A Night out with Mike, or Scallops and Vampires

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In October, or was it November, of 1974, the musical Hans Andersen went into rehearsal at the London Palladium. On the bottom line of the chorus was a 27 year-old basso, just back from two years at sea. On the rehearsal piano, and assisting the conductor, was a 21 year-old muso, not long out of the Royal College of Music. The two became good friends, but over the years geography and suchlike meant that they lost contact … 

Last night, they met up again. In Berlin. The musician has turned into Mike Reed, the most prized musical supervisor in the world of musical theatre for decades now, the skinny bass has turned into the author of the largest (and best) reference works on the same subject: yes, yours truly, Kurt Gänzl. Well, Mike now has the embonpoint of the successful man, and I have the traces of my stroke still upon me … but the years rolled back at the speed of Phar Lap, and we were 30 or 40 again, as we picked up where we had left off twenty years ago. 

 Our evening had two parts: first food, drink and chat, and afterwards a trip to the Theater des Westens (my first) to see Tanz der Vampire, the musical about which I had written so favourably in my books, but had not yet seen on stage. We dined on the terrace of Mike’s hotel, the delightful Kempinski in the Kurfürstendamm. And dined very well indeed. My starter, nice, juicy, lightly-cooked scallops with a gingerish julienne was a class one dish, my main course of loup de mer could have been plumper, but it tasted good. I can’t say it looked good, though: purple risotto isn’t my thing. But, hey, food is for eating, not photographing. The meal was accompanied by a very nice light German rosé served by a very nice German lassie, who also delivered me an excellent pear schnapps as a digestif. And we talked. And talked. And talked. I think I talked even more than usual!

 

A quick wander to the theatre. My first Berlin musical this year. Was it going to be as good as I remembered from reading it, a decade and a half ago? I got off slightly on the wrong foot. When you are watching a burlesque musical, you have to remember, always, that it is exactly that. When you see a stagefull of comic opera peasants, led by a sosie of Fagin, overacting a ‘drinking’ chorus in praise of garlic … it is a parody of the genre! (Remember Chess?) Maybe some of the edges of the parody in the opening have got a tiny bit blunted after so long? Or was it me, taking time to get into the 'mood'? Anyway, those edges would soon, as the action of the piece got into stride, be sharp as a sharkstooth. 

This is a funny piece. A fun piece. Its enjoyably staged and designed, with some of the best (not burlesque, unless it’s of Laurey’s dream ballet) choreography I’ve seen in quite a while. It looks good and it sounds good. The music is in the lush modern vein, with plenty of extravagances and some catchy melodies ... I’m sure I heard a few classical quotes. From Sullivan to Wagner. I know I saw a few things more than reminiscent of, in particular, The Phantom of the Opéra. And that’s part of the fun. That’s the burlesque genre. Of course, sometimes burlesque gets very close to the thing being burlesqued … there’s a fine line … but most of the time director and cast kept, sometimes just, to the right side of it.

  The cast. Well, as an old casting director, I’d be proud to have assembled such a cast. Thomas Borchert was a suitably sexy, vocally rich and melodramatic vampire leering (oh! those teeth!) down from his Phantomical perch, or luring sexy little splashabout Sarah (Amelie Dobler) away with a pair of red riding boots and a mega-sponge, to his Schloss, to sing the hit song ‘Totale finsternis’ with him. Miss Dobler looked the perfect little ingenue – oh, shades of Miss Brightman – and sang her music to perfection, even when battling with the entire chorus. She was also deliciously comical in her scenes with Alfred (Michael Heller) who is simply a super-juvenile made in heaven. Looking fifteen, singing with lyric freedom, and playing and interplaying with just the right degree of innocent foolishness … I cannot imagine the part better played.

 

But my favourite – well, we all have favorites! – performance of the night was that of Veit Schäfermeier as Professor Ambrosius. When I first heard the score, I dubbed his music ‘Offenbachian’. But the whole role is pure Gilbert and Sullivan. You could pluck him from this show and put him straight into the Major General’s part in The Pirates of Penzance. His patter singing was superb, precise and truly sung (no cheating Sprechstimme here), his acting quite delicious, and he quite simply made me laugh out loud over and over again. Whatever a Tony Award is in German, that is a winner’s performance. The smaller parts were all well filled, and the chorus sang and danced winningly. I particularly liked the Red Boots Dream Ballet and the 2nd-Act Vampire Song. Oh, dammit, I liked practically everything. Although it got deafeningly loud (for me, already half deaf) at the end.

  So, the second half of my night ended up as enjoyable as the first. Mike rushed backstage for his notes session, as I headed for the Zoo U-Bahn and Nollendorfstrasse. No twenty years ever again. No fear. Same time, next year?

A Tale of Hoffman's

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After my swirl of restaurant stories in Jersey, eating out has rather played second string to theatre, music and friends in Berlin … the best eating out I’ve done here has been at friends’ homes ... Paul, PGB and Olli have all cooked really tasty meals for me, and Thomas and Wolfgang staged another of their wonderful, memorable dinner parties for me at Potsdam …

However, last night it was restaurant time. My wedding present to Thomas and Pablo was ‘dinner wherever you like’. Chuckle, I knew they wouldn’t choose a Turkish takeaway! So last night we – the newlyweds, Paul and I -- repaired to E T A Hoffmann’s restaurant in the Yorckstrasse, Kreuzberg. Half-an-hour’s stroll through the rain-spattered streets from Schöneberg …

It is a pleasant place, discreetly and warmly decorated, we were given a very nice table, in a window bay, and were attended upon very graciously by the team of two young women and a lad who would care for us in a nicely leisurely fashion for the next 2 ½ hours.



