The Darker Side of Genius: Richard Wagner’s Anti-Semitism, by Jacob Katz. University of New England Press, 1986. 158 pp.
You may think this is too specific for a reader with only a general interest in Wagner, but everyone needs help getting perspective on this aspect of his life and work. This manageable volume is a good place to start. Dr. Katz presents a reasoned analysis of Wagner’s anti-Semitism in his operas and writings within the context of the movement as a whole. He concludes that Wagner’s anti-Semitism is quite culpable on its own without the additional “burden” of subsequent history. It is a lucid and responsible work.
Wagner’s “Ring” and Its Symbols, by Robert Donington. London: Faber & Faber, 1974. 342 pp.
This psychoanalytical run through the Ring is considered a classic among Wagner fans. Donington uses the tools of Jungians and post-Jungians to present a solid system for interpreting the saga. Most impressive is the fact that he addresses the entire tetralogy, from beginning to end, within the framework of his system, rather than just culling the parts that agree with his point of view. You don’t have to be an expert on psychology to read this book, but Donington does presuppose a little knowledge of the Ring. He sticks very close to the music, and takes every leitmotiv apart like a scientist. (Written musical examples are included in a large appendix.) You’ll never hear the Ring quite the same way again after reading this book.
Wagner’s Ring: Turning the Sky Around, by M. Owen Lee. New York: Proscenium Publishers, 1994. 122 pp.
Father Lee is familiar to listeners of the Met Saturday matinee radio broadcasts, where he consistently gives fascinating analyses of the works in question. In fact, he may be the world’s only opera commentator who can be far-reaching and sensible at the same time! This will come as a great relief to people wishing to read more about the Ring. Father Lee’s book, based on his Wagner talks during the 1988 and 1989 seasons, covers the stories of the four operas and looks into their deeper meanings. His view includes psychological, political, and other aspects used to deconstruct these works, but manages to remain coherent and, well, sensible throughout. The written musical examples are thoughtfully simplified so you don’t have to sit at the piano (with Vladimir Horowitz at your side) to get through them. Highly recommended.
Pro and Contra Wagner, by Thomas Mann. Translated by Allan Blunden, with an introduction by Erich Heller. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985.
This is a large collection of Thomas Mann’s various writings about Wagner, covering fifty years of the famous novelist’s thoughts on the subject. Mann struggled with Wagner his whole life, never resolving his conflict, and never able to accept his inability to resolve it. He also idolized Nietzsche, which hardly simplified matters. Inner turmoil aside, Mann makes searing observations about every aspect of Wagner, and anyone can enjoy his celebrated prose. This anthology also contains the famous essay “Sorrows and Grandeur of Richard Wagner,” which got him thrown out of Germany for the duration of the Third Reich. You’ll wonder what all the fuss was about when you read this balanced critique. If this book served no other purpose, reading this essay while knowing what ensued will convince anyone who still needs convincing just how insane Germany was in 1933.
Richard Wagner: The Man, His Mind, and His Music, by Robert Gutman. New York: Knopf, 1990. 491 pp.
Although this book is a biography, presenting all its information chronologically, it is groundbreaking for its bold look at the issues involved in the study of Wagner. While most scholars of Wagner settle for the old formula “the man was dreadful, the music sublime,” and leave it at that, Gutman had the radical idea that Wagner’s personal problems were integral to his art. It is not possible, in Gutman’s view, to study Wagner as a phenomenon separate from his effect on the world. Occasionally, he takes this point of view into the intellectual twinkie-zone, and many of his arguments can be deconstructed. But we remain indebted to Gutman for this book and the more holistic genre of scholastic inquiry that it inspired.
The Complete Operas of Richard Wagner: A Critical Guide, by Charles Osborne. New York: Da Capo, 1992. 304 pp.
