the Grand Tour blog

Staatsoper: ‘Der Freischütz’

The final highlight in my brief but very enjoyable visit to Berlin was a Staatsoper performance of ‘Der Freischütz’, by Carl Maria von Weber. In a way it was the trigger for the trip, as I’d been rather hooked by the opera after the OAE included the dramatic Wolf’s Glen scene in their 21st. anniversary concert back in 2007 (more about the Wolf’s Glen later). At any rate it set the dates. I booked a ticket online a month ago.

The Staatsoper’s permanent home on Unter den Linden has been undergoing major renovation work since 2010, not due to be completed until 2015, and the company has decamped to the Schiller Theater on Bismarckstraße, just west of Ernst-Reuter-Platz. So after changing into slightly smarter clothes (and thinking about packing for the journey home tomorrow) I took the U9 back to Berlin Zoo. Walked west along Kantstraße to Savignyplatz to find an early evening meal, from where it was a 10 minute walk to the Schiller Theater. 

I had a good seat in the centre of the eighth row of the stalls. The orchestra in the very open pit was clear and very audible; in the interval I counted 20 violin seats (10+10) although I don’t think the other instruments were “in proportion”. The singers were in period dress, while the scenery was a simplified modern representation of the forest (even when the action was set outside the pub), and simple but attractive interiors. All good.

The singing was excellent, especially Kaspar (Tobias Schabel) and the delightful housekeeper Ännchen (Silke Evers); I felt that the heroine Agathe (Véronique Gens) was slightly reserved and her voice perhaps not as sweet as it should be. In the orchestra I would have liked more horns and more ‘oompah’ in the rumbustious hunting and military music (I’ve probably been spoiled by my Berlin Philharmonic recording: the Berlin Phil does horns rather well, and they sound very natural under Harnoncourt). But overall I enjoyed the performance a lot.

However, there were problems. First, two minor points to do with the Schiller Theater. As the lights dimmed and the audience hushed at the start I became aware of a faint high-pitched whistle – possibly electronic, possibly to do with the air-conditioning – and one or two people in front of me were looking around as if they’d heard it too. Since parts of the overture are very quiet it was rather intrusive, though I suppose after a time we mostly got used to it. Then, in the final act, when the forest backdrop moved slowly and quite dramatically away to reveal a big gathering of hunters and village people, the curtain track supporting the backdrop was irritatingly noisy.

My second set of complaints is more serious and concerns the production: specifically the Wolf’s Glen scene, the centrepiece of the whole opera, in which our hero Max watches his dubious fellow huntsman Kaspar cast seven magic bullets under the eye and the spell of the Black Huntsman, Samiel. The music is dramatic, and Weber wonderfully heightens the tension as each bullet is cast by having the (off-stage) chorus whisper a terrible echo as Kaspar counts out the bullets: Eins! eins... Zwei! zwei... Drei! drei...

But here the echo was not a scary whisper from the chorus but a spoken word from a single actor through the theatre’s sound system, which rather broke the spell. Earlier, at the beginning of the scene, the evil Samiel appears at the edge of the Glen and speaks his few threatening lines to Kaspar, in his “terrible voice”: here again the voice came from a loudspeaker, not obviously from Samiel, and was (for me) on the wrong side of the stage. Disappointing.

Finally, the all-important casting of the bullets was a bloody affair. Kaspar sings that he blends lead, ground glass from broken church windows, quicksilver, three bullets that have already hit the mark, the right eye of a hoopoe, and the left eye of a lynx. But in this production he in some way fashions the bullets from the internal organs of a dead animal, probably a boar, at the front centre of the stage. It gave Kaspar and Max a dramatic opportunity to smear themselves with “blood”, but actually it was an unpleasant (especially just before the interval) and in my view unnecessary departure from the text in an otherwise good production.