The menu immediately gives one confidence. You can have 3 or 4 courses, with their choice of wines (or without), and the choice in each course is sophisticatedly limited to four or five items. I decided to go the whole hog. Four courses. Beginning with a leisurely pernod.

For a starter, I had ‘stunned’ duck. Presumably stunned before being cooked. This is what it looked like. Encouraging, eh?



Well, it fulfilled its promise. The flesh, cooked, as you can see, in three different ways (all delicious), was tender, moist and not duck-fatty, and the purée of ?pois chiche was a grand accompaniment. I even ate the greenery, which I thought a bit under-classy. Something more original than lettuce would have been nice.

I followed up with veal kidney as entrée. One of my favourite dishes, but a weeny bit disappointing. A nice helping, firm and tasty, with a not very significant sauce. I would have just like a little taste tweak (NOT tomato) in there somewhere.



Then the main course. Triumph. I – the New Zealander – ordered lamb. I checked with the lady first: it WOULD come super-rare? She checked. It would. It did. It was beautiful. On the left, braised lamb, soft and falling apart: on the right, the pink-red cutlet … absolutely perfect! A sort of ratatouille julienne underneath I could take or leave (ordinary lentils would have taken the juice better) but that lamb -- from northern Germany it seems -- was some of the best I have ever tasted.
Paul had monkfish, the groom and groom had baby venison, and we were all very happy.

The others ventured into crême brulée and clafoutis (both of which got top votes) for dessert, while I opted for my usual cheese and port. The cheese was unadventurous but palatable, the port nice. But I wished I’d had the very good-looking crème brulée.

Our dinner was accompanied by a selection of German wines: mine beginning with a soft riesling, rising to a stouter chardonnay, and climaxing in an excellent pinot noir. I was pleased to see (chardonnay with kidneys) that the old saw about red with this and white with that has gone.



So all in all, a highly pleasant meal, in pleasant surroundings, pleasantly served, and in very special company. And how does it compare with my Jersey winners?
It serves a different kind of food to, say, Bohemia. Much less adventurous or quirky. Some of the dishes are quite simple. Which doesn’t mean they are not good. The duck and the lamb chez Hoffmann would grace any table … and I will certainly visit chef Thomas Kurt (yes! that’s really his name) again next year..

Oh. Price? Since you ask. 350 euros (inclusive) for four. Fair enough…

We finished our evening by popping round the corner to visit Olli at his (temporary) workplace, the Rauschgold, a tiny little gay bar in the Mehringdamm, and there we nightcapped amid folk having nearing-midnight fun, before diving for a damp taxicab … Paul, after all, is on a 7.50am train to Bayreuth for Tristan …

Offenbach on the Spree

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I’m just home from the Neuköllner Oper. Not really an opera house. Well, not the bit I’ve just been to. A ‘studio’, to be polite. Aw, heck, a room with 70-80 (53 I now discover!) chairs stuck around the side.
And if I tell you, Berlin has done it again? For the third time in a few weeks, I’ve had a superb theatre night out.

It didn’t look promising. A ‘version’ of Halévy and Offenbach’s delicious bit of very French Chinese musical insanity, Ba-ta-clan. ‘Version’ gives me as many shudders as the dreaded German words ‘bearbeitet’ or ‘dramaturg’ or (worst) ‘Regietheater’. I mean, why can’t they do it as it was written? It’s perfect, and has been since 1855.
OK, perfect for France. OK, I can see it might have to be localised (as Karl Treumann did 150 years ago) for Germany. But what’s this? A whole new libretto …?
My hackles were up before I entered the theatre.

Wrong.

I have to deal with this in two halves. The music and the play. The glittering shower of Offenbach music was largely presented as written, arranged orchestrally for a curious 1960s Wersi-Organ affair by md Andrew Hannan. A few funnies, and the swapping of one role from a male to a female (which worked perfectly) … no complaints.


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The play? Well, the zany idea was kept, but otherwise it was wholly rewritten by one named Kriss Rudolph. Mr Rudolph, when I entered the theatre, I was ready to damn you for iconoclasm. But do you know what, in spite of my limited German, I think you utterly pulled it off. Your piece might be about an ‘Uprising in a Fortune-Cookie Factory’ (Aufstand der Glückskekese) -- which Halévy’s’ is not -- , but you have kept the theme and the wonderful ‘bouffe’ spirit of the thing perfectly. And written a wholly successful show around Offenbach’s magical score. I never would have thought it possible.



That ‘bouffe’ spirit – which is the dramatic be-all and end-all of pieces like Ba-ta-clan – was beautifully upheld by director Gustav Rueb and by the four exceptional players who presented the piece. I don’t expect, in 2012, to find young performers who can play with the true burlesque flair of the 19th century ... and sing, too! Who says there are no singers these days who can act? I can immediately point them to four young people who gave us an evening of delirious comic fun, and sang Offenbach’s music with flair, accuracy and point: Alexandra Schmidt (a very funny actress with a voluminous and rangy soprano), Nini Stadlmann (whose role was written for a man) as a glorious komische Alte ... major theatres, watch her ... Nikolas Heiber as a hunky light baritone hero and Dejan Brkic as a super-funny baritone ‘villain’. I regretted the ‘translation’ only once: when his ’Morto’s (the piece's integral parody of the Italian opera) were Teutonised …



What can I say else? I went to slay, and came away praising. Hugely.

The conception, direction and performance could not have been bettered. And oh! what genuine musical theatre fun. Hurrah!

I think I may have to go back next week.

Photos: Lena Kern

LE CHEVAL DE BRONZE or Auber-y splendid!

