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.
Directed by Terry Hands, conducted
by Georg Solti
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).
Directed by Bill Bryden, conducted
by Bernard Haitink
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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