George Hunka

Notes and comment

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    Wagner and Weber for the summer

    radio klassik Stephansdom broadcasts four complete operas every week — a unique quality in itself — and this summer the station will be devoted to the operas of two great German composers in recognition of a few anniversaries.

    Carl Maria von Weber died on 5 June 1826, two hundred years ago, at the age of 39. Despite that relative youth, by the time of his death Weber had become perhaps the most accomplished composer of German romantic opera, producing several operas, some of which remain in the repertory today. radio klassik Stephansdom will broadcast seven Weber operas in their entirety in June, including his most famous opera Der Freischütz and two complete recordings of his one-act comedy Abu Hassan. More information about this mini-Weber-festival can be found here.

    Weber was a profound influence on Richard Wagner, a man not fond of acknowledging influences outside of himself. The 150th anniversary of the opening of Bayreuth takes place this August, and during that month and the month of July radio klassik Stephansdom devotes the larger segment of its programming to Wagner, and specifically his Ring cycle. Both the Solti and von Karajan Ring cycles will be broadcast in their entirety through those two months, along with special programming from Stefan Mickisch that examines over 200 motifs in the Ring and a six-part special series by Markus Vorzellner on the origin story of the tetralogy. (Wagner’s Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg will also be broadcast on 23 June; one can also expect broadcasts of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony [which opened the Bayreuth Festival on 13 August 1876] and selections from Tristan ünd Isolde, perhaps my favorite Wagner opera, if not my favorite opera of them all.) More specific information here.

    I can now see how I’ll be spending the summer — along with dedicating myself more diligently to improving my German so that I can enjoy more fully the rest of rkS’s programming. A full June-August schedule of radio klassik Stephansdom’s opera programming can be found here. More on that fine Vienna institution radio klassik Stephansdom here.

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    Banking on it

    Franz Sedlacek, Lied in der Dämmerung, 1931 © Oesterreichische Nationalbank/Kunstsammlung.

    I’ve never made a secret of my enthusiasm for the Neue Sachlichkeit/New Objectivity genre of early 20th century art, but until now my exposure has been limited to artists of Germany, such as George Grosz and Christian Schad. On my recent visit to Vienna I came across a few samples of the Austrian branch of this art, but alas, English-language material on these paintings and sculptures has been meagre.

    If someone would care to put up the money for another trip to Vienna, I’d thank them for allowing me to visit PREMIERE!: The Oesterreichische Nationalbank Collection, running through October 11 at the Leopold Museum, which features a terrific selection of Austrian Neue Sachlichkeit, early 20th century geometrical and gestural abstraction, and figurative work. Franz Sedlacek’s painting at the head of this post is unsettling in a way that the German New Objectivists only sometimes achieve. According to the Leopold web site,

    As a representative of Magical Realism, Sedlacek is often dubbed a “mystic of New Objectivity”. Working as a chemical scientist, the self-taught artist devoted his evenings to experimenting with painting, creating uncanny depictions. The effect of spatial depth, similar to that of a peep box, offers viewers the opportunity to delve into another world and to witness a surreal scene: Coziness gives way to trepidation, the apparently familiar becomes absurd.

    As it is, I will have to settle for the digital exhibition of PREMIERE!, which as fine as it is leaves one hungry for more. I hope a few of my new Austrian friends will visit the exhibition and report back. In the meantime, I can dream.

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    Lichtspiel

    Regular readers expecting frequent reports of my profound insights have I’m afraid been disappointed over the past month; life does get away from one, doesn’t it? I still plan to write more about my very meaningful journey to Vienna in March, but I am also still thinking about it and trying to find a good structure for the writing. I think I’ve found it and I hope to get to it soon. At any rate, apologies to all, and I still think fondly of my new friends in Austria.

    In the meantime I can recommend The Director, the new novel by Daniel Kehlmann and shortlisted for this year’s International Booker Prize. Lichtspiel, to give it its original German, Paul Celanian title, follows the great Austrian film director G.W. Pabst (1885-1967) from a brief exile in Hollywood in the 1930s through his return to Central Europe in 1939 with his wife and son (a fictional invention) to visit his ailing mother. He finds himself trapped through the war years and decides to work for the Third Reich, on films which he insists do not contribute to Nazi propaganda. The novel is a keen and often funny — not to mention timely — exploration of compromise and the artistic spirit (in one episode, Pabst acts as a co-director of a film by the spiky Leni Riefenstahl — yes, this film; in another, we’re treated to P.G. Wodehouse’s attendance at the Berlin premiere of Pabst’s Paracelsus in 1943), and I highly recommend it.

    2 responses to “Lichtspiel”

    1. J. Haynes

      George, thanks for info about THE DIRECTOR. Interesting premise, and it makes one wonder what compromises creative people are making in this day and age to appease flawed “leaders” in the US.

      I’d imagine: compromises aplenty.

      I naively gave Leni a pass when I first learned of her work, decades ago. She claimed not to know what was going on with Hitler et al, and gave the impression she was just a young filmmaker who didn’t realize what the Reich was actually up to.

      I later decided she knew exactly what was going on, but making films was more important than bypassing support of the Nazis. Too bad, because she really was a brilliant filmmaker. I wish she’d turned her talents in other directions. I don’t know if she EVER expressed regrets, and she lived to be 101 years old.

    2. George Hunka

      No, I don’t think she ever did. Brilliant filmmaker maybe, but to what end? And I understand that the final scene of Star Wars — when the heroes get their awards from whatever they get their awards from — was inspired by Triumph of the Will’s geometric compositions. It’s an interesting angle from which to consider what’s lost with compromise or, in this case, “homage.” As Jesse Pervical wrote in an essay for Medium, “Like I said, the visuals of Triumph of the Will cannot be removed from the context of the Nazis themselves. By utilizing their style, you ostensibly deem it worthy of imitation. You can claim you just want to use their techniques, but that doesn’t remove the Nazi overtones. Sure it looks great, but some visuals are ruined forever by association.”

      https://medium.com/@Jetfire852/the-influences-of-star-wars-triumph-of-the-will-9924f94d9f7