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Whenever I come for my now yearly stay in Berlin, I always seem to get a treat in the way of productions of interesting, little-performed nineteenth-century operas, and this year is no exception.
I am, of course, a huge fan of the music of Auber, which dominated the most joyful French and foreign comic opera stages of his time, but it does seem odd that the only two productions of his work I’ve ever seen should have been in Germany. And in German. Which is a bit of a shame for me, who speaks French but little German. And in an Auber comic opera, there is a lot of sparkling comedy (written by the great, if by today’s standards slightly long-winded, Eugene Scribe), which it is sad to miss.

So, last night I went to the Komische Oper to see the Auber/Scribe Das bronzene Pferd. Now, there can surely be only one reason for selecting this particular one of the French duo’s many successful operas: extravagant spectacle. Whereas some of their pieces are like drawing-room comedies with songs, others – including this one – were written for the Parisian théâtre à grand spectacle. A Chinese setting, a flying horse, scenes on an extra-terrestrial planet … a rampant designer’s delight. And hundreds of dancers, extras, costumes etc.




Well, I didn’t really expect them to run to a hundred coryphees at the Komische Oper, but I did expect rather more ‘grand spectacle’ than we got. The sorcerer’s planet was white curtains. And while there were some fun effects: the Horse arriving to aeroplane noises, in swirling winds and machine-smoke, and leaving a cartoon cutout hole in the wall … I felt a bit cheated on the visual side. And what do you with all the scene-change music when there is no scenery to change. Here, the time was filled by the antics of pandas and (yawn) bonking monkeys. The hundred chorines would have been infinitely preferable.
I got the feeling that director and designer were fettered by financial constraints. Which you really can’t be when you are doing an opérette à grand spectacle or a grand-opera-bouffe fèerie.



So, reservations on the visual production and on the timid direction, but very few reservations on the performers.

The star of the show was the ‘heavy lady’, ‘the character woman’, the Scribeische ancestor of Katisha and the Fairy Queen, played here wonderfully well by the not at all old and ugly – but infinitely funny -- Swedish soprano, Erika Roos. Dressed like a mixture of Edna Everage and Janet Street Porter – one of the rare examples of an aumusing costume in a piece which would gain much from them – she carried all before her. The thin and pretty indifferent audience finally came awake when she gave Tao-Jin’s big scene and aria, flinging herself about like a demented drag queen while singing (upside down) quite dazzlingly, and they applauded her ten times as much as anything else in the performance.



The other stand-out was the mezzo, Annelie Sophie Müller, as the farmer’s daughter, Péki, the soubrette who dresses as a boy to rescue her country lad from enchantment. She played with sprightly, unforced comedy, made up into an amusing and handsome young man, and sang quite beautifully throughout.
The men of the piece, who need to be as much comic actors as singers, did their parts well: The mandarin, Tsing-Ling (Tom Erik Lie) handicapped by a false chest and belly, the farmer (in a suit?) Tschin-Koo (Juri Batukov) with his big Act 2 song, and the Prince (Sung-Keun Park) who started weakly – and out of tune – but who came good wonderfully once he got dancing around like a windmill. The fourth principal man was off. So a vocalist sang his role from the forestage while the assistant director acted the role. And acted it marvellously, with a true sense of comic timing. He should take singing lessons immediately!
The galactic scenes in the second act introduce two new characters: the femme fatale Princess Stella (Julia Giebel) and her wise-cracking maid (Violetta Madjarowa). The princess was portrayed as a gawky hoyden, which seemed to make little sense plotwise, and had little acting to do but be gawky and fatale. A difficult combination especially with a director who thinks sex is best portrayed by removing clothes, and jabbing with your pelvis. However, Stella also has a brilliant coloratura aria to sing which Ms Giebel managed accurately and enjoyably. I’d have enjoyed it more, however, sung by Theda Bara rather than Joyce Grenfell.
Lo Mangli, the maid, delivered her lines in a nice, quirky, chesty growl. So it was rather a surprise when she gave her little number in a petite soprano. Better to cut it.

If I seem overly critical of this production, it may be that I’ve waited half a century for it, and have very C19th ideas about what it should be. And I really did enjoy seeing it, hearing it, and in particular discovering the two leading ladies. I had a thoroughly agreeable evening. But I didn’t go wow! More directorial flair, much more extravagant staging ... Scribe and Auber are, of course, the forerunners of Meilhac, Halevy and Offenbach … are needed to make this piece all it can be.
But, of course, that means greater resources – financial and manpower –which probably can’t be justified for a production of a little-known piece.

Thank you, Komische Oper, for letting me see Le Cheval de bronze. I see its Monteverdi and Mozart next year, but can we have more French opéra-comique in the future!

PS a little touch of class! My ticket was 87 euros. But I got a complimentary glass of wine, and a string duo in the foyer as extras. Both much appreciated. And a nice front-row box seat … a loge makes one feel ‘in the opera world’.

To Bökendorf, with love ...

Bökendorf?, they said, when I wrote where I was going this weekend. Where’s that? What’s that? Why? Well, Bökendorf is a small village, half way to Holland, in Westphalia. It has a population of 800 people, and an open-air theatre which seats 1200. One and a half seats each? The theatre is operated by the local amateur theatre group, which has been staging summer theatre there – rain or shine – for over 60 years, with considerable success. And that’s what I was going to. But why travel 400km into the Westphalian countryside? There are 80 of these amateur open-air venues in Germany. It’s something of a tradition. And, anyway, why am I going to see amateur theatre, hot on the heels of my nights with the Berlin opera stars and the radiant Radialsystem concert? Easy. Bökendorf had chosen, for its bi-annual musical of 2012, to present Bonnie and Clyde, the musical with which my favourite musical-theatre maestro and bosom buddy, Paul Graham Brown, made his European debut a decade ago. And which I had never seen.

