Lately, the ladies have been wearing a great deal of what they call national costumes from their various countries, and dirndls, saris, kimonos, fabulous creations in kinte cloth, and beautiful outfits from all over have blended well with the usual assortment of Chanel suits and evening gowns. And a word to the gentlemen: it is perfectly acceptable in these less disciplined times to remove the jacket once you take your seat. This simple procedure will greatly increase your comfort, and will save your jacket from getting ruined.
All this dressing up makes the long intermissions a world-class promenade. The grounds around the Festival House are beautifully maintained, and walks through the relatively cool gardens and woods are crucial after the operatic sauna you’ve just experienced. Nobody is “reading up” on anything at intermission—you know everything already, remember? Enjoy the people-watching. A curt nod of the head and a breezy Bavarian “Grüss Gott!” are sufficient conversation with strangers, wherever they’re from. It is also very fashionable to have your small dog held for you during the performance (by one of your personal staff, presumably) and to play with it at intermission.
These observations might make the Bayreuth festival experience sound stuffy, but in fact there’s a certain country-casual style going on at the same time. While there is a full restaurant and good cafe adjacent to the theater (whose prices are high but not at all outrageous, and certainly lower than their counterparts in urban opera houses), most people opt to snack during the long intermissions and have a leisurely supper after the performance. It’s nothing to see an elegant European lady eating bratwurst standing up, careful not to drip mustard on her couture creation, while the promenaders favor ice cream cones. Champagne is available, but beer is much more comme il faut. The restaurant, with its full meals, generally attracts the elderly, the infirm, and those who have always dreamed of the day when they could face Wagner’s later acts on a full stomach.
Another rather fun feature of the intermissions is the group photograph tradition. People mysteriously begin to gather directly in front of the house about twenty minutes before the next act begins. A photographer appears on the balcony over the rather small front door to the house, snapping a series of pictures until the whole crowd in this area has been photographed. Later, the pictures are made available (at about eight dollars apiece) at the Tscheitschonig stationery store in town (see below). While the terminally hip are appalled at this, or pretend to be, everyone else joins in, and it’s part of the fun. Also, it puts you in a good position to hear the beautifully harmonized horn choir that replaces the photographer on the balcony, playing a selected theme from the act to be given at fifteen, ten, and five minutes before the end of intermission, and reminding everybody why they’re there.
Throughout all this, the talk is Wagner, Wagner, and more Wagner. The Bayreuth audience is the most intensely focused group of people you’re ever likely to see.
The long intermissions, the promenades in the woods and the gardens, and the conversations with people who have the same interest all make a lot of Wagner fans wonder what heaven has in store to top a good week at the Bayreuth festival.
AFTER THE PERFORMANCE
It would be a pity to run back to your hotel directly after the performance, especially if you’ve dressed. Besides, you’ll want to “come down” from the experience in a relaxed atmosphere, even if this entails arguing over nuances of the music or production with other opinionated Wagnerians. Many people head farther up the Green Hill to the pleasant gardens of the Hotel Bürgerreuth. Many of the orchestra and chorus go there to eat, drink, unwind, and argue. They are instantly recognizable by their casual attire (the orchestra members play in the covered pit, which is said to make the auditorium of the house seem cool and airy by comparison, while the chorus will have changed out of their costumes). Pricey Italian/French/local cuisine is served under Japanese lanterns. It can be lovely, but also a bit hectic, as the staff struggles to serve clients clamoring for food in about fifteen languages.
A very select group, including many of the stars and glitterati, heads for the dining room of the Bayerischer Hof Hotel. The excellent food is, believe it or not, a sort of nouvelle haute-Franconian.
FREE TIME
There isn’t a lot of it. Bear in mind that the performances usually start at 4:00 p.m., which means you’ll probably start getting dressed by 2:30 or 3:00, and you probably won’t get home from your smart après-théâtre supper until after midnight. Add to this the fact that even the most modest pensions in this part of the world ply you with a classically hearty breakfast, and you can see that you’ll hardly have time to breathe.
