Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg
H.L. Mencken thought Wagner’s Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg was Western civilization’s single greatest work of art. English critic Ernest Newman described it as “the greatest of all comedies in music.” And Georg Solti in his introductory note to last weekend’s concert performances said that he thought it “the most complete and most brilliantly conceived opera.” With all this against it, how does this tale of the foibles and virtues of 16th-century bourgeois Nuremberg by a dead white European male continue to speak more truly to the heart of the modern operagoer than The Death of Klinghoffer or Satyagraha?
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Ever the theatrical chameleon, Wagner immersed himself in the world of his Renaissance common folk and made them individual. Each of the baker’s dozen of Meistersingers has a distinctive personality–or the makings of one in the hands of a singer of sufficient artistry. The young knight and his love, the goldsmith’s daughter, are not stock lovers. After all, Walther has decided to take a sensible job in the city, and Eva has more trouble keeping his temper under control than his ardor. The secondary couple, David the apprentice and Magdalene, are more than mere comic relief. David has his humorous aspects, but he doesn’t stoop to slapstick. The simple joy expressed by all four of these characters in the third act elevates the spirit of this work to a plane well beyond the baldly comic. Beckmesser is a three-dimensional villain–nasty but not stupid or farcical, and with plenty of comic facets.
The original plan for Die Meistersinger was for a little opera that could be performed by any decent provincial German opera house. The final result was a score that was the largest ever published up to that time, that required resources even the mightiest opera house can only occasionally assemble. Luckily for opera lovers, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra assembled those resources this past weekend for a two-day performance–the high point of Sir Georg Solti’s programs this season and potentially this season’s operatic high point.
The aesthetic that animates Xerxes is as dead as the castrati who took its main roles, yet this opera and this staging provide a diverting evening. Unfortunately the modern opera house is still under the influence of the operatic aesthetic of the 19th century–house lights down, audience expected to listen with rapt attention to every measure of music. And since every single repeat of every single aria is included, this opera runs about as long as Lohengrin, but without as much action. Four or five arias from each of the principals would have been plenty.