 

So, Saturday morning we set off: Uwe at the wheel, Paul, Kurt and Stanley from Vancouver, the picnic bag in the boot ... straight into a murderous traffic jam for an hour. Don’t get me going on German roadworks. Or the scarcity of picnic spots. But we found a nature reserve for a late lunch (at 4pm) and, soon after, we found the town of Brakel, and the picturesquely situated Hotel Waldschänke, where were going to spend the night. And on the last 7km to the theatre – well, what a theatre! It is set on the edge of a lovely, dense wood, the stage is the side of a hill … but don’t let that fool you! Admittedly there are no flies (yet they have done Peter Pan!), but otherwise, everything is there. Lighting, sound, a revolve .. Hidden away in a bunker, or tunnelled under the earth! The audience is safe from the weather – for the ‘we play, no matter what the meteo’, rule is never broken – in a splendid covered grandstand. Only the actors get drenched on rainy days. But it stayed fine for us.

 

Bonnie and Clyde, the musical, is chock full of good things. Interesting things. Tuneful things. It was particularly interesting for me, who know, pretty intimately, Mr B’s later works, to hear this early piece. Afterwards, he said to me (before I could say it to him) ‘it could do with a little slimming!’ But what to slim? Not that music! The show was a particularly good choice for this company: for although it was originally played with a cast of nine, it expands very effectively for a cast of ninety: the choruses ring out splendidly as sung by whole townful of folk -- fat, thin, short, tall, old, young, real-looking -- instead of just a few, and all the different victims of the gangsters can be played by different actors, instead of having one performer killed several times! There are plenty of supporting roles, too: yes, there is no doubt, this Bonnie and Clyde works splendidly as a ‘big’ musical. And, staged last night on an atmospherically bleak set, it did not deny itself big scenic effects, either. A local gent had loaned a real vintage car for the production, and the final scene of carnage, with the deaths of Bonnie and Clyde was magnificently and effectively staged. Amateur productions and performances always differ essentially from professional ones, and have to be judged on their own terms. The people up on the stage are there to give pleasure to themselves, not just to you, the audience. And last night they clearly did. Things started a little tentatively and nervously, the pace was way too slow and there were awkward gaps. And there was no conductor to ginger things up, for the backing was necessarily pre-recorded (imagine rain in a flute?): well recorded, but playback, alas, doesn’t allow the music to breathe. Nevertheless, the singers responded to it well, and before long things started to roll along nicely.

 

The two teenaged artists who played the large and long title roles did very well. They both acted in a natural, easy-spoken manner, with no attitudes or artificiality or ‘acting’, and they sang effectively. A girl of 18 will always have a more developed voice than a boy, but I was glad to hear that both – chorus members heretofore – have found their way to a singing teacher. They have much promise. The company is particularly rich in good character men, a type of amateur player which used to be so hard to find. Some of them are more actors than singers – after all, this is primarily an acting company -- but no-one let the team down. A little bit of ‘actory acting’ sometimes, which fitted ill with the natural style of, in particular, the ‘hero’, but it was fun. For them … and for me. Well done, chaps! The principal supporting ladies have a much heavier vocal burden than the men, and here there were absolutely no worries. Both ladies had good, strong, accurate voices. The folk with a few lines to say or sing were all capable – gone are the days when ‘amateur’ was equated with ‘inefficient’. The Bökendorfers can all ‘do it’. The audience, who had arrived equipped with cushions, picnics, bottles of wine etc, adored the piece. They applauded repeatedly (and in some right curious places) and bounded to their feet at the curtain calls to give the show an ovation. There were speeches (oh! that dreadful German habit!) and Paul was shyly (?) dragged -- well, he fell actually --on to the stage to take his share of the applause … the end of a splendidly fun evening. The End? Watch this space …

 

I hope that the players and their director will not stop working on the piece now they’ve opened. It’s good: but it can be very good. Get the running time of Act I down by 10-15 minutes by closing the gaps, and pacing the dialogue and cues. Make the chorus do a warm up, so they come on ready to do a big sing in the opening ... take away Mrs Parker’s wig and handbag, get that wretched park bench off stage quickly or do without it, tie a few peoples arms and hands down .. and … but enough. I’m a perfectionist. While Paul received his accolades we sat quietly in the bleachers. And then a lady (dressed as a man, they were short of male dancers) came and invited us to a tour ‘backstage’ and … The tour was fascinating, but the ‘and’!. The company has put up a building in the woods. Wardrobe, dressing rooms and … hospitality. And there we were led, and there we met the company members and officials … and, well, Paul and I were still there at 4am! What a simply delightful ‘family’ of people. The success of the theatre has led to rising standards and interest, and the Bökendorf company has extended its catchment area for players to the towns 20km around. And got 90 for this show, and 90 for their children’s show. Thespis lives in Westphalia! But the Freilichtbühne (Open-Air Theatre) has become more than a theatre company. It is a major factor in the village, and a veritable ‘family’ for its members. Look down the lists of participants and you will see 4, 5, 6 people of the same surname there. And when the youngsters were up dancing, somewhere round 2 am last night, parents and even grandparents joined in! I would have loved to … but some of the teenagers came and chatted (in perfect English!) to me, in my chair … A German politician, the other day, called out for cross-generational activities in order to bla-bla-bla. He should visit the Freilichtbühne Bökendorf. There he will meet real people, wonderful people, of all generations …

 

Oh! I hope they do another PGB musical, and I get to visit them again before I die! I can tell you, I’ll never forget the night … and the lady who kept ladling out the local vodka-ginger-something green … A special thanks to Michael (actor and scenic designer) who drove a slightly tipsy but very happy author/composer and historian/critic back to Brakel in the small hours …

  Gosh, musical theatre can be fun! In Bökendorf anyway!

Bravo, Giovanni!

