Monsalvat: the Parsifal home page |
Bernard Levin on Parsifal
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Monsalvat: the Parsifal home page |
Bernard Levin on Parsifal
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or many years, Bernard Levin was a frequent contributor to the London Times.
His eclectic articles addressing cultural and political issues, usually with a dry and very
English wit, were often provocative and always entertaining. The following extracts are from an
article in the issue of 18 February 1988.
that
time, Mr Hands had directed only one opera - Otello, in Paris - and although I wished
him well, I foresaw disaster; not because I didn't believe him talented enough for the task,
but because directing opera is not the same as directing plays, and a lifetime on the
dramatic stage will not guarantee success upon the lyric; a wholly new approach (and, of
course, technique) must first be understood and assimilated. Moreover, Wagner demands an
approach and a technique different not only from the theatre but from other composers; a long
course of immersion in his work and thought and assiduous attendance backstage throughout the
production of more than one of his operas is essential to success (which is not, even then, by
any means assured).
et's get it
over quickly: the idea of the production is that Parsifal is the end-of-term play at a
minor public [i.e. fee-paying] school in the 1930s, put on in the ruined church next door, with
the doting parents of the performers scattered round the stage - handbags, hats, three-piece
suits and all (Gurnemanz is the headmaster, incidentally);
from time to time the parents are called upon to do things, such as light candles and hold them
in their laps. I truly believe that it was only by the direct intervention of Almighty God -
who, after all, has a substantial interest in the matter -- that the Grail was not inscribed, The Mrs. Featheringay- Fawcett Cup for Outstanding
Prowess in the Gymnasium. (Perhaps it was; my sight is not of the keenest). You will
doubtless suppose from that gloomy introduction that I had a bad time. Your supposition, though
understandable, is baseless. Musically, it was without exception the finest Parsifal
of my life; I have never before been so entirely overwhelmed by its force and meaning.
ver the
years, the Wagner operas have rearranged themselves again and again in my mind in order of
priority. The Ring (its constituent parts also go up and down in my ordering) stayed
at the top of my charts for many years, but has slipped a little, while Mastersingers
grows and grows; to Tristan I go resisting all the way, only to be drowned full fathom
five the moment the Prelude starts; Tannhäuser I wouldn't much mind if I never
heard again, and I have never really warmed to Lohengrin (though I hope to hear
Domingo sing it here in June even if I have to be carried in a chair, like Amfortas, or even in a coffin, like Titurel). 
ut
Parsifal, which I took a good many years to understand (it is not a work for youth)
and have not yet finished understanding, and never shall, now stands at the very head of the
page, beckoning me at one and the same time into Klingsor's Magic Garden, which is death, and the Temple of
the Grail, which is eternal life.
he contrast
between Wagner's prodigious genius and his horrible personal nature has been discussed
endlessly and fruitlessly; there's no art to find the mind's construction in the music. Some
great artists have been of the most beautiful and loving nature, and some have been anything
from dishonest to the most frightful swine ... Wagner, to be sure, takes the dichotomy to
lengths unparalleled in all history (Georg Solti calls him det old gengster) but there
is nothing to be done about it, and surely Parsifal is the greatest testimony in all
art to the terrible truth that so enraged Shaffer's Salieri: that any channel, even an unworthy
one, will serve as an aqueduct through which the pure water of art can flow from Heaven to
earth, and not be tainted by the corrupted vessel that serves it.
here is a
moment, some two-thirds of the way through Act Two, when this lesson is driven home in the most
violent possible way. Consider: the raging tempest of sensuality which the central act consists
of, is constructed out of musical materials very different from those of the two outer acts.
This is reflected in the leitmotives which Wagner uses throughout the act; naturally,
Kundry's dominates the list, together with those closely associated
with her and her past.
hen Parsifal enters, he adds strains from another world, and for a long time Herzeleide, the Wound, the Spear, Kundry's Wildness, Torment of Sin, Longing, Fool and of course Klingsor, weave in and out of the heaving, flooding orchestral and vocal
texture. Suddenly, without warning, we hear, for the first time in three-quarters of an hour,
the Grail. It is like a blow in the face, so enmeshed are we in the
struggle between good and evil; but I never remember that it is approaching, with its
glorious news that the battle is almost over and light has triumphed over darkness. Well, this
time, when it rose from the orchestra like Excalibur, I thought it would stop my heart, so far
had I been drawn into the furnace of the struggle. Surely this is what the shepherds who were
tending their flocks must have experienced when the angel appeared to them with glad
tidings of great joy.
he tidings in
Parsifal are brought in Act Three, when the Spear that pierced
Christ's side heals the wound of Amfortas's guilt; even the
poor production could not spoil that moment, so powerful and so complete was the spell of the
conducting, playing and singing. But the spell of the performance was as strong as it was
because it served, with the utmost fidelity, the spell of the opera - its drama, its meaning
and its consummate ability to steep the whole evening in the balm of hope. And when you come to
think of it, what is the Christian message but hope? Of course it is an oversimplification to
read Parsifal as orthodox Christian witness; Wagner wove much besides Christianity into his final work. But if we generalise a little, we can
demonstrate that the redemption of Amfortas is indeed the symbol of redemption
of the world; remember that we hear, as Parsifal moves with
the healing instrument towards the stricken man, the Grail, not Parsifal's own theme; and as the spear point closes the wound, it is not
the weapon that sounds, but Amfortas himself. Surely Wagner is saying
that Parsifal is neither the Christ nor John the Baptist, but
the Paraclete of St. John's Gospel, who is sent to comfort the world: Peace I leave with
you, my peace I give unto you. And it is man, sinful but capable of redemption, who receives the divine gift from the hands of the innocent
fool, made wise by pity. (© Times Newspapers
Ltd.)
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