Previously seen at the Metropolitan Opera, William Kentridge’s production of Alban Berg’s Wozzeck, co-directed with Luc De Wit, opened at the Canadian Opera Company on Friday. Although, as we shall see, strongly cast, in many ways the innovative and elaborate staging is the star of the show and gets first mention. The curtain stays up for the full 90 minutes of continuous action rather than the sequence of scenes and interludes written in the score. Sabine Theunissen’s set consists of a chaotic maze of platforms, steep, rickety paths, gangways and enclosed spaces. This already complex arrangement is then continuously transformed by quite extraordinary projections designed by Catherine Meyburgh. They are fluid and mainly monochrome and very disturbing. The dominant imagery is the First World War – gas masks, disfigured soldiers – and there are echoes of surrealism, Dada, Käthe Kollwitz, silent movies and more.
Two images in particular stuck with me. At the beginning of the tavern scene there’s a wall-sized map of the Ypres salient with all the well known landmarks. At another point there’s a giant head in a gas mask. The eyes alternately glaze over and disappear in a most disturbing way. If the libretto of Wozzeck explores aspects of humanity’s inhumanity, Kentridge’s staging adds further layers.
It’s not just the projections. The movement on and around the set is often quite stylized, especially true in the tavern scene where the chorus make a series of jerky movements which add to the tension. There’s also a requirement for several of the soloists to perform elaborate movement on quite exposed parts of the rather scary set, plus the use made of actors to move props and to manipulate the puppet that is used for Marie’s child. These actors provide visual interest during the orchestral passages.
Michael Kupfer-Radecky proved a most capable Wozzeck. Early on he played the downtrodden mensch to perfection but became steadily more unhinged and menacing as the drama unfolded. Ambur Braid gave a typically committed performance as Marie with power to burn, but also sang with delicacy. The bible-reading scene was touching and her cavorting with the Drum Major in the tavern was wonderfully over the top. Her paramour was sung by Matthew Cairns with an enormous vocal and physical presence, literally strutting his stuff in a manner such that one could almost smell the testosterone. Owen McCausland balanced the “other ranks” contingent out as a lyrical and sympathetic Andres.
Michael Schade, in his umpteenth COC role, was splendidly loony as the captain. Few people do subtly unhinged quite like Michael and the voice is still all there. The doctor is a different kind of not-quite-sane; a type still to be found among academic physicians, and that was brought out very well by Anthony Robin Schneider. Duncan Stenhouse was rather splendid and very brave as the First Apprentice, clowning drunkenly in a most precarious area of the set, and was well supported by Korin Thomas-Smith. Local favourites Michael Colvin (the Fool), Krisztina Szabó (Margret), Marcel d’Entremont (a soldier) and Ryan Downey, on debut, as a Townsman rounded out a fine, largely Canadian and mostly Toronto trained, cast.
The orchestra made a major contribution to the success of the evening, playing with great delicacy and powerful precision. I have never heard them play better and Johannes Debus managed the pit-stage co-ordination and sound balance with exquisite finesse. The singers were audible without strain and the lyricism of the score came over very well.
Kentridge’s is a moving, even emotionally devastating, show that demonstrates that the 20th-century classics can be truly great theatre when done this well.