As we left I talked briefly to my neighbours in the audience – zwei Frauen im besten Alter – who had been visiting the Deutsche Oper, a little further west along Bismarckstraße, for the last 30 years; they clearly disapproved of some of the modern “innovations” in recent productions. Then, after collecting my warm coat from the cloakroom I set out into the very cold night and walked along Bismarckstraße to Ernst-Reuter-Platz U-bahn, where it seemed that the rest of the audience was waiting on the platform. It was only one stop on the U2 to Zoo, then on the U9 for the third time today to be home by 11:00.

Philharmonie Lunchtime Concert

From the Alte Nationalgalerie a 200 bus took me quickly and directly from Lustgarten to the Philharmonie, for the free Tuesday lunchtime concert, at 1:00pm. It’s a popular event, and even at 12:30 when I arrived the huge foyer was crowded. I went upstairs and managed to find a space by the rail, almost behind the temporary stage.  

The concert was given by two young families: parents Walter Küssner, (viola), Noriko Küssner (piano) and Ulrich Knörzer (viola); and their very accomplished children Elena Küssner, 11 (violin), Jubal Küssner, 13 (viola), Leon Küssner, 8 (cello), and Charlotte Knörzer, 10 (piano). They looked younger than their years. Watch for their names in the coming decade. 

The programme, announced and generally managed by Walter Küssner, opened with the Pachelbel canon in D major, and included string works by Kabalewski, Bernhard Romberg, Max Bruch, Clementi and Cornelius Gurlitt. The two fathers played Frank Bridge’s ‘Lament for Two Violas’, and 11-year-old Elena played a remarkable Caprice, opus 24, by Pablo de Sarasate. It ended with one of Frank Bridge’s Miniatures for Piano Trio, ‘Saltarello’. All very enjoyable, and much appreciated by the scattered audience.

Rudolf Buchbinder: Beethoven Piano Sonatas

Before leaving home I’d found that there was a concert of Beethoven piano sonatas tonight at the Kammermusiksaal of the Philharmonie, the second of a series of seven concerts covering all 32 sonatas, performed by Rudolf Buchbinder. I had tried to buy a ticket in advance, but the Philharmonie don’t handle ticket sales for ‘guest promoters’ online, and the promoter in this case doesn’t take credit cards. Not in the 21st century anyway.

So from Niederkirchnerstraße I walked back to Potsdamer Platz and across to the Philharmonie to wait for the ticket office to open; it's open just 3:00pm till 6:00pm daily. My destinations today all conveniently close. The temperature was still below freezing and the pavements coated with packed snow, but all were well gritted (Berlin seems to manage the snow rather than trying to melt it with salt, or do nothing, as is the English custom). I bought a ticket without problem, and was back again later in good time for the 8:00pm concert.

The design of the Kammermusiksaal matches the dramatic, angular style of the Philharmonie. Designed at the same time as the Philharmonie by Hans Scharoun in the early ’60s, for financial reasons the Kammermusiksaal wasn’t built until 1984-1988. My seat was high up on the left hand side, directly behind the pianist. The hall turned out to be no more than 50-60% full, so I needn’t have worried about getting a ticket.

I confess to not being familiar with Rudolf Buchbinder’s playing. He is something of a Beethoven specialist, and an enthusiast for live performance rather than the recording studio: living dangerously! Tonight he played Sonata no. 5, opus 10 no. 1; Sonata no. 12, opus 26; and Sonata no. 22, opus 54; followed after the break by Sonata no. 4, opus 7; and Sonata no. 14, opus 27 no. 2 (‘Moonlight’).

I very much enjoyed these earlyish sonatas with their great contrasts and a certain feeling of experimentation on Beethoven’s part. Buchbinder had plenty of power when necessary, but also great delicacy. As an encore he played the final movement of another sonata, which I recognised but couldn’t place. My only slight niggle concerned the acoustic of the Kammermusiksaal (am I allowed to criticise?) which was quite lively up in my high seat, especially given the big sound of the Steinway; maybe the empty seats had an effect. 