The best thing that can be said about this book is that it’s usually on sale. Osborne has great credentials, as literature director of the Arts Council of Great Britain and chief theater critic of the Daily Telegraph in London. The problem is that he goes off the deep end trying to be morally superior to Wagner. Along the way, he makes more than a few mistakes and unscholastic leaps of faith. (This is the guy who translates welscher as “French” in Meistersinger, and then discusses Hitler’s vendetta against French culture. He’s also the one who sees homosexuals lurking around the dark recesses of the Grail Hall in Parsifal.) The book purports to be a biography as well, with a narrative of Wagner’s life running through the summaries of each opera. This means we are treated to in-depth looks at the early operas Die Feen, Das Liebesverbot, and Rienzi, all presented as if anybody cared. Skip it.
Confessions of a Jewish Wagnerite, by Lawrence D. Mass. With a Foreword by Gottfried Wagner. London: Cassell, 1994. 268 pp.
The subtitle of this book is Being Gay and Jewish in America. It’s a shame “Gay” wasn’t on the cover, because this fascinating memoir is largely a coming-out story written by a Jewish Wagnerite, and, yes, self-loathing plays a large part in the author’s early struggle.
The basic tone of the book is “This is who I am and this is what Wagner makes me feel.” The beauty of this tale is that Mass has the courage to state his personal thoughts and feelings in plain English, without faux-scholastic ellipsis, and, best of all, without hiding what he’s really thinking behind an elaborate aesthetic or political theory. If other scholars had been able to do the same, they probably would have made more sense. This may be the book Thomas Mann or Theodor Adorno wanted to write, but couldn’t.
COSIMA
Cosima Wagner, by Richard du Moulin-Eckart. Translated by Catherine A. Phillips. 2 volumes. New York: Da Capo, 1981.
This was the authorized biography of Cosima, written while she was (barely) alive in 1928. It is an entirely worshipful tome, written by a man who clearly idolized her. Whenever du Moulin-Eckart comes across problematic or potentially unpleasant episodes in her life, he employs the simple solution of lying through his teeth. As a source of direct information, it is fraught with hazards. Until the publication of Cosima’s Diaries, however, this was where researchers had to go to get glimpses of that vital document. It is not recommended for normal people. The refinement of its writing style is completely in keeping with its elegant proto-fascist author.
Cosima Wagner, by George Marek. New York: Harper & Row, 1981. 291 pp.
This biography is chatty, anecdotal, and pleasant to read, even if it does sometimes lapse into flights of purple passion. The author spends a great deal of time emphasizing the obvious; namely, that Wagner was self-obsessed, Bülow was neurotic, Liszt was a failure as a father, and Marie d’Agoult (Cosima’s mother) was an elegant mess. There isn’t, unfortunately, a great deal more information in this book that couldn’t be found in most of the standard Wagner biographies. If this book isn’t enough for you, you can always go to …
The Diaries of Cosima Wagner, edited and annotated by Martin Gregor-Dellin and Dietrich Mack, translated by Geoffrey Skelton. 2 volumes. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1980.
… all 2,200 pages of them. Cosima began keeping a daily diary in 1869 and ended it on the day of Wagner’s death in 1883. If you want to know how well Richard Wagner slept on any given night in that period, or the state of his digestive system, this is the place to go. The first volume (1869–78) focuses largely on the move to Bayreuth and the efforts involved in launching the first festival against the imagined opposition of “all the world.” The second volume is a daily celebration of marital bliss (best line [R. to Cosima]: “If only everybody knew how self-contained we are!”). Cosima supposedly kept these diaries as a form of instruction and inspiration for their son Siegfried, and never intended them for publication. They
are tedious, smug, hateful, and devoted to every utterance from the Wagners’ mouths, including some very stupid observations. For example, we are informed that Shakespeare and Dante are better in German than in their originals. (Wagner never came close to mastering English or Italian.) Italians, by the way, lack the natural sunniness and humor of the Germans. Every page contains, among other such drivel, at least one paranoid delusion about Jews.