Wahnfried
There are a couple of “must sees” in this town. Without any doubt, you have to go to Wahnfried, which houses the Richard Wagner Museum these days. The museum has an impossible task: to present Wagner and his family to the world in a way that will please everybody. They do a decent job of it, all things considered, and the exhibitions in the house are required viewing for any fan. There are also archives and study centers at Wahnfried.
The house itself, basically planned by Wagner, will bring you very close to the ghosts of Richard and Cosima, even if it is not a spectacular architectural achievement. The famous salon sometimes has musical presentations, and one must pay homage to the piano given to Wagner by Steinway & Sons of New York (yes, you read that right) on the occasion of the first festival in 1876. Wagner himself preferred other pianos in the house, but Liszt loved the Steinway. It is lucky to be still in existence. Wahnfried took a direct hit in the last days of the war and was two-thirds destroyed, along with much of its contents. Wieland Wagner reconstructed the house, predictably along clean, modern lines. When the house was sold to the city of Bayreuth in 1973 (for a pretty penny), Wolfgang and his mother, Winifred, worked with historical architects, reaching back into their memories to restore the house as closely as possible to its original appearance.
Liszt spent as much time as he could at Wahnfried in his later years, and Cosima had a house built for him next door. This house is now the site of the Franz Liszt Museum. While not as elaborately funded as the Wagner Museum, it is well worth a visit, if only as an homage to this remarkable man.
The front of Wahnfried has a bronze bust of King Ludwig, as well it should. In the back are the attractive gardens where so many notables promenaded in 1876. Richard and Cosima are buried in relatively tasteful graves there. (Liszt, who died at Wahnfried in 1886, is buried in the municipal cemetery of Bayreuth, next to his grandson Siegfried Wagner.) The back gate opens on to the Hofgarten, the once royal preserve of the Neue Schloss, and now an attractive park. Swans are abundant.
The Markgräflisches Oper
This theater with the near-unpronounceable name was the attraction that first brought the Wagners to Bayreuth in search of a suitable site for the festival. It was built by the Margravine (roughly equivalent to “Countess”) Wilhelmine of Bayreuth around 1740. This interesting lady was the sister of Frederick the Great. When she was sent off to dull Bayreuth, she decided to liven things up a bit, and started building. This was the height of the period we now call rococo, and Wilhelmine went hog-wild with it. Stop by this building (confusingly known as the Opera House of Bayreuth) and see what you think of German rococo.
Evenings in Bayreuth
Chances are you will be at the Festival House in the evenings, but there is the occasional night off. The House, for example, is dark one night between performances of Walküre and Siegfried, as well as the night after Siegfried.
There is usually a concert at the old Opera House on one of these off nights. By all means, go. While eighteenth-century interior design is not above criticism, you will experience what sort of intimacy was achieved in these smaller, ornate theaters. Sit in the first or second tier of faux-boxes if you want to be seen. At intermission, walk through the strange lobby to the cafe-salon. French doors open onto a balcony overlooking the cobbled plaza and fountain. Flowers are everywhere. Take your coffee out
on the balcony and imagine yourself waving to your cheering subjects below.
The concerts are usually of pre-Wagnerian music, with Mozart in abundance, played by the splendid musicians who have gathered for the festival. At the very least, spending your festival off-night at a concert will establish you, once and for all, as a very serious music lover.
If time permits, stop in at the Zollinger Conditerei Operncafe next door to the old Opera for coffee and pastry before the performance. Gilt-and-white walls with mirrors, chandeliers, and starched linens abound. You simply don’t find places like this outside of central Europe.
