Susan Gerstein's Blog - Posts Tagged "martti-talvela"
King Marke Ascending
After I posted my entry on “Tristan und Isolde” on October 27th in which I waxed nostalgic about the ultimate performance of that opera many decades ago and complained about the stage production of the current one, I was reminded of an omission: in the subsequent performances there were not one but two overwhelming, magnificent King Markes appearing in various opera houses, both of them Finnish: Martti Talvela and Matti Salminen.
I said nothing about them because they belong to that other, intermediate period between the legendary ’71 “Tristan” and the current one, which I sort of dismissed as of “varied quality, neither great nor uniformly poor.” During the seasons when the original stage production had been revived at the Met minus Birgit Nilsson and certainly minus any great Tristan, followed by the intermediate production in the late nineties and its several revivals, (as well as ones seen in other parts of the country and abroad), the one constant was a lack of great principals who could join forces and perform on the same high level of intensity. What I do want to describe however, are two of those performances seen during this period that were so out of balance that they literally changed the narrative of the entire opera. In both cases, several years apart, the role of King Marke, wronged husband and disappointed friend, was sung by Martti Talvela and subsequently by Matti Salminen. I forget who the Tristan and the Isolde were; I could research it, but that is not my objective. What I remember acutely are two underpowered lovers who betray the King. When the King arrives at the end of the second act to find his wife and his best friend in flagrante delicto so to speak, his majestic outpouring of grief and disappointment make him not only the tragic center of the tale but diminishes the revealed lovers to that of petulant and irresponsible youngsters. I assure you this is not the intention of the composer or the effect this scene, and the rest of the opera, is supposed to create. Both of the great Finnish bases were physically imposing and towered over the other protagonists, which only enhanced the powerful musical statement. Martti Talvela died tragically early in 1989; Matti Salminen is still singing in Europe, though he had not been back at the Met in many years. And yes, those “Tristans” in which we were fortunate enough to hear them, were memorable simply because they made them memorable, even if lopsided in some way.
But this is a subject that pertains to all opera, not only “Tristan”. We have now grown accustomed to singing actors and the days when large divas or diminutive tenors stood center stage and sang beautifully are gone. So my memory scans some of those older performances, rarer nowadays, when the same imbalances I mentioned concerning the Tristan occurred: the quality of voice or the physical appearance of the singer put an unintended spin on the storyline. I remember an “Aida” where the Aida, the enslaved Ethiopian princess beloved by the hero, was a mediocre soprano who happened to be short, heavy and white while her rival, the reining Egyptian princess rejected by the hero was not only a magnificent mezzo but also a gorgeous black woman. The love triangle became incomprehensible. A “Carmen” with phenomenal Micaela and weak Carmen? A “Gotterdammerung” where the Gutrune overwhelmed the Brunhilda vocally, or the Alberich was a more majestic presence than the Wotan? There are many examples. I am sure that everyone who goes to the opera has some. They are part of why one does go: the eternal quest for the perfect performance. They do happen. I promise.
I said nothing about them because they belong to that other, intermediate period between the legendary ’71 “Tristan” and the current one, which I sort of dismissed as of “varied quality, neither great nor uniformly poor.” During the seasons when the original stage production had been revived at the Met minus Birgit Nilsson and certainly minus any great Tristan, followed by the intermediate production in the late nineties and its several revivals, (as well as ones seen in other parts of the country and abroad), the one constant was a lack of great principals who could join forces and perform on the same high level of intensity. What I do want to describe however, are two of those performances seen during this period that were so out of balance that they literally changed the narrative of the entire opera. In both cases, several years apart, the role of King Marke, wronged husband and disappointed friend, was sung by Martti Talvela and subsequently by Matti Salminen. I forget who the Tristan and the Isolde were; I could research it, but that is not my objective. What I remember acutely are two underpowered lovers who betray the King. When the King arrives at the end of the second act to find his wife and his best friend in flagrante delicto so to speak, his majestic outpouring of grief and disappointment make him not only the tragic center of the tale but diminishes the revealed lovers to that of petulant and irresponsible youngsters. I assure you this is not the intention of the composer or the effect this scene, and the rest of the opera, is supposed to create. Both of the great Finnish bases were physically imposing and towered over the other protagonists, which only enhanced the powerful musical statement. Martti Talvela died tragically early in 1989; Matti Salminen is still singing in Europe, though he had not been back at the Met in many years. And yes, those “Tristans” in which we were fortunate enough to hear them, were memorable simply because they made them memorable, even if lopsided in some way.
But this is a subject that pertains to all opera, not only “Tristan”. We have now grown accustomed to singing actors and the days when large divas or diminutive tenors stood center stage and sang beautifully are gone. So my memory scans some of those older performances, rarer nowadays, when the same imbalances I mentioned concerning the Tristan occurred: the quality of voice or the physical appearance of the singer put an unintended spin on the storyline. I remember an “Aida” where the Aida, the enslaved Ethiopian princess beloved by the hero, was a mediocre soprano who happened to be short, heavy and white while her rival, the reining Egyptian princess rejected by the hero was not only a magnificent mezzo but also a gorgeous black woman. The love triangle became incomprehensible. A “Carmen” with phenomenal Micaela and weak Carmen? A “Gotterdammerung” where the Gutrune overwhelmed the Brunhilda vocally, or the Alberich was a more majestic presence than the Wotan? There are many examples. I am sure that everyone who goes to the opera has some. They are part of why one does go: the eternal quest for the perfect performance. They do happen. I promise.