The Diaries are also, unfortunately, quite indispensable to people who wish to untangle Wagner’s convoluted character for themselves. Every recent biography of Wagner quotes from them at length but selectively, depending on the scholar’s agenda (and they all have one). If daily life at Villa Wahnfried strikes one as crashingly dull between frenetic moments, there is information of value here, particularly Cosima’s faithful records of what Richard and others played on the piano for entertainment. Liszt is hardly heard at all, except when he shows up in person to remind everyone of his own music. There are also surprising moments when a well-concealed humanity slips in. Reading the newspapers, Richard and Cosima blast the British for their imperialist wars. “After all,” she says, “the Zulus are people, just like us.” When Bismarck’s government ratifies repressive anti-socialist laws, Cosima responds, “Imagine passing laws against a specific group of people!” Imagine indeed.
These volumes are well translated and the notes are helpful, but they are still not for casual readers who are neither insomniacs nor masochists. Richard and Cosima Wagner: Biography of a Marriage, by Geoffrey Skelton. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1982. 319 pp.
Skelton was the translator of Cosima’s diaries (a three-year task) and had mounds of information at his fingertips. He boiled down information from that mammoth job, as well as other books he had written on Wagner, to create this manageable volume. His years of study on the subject appear to have had the unusual effect of giving him sympathy for these two hard-to-love individuals, and he is remarkably forgiving of their darker sides. Beyond this, there is plenty of interest in this book that won’t be found in other books, although in packing in the facts Skelton must sometimes dispense with the incidental information that gives color to the history.
LUDWIG II OF BAVARIA
Don’t be surprised if you find yourself drawn to the enigmatic character of King Ludwig as you read more about Wagner’s extraordinary career. Many Wagnerites have also become “Ludwigites.” Conversely, there are people who became interested in Wagner’s works by touring Ludwig’s fantasy castles in Bavaria. The two men are inextricably linked. The Swan King: Ludwig II of Bavaria, by Christopher McIntosh (London: Robin Clark, 1986, 218 pp.), is a fascinating account of Ludwig’s life, including details of expenditures that shed much light on the historic actualities of Ludwig’s career. The analyses of Ludwig’s building program from a psychological point of view are nothing short of brilliant, but it seems a shame to read about Ludwig’s life without the benefit of photographs. It might be worth exchanging a few of the details provided by this book for color pictures of Ludwig’s castles, which explain so much more. The Dream King: Ludwig II of Bavaria, by Wilfrid Blunt (with a chapter on Ludwig and the arts by Dr. Michael Petzet, Penguin Books, 1973, 264 pp.), is remarkable for its magnificent color photographs of the irresistible places in Ludwig’s life. The informative text is unabashedly devoted to Wagner and the role he played in Ludwig’s life. Unfortunately, this book is currently out of print and hard to find. It is worth combing the libraries and secondhand shops for.
FRANZ LISZT
Even the slightest interest in the career of Richard Wagner will lead one to the subject of Franz Liszt, Wagner’s eventual father-in-law and fellow herald of the “music of the future.” Any biography of Liszt is also a social and musical history of the nineteenth century, since he was perhaps the world’s first pop star, and knew everybody. Despite some less-than-perfect behavior (especially to a few women), he was always charming, urbane, gregarious, and generally appealing. Accounts of his life make for extremely pleasant reading, particularly after spending time reading about Wagner. Franz Liszt, by Alan Walker (Volume 1, Cornell University Press, 1983, 481 pp.; Volume 2, Knopf, 1989, 626 pp.; Volume 3, Knopf, 1996, 594 pp.), is the place to go if you want the whole story—a look at Liszt’s music, excellent details of his astounding social life (and the life of basically everybody else in nineteenth-century Europe), and illustrations. Walker even went through the newly rediscovered Vatican documents pertaining to the famous case of the annulment of Princess Carolyne’s marriage and presents what he found in the second volume. (Oddly, the new evidence only makes the whole affair more mysterious than ever.) This massive undertaking, which has received praise and awards everywhere, would take you through a long winter—in Alaska. Walker is erudite and stylish, and clearly dedicated to the subject. It’s clear he has no patience for Wagner or Cosima, frankly calling them leeches, users, and all-round opportunists, which may be overstating the case slightly. (Then again, it may not.) Liszt, by Derek Watson (New York: Schirmer, 1989, 404 pp.), is a smart book aimed mostly at musicians. Only 161 pages chronicle Liszt’s life story, and the author avoids details to prevent his book from becoming a social history of nineteenth-century European high society. This is commendable for musicologists but a loss to the rest of us, since Liszt’s life story is better than a prime-time television soap opera. After a brief summation of Liszt’s character, the balance of the book is dedicated to an analysis of his enormous and diverse musical output. It is useful for people who are trying to navigate their way through Liszt’s work, which has gone in and out of fashion several times, and is, at present, rightly considered worthy of serious attention. In Liszt, by Sacheverell Sitwell (New York: Dover, 1967, 400 pp.), the famous scion of the literary Sitwell family amuses himself with a highly stylized account of Liszt’s life and work. Wagner himself is given full status as central to Liszt’s life, but his role is summarized rather briefly, since, as the author notes, his story is so fully chronicled elsewhere. The style of the writing is, for better and for worse, exactly what you’d expect out of a guy named Sacheverell.