For late-night entertainment, including after performances, you may want to explore the Rathskeller-type establishments in the city’s oldest part of town. These are to be found in the casbahlike cobbled streets around Sophienstrasse, behind the main square and transit center. These establishments will amuse you if your idea of a fun night out in Germany was formed by seeing The Student Prince. If you like to think of yourself as more up-to-date, a few trendy cafes, boutiques, and bars have opened on the very narrow Badstrasse, directly behind the old Opera. This area is Bayreuth’s very modest answer to Soho or Kreuzberg. Wear black. If you’re gay, or you want a truly interesting place to go, check out Judy’s Pub on the Tunnelstrasse just off the main Bahnhofstrasse. Judy’s may be the only place in the world where you can see white tie and tails mixing with neon lycra in one small room.
Other Stops in Bayreuth
After breakfast, trot over to Tscheitschonig stationery and magazine store, where the pictures taken from the balcony of the Festival House at the previous day’s performance will be on display in the window. Even if you don’t intend to buy any, the window is something of a late-morning gathering spot and gossip center for festival-goers. Also, there will be pictures of celebrities attending the festival in the window, and you can make fun comments on how everybody looks. (Don’t bother pointing out that the prime minister of the republic is overweight—everybody already knows that.) The stationery shop is right on the Bahnhofstrasse, near the Parsifal Apotheke (pharmacy).
The Eremitage is a must if you have fallen in love at the festival (not likely), or if you want an elegant baroque stroll. The Eremitage is a lovely, pointless folly across the Autobahn, built as, well, a pretty place to stroll in the eighteenth century. It’s not really a palace, just a backdrop in stone with statues. Ludwig stayed here during the first festival.
On Sunday mornings, the Lutheran and Catholic churches in the old town offer extremely multilingual services where the level of music is, predictably, fairly high. Dress as if for an important business meeting.
The town of Bayreuth, attractively reconstructed after being obliterated in the last days of the war, has worked hard to make itself welcoming to strangers, and perhaps to transcend its swastika-bunted past. The main streets are festooned with international flags among the blue-and-white Bavarian banners and flags of the Federal Republic. The university stresses international culture and relations, especially in music. The whole town celebrates the festival that put it on the map. Bookstores sell a wide array of musical and Wagner-specific literature, and signings by the star musicians are frequent. Plays, some quite funny or avant-garde, and concerts are given in several venues. Souvenirs, even tacky ones, are sold everywhere. Even those who have no interest in Wagner celebrate the importance of the festival.
GLOSSARY
abbé A vague title of the Roman Catholic church, referring to a man who has taken holy orders but is not fully a priest. Franz Liszt famously became an abbé in 1864 within the order of Franciscan friars. His ecclesiastical duties were extremely light and seemed primarily limited to the private sphere. This allowed him to appear in society in the costume and collar of a Catholic priest, saving a good deal of money on clothes while at the same time annoying his son-in-law Wagner.
alliteration The poetic device of using the same consonant sound repeatedly, especially at the beginning of words, as in “Peter Piper picked a peck …” Alliteration was a required element of Old Germanic poetry, and Wagner, in his attempts to sound archaic, was positively, even maddeningly, addicted to it. Alberich in Das Rheingold often uses alliteration, as in his line “Garstig glatter glitschriger Glimmer!” (rough translation: “Grossly glimmering glittering goo!”)
aria (from Italian, literally, “air”) A set piece of solo vocal music in an opera. “Song” might be a good way to say this, but, for some reason, nobody does. It is a given that Wagner never wrote arias in his operas after Tannhäuser. The fact that “Elsa’s Dream,” Isolde’s Liebestod, and Siegmund’s Spring Song are not arias must be taken on faith, like the emperor’s new clothes.
atonality Music that does not have any key as its center. The twentieth century has been obsessed with this concept, primarily in the work of Arnold Schoenberg, but many see the phenomenon foreshadowed in the works of Liszt and Wagner. The strange harmonies of Tristan and parts of Parsifal are particularly notable in this regard, but all of Wagner’s mature music is loaded with accidentals (notes outside of the key being used), which points toward atonality.
Bavaria (in German, Bayern, as in BMW) Formerly a kingdom, now a state, of southern Germany, including the cities of Munich, Augsburg, Nuremberg, and Bayreuth. Bavaria is considered prosperous, conservative, attractive, and Catholic (except for its upper area of Franconia).
