A Chekhovian ‘Parsifal’ at Glyndebourne

Glyndebourne’s new production of Wagner’s last music drama is the first time I’ve seen Parsifal beaten up by the knights of the Grail. It happens in Act I, after Gurnemanz has taken him to the temple to witness the ceremony of the Grail and the agonies of Amfortas. Perhaps this young innocent is the man they are waiting for, but his apparent lack of understanding eliminates him, the good Gurnemanz throws him out, and the knights clobber him to the ground.

Amfortas’s father Titurel needs his son to continue the ceremony and uncover the sacred relic in order to continue living, while Amfortas would gladly die and cease his agony, which began when the sorcerer Klingsor wounded him with a spear. Only by retrieving the spear and using it to heal the wound can he finally die in peace, and this is the task Parsifal chooses. After he succeeds he will inherit the crown of Amfortas and lead the knights of the Grail. Amfortas failed. He was seduced by Kundry, allowing Klingsor to deal him the ultimately fatal blow.

Gurnemanz is the one steady influence. He begins the opera by unfolding the history to the younger knights, and in this Glyndebourne production he is superbly portrayed by John Relyea, whose authority and dignity carry the story from start to finish. Like any story this has a beginning and end, yet also exists outside time itself. When Gurnemanz takes Parsifal to the land of the Grail and Parsifal says Ich schreite kaum, doch wähn’ ich mich schon weit (“I scarcely step, yet seem to move apace”), Gurnemanz replies Du siehst, mein Sohn, zum Raum wird hier die Zeit (“You see my son, here time turns into space”). It’s a beautiful moment and the opera is full of them, propelled forward, yet expertly restrained, under the baton of Robin Ticciati.

Kundry is beautifully sung by Kristina Stanek, but here she is not the usual wild woman, seeking redemption yet complying with Klingsor’s demand that she seduce Parsifal. Here she is very buttoned up, neat and tidy, reflecting something rather odd about this production by the Dutch director Jetske Mijnssen.

It starts in what looks like 1880s Germany, about the time the opera was written, and the first act suggested a compression of time from the later nineteenth to the mid-twentieth century, but it was not to be. By the end of the opera it was unclear there was any theme to it, and a glance at the programme showed that Ms Mijnssen was treating the whole thing as a family drama, in the manner of Chekhov. Eventually in Chekhov the characters have to carry on with their lives, which is why at the end the stage is full of them, including Klingsor, evidently trying to find a way forward.

This is unilluminating. Yes, Wagner’s Parsifal deals with one individual’s ability to find a way out for a whole community, which in the director’s eye is seen as a single family, but it is also much more than that, dealing with the relationship of mankind to the deeper meaning of life itself. Thrusting it into a Chekhovian box where Klingsor and Amfortas are long lost brothers is no solution. And as for replacing the sacred spear with a short knife — that really doesn’t work on stage.

Klingsor (Ryan Speedo Green, standing), Parsifal (Daniel Johansson) and Kundry (Kristina
Stanek) © Glyndebourne Productions Ltd. Photo: Richard Hubert Smith

Fortunately Ticciati gave us the music as it should be, marshalling the London Philharmonic’s orchestral forces, along with the singers and terrific chorus, to marvellous effect. The Swedish tenor Daniel Johansson made a vocally expressive Parsifal, the Norwegian baritone Audun Iversen exhibited real feeling as the anguished Amfortas, and the wonderfully-named American bass baritone Ryan Speedo Green was a strangely sympathetic Klingsor. As the ancient Titurel, so often a mere disembodied voice, John Tomlinson was magnificent. The audience loved his powerful stage presence, and at the curtain calls he received enormous cheers, a welcome relief to those who later booed the production team. Parsifal is essentially about redemption. Fortunately, the music redeemed everything.

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