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Last night I went to the Staatsoper, for the first time. For all my operatic activity and writing in Berlin, up till now, has been centred on the Deutsche Oper. The occasion was the season's premiere of Don Giovanni which I was covering for the Dutch Opera Magazine and its website Place de l'opéra. It wasn't a home-grown production. The Staatsoper one wouldn't fit into the splendid but smaller temporary home of the company at the Schiller-Theater, so they imported one from Salzburg. Good fishing!
Great show! I arrived home at 11pm, in warm drizzle, and flung myself straight in front of my computer, bubbling with the need to recount my splendid evening, and post off the text to Amsterdam. Where, of course, it will appear in Dutch. So I'll put the English version here, for we who aren't skilled in Dutch

A DON FOR TODAY

'I never want to see Don Giovanni again. Never. Ever. Because I just want to remember the production I saw tonight, at the Staatsoper in the Schiller Theater, Berlin. I can’t imagine it being better done in the future.

I know Don Giovanni has been cited as the perfect opera, but for 21st century audiences there are a lot of theatrical conventions in its make-up which make it interesting as a period piece, but hardly viable as a modern ‘comic drama’. Well, I reckon tonight’s production came very near to achieving that unlikely transformation, from classic to tragi-comedy for our times, without in any way damaging the fabric of the opera, dramatic or musical. Casting director, director and designer have worked together wonderfully to give us a Don Giovanni for today, which is still the Don Giovanni of always.

I am the first to complain when operas are staged out of period, out of style, and not in accordance with the librettist’s instructions. But tonight I’m going to contradict myself largely. The whole action of the night takes place on one revolving forest set – and these characters are, as we know, thoroughly ‘into the woods’. All the wretched shuffling from one box set to another is done away with, and the Dons and Donnas romp in the grass and bushes in a most believable way, making absolute sense of their episodic story and their multiple exits and entrances and ensembles. Very little is forced to make it fit, and the ultimate climax with the ghostly, stalking Commendatore was stunning.
One more ‘thank you’ to director, Claus Guth. Unlike opera directors in far-too-general, everything he made his characters do had a reason, a sense to it. The piece had been thought through. O! how rare.

But I mentioned the casting director first, and rightly so. I was one of those once, and I know how difficult it is to perfectly or even adequately cast every role in a show. This one was much nearer to perfect than adequate. Everybody could act effortlessly, everybody looked right, moved right and of course sang stunningly.



Christopher Maltman seems made to play and sing the Don. Suave, sexy, the very essence of a serial man-who-can’t help-himself when a woman is of layable age. His charisma flowed over the footlights, along with his beautiful big baritone, and he looked quite delicious in pain: for this Don is slowly dying from Act I, winged by the wounded Commendatore. I know! It’s not da Ponte, but it works marvellously.

If the Don is the hub of the show, he shares – or should -- that place with Leporello. It would take this Don to share anything with the Leporello of Erwin Schrott. This was an anthology performance. His acting is so natural you almost don’t expect him to sing. But boy! can he sing. Rich, fluid, crisp tones … no silly old-fashioned buffo he, but a real singing comic actor. And the relationship built up between Leporello and the Don becomes here totally explicable, natural and even touching. Alain Delon being mothered by Robert Lindsay. Dazzling.



It often depends on which of the three ladies is the strongest performer as to which of them seems central to the opera’s action. In the old days, stars liked to play Zerlina and Elvira was given to a comprimaria. Not tonight. Tonight it was a joyous triple dead-heat. How to choose between the Sloane Ranger Anna (Maria Bengtsson) with her delicate ‘Non mi dir’ and her cigarette, the naughty country Zerlina (Anna Prohaska), hot out of puberty, who made old ‘La ci darem’ into a piece of sweetly sung sexual temptation, and poor, funny but longing Elvira (Dorothea Röschmann) whose ‘Mi tradi’ roused the audience to as much applause as her foolishnesses did laughter. And, oh joy!; all three ladies slim and sexy – ripe meat for Giovanni – and without any shadow of ‘I am a prima donna’ about their performances. Elvira (I always have a soft spot for Elvira) actually SKIPPED on for her curtain call with Leporello.



Even the less grateful roles were given fine performances. Stefan Kocan made Masetto into a believable ‘bloke’ with a rich, unforced basso; Alexander Tsymbaluk lent his powerful voice and presence to the final chilling, deathly scene, and … well, I don’t suppose anyone will ever make Don Ottavio much more than a singing cipher, but Giuseppe Filianote had a good go, making him a geeky fellow who has got himself a blonde soprano for a fiancée, and can’t really cope. He came a little to grief in ‘Dalla sua pace’, which showed up once more (to me) tonight as a non-essential. I would rather have that cut than the final ensemble (which we didn’t get). Actually, I could do without Ottavio altogether, but then we couldn’t have ‘Non mi dir’.

Daniel Barenboim’s orchestra were wonderfully unobtrusive (that is a compliment) and supportive, the chorus did their little bit in similar manner, and a good time was had by all. Especially by me.

Well, I suppose I owe it to factual reporting to state that a clique greeted the director and designer with boos at their curtain call (this is, after all, Berlin), but I reckon we who were cheering defeated them. If anyone can boo the Staatsoper’s Don Giovanni of 2012, they should give up going to the opera house, and just stay home and listen to records.

It was my favourite night at the opera in a long time.'

And so it was.

Navigating in the wrong direction ... or an evening with Little Red Riding Hood

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Tonight, we went back to Radialsystem V. I know, never try to repeat a good trick. But it’s a great fun venue, and I reasoned that even if this week’s concert was only half as good as the Mahler Chamber Orchestra/Sacha Waltz evening, it would still be a splendid night out.
And that’s what it was. Exactly half as good. I will explain.

