Die tote Stadt remains a relative rarity in English-speaking countries, so the Boston Symphony Orchestra’s concert staging drew listeners from around the East Coast to Symphony Hall. Andris Nelsons and company rewarded those who braved the frigid winter temperatures with a smoldering performance that unlocked this opera’s particular blend of melodrama, romance and psychosexual terror. Despite a general lack of familiarity with the music of Erich Wolfgang Korngold, the BSO – working in collaboration with Boston Lyric Opera – offered a staging that made maximal impact with minimal production effort, thanks in part to strong musical virtues and committed acting from the principal cast.
Much of the success rested on the shoulders of David Butt Philip, who heroically stepped into the leading role of Paul last week, when the originally scheduled Brandon Jovanovich bowed out. Although his reliance on the score suggested only recent mastery of the material, Butt Philip crafted a fully realized interpretation of this complicated character, using simple gestures to communicate his anguished countenance while sailing with ease through the music’s punishing tessitura. He never flagged, even in the long Act 3 that finds Paul indulging in an inner monologue that could rival Tristan’s. Many tenors have stamina to spare, yet Butt Philip coupled his with a beauty of tone that engendered deep sympathy for his character – a widower caught in the thrall of his dead wife, who might otherwise seem emotionally stunted.
Butt Philip found an ideal partner in Christine Goerke, making her role debut as the ethereal Marietta. The soprano, now long a veteran of Wagner and Strauss, easily floated the long lines of “Glück, das mir verblieb”, yet her fearless performance revealed the heft of the role’s vocal requirements that often goes unnoticed. She sang with unflagging beauty and passion in Acts 2 and 3, in the moments where Marietta toys with Paul’s passion. She also offered gentle beauty in her duties as Doppelgӓnger for Paul’s late wife, Marie, near the end of Act 1, suggesting the passions that still remain for him in the corporeal world, should he be able to bypass his grief. It seems unlikely that Goerke would essay this role in a fully staged production, so it feels especially valuable to have her operating at such a high level here.
Elliot Madore cut a dashing figure as the rakish Frank, although his interpretation of the famous Tanzlied lacked somewhat in a variety of vocal colorings. Karen Cargill brought a zesty and vibrant personality to Brigitta, Paul’s upright housekeeper; dressed in a black-and-white caftan, she looked as if she’d stepped out of an Expressionist painting. Elisa Sunshine, Amber Monroe, Joshua Sanders and Neal Ferreira made positive impressions as members of Marietta’s theater troupe, and Terrence Chin-Loy was bright and airy as the flirtatious Graf Albert. Although choral responsibilities are light in this opera, the blended members of the Tanglewood Festival Chorus and Boston Lyric Opera Chorus dispatched them solidly, and the Boys of the St Paul’s Choir School made the Easter processional in Act 3 one to remember.
Nelsons balanced dynamics splendidly throughout the performance. The BSO usually sounds most effective at forte, and weighty climaxes regularly grabbed the listener’s attention throughout the evening – especially in the revelatory conclusion of Act 2, where Paul ultimately realizes his inability to resist Marietta's temptation. Yet Nelsons also tempered the massive waves of sound with isolated moments of beauty, with ravishing solos for Concertmaster Nathan Cole and principal cellist Blaise Déjardin, as well as recently installed Principal Flute Lorna McGhee.
Even with minimal staging and no director credited, Die tote Stadt packed a dramatic punch. One couldn’t miss Nelsons dabbing tears from his eyes at the concert’s conclusion, and he was certainly not alone in that respect. (My row alone should have bought stock in Kleenex.) When you encounter a performance as persuasive as this one, you have to wonder why Korngold’s mature output still resides in the shadows of the standard repertoire. The Dead City deserves its moment to live.
