It might be thought a touch hubristic, not to say risky, to add new layers of mystery to a work as notoriously enigmatic as Wagner’s Parsifal. In fact, Jetske Mijnssen’s revelatory production contributes fresh insights by doing just that. The community of Grail knights becomes here an atrophied dynastic family. Titurel, nearing death, is the ruling patriarch who favoured one son (Amfortas) over another (Klingsor). The wound dealt Amfortas by Klingsor can only be healed by an outsider to the family, Parsifal.
But Parsifal, viciously assaulted by the family’s retainers (the Grail knights), is the mere instrument: the redemption lies in the rehabilitation of a penitent Klingsor, who returns like a Prodigal Son. What he and Parsifal questionably offer Amfortas, however, is not healing as such, but a peaceful “gift of death”. The family is simultaneously released from the curse of vengeance.
Mijnssen presents Amfortas, Klingsor and their seductress Kundry, with the help of extras, at three stages in their lives. She also mounts a graphic re-enactment of Amfortas’s seduction. It’s potentially confusing, though it does add depth to the characters by way of a back- (and forward-) story. The ubiquitous presence in the first act of Titurel – frequently referred to in the text but normally appearing on stage only in a coffin – also provides John Tomlinson (once a magnificent Gurnemanz himself) with a splendid opportunity to grace the stage once again with his charismatic presence. It’s similarly enlightening and powerfully dramatic for Parsifal‘s mother, Herzeleide, to be physically present when Kundry tells Parsifal how he broke his mother‘s heart.
Not only does Kundry, in Gideon Davey’s costume design, resemble the archetypal red-headed Pre-Raphaelite temptress, but so do all the Flowermaidens. Mijnssen reasonably critiques the virtual absence of women, except as negative sexual stereotypes, in Wagner’s opera by making the Flowermaidens distinctly unalluring. In Ben Baur’s Hammershøi-influenced set designs (lit by Fabrice Kebour) the Flowermaidens disport themselves in what looks like the family mausoleum rather than a Magic Garden.
Outstanding in a fine cast are John Relyea’s sonorous Gurnemanz, gravid with experience, and Ryan Speedo Green’s formidable, menacing Klingsor. Audun Iversen’s Amfortas is affecting and well projected. Kristina Stanek’s Kundry is, for better or worse, much of a piece with the consciously unseductive character she portrays. The voice itself is an attractive one, if a shade monochromatic. Daniel Johansson’s tenor has some admirable qualities in the role of Parsifal, but it needs to be delivered with more éclat.
Tomlinson‘s contribution lies mostly in his mesmerising stage presence, though Titurel’s command to reveal the grail (“Enthüllet den Gral!”) has rarely been uttered with such impassioned urgency. Robin Ticciati‘s command of this complex score, not least in terms of its voluptuous, transcendental sonorities, is astonishing and the LPO played superbly for him.
Mijnssen’s production is occasionally baffling (on a first viewing) and a couple of longueurs need attention. But its message of compassion is faithful to Wagner and there are some stunning stage tableaux, such as the Act 3 funeral procession with its sepulchral undertakers and snowfall. Best of all are the scenes where Mijnssen’s arresting staging inspirations conjoin with Ticciati’s empathetic conducting to produce moments of Wagnerian music drama at its most gripping.
Parsifal at Glyndebourne, until June 24, glyndebourne.com.