Bayreuth bark Wagner’s famous advice to his singers, urging them to pay attention to the text and the small notes, devolved, under Cosima’s guidance, into an unlovely mannerism known by this name. The term “Bayreuth bark” was common before the First World War, which tells us something about what we might have heard had we attended the festival in that time. Wagnerian singers are often accused of “barking.” In fact, barking is all but gone today. Remind your older friends of this when they rhapsodize about the supposed golden age of Wagner singing.
Bayreuth hush This refers to a phenomenon unique to the audiences at Bayreuth, who, after a brief period of chatter while getting to their seats, fall into a deep and respectful quiet before the house lights are dimmed. Explanations for this range from a desire to observe an honorific meditation on the subsequent miraculous music to the infamous lack of air in the Festival House. Whatever its reason for being, the Bayreuth hush is eerie but effective, allowing the music to emerge from absolute silence.
It is perfectly permissible among Wagnerites to use this term in other contexts as well. For example, by saying, “Our guests observed a Bayreuth hush,” you can imply that your recent party was not of the “swing from the chandeliers” variety. The phrase is used incorrectly in reference to the tradition of not applauding after Act I of Parsifal. Don’t make this mistake. The proper term to describe the quiet of the Bayreuth audience after the first act of Parsifal is not “hush,” but rather “sepulchral silence.”
Bildungsroman (German) A “coming of age” story, of which Goethe’s The Apprenticeship of Wilhelm Meister is the definitive example. The term is often applied to Siegfried and sometimes, obliquely, to Parsifal.
Bühnenfestspiel (German, “stage festival performance”) This is the term Wagner used for the Ring, since “opera” would never do and even “music drama” hardly seemed a sufficient description. The word recalls the ancient Athenian drama festivals, or at least those festivals as Wagner imagined them, where the entire populace attended a day-long trilogy of plays that were part history, part mythology, and part religion.
Bühnenweihfestspiel (German, roughly, “stage-consecrating festival performance”) Wagner’s term for Parsifal. Since the Ring defied existing nomenclature, Wagner did backflips to one-up himself for Parsifal.
cavatina A formal and stately operatic aria without repetitions. Erik sings a cavatina toward the end of Dutchman.
crescendo (from Italian, literally, “growing”) This handy word is used in English and other languages to describe music, vocal or instrumental, that gets steadily louder. The Prelude to Rheingold is one single crescendo
.
Entrümpelung (German, literally, “cleaning out attics”) The style that characterized Wieland Wagner’s productions, with their almost-bare stages, at Bayreuth in the 1950s, and many other lesser, creativity-challenged productions since then. A good analogy in the field of graphic arts might be the famous cover of the Beatles’ White Album.
Fach (German, literally, “compartment,” “shelf,” or “department”) This is the word Germans and know-it-alls use for vocal range, as for a tenor or a soprano. It is also popular among arty types in a more general sense, as in “She shouldn’t have danced that macarena at the wedding—it’s really not her fach!”
Franconia (in German, Franken) Region and former duchy of south-central Germany, including Nuremberg and Bayreuth. Staunchly Protestant, it was casually handed over to severely Catholic Bavaria by Napoleon in 1806, and it remains mostly in the state of Bavaria in the current Federal Republic. Walther von Stolzing in Meistersinger is a Franconian knight.
German Confederation The loose organization of the many smaller kingdoms, principalities, and free cities of Germany from the fall of Napoleon in 1815 until the declaration of the German Empire in 1871. Each of these independent political entities (from the larger kingdoms like Prussia, Saxony, and Bavaria, to the tiny states like Weimar, to independent city-states like Frankfurt) had its own laws, currency, army, and bureaucracy. It is best to consider this untenable feudal situation when confronting the nationalist strains (which sound so noxious now in view of subsequent history) in Lohengrin and Meistersinger.
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