The Komische Oper production of Rimsky's whimsical
Legend of the Tsar Saltan is one of the most amusing
theatrical productions I've ever seen. The singing
and the orchestra playing are generally good, but
the singing is tremendous; also the sets, lighting,
costumes, dancing, direction, all the production
values, are wonderful. Even in the old days, this
and the Staatsoper were two of the crown jewels in
East Germany's cultural life, and both of their
productions were renowned throughout the world.
And now, with western-level funding, you can guess
as to the lavishness and professionalism of the
performances.

The story of Saltan goes like this. There are these
3 sisters living with their aunt. The two older ones
are ugly; the third is beautiful. Sound familiar?
So the king goes looking for the most beautiful girl
in the land and falls for, guess who. Sound familiar?
OK, so they hold the wedding, and the rest of the
family, instead of being happy for the great good
fortune of one of its members, engages in a plot to
discredit the Cinderella sister, which has something
to do with questioning the legitimacy of the royal
firstborn. Anyway, the son and the queen get nailed
up into a barrel that is then dumped into the ocean.
Somehow, they manage to survive living in this barrel
for a number of years, until the son comes of age.
The barrel gets washed up on the shore of some magical
kingdom, where the son is greeted as the new ruler
and an enchanted swan helps the son get revenge by
transforming him into a bee (the famous Flight of the
Bumblebee comes from here, and believe me, the
orchestra has to be pretty good to play the piece)
who then flies to Saltan's land and stings the
bejabbers out of the three villainesses. Then by some
deus ex machina, Saltan ends up traveling to the
kingdom ruled by his son, whereupon the son reveals
himself, the old queen makes her appearance (joyous
reunion - sort of "gee, I guess I made a mistake
nailing you into a barrel and trying to drown you"),
and the swan turns out to be a princess in disguise,
then marrying the son and making everyone live happily
ever after. At the end, even the ugly sisters and
the wicked aunt seem happy.

A lavish spectacle, suitable for children of all
ages. The best thing is that it's in repertory at
the Komische Oper and is revived periodically.

- - -

There's currently a Walter Felsenstein festival at
the Urania. Every Sunday for 5 weeks the theater is
showing a film of Felsenstein's Komische Oper
productions. The one I saw was Verdi's Otello: the
term "comic" is kind of stretchable, it seems - the
next Komische Oper production coming up is Strauss's
Elektra, a dark and despondent piece indeed.

This film is considered a classic, and many celebrated
musicians appear in it (a young Kurt Masur is the music
director). I found it a bit overacted - of course, this
is operatic acting and not camera acting, and the camera
can be a bit unkind at times, but the singing was
first rate, and the film gives a taste of the creativity
of the stage production. Its screening was a felicitous
dovetailing with the ongoing Verdi festival (I missed
all of it, despite my promises to the contrary, including
a performance of Nabucco that I could have seen).

- -

Gisela May is the grande dame of Berlin cabaret. She has
been likened to Lotte Lenya, but I found her halfway
between Lenya and Carol Channing, with a voice as bad as
either of them but musicianship superior to either of them.
On January 14 (to be repeated January 26) she gave a reprise
of the 100th birthday Weill-Abend, singing most of the
famous Weill tunes including Alabama-Song (made famous by
the Doors to a completely crossover audience) and Moritat.
As her voice is pretty shot, she interspersed this with
lengthy disquisitions on the history of the Brecht-Weill
collaboration and readings from their letters. All in
German, which means that I understood at most 20 percent.
The Germans do like their lectures (after Otello some
official of the Komische Oper gave a talk, which I walked
out on after about fifteen uncomprehending minutes). It was
a fine thing to be sitting in the house where Brecht and
Weill had written many works and had their premieres,
listening to a woman who - although she didn't know the
creators personally - was well known by and approved of by
their widows. Afterwards: encores, standing ovations,
smitten elderly Prussians of all sexes striding or waddling
up to her with bouquets. Quite fascinating indeed.