From tea and tipple on the lawn we moved on to a very different festivity: a lively first-communion party with a Polish flavour (and food) where I ended up speaking – French!
And then: to the opera. A premiere at the Komische Oper (ex-Metropoltheater).
I can’t think how many years it is since I was an opera house regular. Or, let’s face it, a theatre regular. Its 20 years, anyway, since I was active worker in the theatre and on hand with my notebook for every West End musical first night. It’s amazing how all the old instincts come back. Although, of course, on this night everything and everyone was in German.
The piece was Eduard Künneke’s 1921 Berlin Operette hit Der Vetter aus dingsda. Nine characters, one set, and – I would have thought – an ideal small-theatre piece. The Komische Oper is a fairly large (and very beautifully restored) theatre, but then again so was the original home of the piece, the Theater am Nollendorfplatz.
I sunk happily into what I found a charming, gently fanciful evening back in Operette-land after too long away.
The music is wholly delightful, and I knew enough about the story and libretto that my mini-comprehension of the German dialogue didn’t hurt overmuch, so I was quite taken aback when, at half-time, I heard serious grumbling going on around us. The production was labelled ‘provincial’, the singers ‘inadequate’. I was puzzled. Who did they want their Operette sung by? Is a ‘metropolitan’ production one staged on roller-skates, set in the stone age and with a chorus line clad in one spangle apiece? If so, I’m provincial. I thought the production, with its shy if geographically wobbly wink to Bollywood, was totally suitable to the piece. As for the singers … well, there certainly was a sound problem. A violent imbalance between orchestra and voices. But I refuse to believe that any casting director could cast nine out of nine singers with ‘insufficient’ voices, and prefer to lay any blame there was on the sound department and whoever didn’t sit out front in row 11 at the dress rehearsal and spot the problem. In fact, I found the three principals: Julia Kamenik (a nicely natural Julia), Anna Borchers (a deliciously young and un-soubretty Hännchen) and Christoph Späth (a smilingly sexy tenor Fremde) ideal for their roles. And everybody loved the po-faced comic maid (Verena Unbehaun) and her quaint dance steps.
Am I being old-fashioned? I was always known as a very critical critic in my day. Have I gone soft? I don’t think so. I think that, whereas I actually wanted to see this endearing, unpretentious 1920s small musical, the 2009 Berliners around me would have truthfully preferred something else altogether. But, then, the sound problem did mess up everything for everybody. Maybe they will fix it by tomorrow night.
The evening didn’t end with the Operette. Far from it! We headed from the theatre (where I was introduced to a real, live Tannhäuser on the steps: Paul McNamara. Watch that name!) for the hot-spot-of-the-moment, Borchardt on Gendarmenmarkt, and there, in the handsome, youthful and joyous company of entertainer and TV-man Thomas, lighting designer Oliver and producer-of-the-future Hannes, we gossiped and laughed our way, on a glitter of pink champagne, into the small hours of the morning. At some stage Vera-Ellen was toasted. Ricci, Pacini, Künneke and Vera-Ellen in one day. And this is the world I gave up? I love my horses, but … I gave this up? Maybe I should think again…
I am thinking again…
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