We were out of the hall at 10:15 into the cold night, and I was back in the warmth of my apartment by 11:00.

Old Fritz and the Konzerthaus

The M12 tram (which would have gone all the way) is not running west due to roadworks in Inviladenstraße, so I take an S2 to Friedrichstraße then M1 to the Deutsches Historisches Museum (German Historical Museum), for 'Frederick the Great: Respected. Revered. Reviled', a major temporary exhibition examining Old Fritz's legacy in art, politics and society. I had half an hour for photos of the buildings in the area (including Schinkel's 1830 Altes Museum, below) before going in at the 10:00 opening time. No photos allowed inside unfortunately. 

A well presented exhibition, with a good audio guide, showing how Friedrich was portrayed (and portrayed himself) in his lifetime, came to be idolised as a military commander and tactician, was later considered a warmonger, and was misused by the Nazis as a token of nationalist enthusiasm. Out at 12:10, after checking I could get back in today on the same ticket to see the permanent exhibition. 

Walked across Bebelplatz to Gendarmenmarkt and sat under the trees out of the sun in one of the cafés. Bought a ticket for the 13:00 tour of the Konzerthaus – the ticket office is part of their café underneath the building in the right hand side – which was a bit of a mistake really as although it was interesting to see around the inside, the professor of music leading the tour spoke a lot of fast German and I didn't stand a chance. 

A few photos, although for the tour the lighting in the main concert hall is by bright mercury lights inside the chandeliers so the colour balance is terrible, compounded by some incandescent lighting at ground level – the worst kind of mixed lighting! The tour ended at 14:30. 

Had a break for my main meal of the day at ‘Chipps’ in Jaegerstraße. The design is nice – one of their features – with its dark stone floors, heavy wooden tables, industrial-style lights, a lot of black (especially in the loos) and good jazz playing in the background. A pretty good menu, and prices OK, but much was off today because it's the weekend.

Perahia at the Philharmonie

After relaxing in the sun outside the hotel for 15 minutes with a coffee and a slice of nice Russian cake (hotel Zarenhof is Russian themed), I took the S-bahn back down to Potsdamer Platz and found a quiet and more direct route to walk to the Philharmonie than using the main road. The train had been a bit delayed but I just made it to the pre-concert talk about the works to be played this evening by Murray Perahia. It was in German of course, so I didn't understand much, but the choice of musical extracts gave me a clue, and it was a chance to relax and get into the musical mood. 

I took my seat in the hall fairly early; closer than the last time I was here in 2008 for the Berlin Phil, but still a long way from the Steinway; and on the opposite side. I found this block of seats a little disorientating as the floor slopes slightly towards the centre of the hall, each seat about 2cm lower than its neighbour. The temperature very warm. When we were all in place someone came on the stage and made an announcement about Murray Perahia; it wasn't very clear, but there was applause from the audience at the front of the hall. The lady in the seat in front of me spoke some English and said that Murray Perahia had decided there wasn't enough music in the programme so he would start with some Bach before the official programme.

Perahia came on to huge applause and quickly started playing. The sound was superb despite the size of the hall, though some annoying coughing. It was Bach at his most playful; I guessed one of the French Suites. Then to the official programme: Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata', no. 14 in C sharp minor, opus 27 no. 2, followed by Schumann's sonata 'Faschingsschwank aus Wien' (Carnival Scenes from Vienna), opus 26.

A chance for a breath of fresh air in the interval. The second half opened with Schubert's Sonata no. 13 in A major, D664, and ended with four Chopin works: Polonaise in C sharp minor, opus 26 no. 1; the Prelude no. 8 in F sharp minor, opus 28 no. 8; Mazurka in C major, opus 67 no. 3; and the Scherzo no. 1 in B minor, opus 20. 

