In the final festival week, Creative Scotland’s axe has struck the arts. Richard Strauss' final opera Capriccio, an unbroken two and a quarter hour conversation piece about the relative value of music, words and theatre, suddenly seemed an apt work to close the 2024 Edinburgh International Festival. A tribute to the late Sir Andrew Davies, who was originally due to conduct, this show marked the end of Philharmonia’s successful four-concert residency with a performance whose passionate ending that had the Usher Hall audience reaching for superlatives.
First performed in Munich in 1942 when Strauss was out of favour with the authorities, even so, the premiere was under the patronage of Reichsminister Joseph Goebbels. In 1941 there had been a heated discussion about the relative merits of light and serious music advancing the Nationalist cause, Strauss publicly humiliated for supporting the latter. Whatever the deeper intentions, Capriccio is a text-heavy but light-hearted ensemble piece with the genesis of the libretto from Stefan Zweig, finalised by Clemens Krauss who conducted the premiere.
The plot is a love triangle between the widowed Countess Madeleine, Flamand, a composer, and Olivier, a poet. La Roche, a stage director with ridiculous aspirations, and Madeleine’s opera-sceptic brother have their own strong opinions on art, as does the actress Clairon. It is a work about creating an opera about opera... the one we have been watching. Passions rage, fun is poked at an art form where surely no-one understands the words, the loud orchestra swamps singers and the recitatives are dull. Olivier’s sonnet is read and Flamand whisks it away and sets it to music so it is much better, of course. In the end, the Countess muses on how to decide between Flamand and Olivier. Is it possible to pick between music and words?
Sung in a concert performance, conductor Alexander Soddy drew a passionate detailed performance from the Philharmonia, beginning with the gorgeous string sextet, then shaping the musically swirling twists and turns with accomplished elegance. Balance was perfectly judged with singers and instrumental soloists emerging through the textures. With luminous horn and harp, the Moonlight Music was magical as a prelude to the Countess’ famous final soliloquy.
Malin Byström’s sparkling Countess headed a fine line-up of principals, Stephen Marsh's mellifluous Olivier not quite matching the heft of Sebastian Kohlhepp’s carefree tenor as Flamand. Bo Skovhus was an urbanely lascivious Count, Dame Sarah Connolly a characterful Clairon, resisting the Count’s advances but finally heading off with him to Paris in a coach and four (she had hoped for six). Peter Rose's La Roche dozed through the sextet, coming alive as his basso profundo opened up to a monumental rage as he outlined his extravagant visions for The Birth of Pallas Athena followed by The Fall of Carthage, then losing the plot with an outrageous self-penned epitaph. Light relief came from Rodell Rosel as the prompter, “the most important person in the theatre”, and eight servants who appear, making fun of an opera that includes them. John Irvin and Emma Morwood were the bright pair of Italian singers, Morwood superbly standing in at the last minute. Reinhard Hagen was a straight-faced Major Duomo.
Although thrilling to hear a little performed work, it was disappointing to have singers using scores, especially as some have previously sung these roles onstage. Convention dictates that singers in concert use music, but even the lightest of semi-staging can lift a platform performance. When Byström came off book for the final monologue, it was immediately transformative and direct, pointing up what could have been earlier.
As the Countess, Byström held her own in the ensemble with her sprightly soprano and, after a change of frock, gave a radiant performance of the final monologue, a gorgeous piece, the music looking forward to the Four Last Songs as the Countess – and Strauss – cannot make an impossible choice.