WIELAND WAGNER
The elusive but important figure of Wieland Wagner is best approached in Wieland Wagner, the Postive Skeptic, by Geoffrey Skelton (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1971, 222 pp.). Wieland was a notoriously reticent person—almost a recluse. He remains a bit shadowy even after you’ve read this book. Skelton was a trusted friend of the Wagner family, so you won’t find much criticism of Wieland or any scandal here, although his matter-of-fact look at Wieland’s long-term affair with singer Anja Silja must have been considered very impartial at the time. You will find great photographs and also a rare look at Wieland’s important career in and outside Bayreuth.
Wagner-Oriented Films
The story of Wagner makes “good copy,” as a number of movie producers have discovered. Below is a list of movies about Wagner’s life or work, or in which the character of Wagner plays a central role.
Wagner (1982), directed by Tony Palmer. 300 minutes.
This docudrama was culled from a nine-hour series first seen on BBC. Some critics thought Richard Burton was “painful to watch” as Wagner, but those who have read a Wagner biography or two might find him surprisingly on the money in the role, obnoxious but entirely mesmerizing. Vanessa Redgrave is staunch as Cosima, Marthe Keller poetic as Mathilde Wesendonck, Gemma Craven almost too sympathetic as Minna. Laszlo Galffi is handsome and otherworldly as Ludwig, while Ekkehard Schall as Liszt makes us wonder how any woman ever flipped over this fussy old man. The rest of the cast is filled out with the likes of John Gielgud, Laurence Olivier, Ralph Richardson, Joan Plowright, Gabriel Byrne, Prunella Scales, and Franco Nero. On the operatic side, we get glimpses and sound bites of Manfred Jung, Jess Thomas, and several others. Gwyneth Jones displays considerable acting ability (and a tasteful bit of flesh in the bathtub) along with some of her wild sounds as Malvina Schnorr, while the hunky Peter Hofmann is shamefully padded to play Ludwig Schnorr. Sir Georg Sol
ti conducted the musical snippets.
Judging from the list above, it’s obvious that Wagner was a high-budget extravaganza, complete with an elaborate production sensibility. It follows the life of Wagner in the manner of a long documentary, with occasional but distinct flights into surrealism. The soundtrack is a nonstop string of greatest hits, especially the anvil-pounding Nibelheim theme from Rheingold, played every couple of minutes no matter what’s going on. This must have been very effective in engaging television viewers who were flipping channels, but it can drive you crazy if you’ve been watching it through for five hours.
There are a few fudges with the facts, but they are not too numerous and are in most cases unavoidable for narrative purposes. (For example, the exterior shots of the Paris Opéra are filmed at the Palais Garnier, which hadn’t yet been built at the time of the Tannhäuser premiere. Still, the filmmakers could hardly be expected to reconstruct the old Opéra, and the point gets across in any case.) The massive research and the respect for the subject are blatant. In fact, the film placates the know-it-alls with many in-jokes and oblique references to Wagner trivia. The dragon costume for Siegfried is shown with its neck section missing, while a mysterious placard says “Beirut.” At another point, Wagner is discussing Nietzsche’s betrayal, saying nothing more than “he masturbates, you know.” Neither of these references is explained further. (See the Beirut thing and the Nietzsche incident).
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