The applause at the end was massive, and Murray Perahia was called back several times. He made a point of acknowledging the people in the seats at the back of the stage, which was nice; not all performers do. Eventually a Chopin encore, and more applause. And then, after the bouquet, a Schubert encore. We rewarded him, up in Block L, with a standing ovation. 

After negotiating the labyrinthine stairs down to the ground floor I spoke to the lady on the information desk to see if she knew the name of the Bach work that had opened the concert. She and her colleague hadn't caught the announcement either, but she suggested emailing the Philharmonie through the website. Which I did when I got back to the hotel. After the weekend I received a very nice reply to confirm that the Bach was French Suite No. 5 in G major, BWV 816; and that the encores were the Chopin Nocturne in F major, opus 15 No. 1, and the Schubert Impromptu in E flat major, opus 90 no.2, D 899.

18th Century in the Kulturforum

At 13:50 from the Kunstbibliotek to the Kulturforum’s outdoor café – still run by the same multi-tasking proprietor that I met in 2008 – for lunch in the shade of a large umbrella, then inside again an hour later to the Engraving Gallery – the Kupferstichkabinett – for several series of prints by outstanding 18th Century artists such as Tiepolo, Canaletto, Piranesi and Fragonard, under the title 'On the Edge of Reason' (Am Rande der Vernunft). 

All of the prints were superb; I was particularly struck by the series 'Imaginary Prisons' by Piranesi – each print 50-60cm wide – which portrayed huge cathedral-sized interiors with arches and flying staircases that wouldn't look out of place in a film like Lord of the Rings. Also by Piranesi some of the 137 etchings of a similar size in a series he called 'Veduti di Roma' (Views of Rome), on which he worked over three decades from 1748; the realistic portrayal modified to be part dramatic, part painterly. 

By contrast, lovely small cartoons – actually 'Singeries', which use a monkey to satirise humans – by Guélard and Huet from around 1743. And a selection of the prints by Francisco de Goya, best known as a painter, in his Los Caprichos album, which combine an incised line with the broad effect of aquatint; the small aquatints were an artistic experiment which he completed in the late 1790s as he recovered from a serious illness, and which he said depict "the innumerable foibles and follies to be found in any civilized society". The display included the iconic 'The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters', which was also used to promote the exhibition:

© Staatliche Museen zu Berlin

I enjoyed fifty minutes in the Kupferstichkabinett before moving nearby to the Musikinstrumenten Museum, next to the Philharmonie (predictably I had to walk all round it to its entrance on the main road). A huge collection of keyboard instruments, and much else, in one big space; lighter and less crowded than the museum in Leipzig that I visited last year. I didn't take the audio guide, which I think plays samples from many of the instruments, due to lack of time; I wanted to get back to the hotel for a quick break and to change before returning to the Philharmonie for my pre-booked concert tonight. So I left the Musikinstrumenten Museum at 16:30, walked back to Potsdamer Platz and took the train up to Nordbahnhof. 

Felix, Robert and Applied Art

As today is Sunday - and the half-way point of the trip - I didn't set the alarm last night and had a lie-in until 07:00. But there's work to be done, so after breakfast I spent time writing the last blog post before heading off on foot in my posher togs for the nearby Mendelssohn-Haus.

The apartment where Felix Mendelssohn lived for the last few years of his short life was an unexpected highlight of my last visit to Leipzig, but I wasn't here on a Sunday when there is an 11:00 a.m. concert. This time I'd booked in advance, for a programme of piano music by Carl Maria von Weber and others, accompanied by readings from Weber's letters home to his wife when he was travelling to London and Vienna during his last thee years.

Sadly I didn't understand much of the German, but the music was superb and sounded wonderful on a modern copy of Mendelssohn's piano, in the salon where so many of his contemporaries joined him to make music. The 46 of us were arranged in a semicircle around the piano and the husband and wife letter-readers, and the whole performance was excellent.

