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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