The Polish Jew xpost
rich...@gmail.com
Rather, it’s one of the stranger operas to have held the boards for
many years at the beginning of the century, only to have then
disappeared, until very recently, notably in the Czech Republic. A
recording circulates from a production at the beginning of the decade
that is in more than good enough sound, and although it is difficult
to get a score, libretti are easily available on line.
The sociology and history of the opera are at least as interesting as
the music itself.
The opera is by Karel Weis (1862-1944), and is based on a three act
play from the middle of the 19th century, which became famous as a
play for Irving, under the title of The Bells. I had always assumed
that Weis (whose name appears in various spellings and hyphenated
forms, like Weis-Leon) was Jewish, in part because of the subject
matter and in part because of his last name. This may not, however, be
true. The title of the play is ‘Polsky zid”, and at least in Russian,
this is pretty derogatory. Weis had a long career as a composer, and
although this was his first and most successful of three operas, he
basically was a Prague boy for most of his life; in year or so of his
death had his third opera produced in the Protectorate (of Bohemia and
Moravia), so it looks like I have guessed wrong about his religious
background. He was in any event a Germanophile and his work was
produced at The German Theatre in Prague. If you know anything about
CZ after the breakup of the empire, you know that there was little
love lost between the Germans remaining in Prague and the Czechs
(sic), and Weis was thought of as something of a traitor to his class
– the kind of thing that always endears a person to me.
The story is totally bizarre. In a quick nutshell, a Polish innkeeper
killed a Jew for money 15 years earlier. The opera starts at the
point, after that, when the innkeeper's daughter is getting married.
Big celebration, then the sound of sleigh bells (sic) which reminds
the innkeeper of his crime. There is then an extended ‘dream
sequence’ in which he dreams he is at trial. He awakens, and suddenly
ANOTHER Jew enters, and the Pole drops dead. I am simplifying a bit,
but detail is not going to add much in the way of credibility. He
hadn’t heard bells in 15 years? Walkin’ in a winter wonderland.
Anyway, can you guess where the opera was given originally, and where
it was a HUGE success for 30 years or so, although it was done all
around the world? No, you can’t. It was at the Opera Comique. Think
about that: April 1900, at the very height of the Dreyfus Affair, and
through that that whole decade it is getting scores of performances.
What did the French think they were seeing? Which side were they
cheering for? I am still looking for a couple of Parisian reviews, and
haven’t found them. And the casting was deluxe - Eduard Clement,
Victor Maurel, Julia Giraudon and Gustav Huberdeau.
Mahler brings it to Vienna a few years later, where it does a belly
flop. Maybe they didn’t like the ending. There is some speculation
that the ‘bells’ were something that rang a bell for him – think – but
I suspect there may be other roots as well. You win some and you lose
some. I would love to know the Vienna casting, if anyone does know.
It came to the US in 1921, the MET, for three performances in English.
It’s obviously heavily cut, because it alternates with Secret of
Susanna (also an American premier) and Oraculo. The alternation with
Susanna is actually pretty funny if you think about it. It gets
completely uncomprehending reviews. The casting included Chamlee
(Bodansky conducting, which may have been some of the problem) and
the very first native American to sing at the MET, a South American
“Chief Caupolican”, who also ends up doing some movies and vaudeville.
I have now been listening to the music for months, and cannot say that
I am really any wiser about it than when I began, which may be part of
the problem. If you read sources or criticism, you see that it is seen
as being of the schools of Dvorak and Smetana, and it’s not that that
is ‘wrong’, but it’s not really right. It is certainly not really a
‘folk opera’, although it is often called that, and some folk themes
sound like they may be used. What it really sounds like, to the extent
that it is not, indeed, sui generis (which is always the kiss of death
for a composer), is that it is built on the compositional model of
Verdi’s Falstaff, and looking back a bit perhaps to Gomes. Yes, some
of the musical idiom is “Czech”, but there is a sense of continuoss
melody/parlando, and a use of instrumental color, particularly winds,
which is very much reminiscent of the later Verdi.
I have no idea how it plays on the stage. The libretto, at least in
the English translation I have, is creaky in the extreme, but it’s a
century old or so. The dream sequence could be fantastic – today we
have the stage resources to do things that would have been ungainly
even a few decades ago – or it could just kill the action. Perhaps it
is just too much of a pat story to work anymore, but as music I find
it continuously provocative and rather gripping, although there is not
a lot to hum. I would be most interested to hear other stuff of his –
he never stopped writing, and concentrated on the voice, and choral
works, a lot – but I have not found anything else.
If you can find it, grab it.
rich...@gmail.com
wrote:
Just as a note to correct, someone was smart enough and kind enough to
mention on another board that the one that did so well in Paris and
flopped in Vienna was by Erlanger.
I'd seen a reference to this, but thought it had to be wrong and just
went with the Weis.
I have done a little more digging and found that the Weis was actually
more successful in Vienna and in Germany than the Erlanger, which was
apparently of purely French interest.
So, just not to mislead.
But it's the same material and story exactly, so all the same
questions (and the same bells in both operas) so the same questions
remain as to how any version, including Erlanger's (which I've never
heard) with THAT story was so succesful in Paris.
And the Weis is still every bit the same, and worth hearing.