After chatting for a while to some fellow travellers, I went home to change into my touring clothes, then walked the shorter distance to the Schumann-Haus (at last!) where Robert and Clara lived very happily for the first four years of their married life. It's smaller than the Mendelssohn-Haus, and some of the rooms are now used for other purposes, but a lot of interesting information is squeezed into the space.

I should have been at the Schumann-Haus on Friday but was delayed by interesting things in the printing museum, so today I was running late for my next visit: the Museum für Angewandte Kunst (Museum of Applied Art) and the Museum of Musical Instruments, both part of the Grassi Museum complex.

The Museum of Applied Art covers 2,500 years of art history, from ancient China, Iran, Turkey and Japan, and I've heard it described as one of the richest collections of it's type in Europe. Currently it finishes around the end of the 19th century; the section 'Art Nouveau to the Present Day' is due to open by the end of this year.

It is beautifully and perfectly arranged and displayed, the best museum I've ever seen, I'm sure, and there is a real 'Wow!' moment round every corner. I paid extra for a photo pass and took plenty of pictures; they will not be good due to reflections in the glass cases and other technical difficulties, but will be a good memory. I was aware of the time and moving fast, but stayed for two hours.

The to the Musical Instrument Museum for another hour. It starts with clavichords in the Renaissance, and goes on from there. The display not as dramatic as the applied art museum, but many familiar and not-so-familiar instruments. And some that didn't make it: I was attracted by the travelling harpsichord in three hinged sections, and the triple clavichord with two manuals and a footboard.

Fine Art, Fine Music

I started yesterday at the Museum der bildenden Kunste, the Museum of Fine Arts, in its huge 36 metre high glass cube at the north edge of the old Leipzig city centre. Inside the space is vast and simple, with exposed concrete walls and floor, and massive oak stairs and doors. Originally, the museum was founded in 1858 by merchants, bankers and publishers, and I think that all or most of the collection has been assembled by gifts and foundations.

Spread over four exhibition floors, contemporary galleries sit alongside 19th century and Romantic art. Occasionally they encroach on each other's space; it works. The Bühler-Brockhaus Donation, in its own gallery, has the feel of a personally assembled collection of 19th century paintings. There are galleries for 15th/16th century, 16th-18th century and Dutch / Flemish paintings.

And I ran out of time to visit the dedicated galleries for Leipziger Max Klinger as I had to get to the temporary exhibitions in the basement: Matthias Weischer 'Arbeiten auf Papier' and Ben Willikens 'Der Raum als Bild', both of which I really liked. Willikens 2010-2011 paintings especially: huge almost monochrome graphic canvases.

After two and a quarter hours I retired to the enormous cafe for an expensive €4.00 pot of tea; but properly made with the tea leaves held in the pot in a removable mesh. Then a 5 minute walk to the station to buy my ticket for the half hour train journey to Halle.

Walked the 1km into Halle city centre along the pedestrianised streets – been here before so no problem knowing where to go – and went straight to the Tourist Office to collect my pre-booked ticket for a 3:00pm tour of the Haussmansturm, one of the towers of the super Marktkirche Unser Lieben Frauen (see the Grand Tour website for details!). Sat outside to eat my lunchtime bun, then into the church where I was shown Martin Luther's gruesome death mask by the nice man on duty.

The tour of the tower was in German, but the guide kindly gave me a potted version in English. Interesting information about Halle's history, and good views with plenty of photos from the top. By the time I came down the Saturday market had cleared and I could get some photos of the church with a clear foreground.

Then round the corner to Handel's birthplace in the much refurbished Händelhaus. The exhibition was larger than I'd expected and gave a good account of Handel's professional life - his private life being notoriously secret - though since he left Halle as a young man there's not a lot of material to display, and much of it is contemporary pictures of relevant people and places. But interesting information none the less.

Finally a trudge back to the station for the journey home, a later-than-normal dinner and a well-earned beer.

