Lohengrin, San Francisco Opera, October 31 2012

Lohengrin in a three-piece suit and Brabantine soldiers carrying AK-47s—at least director Daniel Slater stopped short of “regietheater run amok.” The idea behind the production, as we learned at an “Insights” panel discussion, was that Elsa’s trial in Act 1 is similar to the Communist show trials in which the verdict was predetermined. So this Lohengrin was set in an unnamed Eastern-bloc country of the 1950s or 60s, or perhaps particularly in Hungary in 1956.

The “miracle of music” prelude to Act 1 was staged, with Elsa kneeling downstage under a spotlight. Lohengrin entered from upstage, sat down at a strictly functional wooden table, and at the climax of the prelude put a chain with a medallion symbolizing his mission around his neck. As the stage filled with Brabantine and Saxon soldiers (in contrasting uniforms), Lohengrin simply stood up and walked offstage, trying to be inconspicuous.

Act 1 was set in what looked like a large library. The rear wall was made up of bookshelves imbedded in a white plaster wall, and the legs to the left and right of the stage were similar plaster walls enclosing bookshelves. The unnamed Eastern-bloc country must have had funds to build the building, but very limited funds to stock it, for there were very few books on the shelves. Or maybe the populace was exceptionally well-read and had checked out almost all of the books. The wide-open central space had about four steps separating upstage from downstage. As necessary, more simple wooden tables were brought in. Telramund and Ortrud sat at such a table during Elsa’s trial. Lohengrin arrived, not in a boat pulled by a swan, but in front of a 10-year-old boy sporting swan wings; he also simply walked offstage after Lohengrin’s “Nun sei bedankt, mein lieber Schwan.” Lohengrin had the ring and the horn, but lacked a sword. As the trial by combat approached, I wondered whether it was going to be hand-to-hand combat, but at the last moment the props guys found the swords and brought them in, in a case from which Lohengrin and Telramund pulled their weapons.

Act 2 began outside the castle. We saw a fairly bare wall punctuated by square windows, some of which were missing. It looked like a decrepit factory wall. There was one large cutout in which Elsa appeared to sing of her joy, and from which she could call down to Ortrud. When day broke and the second scene began, the factory wall was lifted out of sight to reveal the inside of the library. To turn it into a festive venue suitable for a wedding, streamers were thrown from the balconies in front of the bookshelves at the rear down to soldiers on the main floor, who attached the other ends to the bookshelves right and left.

The raising of the curtain for Act 3 elicited chuckles from the audience. During intermission stagehands had erected a small motel room in the middle of the library, its floor about five feet above the stage, and with left, right, and rear walls and a ceiling above. It reminded me of a production of La Boheme, in which the Bohemian’s tiny garret was a small room similarly suspended above the vast Opera House stage. Lohengrin and Elsa’s room was furnished with a brass bed with a white bedspread, and a dining table-style armchair. As the curtain went up, we saw Lohengrin and Elsa standing a foot or two apart, both facing the audience, holding hands just like Ken and Barbie atop a wedding cake. This is where Lohengrin’s three-piece suit came into play: during Act 2 he had shucked the traveling clothes he arrived in (simple pants and sweater with a long leather overcoat—no shining armor in 1956 Hungary) and appeared in the three-piece suit to greet Elsa and her bridesmaids. Again, where was the sword that he would use to slay Telramund? Telramund entered the motel room with a dagger; Lohengrin overpowered him and drove his hand clutching the dagger into his abdomen. He fell on the white bedspread and bled profusely. For the second scene, the curtain fell while the stagehands dismantled the motel room, then rose to bring us back to the library. When it came time for Lohengrin to depart, the wall of bookshelves upstage parted to reveal the 10-year-old with the swan wings. In some staging sleight-of-hand the “swan” was replaced by the young Gottfried, who when presented with Lohengrin’s sword found it far too heavy for him. The tip of the sword hit the ground, but then Gottfried got the better of it and hoisted it on high. Elsa then proceeded to die of an unspecified cause, just as called for in the score.

Our cast: 
Lohengrin: Brandon Jovanovich    
Elsa von Brabant: Camilla Nylund
Ortrud: Petra Lang    
Friedrich von Telramund: Gerd Grochowski    
Heinrich der Vogler: Kristinn Sigmundsson    
King's Herald: Brian Mulligan    
Noble: Nathaniel Peake    
Noble: Robert Watson
Noble: Joo Won Kang    
Noble: Ryan Kuster
Conductor: Nicola Luisotti    
Director: Daniel Slater

Do we ever have a heldentenor! Brandon Jovanovich sang magnificently, and he looked like a Greek god to boot, even if he wasn’t in shining armor. His words to Telramund after vanquishing him in the Act 1 combat, “God had delivered your life into my hands,” rang with truly stentorian authority. Petra Lang made a menacing Ortrud; Gerd Grochowski’s Telramund sounded a bit underpowered in Act 1 but he came into his own at the beginning of Act 2.  Kristinn Sigmundsson stumbled a few times as King Henry in Act 1. Camilla Nylund had the most challenging role, according to some; her Elsa suffered slightly in comparison to Lohengrin. This was Nicola Luisotti’s first Wagner opera. In the noiser sections, he unleashed wonderful sound from the orchestra, but the feeling and nuance of the Act 1 prelude escaped him. Brandon Jovanovich gets an alpha, but the performance overall is only worth a strong beta, thanks in large part to the unsuccessful staging.