German Opera Sinks to New Low: Opera Striptease

“That´s a bit more information than I needed,” Uma Thurman says to John Travolta in Tarantino’s cult and classic film “Pulp Fiction.” Ms. Thurman is suggesting that the fine line of discretion that separates one’s own private sphere from one’s neighbor has been crossed. Few have described this transgression more memorably.

To give the master of discretion transgression, Spanish director Calixto Bieito, a “decent” welcome for his debut in Munich, the Bavarian State Opera (BSO) recently came up with something special: The poster for the new production of Beethoven´s “Fidelio” shows a naked, bald headed man with a striking similarity to director Bieito.

In the illustration he is pulling on one of two dead harlequins hanging down like marionettes.

Then, in an allusion to the director’s scandalous reputation (as Bieito is notorious for his penchant for naked skin on stage) the image features his manhood, neither concealed, nor rendered with classical tactfulness. Rather it is boldly drawn, in overly large, naughty detail.

What is the message here? Naked Bieto is performing as the puppeteer of Munich´s new “Fidelio” and has killed it?

That seems the only fitting interpretation for there is no connection between this poster and Beethoven´s “Fidelio.” The story is about selfless bravery and marital love—which no one could guess from the illustration.

The poster excels in just one aspect: It titillates the viewer to grab their attention and stroke their baser impulses.

The illustration is still featured prominently on BSO’s Facebook blog. It was put up not only in Maximilian Street around the opera house, but in almost every underground train station of the city. There the little and adult children of the planet could see it and have it seep into their brains.

The sensibility that something might be not right here, that delicate line of discretion transgressed, has been rubbed away once again.

Made Possible by “Artistic Freedom”

Absolutely no other kind of product could be advertised with a campaign like this. As far as I know, only one German brand, one for for preservatives, relies on male genitalia as a logo and it is stylized. Not even Chippendale—who still know the value of fig leaves—would dare.

But the Bavarian State Opera can do it: It´s art, baby!

So why has no one expressed their outrage? The border between good taste and bad has been worn so thin that we rarely feel ashamed for others; this noble kind of empathy has turned into resignation.

The fact that opera is a highly demanding art form and that it often has been the last stronghold to protect all that is heroic means that good taste has survived there relatively longer than in other arts.

But these days are sadly gone, at least in Germany, as a view back into the last weeks of 2010 reveals.

Three Stripteases in Four Weeks

In November and December 2010, I watched three new productions, where solo singers had to perform their arias while they disrobed or got dressed. These occurred in different theaters, by the way, and were always justified by dramaturgy, somehow.

 

On Nov. 28 in “The White Horse Inn” at Komische Oper Berlin, director Sebastian Baumgarten had waiter Leopold (who just got fired from his job) take off his tuxedo, shirt, and trousers and change into an everyday suit. The singer Max Hopp stood there in his briefs and ironically had to sing the song which is literally translated: “I can´t look at it.”

On Dec. 10 in Stravinsky’s “The Rakes Progress” staged at the Berlin Staatsoper im Schillertheater under the direction of Krzysztof Warlikowski, soprano Anna Prohaska had to perform as Anne Trulove in a bra and hotpants. While singing the sophisticated aria “I go, I go to him,” we see her push a bunch of underwear and clothes into a sports bag. Then she puts on drainpipe jeans and a glittery blouse. Finally, she touches up her make up and is ready to go!

The Austrian star did a superior and aesthetically beautiful job, but the aria is talking about inner beauty. Even worse, the press photo of this scene became a media favorite.

On Dec. 21 at the Bayerische Staatsoper in Munich, the aforementioned Calixto Bieito who directed “Fidelio” could not refrain from having his performers show skin. During the duet “Oh namenlose Freude” (“Oh Joy without name”) between Leonore and her husband Florestan—whom she rescued minutes ago—have to change from top to toe during the scene. The director’s excuse: This duet marks the happy conclusion of the the drama and shows their return to normal life.

But what about the singers? Consider that the duet itself is sure to make singers sweat. Beethoven’s rushed tempo, concise rhythms, jumps in range and, last but not least, some tongue-twisting German text has to be synchronized with the orchestra.

Its world-class stars Jonas Kaufmann (popular with Met audiences since his sensational debut in 2006) and Anja Kampe stood up there, and they pulled it off—somehow.

And what about the audience? After the pair are fully dressed again, he in a gray suit, she in a blue dress, I could not help thinking the scene was completely silly and distracted from singing.

Honestly, the duet didn’t unfold as intimately as it should, but how could it under these circumstances? Bieito’s “Fidelio“ was a horror for the singers and at war against the music.

Some argue that modern opera directing changes the work only visually—not its musical quality, but this scene surely proves those in favor of directorial license wrong.

Why Bother Anymore?

But why should we get worked up about this? The history of nudity on stage reaches back into the ages like theater itself. In 1972, almost 40 years ago, Götz Friedrich directed Bayreuth’s “Tannhäuser” with Gwyneth Jones as an almost topless Venus on stage. Sybil Sanderson, at the world premiere of Massenet’s “Thaïs,” allowed herself a “defect of wardrobe,” and that was in 1894, according to the Met program notes in 2008.

But who today is protecting the matadors of opera from having their private sphere (and private parts) totally exposed?

 

“I´m an artist, no gladiator,” Rolando Villazón said as he apologized for his enduring vocal crisis in 2010. His statement reveals how much the voice is connected to the singer’s inner self. Operatic singing is already an emotional striptease, as it communicates passions and extreme situations only few of us ever have to undergo.

Isn’t what singers already give us enough? Their profession requires fortitude, a brave heart, as the dedication demanded daily is tremendous. The fruit of their hard work is, ideally, food for the soul not our baser appetites.

Opera Lovers Should Revolt!

Where TV viewers just can switch off a program, opera audiences enjoy the privilege of witnessing artistic disasters personally. What a welcome chance to protest!

Wouldn’t it be an significant gesture for the audience to stand up to protect their stars? They could shout out ‘Poor Anja!’ or ’Poor Jonas!’ and ‘You are not alone!’

Disturbing art in this case would be an act of emancipation—an emancipation from wrongs against discretion, and taking back the strength of the consumer, no longer passive. It would consequently make clear that audiences do not have easy entertainment in mind—that they demand quality and mutual respect.

So please don´t keep silent the next time a Jonas Kaufmann (or one of his colleagues) encounters you in Adam´s costume. There should be a resolute resistance when accomplishments of human civilization like the one in our example are stripped down and actors are debased.

The advocates of the director’s theater love to pretend that only by avant-garde means can opera survive and stay relevant. But shall we that pay their livings with the tickets we buy and the funds our taxes support be taken in by them forever?

Opera is alive and well without them. Opera-lovers get your whistles! Stand up for your art!