From Operanews.com

It appears that Intendant Kirsten Harms may be making Deutsche Oper the most consistently interesting opera house in Berlin. Not that the company’s new Tannhäuser, which had its premiere in November 2008 and returned for three additional performances in May, was an unqualified triumph. But it was a staging of undeniable courage and surprising clarity of vision. Like her 2007 production of the double-headed Cassandra/Elektra, Harms’s DOB Tannhäuser was as remarkable for its savagery as for its moments of transcendence.

Performed in the Dresden version, this Tannhäuser was a dazzling, epic production with more than a few baffling touches. It featured naked nymphs, flying gargoyles, a fairy-tale medieval court for the Act II contest scene and sinful pilgrims roasting in a fiery pit of hell. If it wasn’t always clear what message Harms was trying to convey in moments such the final act, here set it in a military hospital, the occasional indeterminacy of the staging only contributed to the cumulative effect.

Magnificent singing accompanied Harms’s bizarre tableaux. The May 10 performance offered a rare and unexpected chance to hear the extraordinary Ivar Gilhuus, a longtime soloist at the Norwegian State Opera, in the title role. (The Norwegian filled in for indisposed American tenor Scott MacAllister.) From the start of Act I, Gilhuus was in excellent form, delivering well-sculpted phrases with a freshness and energy that he retained (against the odds) all evening long. Although Gilhuus’s sheer vocal force was undeniable from the beginning of the night, his heroic tenor was undermined by some rather wooden acting and, early on, a curiously unvaried declaiming style. As the performance progressed, he gained dramatic confidence equal to his singing abilities. He faltered most visibly at the end of Act II: his “Nach Rom!” lacked the appropriate oomph.

Gilhuus’s colleagues were equally riveting when they hit their targets, which was more often than not. To German soprano Nadja Michael fell the demanding task of singing both Venus and Elisabeth. Michael gave full measure to the goddess of love with her wild, deliriously agile voice; she brought a refreshing amount of earthiness and sensuality to the virginal Elisabeth. In the end, the two characters were not so clearly differentiated as they could have been — one supposes that was part of the reason for casting Michael in both roles — but the soprano was always vocally electrifying and physically alluring. Her chief problem was consistently — and maddeningly — indistinct diction.

The ever-dependable Markus Brück made a persuasive Wolfram, who in this production is Tannhäuser’s active rival for Elisabeth. His “Abendstern” aria became a love song to the dying Elisabeth, charged with equal measures of spiritual and corporeal yearning. His ardent legato was the cornerstone of a refreshingly straightforward interpretation. Kurt Rydl has been in better form that he mustered here as Hermann. His steely voice often turned raspy, and his low notes were off-target at times. Lenus Carlson, another old hand, was impassioned as Biterolf but had some trouble staying on pitch. Clemens Bieber’s Walther, while more controlled, was halting and indistinct.

Conductor Philippe Auguin led a white-hot performance, propelling the orchestra with such force and momentum that the singers at times rushed to keep up. Luckily, audibility was never a problem, partially because the frequently mobile set produced an echo that reverberated eerily through the theater.

A. J. GOLDMANN