For a solid dose of patriotic music, you can’t do much better than the composer of Má Vlast. Bedřich Smetana’s opera Libuše was written at a time of political ferment, with aspirations growing for the recognition of Bohemia as a separate state. It’s described as a “festival opera”, written in 1871-2 for the anticipated coronation as King of Bohemia of the Austrian emperor Franz Joseph, and the music is replete with pomp and circumstance: big marches, big choruses, big set pieces of Queen Libuše addressing the nation.
The coronation never happened and Smetana didn’t live to see Czech independence. But one wonders what Franz Joseph would have made of it: an unambiguous celebration of Czech identity and legend, not least at the crucial moment when the Queen gives explicit priority given to Czech law over that of “our German neighbours”. Today, the opera is more or less a national monument, and last night’s concert performance was one of the big events of the year in the Czech musical calendar, with Jakub Hrůsa conducting the Czech Philharmonic in the annual festival at Litomyšl, the composer’s birthplace.
The enormous brass fanfare at the opening, which gives away to interweaving of the melodies in the woodwind, set the tone for what was to follow: this was an orchestra revelling in music that’s in their blood, let off the leash to produce an unrestrained, monumental sound. Hrůsa looked as if he could not have been happier, bouncing up and down on the podium and grinning from ear to ear throughout the proceedings. The phrasing of every woodwind instrument was particularly vivid, and if there was the occasional flub or slight inconsistency of phrasing, who cared when the overall sound was so beguiling?
The Czech Phil assembled an impressive singing cast from the top drawer of Czech singers. Kateřina Kněžíková was properly regal in the title role, poised and elegant in demeanour. Her voice may not be the biggest you will ever hear, but she has the knack of commanding your attention from the first note. Every note is so clean and so precise, the consonants so clear and the nuances of phrasing and vibrato so well judged that listening to her is a delight. Libuše gets some knockout arias: Czechs may favour the Prophecy Aria that closes the work (see our interview with Mária Porubčinová), but my personal favourite was her opening arioso, “Již vstaň a potěš mysl svoji!”, in which she invokes the gods who will help her protect the nation and puts down a marker of her wise and noble character.
Smetana’s sound world in this opera is very much a Wagnerian one, with themes handed between instrument groups within a richly textured background. But being a romantic Czech opera, there is inevitably a pastoral interlude: in Act 2, we meet Přemysl, Libuše’s husband-to-be who, with her, would found the dynasty that ruled Bohemia until the Middle Ages. He is depicted as a benevolent landlord deeply rooted in the soil, and “Ó, vy lípy”, his paean to the linden tree (still the Czech national tree), was the dreamy highlight of the evening for me. Adam Plachetka is a big man with an enormous bass-baritone voice, and he was as impressive in this controlled gentleness as in the power of his martial numbers when he is called to arms to protect his beloved and their kingdom.
The plot is appealing, if only mildly dramatic: the airheaded Krasava has caused a rift between her violent lover Chrudoš and his gentle younger brother Sťáhlav. With the help of Krasava’s father Lutobor, Libuše and Přemysl resolve the conflict; the opera closes with the ensuing double wedding, at which Libuše predicts the foundation of Prague and a whole series of events in Czech history. With today’s eyes, one blanches at the misogyny: Smetana and librettist Josef Wenzig seem perfectly content with the idea that however wise and noble Libuše may be, she is worth nothing unless married to a good man.
But anyway, the plot isn’t why we were here. This performance was an experience to be savoured, due to the uniform excellence of singing (even the off-stage mini-chorus of four harvesters produced a marvellous sound), the sheer orchestral beauty and the exuberance of musicians playing a work that is so obviously replete with national feeling for them. A rare treat.
David’s stay in Litomyšl was funded by the Czech Philharmonic