The evening was advertised as Rossini’s Petite Messe Solennelle. Lovely! I know the piece well from having sung the solo bass part at Strawberry Hill in 1968 or 9, and I hadn’t heard it since. Performed by Nico and the Navigators. Curious name, what could it mean? They were going to sing the music properly, weren’t they?

I needn’t have worried on that score. The evening was a musical joy. That was the half that was good. A little group of fresh young voices, and four splendid soloists .. how enjoyable to hear Rossini’s beautiful music sung this way, instead of by a ponderous and glutinous choir and pretentious vocalists. The mezzo-soprano (Ulrike Mayer) with her ‘Agnus Dei’ and of course ‘my’ basso ‘Quoniam’ (Pauls Putnins), plus all the ensemble bits, plus … well, I just enjoyed all of the music. And the way in which it was played and sung.



What I did not enjoy was the physical production. The staging, for want of a better word. The cast, dressed like leftovers from a 1970s production of Godspell, were directed in the same old-fashioned way as that piece. Lots of non-stop fidgeting and twitching, meaningless posing and tricks, chunks of foolish indistinct mono- and dialogue (much in English) with no relation that I could fathom to either the music or the liturgical text, and several ‘characters’ that by halftime (except there was no interval .. 2 hours!) I could cheerfully have strangled. An incidental little red-riding-hood lady who did 1970s choreography relentlessly against the music would be my first to the gallows, followed closely by the lady in the picture hat (why?) and the man in green who took his shirt off (why?). But I suppose they were only doing what they had been directed to. ‘Nico’ has to take the blame for the ‘konzept und regie’. The half that was not good.



I could go on at length, but it would just be to say more of the same. Grand music, beautifully sung, in a meaningless, gimmicky, fussy staging. Why?
Well, Paul came up with the only possible answer. How otherwise to get 21st century folk to come and hear a Rossini Mass? I am obviously in a minority, but hey! I found a way round it. When it got too much … I just shut my eyes and listened. Great!

They’re doing Bach next week. I’d pencilled it in. But much as I’d like to hear these talented young singers again, I couldn’t stand another dose of Red-Riding-Hood and Benedict, so I’ll be skipping it. And now, I have to put my Mozart hat on. Don Giovanni tonight … lets hope there’s no Godspell there!

Flying so high with some guy in the sky ...

Coffee, strawberries and grapes in the sunshine on a terrace at the Alexanderplatz with Olli and our friend Jens. On the ground? Oh no. At Jens’s apartment. On the umpteenth and top floor of a mammoth ex-East German posh-folks block of flats …

You step on to the lofty balcony – ignoring the waves of vertigo, and the impulsion to jump -- and look out over the rooftops of the crazy mixture that was East Berlin … the beautiful brick Rathaus and church, and the flat and uninspired 20th century buildings. Oh well, the way they’re built, they’ll probably fall down soon.




And right in front of us, so close you feel your could spit on it, East Berlin’s folly. Try standing on a top floor terrace, 50 centimetres from the edge, and looking uuuuup to the top of this monster! I had to sit on the floor to take this picture.



It is certainly a sensational view. But only for people who are up to strong sensations! Hehe. OK, Jens …

Whirlin' in Berlin ...!

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It’s Monday again … and I haven’t blogged for over a week. Not because there’s been nothing to tell, but because I’ve been too busy doing (and recovering) to write about it! I just slam a nice picture and two lines on facebook …

But now it’s Monday, and a day of ‘rest’. So I’ve prepared my article about Welsh singer Eos Morlais (1841-1892), I’ve answered all my testamentary letters, I’ve made myself cream-scrambled eggs (why not!) with German bacon, I’ve been shopping at Kaiser’s … and I haven’t had a single visitor or rendez-vous! Why? Because Kevin is in LA, the Pauls are in (1) Ireland and (2) Bad something-or-other, the Thomases are (1) on his Hochzeitreise and (2) in New York. Der Olli had an-all night work session last night, Hannes only left here at nightfall …

So, before the action starts again tomorrow, it time to chronicle … in pictures, I think, rather than too many words, what I’ve been up to!



We left me, last Sunday, writing up that radiant night at Radialsystem V, and going to an early bed. For, Monday, I had two dates. My friend Frank, who is stage manager at the Deutsche Oper, came by for a Nollendorfstrasse picnic, and in the evening Paul GB and I went to the Opera House to hear the brass and wind players of the orchestra playing a ‘Big Band’ concert. Well, I guess my Big Bands have always been American or British. This one was different. Relentlessly loud. No style. The guys and their comical conductor were obviously having a good time, but I wasn’t. Then the singer came on. Paul Kuhn is very elderly, and is apparently ‘a legend’ in Germany. Sorry, I’ve no time for that sort of thing. If an artist can’t do it anymore why should I pay good money to be disgusted by him. The most obvious American songs sung with iffy pitch and no quality …
It is many, many years since I left a concert at half time. This was the night. Instead, into the Deutsche Oper restaurant for far too much of their good red wine and a delightful light supper of (oh gosh, what was it) …



The next day I was mildly dull, to say the least, but my friend Anna was coming for lunch so I hauled myself from my bed and … she couldn’t find the flat! And I don’t have a phone .. So (hallelujh!) our date was rescheduled for the next day and I went back to bed. And the next day we had a nice little lunch and a big chat at the Café Berio ..

Rendez-vous the next day with Olli and Hannes, and Friday … back to the Deutsche Oper. But not for a show. Frank was going to give me a tour of the backstage. Now, I’ve seen loads of backstages in my life and career, I practically lived in them for a decade, but this one was a Big Boy. Rehearsal rooms, dressing rooms, scenery stores, rooms for costumes, wigs, hats …even shoes … Up into the flies … down to the machinery under the stage, on to the stage where Tosca was shoved to one side to make space for the night’s Roméo et Juliette ballet ... so many stairs for wobbly me, but I was really interested, so I did it.





