ICSM Online Journal > Reviews

Ullman’s Kaiser von Atlantis,
Royal Opera House, 14 July 2004

I must confess to a degree of quiet satisfaction that Viktor Ullman’s one-act opera Der Kaiser von Atlantis has at last reached the main stage of the Royal Opera. Not that it doesn’t deserve to be there – I firmly believe Kaiser to be a great piece of music theatre – but I still find that in some quarters its musical and dramatic worth is given less credit than the circumstances of its creation and subsequent rehabilitation. I would never, though, suggest that they should ever be forgotten. Let me remind you that Ullman arrived at Terezín in September 1942, and for two years and one month was a leading figure in the cultural life of the camp, before his last journey to Auschwitz in 1944. A fellow inmate, the young poet and painter Peter Kien, provided a text whose scathingly cynical take on the value of human life, the nature of death, war and fascism inspired Ullman to write a score equally as acerbic. There are pointed (and poignant) musical references too numerous to mention all of which would have been instantly assimilated by the intended audience. We know that there were rehearsals in 1944, but no performance. Ullman managed to pass on his manuscripts before leaving Terezín, and eventually Kaiser had its first performance in Amsterdam in 1975, since when it has been widely performed – in this country in 1997 at the Guildhall School in a triple bill with works by Weill and Krenek, and, most recently, by Opera Up Close in March 2003.

At the Royal Opera on 14 July, the performance was billed as a semi-staging, followed after the interval by most of Act 1 of Così van tutte. The evening was given as a showcase for this years group of Vilar Young Artists, comprising ten singers, a conductor, répétiteur, and a director, all fully contracted to the Royal Opera and gaining valuable experience as they begin their careers. The young director, André Heller-Lopes from Brazil, was responsible for the production – and it was obvious that the word ‘budget’ had appeared in his brief – for apart from some tacky business with a splintering sword wielded by Death, this was very much a ‘stand and deliver’ staging, with a few chairs and a throne for the emperor (no desk or telephone) – all beneath a back projection (of Klee’s Das Lamm).

But at least we could concentrate on the singing. The Loudspeaker was Jeremy White, adding a touch of experience to the youngsters, whose arresting ‘Hallo, hallo’ set the tone for what followed. Harlequin was Hubert Francis, a young Australian tenor with a wide repertoire already under his belt, and he seemed to be the most adept of the cast in breaking out from the ‘concert’ straightjacket and using his body as well as his voice. Fine projection of words, too. Matthew Rose, a home-grown bass, was, I thought, miscast as Death – not for his voice but because he is obviously naturally a very jovial fellow. He was better as Don Alfonso after the interval. Ha Young Lee, from Korea (already entrusted with Naiad in the ROH run of Ariadne auf Naxos under Colin Davis) with a bright soprano was Bubikopf (only referred to in the Programme as ‘The Girl’), and the Soldier, the enemy she encounters on the battlefield and falls in love with, was James Edwards, another home-grown singer, a tenor contracted next Season at the Royal Opera. The duet, touchingly simple (Ullmann knew exactly what he was doing), at the end of their scene was memorable. Russian mezzo Ekaterina Gubanova (an Elektra Maid already, and a Brangäne in Paris to come) was the Drummer Girl – perhaps not as forceful as she should have been, and the Emperor was Jared Holt, a New Zealand baritone already familiar on the Covent Garden stage (just as well, too, because his biography was omitted from the Programme book and had to be handed out as a flyer at the end of the evening).

Hero of the (first part) of the evening, though, was the conductor, Roland Böer, making a guest appearance. Böer is gaining quite a reputation in Frankfurt where he is currently Kapellmeister; he returned to London abnd to the ENO in February with La clemenza di Tito. He assured me that he was conducting Kaiser for the first time, but you would not have thought so. There was razor-sharp articulation in the interludes, yet subtle and deft accompaniment in each of the characters’ arias. The orchestra (exactly the thirteen players specified by Ullmann – the musical forces available at Terezín, of course), placed at the back of the stage, included two of the Vilar artists on piano and harmonium.

So, while being grateful for one of the best performances of Kaiser that I have heard, it was still something of a wasted opportunity. How good it would be if the cast could be reassembled with stronger direction and some atmosphere in the design for a run in the Linbury Theatre. And for the record, this performance used the alternative version of Kaiser Überall’s ‘Farewell’ aria, in which he warns that there will be more war. ‘The fire has only been dampened down, not put out. Soon it will flare up again…..’

back to top