BY LYDIA MCCLELLAND, WINNER OF THE INAUGURAL CUTCOMMON YOUNG CRITICS’ MENTORSHIP PROGRAM
Parsifal
Victorian Opera with the Australian Youth Orchestra and Richard Mills (conductor)
Palais Theatre, 20 February
I could have driven from Melbourne to Canberra, watched an entire series of BBC’s Sherlock, or baked 10 chocolate cakes consecutively.
Instead, I attended the opening night of the Victorian Opera’s massive production of Richard Wagner’s Parsifal at the Palais Theatre in St Kilda. The running time of four hours was supplemented by a 90-minute dinner break and a second interval. But guess what? I’m glad I went.
Wagner’s final opera took 25 years from conception to completion in the late 19th Century. The drama is an interpretation of the story of Parsifal, a “pure fool” who meets a holy order of knights led by the wounded Amfortas. As the program notes unravelled, Parsifal’s epic quest sees him grapple with his desires, faced with Kundry, a woman cursed with immortality for laughing at the crucifixion of Christ. The garden of Flower Maidens – created by Klingsor, the disgraced reject of the Grail knights – proves yet another hurdle.
According to Wagner expert Peter Bassett in the program notes, Wagner harnessed the syncretism of Christian symbolism with Buddhist ideas about enlightenment, leading to his overall theme: the overcoming of desire, leading to enlightenment through compassion.
The set was confined within a monstrous plywood box, missing one wall to allow us to peep inside, with a fissure renting it into two halves. A visual representation of the fracture between the subdued Grail knights and the garish realm of Klingsor, the absence of space evoked new physical and conceptual fractures for me. I could see staging equipment through the split, and I wondered whether this was purposeful. Are we, the audience, being reminded of our separation from reality?
Similarly, the 1920s Palais Theatre’s grand, ornate decor was dissonant with the modest simplicity of the Grail knights. I’d brought a picnic for the dinner break after Act 1, which I ate on the foreshore of St Kilda Beach. There was something quite hilarious and jarring about migrating from a world of squires, prophecies and feasts to the relaxed, gently buzzing atmosphere of the beach. I sat by the sand, dressed in my opera best, next to swimwear-clad beachgoers.
The Australian Youth Orchestra, conducted by Richard Mills, did justice to the mammoth work. Careful restraint ensured singers were never drowned out. The musicians in the large orchestra harnessed great intensity and momentum for the mystical composition, shining in the preludes. Alongside renowned Wagner interpreters Burkhard Fritz (Parsifal) and Katarina Dalayman (Kundry), cast performances by James Roser (Amfortas) and Derek Welton (Klingsor) were particularly compelling, and moments featuring the choruses, including the Victorian Opera Youth Chorus Ensemble, were impressive.
Wagner gave elaborate stage directions for Parsifal, loosely interpreted by the designers. Director Roger Hodgman wrote in the program notes of their desire to create a “simple and dynamic space”. One setting featured thousands of black leaves representing the forest floor, eventually swept neatly into the rift between worlds by knights, in a beautifully choreographed transition to the Grail Hall.
Costume designer Christina Smith elegantly built upon the simple aesthetic, allowing the audience to form their own conceptions of the characters. In contrast to the simple black attire of the knights, the clothes of the inhabitants of Klingsor’s kingdom were immediately distinguishable in their excess. Klingsor’s suit was a daze of mirrors, glittering under stage lights. As Christina explained on the VO website: “The brightest person on stage is the dullest in terms of compassion and enlightenment.”
In the world of this Parsifal, shadow did not necessarily represent moral darkness; while lights signified artifice and illusion. Stage lights signposted important thematic material, albeit sometimes obviously so: Lighting designer Matt Scott favoured clashing pink and yellow hues to introduce the chaotic Klingsor, red for Kundry’s seductive plays, and a deep blue for the triumph of powers of good.
Usually, I would object to program notes pondering the place of “mankind”. However, the description seemed somewhat appropriate to an androcentric work offering only one central role for a woman. Parsifal is truly a tale about the mortal woundedness of men struggling to do that which is “right”. I do object to the idea that such a story is timeless or universal, but it provided weighty visual, auditory, and mental fare for contemplation.
Images courtesy Victorian Opera, credit Jeff Busby.
