It's something of a Straussfest the Metropolitan Opera has going these days. Or, more precisely, a Richard Strauss-Hugo von Hofmannsthal fest, as last season's inaugural "The Metropolitan Opera Presents" telecast featured the two's first operatic collaboration, "Elektra," and this season's spotlights their last.
That is "Arabella," to air Wednesday, Nov. 1, at 7 p.m. on KUED (Ch. 7). And the rationale being given is that it marks not one but two milestones: the Texaco-sponsored telecast's 20th season and the 40th anniversary of the opera's first performances at the Met in 1955.But no one needs to justify "Arabella."
Premiered in 1933 in Dresden, the work was dismissed by some as yet another attempt on Strauss and Hofmannthal's part to duplicate the magic of "Der Rosenkavalier," their most successful collaboration up to that time. Nor were those criticisms unfounded. Each is set in Vienna (though here the action takes place not in the 18th but the 19th century); each deals with a father's efforts to marry off his daughter; each features a notable female "trouser role" (here Arabella's younger sister, Zdenka, who is forced to dress as a boy); each presents us with a country squire embroiled in a mixup of letters and assignations; and, most importantly, each features as the main character (though "Rosenkavalier" did not start out this way) a woman of wit, warmth and introspection who is in the midst of an important romantic transition.
The parallels with the Marschallin are obvious.
Nonetheless the fact remains that, a few creative detours notwithstanding (including an attempt to evoke the party atmosphere of "Fledermaus"), to a great extent the two collaborators ended up achieving what they had set out to at the beginning, namely create something that had "a real breath of `Rosenkavalier' in it." And that despite Hofmannsthal's having died before he could put the final polish on the libretto.
That is probably what accounts for some of the more ungainly aspects of Acts 2 and 3. But it may also have helped Strauss recapture the aura of the earlier work, as a partial homage to his colleague.
Certainly Arabella's arias and duets with her sister breathe the air of "Rosenkavalier," with their soaring lyricism and exquisite orchestral backing (though here the emphasis tends to be less on the winds than the strings).
Nor is the Met telecast hurt by the presence of soprano Kiri Te Kanawa, who seems even better suited to this role than to the Marschallin or the Countess of "Capriccio," Strauss' other major work in this vein. Indeed she now strikes me as the reigning Arabella of the day, much as Lisa Della Casa was for an earlier generation.
Witness the ravishing expressivity, vocal and physical, that she brings to Act 1, where she quite outshines the Zdenka of Marie McLaughlin - something not always true in productions of this opera. Or her radiant pledge of love for Mandryka at the opera's close, as she offers him the glass of water that signals the end of her girlhood and the beginning of their life together.
Here baritone Wolfgang Brendel enjoys his finest moments also. Otherwise, for all his earnestness, he makes a surprisingly ineffectual Mandryka, especially when compared to the impassioned Bernd Weikl on the only other video representation of this opera I know, on London with Janowitz and Solti.
That recording also has the advantage of Sona Ghazarian's Zdenka, in some ways even more rapturous than Janowitz's somewhat bland Arabella. McLaughlin, by contrast, is more downbeat vocally and dramatically - even displaying an occasional spitefulness - which may not be as rewarding musically but at least provides a sharper differentiation of character.
As the object of her affections, tenor David Kuebler presents us with a well-intentioned but frequently wild-eyed Matteo. Donald McIntyre and Helga Dernesch make for a characterful Count and Countess (the latter displaying some of the vocal splendor that once made her a memorable Marschallin). And French soprano Natalie Dessay lends a seductive spin to Fiakermilli's sometimes ungrateful coloratura.
The staging of Otto Schenk, who also did the honors on that 1977 Unitel film, is even more evocative here, aided by the opulent 19th century sets of Guenther Schneider-Siemssen. Similarly conductor Christian Thielemann takes a generally more expansive view of the score than Solti (who likewise presided over the first audio-only recording back in the mid-'50s). At the same time, however, he manages to convey more of its distinctively Straussian quality. (With Solti, the bustling third-act prelude sounds more like Wagner.)
If that is what appeals to you, this opera has it more abundantly than some of the composer's other projects from the same decade. And you will probably never see or hear it more lavishly presented than it is here. Because for all the ups and downs in their output, not to mention their personal relationship, in this one Strauss and Hofmannsthal went out with a glow.