautiful music Strauss ever wrote, make it stand out as a truly great work, and a performance as good as the one we heard tonight gives credibility to the claim!
Basically a conversation piece, set in 17th Century France, the opera sets out, through a series of discussions and intrigues, to determine the primacy of text over music, or vice versa. We see an aristocratic couple of brother and sister, he a libertine whose idea of great music is triumphal marches, and who regards opera as word-murder, and she a deeply emotional art connoisseur, with two would-be lovers, a poet and a composer. Throw in an egotistical theatre director, a famous actress (much fancied by the count and a former lover of the poet), a cute ballet dancer (sadly not on show in the Usher Hall), two Italian opera singers, a major-domo, a sleepy prompter and an ensemble of singing servants, and you have an opera. Which is precisely what we are watching. The opera of the opera. Who is real? Who is fantasy? Only at the end, when the Countess sings alone in the moonlight, do we glimpse an ending. But what is it? Wort oder Ton (text or music)? She is desperate for an ending which isn’t trivial. At that moment, the Major Domo comes in to announce dinner! Brilliant!
The libretto, long in gestation through complications of Nazi proscription of writer and subject, was largely the work of the conductor of the first performance, Clemens Krauss, who came up with one of the most perfect texts in all music. Thanks to the miracle of surtitles, we as audience could enjoy the sounds of the words in the original but could understand all the nuances and jokes. Whoever said Germans have no sense of humour needs to read the libretto of ‘Capriccio’.
The cast was well-nigh perfect. The spoof tenor/soprano duet, supposedly by Metastasio, but consisting almost exclusively of “Addio,” was sung splendidly by Emma Morwood and John Irvin, marvellously over the top, even to the mock fight later when she becomes all emotional and eats all the cake. Sarah Connolly, as Clairon the actress, revealed her inner Maggie Smith, peering over her large glasses and creating a splendid character, both dramatic and flirtatious. The two prospective lovers, Flamand the tenor, full of emotional flamboyance and Olivier the poet, darkly handsome yet deep of thought, were well played by Sebastian Kohlhepp and Stephen Marsh. Mr Kohlhepp produced lots of glorious high notes and came across as a truly passionate lover. Mr Marsh was cooler and lacked the incisive quality of voice needed for the role. When we realise that Hans Hotter, the great Wagnerian baritone (with whom I worked extensively in the 1980s), was the original Olivier in 1942, it was simply a case of miscasting here. I look forward to hearing Mr Marsh again in more suitable repertoire.
As the Count, the Danish baritone, Bo Skovhus was fantastic. He was obviously very familiar with the role and played the part of the chauvinist Philistine perfectly. His comic rendition of Olivier’s love poem, complete with gestures out of the Adolf Hitler book, was hilarious (as was Dame Sarah’s reaction), but he was also completely credible as the person who suggests the final idea of creating an opera about the events of the day. The opera hater creates an opera! He sang very well too!
As the Theatre Director, La Roche, Peter Rose gave a commanding performance. Having sung the role myself, I know how hard it is, but also what enormous fun it is once you have learned it. There are vast numbers of words and notes in the role, with difficult rhythms and a huge range, and the 12 minute monologue in the second half is like running a marathon, but the character is so lovable, in a weird way, that you hardly notice the difficulty. He was based on the great Austrian impresario, Max Reinhardt, one of the co-founders of the Salzburg Festival, who was well known both to Krauss and Strauss. By 1942, he had lived in America as an émigré for some years (he was Jewish and not welcome in Nazi Germany and Austria), and had directed the wonderful Hollywood film of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ with James Cagney and Mickey Rooney. He was certainly not forgotten by Strauss and Krauss, and La Roche is a permanent reminder of this great man. Peter Rose played him to a T and sang superbly.
Strauss always loved the soprano voice, creating some of the best roles in all the repertoire for that voice, and Countess Madeleine in ‘Capriccio’ is one of the best. Here it received a well-nigh perfect rendition by the Swedish soprano, Malin Byström, who had thrilled Edinburgh audiences in 2022 as Salome. Beautifully dressed, she was the epitome of the elegant countess, amiable, passionate, distracted, indecisive, and yet in charge! She sang beautifully throughout, and her final scene was sheer perfection, eclipsing, for me, even Margaret Marshall (my first Countess forty years ago), Erin Wall, Kiri Te Kanawa and Renée Fleming. In the moonlight scene at the end, she was given a fabulous horn accompaniment by Norberto Lopez, whose horn playing throughout the evening was perfect (I have used the programme for his name – I hope it’s correct).
Alexander Soddy, a conductor of whom I had heard little but who I hope we will see frequently in the future, controlled the proceedings with a masterly hand, and all sadness about the lack of Sir Andrew was mitigated by the discovery of a new star. The Philharmonia Orchestra played absolutely magnificently throughout, and a concert which I was looking forward to with a certain amount of trepidation, was turned into a triumph. Listening to some comments afterwards, I’m not sure it was the ideal closing concert of the Festival for some people. It’s not exactly a standard work even in the opera house, or a piece with a standing ovation-producing end, but, for me, it brought a Festival of very high quality to a top class end. Caveats about publicity to one side and admitting I have seen nothing of the dramatic offerings on show, the musical highlights were many, and sublime on occasions, and that is surely what the Edinburgh International Festival is, or should be, about. Bring on next year