Home for a quick snooze, because at 6.30 I had another date. My best cavalier, Olli, picked me up and we headed right back to Deutsche Oper! Well, its only 4 stops on the U-Bahn. And again, not for a show. Paul GB and Uwe live just a hundred metres from the theatre, and they were making us dinner. The price for dinner was my now well-known photographic skills. Chuckle. They needed a duo portrait for a magazine. So my friendly Fuji was riding shot gun.





Delicious couscous dinner, gallons of wine, endless (very) good cheer and comradeship, and my photos weren’t at all wobbly! But I was glad to have my cavalier at 1.30am!

And again the next day! For Saturday was the ‘key’ to the season and the first fixed point I made when planning the points in my summer. April 16th was the wedding day of my dear ‘joli Tom’, composer Thomas Zaufke, and his longtime partner, Pablo. 110 people for a sit-down dinner, endless jollity and .. yes, endless wine! .. The whole evening was beautifully laid out … three cheers for Wedding-Planner, Helga! ... and the La Luz restaurant a wonderful venue for a party. And we were all sorts of a mixture! Family (I fell in love with Pablo’s beautiful mother!), neighbours, work colleagues, friends … and everyone had to be photographed with the happy couple ..
Fuji did his thing and … well, never has a photo of mine received so many facebook ‘Likes’!







After 4 hours and something, I left Olli and Hannes to it, and the happy couple to what was obviously going to be a very late night, and taxi-ed home to my cosy flat. Well, one has to behave like a 66-year-old occasionally!



And it wasn’t over yet. The next day was the occasion of the famous Motzstrasse Street Party. The Motzstrasse, I must add is adjacent to the Nollendorfstrasse. What is this Street Party? It is a very large, very well-known Gay Event. Last time I was here, I shut myself in the flat for the day and night, at the thought of several thousand gays en masse, but this time .. the sun was out, Hannes – a perfect cicerone for such an occasion as he seems to know the whole of gay Berlin! – was coming by, so out I went. With my walking stick. Because the crowds were enormous. You could do little more than shuffle amid the mass of humanity between the rows of booths and stalls. We had a beer and a good pizza and watched the world go by, and I was struck by several facts (1) where were the teenagers? the endless couples and groups of mostly men were largely 30 plus, and (2) where was the outrageous and merry fetish stuff the area is/was known for? and (3) where were the smiles! This was supposed to be fun! It reminded me of Sitges, full of holidaying American gays having a horrible time.
Well, I found my hero. A little bit of leather, a terrific smile and busily cheffing on the Fetish (not very!) stall. My friend, you were the star of the Party!



A couple of hours and I was able to wander the few hundred metres home … and by the time Hannes and his pal came by to say goodnight I was already in my djellaba .. the most madly social week of my recent years was ended ..

And I have had a day of rest! I’ll need it, because the out-of-towners start coming back Wednesday, and tomorrow I have a date … yes, there are still some pals I haven’t caught up with! And, heavens its 9.30 pm, boiling hot, daytime light … yes, the 21 June is near! Time for a glass of Sprudelwasser Gerolstein … and then, maybe, a curl up under (or on top of) my red and white check duvet …

A light and bright lunch in the Nürnbergstrasse

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I ate so much while I was in Jersey. And so well. Barely a glitch. And I was intending to pull my belt in during my months ‘at home’ in Berlin. More home-compiled meals, less restaurants. Well, why not? My flat has a nice wee kitchen, Kaiser’s first-class supermarket is 100 metres away, on the Nollendorfplatz, the Saturday and Wednesday market at the Winterfeldplatz, full of enticing cheese, charcuterie and other goodies is 100 metres in the other direction. My ‘picnics’ at no 32 (with or without alcohol, depending on the hour!) are thus quite famous.

And then, of course, there was the fact that, last time round, I didn’t find an equivalent of Jersey’s Dockyard here. In fact, I only found one local restaurant that I liked, for a light lunch or an early supper. That, of course, was Sissi’s on the Motzstrasse, and Kevin and I repaired there on Day One of this season. I had a tasty broth with Leberknodel, followed – silly me! – by Sud-Tirolischer knödeln with spinach and cheese. They were delicious, but oh! in spite of not having eaten for 36 hours, by the time I’d finished I was noodled out and could only go home to snooze! NOT the menu for a Gänzl light lunch! So I resigned myself, not unwillingly, to picnicking chez-moi for the future.

Perhaps, I thought, the cuisine here isn’t my scene. And anyway, amazingly, Sissi – like many restaurants here – doesn’t take credit cards! And if I take cash from an ATM, I get charged some horrendous percentage… so, home cooking!



And then my friend Horst called, and said ‘let’s do lunch’. So we did. I met him outside the attractive state-of-the-art-deco Ellington Hotel and we adjourned to the open courtyard behind the very striking main dining room … the city towering up above us, the sun pouring down … nice! And very umm expensive looking.

Surprise! They have a set menu luncheon at 15 euros. Choice of soup or veggie salad antipasto, followed by schnapper or tafelspitz or pasta, plus a bottle of sparkling water and a coffee … 15 euros! And, surprise again, it was jolly good and it was liiiiiiiight.
I had a lovely rigatoni – not drowned in any sauce ... infiltrated by slices of fresh asparagus (it’s the Spargel season!) .. and Horst went for a good, straightforward tafelspitz … They were all that you would wish for. And the little veggie antipasto, in spite of being well-rocketed was a well-judged starter.





So we sunned, and we chatted, and it was all most agreeable. I’d recommend the Ellington’s set lunch to anyone. Especially if they have the good company of a Horst!

