P.B. North's Blog
February 26, 2015
Night at the Opera
DER FLIEGENDE HOLLÄNDER
Last night I went to see a live streaming in an Edinburgh cinema of this Wagner opera, described in the programme as 'after Heinrich Heine's Aus den Memoiren des Herren von Schnabelewopski. My only prevous experience of Wagner is lying flat out on my sofa drifting in and out of consciousness as The Ring Cycle ran its merry course to its inescapable finale. On this occasion I was comforted by a generous dose of cabernet sauvignon adminstered at regular intervals.
So imagine my unease when Simon Callow, in his little introduction, announced that this opera was two and a half hours long – with no interval! – exactly as Wagner planned it. There was an audible rustle of mild panic among the sparse but ancient audience, wondering perhaps if their bladders would hold out that long.
In reality, the time flew. Brilliant Bryn Terfel, hammering out the Flying Dutchman with the power of a Welsh prop forward singing Bread of Heaven at the Millenium stadium; with the stunning voice of Adrianne Pieczonka as the tower-of-strength Senta we men all want, to save us from the Devil's curse to sail the seas for ever, coming ashore only once every seven years. So Covent Garden did the Schnabelewopski story proud and I am condemned to wander through the rest of Wagner for another seven years.
PS: Just read in the newspaper that a European Union directive may require me to insure my petrol-driven lawnmower as if it were a road vehicle! Wow! Good to know that our officials in Brussels have taken to heart the safety of drivers on my lawn! Apparently, chaps with motorised buggies on golf courses are included as well. Good thing, of course: lots of wayward driving there.
Last night I went to see a live streaming in an Edinburgh cinema of this Wagner opera, described in the programme as 'after Heinrich Heine's Aus den Memoiren des Herren von Schnabelewopski. My only prevous experience of Wagner is lying flat out on my sofa drifting in and out of consciousness as The Ring Cycle ran its merry course to its inescapable finale. On this occasion I was comforted by a generous dose of cabernet sauvignon adminstered at regular intervals.
So imagine my unease when Simon Callow, in his little introduction, announced that this opera was two and a half hours long – with no interval! – exactly as Wagner planned it. There was an audible rustle of mild panic among the sparse but ancient audience, wondering perhaps if their bladders would hold out that long.
In reality, the time flew. Brilliant Bryn Terfel, hammering out the Flying Dutchman with the power of a Welsh prop forward singing Bread of Heaven at the Millenium stadium; with the stunning voice of Adrianne Pieczonka as the tower-of-strength Senta we men all want, to save us from the Devil's curse to sail the seas for ever, coming ashore only once every seven years. So Covent Garden did the Schnabelewopski story proud and I am condemned to wander through the rest of Wagner for another seven years.
PS: Just read in the newspaper that a European Union directive may require me to insure my petrol-driven lawnmower as if it were a road vehicle! Wow! Good to know that our officials in Brussels have taken to heart the safety of drivers on my lawn! Apparently, chaps with motorised buggies on golf courses are included as well. Good thing, of course: lots of wayward driving there.