From Bach to Print in Leipzig

Yesterday was the day to visit the rebuilt Bach Museum, opposite the Thomaskirche, which was closed for the building work last time I was here in 2008. Thursday's sunshine and humidity had given way to rain over breakfast, but the sky was merely dark grey as I arrived at the 10:00 opening time.

The museum is very spacious and elegant, if tending slightly towards being clinical, but many of the visitors are school parties so it has to be robust. A good overview of Bach's life, very well presented, with the final large room naturally being about his life and work here in Leipzig. Much additional and fascinating information behind the main story is available on pull-out panels. Touch screen listening stations with headphones provide access to recordings of all of Bach's works.

Outside the Bach timeline a small display describes some of the recent scientific techniques used by researchers to analyse paper and inks to work out when a manuscript was created, and which of Bach's copyists, or Bach himself, produced it.

After an hour and three-quarters of Bach I rested over a coffee in the nice Gloria cafe attached to the museum before taking a couple of trams out of the city centre to the Museum für Druckkunst (Museum for the Printing Arts). This is in a very pleasant area to the south west of the centre where I've not been before, close to the huge Clara-Zetkin-Park. The sky was now blue and the sun was shining.

The museum has a huge collection of working printing presses - more than 90 apparently - plus hot-metal typesetting machines and hand setting stations, all housed in a listed industrial building that has been in use as a print works since the late 19th century. I was free to wander among them, taking in the smell of printing ink and oil. Well, this is a print junkie's dream!

But the highlight came when I and the two other visitors yesterday afternoon were given an impromptu and incredibly informative tour of an area not normally open, where top class facsimiles are produced of historically important documents that are too fragile to be handled or displayed, using the traditional collotype method - sometimes printing just one sheet from a huge and painstakingly prepared glass plate. Our guide speaking in German and my two colleagues kindly translating for me.

The three of us emerged nearly two and a half hours after I arrived, better informed and in need of coffee. Later I went back for another 30 minutes to see the temporary 'Typography in Contemporary Art' exhibition on the top floor, which was excellent; contemporary art I can understand! Much of it very clever and inventive.

It was too late, again, to visit the Schumann-Haus as planned, so I spent half an hour and €3.00 going up to the 27th floor of the Panorama Tower, near the Gewandhaus, for some views over the city in the late afternoon sun.

From Liszt to Bauhaus in Weimar

I started today at an excellent Liszt exhibition in the modern exhibition space at the back of the Schillerhaus: 'Franz Liszt: a European in Weimar', this being his 200th anniversary. Whilst I enjoy his music I know little of his history, so I was taking copious notes. An excellent free audio guide. Interesting to hear of the background of Hummel and Czerny in his performances and compositions, his 1823 tour when he was hailed as the 'New Mozart', his father Adam's management expertise (like Leopold Mozart's), and his Diabelli variations (I only know Beethoven's) which were his first published composition at the age of 11. Well, I was there for an hour and a half.

After a break in the Herderkirche – the Stadtkirche St Peter and St Paul – where I went to see Lucas Cranach's final painting over the altar, I moved on to another Liszt-related exhibition in the Schloss, where a dozen pianos spanning 1792 to 1825 were on display among the regular galleries. One that the London maker Broadwood gave to Beethoven passed on to Liszt on Beethoven's death, and was highly valued by Liszt for the rest of his life. Also in the Schloss their small permanent exhibition of exquisite paintings by Lucas Cranach and Albrecht Dürer.

Then a late picnic lunch in the sun in the delightful Park an der Ilm, looking across to Goethe's summer house, on the way to the Haus am Horn, a somewhat experimental house based on Bauhaus principles, designed by the artist Georg Muche and built during the Bauhaus exhibition in 1923. I thought my visit would be brief, but the curator gave me – and a few other visitors who joined us on the way – a most interesting tour of the small house, and I ended up staying an hour and a half there as well.