Radialsystem Go! A night of magical musical-chairs with the Mahler Chamber Orchestra

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An absolute priority when I arrive in Berlin each year is a date with my musical mentor, Paul (otherwise the one and only ‘Montmorensy’). Out come the concert schedules, and we get down to planning my education and entertainment for the season. The Konzerthaus, the Philharmonie …
This year, to my distress, we couldn’t find a starter. I’m funny: as with operas, or musicals, or plays, I don’t really care to go to a piece I’ve seen before (no matter who the artists), I want to hear something that’s new to me. And the main houses seemed to be hosting an awful lot of ‘Bach, Beethoven and Brahms’. Or Berio. I prefer Boieldieu.
So we decided to look outside the square, and we found an orchestra – the Mahler Chamber Orchestra – playing what looked like a fun programme at Radialsystem V, a converted warehouse space. On-line booking … done! And, while the rest of the country was occupying itself watching Germany vs Portugal (football, you know) we set off for Friedrichshain.
I little suspected what was in store for me.
What was? Why, probably the most gloriously entertaining – no, just say plain ‘best’ – night I have ever spent at an instrumental (no singing!) concert in my life.

Firstly, the concept. Someone had had the marvellous idea of utilising the whole spaces of the building for the entertainment. The main hall (600 seats), two smaller upstairs venues, and the terrace overlooking the River Spree. We started, after a Dukas fanfare on the riverside, with the whole orchestra playing Schostakovich in the Hall, whilst upstairs hosted a Malcolm Arnold brass quintet. Then the band split up, and while some of the strings played quartets elsewhere, we had a bevy of fascinating pieces in the main auditorium…






But let’s be chronological. With the me-detail that all the pieces except a dash of Mozart were – as hoped -- new to me.
We opened with Schostakovich’s cello concerto No.1, with the young American Alisa Wellerstein as soloist. What a stunner! I whispered to Paul: they OPEN with this? I won’t be able to listen to the classic concerti for ages. This vibrant, exciting piece of music swept me off my feet, from its aggressively hacking, chopping early phrases to the wonderful extended solo cadenza that opens the 3rd movement. And it was played stunningly. I thought I had seen the ultimate in physical cello playing when I saw Guy Johnson’s Gorecki in Jersey last month. But this was something else. Miss Wellerstein must have her bow re-haired every time she plays it. The overflowing audience went wild, and eventually she had to pacify us with a bit o’ Bach before we would let her go.




Next up was the Mozart. He seemed a bit out of his fach among all the S composers. Why? I thought. I was to find out. The trio divertissement introduced the Sasha Waltz dance troupe doing a pretty routine to the pretty music. You always end up with your eye on one performer: I liked the tall elegant lady in the hideous black Mother Hubbard. And caught myself thinking ‘modern dance has whole lot of classic poses in it. Where would they be without the arabesque?’
The troupe followed up with a ‘structured improvisation’ to music by Schnittke. My brother insisted just last month that I get to know Schnittke. The piece was entitled ‘Moz-art à la Haydn’. And now we saw why it had been preceded by the ‘normal’ Mozart. This was a (seemingly) anarchic ‘joke’, full of musical jokes and choreographic jokes, and wonderfully funny and entertaining it was too, in all its parts.
Ignoring the rule about ‘children and animals’ the troupe of 7 strongly featured a talented little boy who quickly became the audience pet, but for me the star of this essentially ensemble piece was the conductor, Pablo Heras-Casado. He started the piece front-centre … well, the orchestra was in the aisles! ... and the action swirled around him, until, in the twist that absolutely made the item, he became involved in the dance ... followed by his whole agile band. What movements the choreographer had given the thankfully young players to do, while playing the closing part of their music! It was superb. It was a whole performance entity, full of joyous fun and surprises. And I loved, loved, loved it. ‘But Kurt’ I can hear a little voice from my past saying, ‘you don’t like modern dance’. Yeah? Well, I do now! A heap!



The packed house dispersed to the friendly bar, the riverside terrace, and the other rooms (Miss Wellerstein was playing again on the 3rd floor), but we decided to stay in the Hall a bit longer in spite of a 15 minute interval. Interval? Oh no. You see, this being football night, some imaginative person had got up a game. We each had a ‘football card’ with stickers of the orchestral players to collect. Well! To see teenage girls and elderly gentlemen eagerly swapping a timpanist for a flute … we, of course, joined in enthusiastically and I am happy to say we got our missing British trombonist before the end of the evening, and received our prize: a CD of the orchestra playing … Brahms!

Things got under way with three little pieces for solo clarinet, before we hit the next feature of the evening: a brass and wind octet by Stravinsky. More fun! Especially the first half. The music gets a bit wandery and unfocused later on, but watching and listening to the players (favourite: Chiara Tonelli on flute) tossing off their bits of fioratura, was a delightful contrast to the two big hits of the earlier programme.

We retired for a welcome drink on the terrace and looked at our upcoming options. John Adams upstairs and … oh! goodness a whole Schostakovich symphony down. And we’d been here three hours already. Well, Mr Adams was full, so we decided to call it a day. ‘Oh but its not finished’ said the orchestra’s official as we left. I told her we were going straight home to book for the next Radialsystem show. But, alas, it wont be the MCO. They’re off to delight other corners of the world …

After having wonderfully delighted me (the Victorian scholar!) and Paul (the professional musician) and I’ll bet every one of those 600 plus punters who crammed the house.

PS Next visit to Friedrichshain 23rd June to hear the Rossini ‘Petite Messe Solennelle’ in which I made the greatest success of my singing career … in 1968. From the pictures, it will be rather different! Hurrah!

PPS I’ve got a duplicate oboeist if anyone wants to swap. I’d like a spare of that conductor, please.

PPPS I wonder what that little boy will grow up as.

PPPPS Happiness ☺

Photos by Holger Talinski.