The Bayreuth Festival has always claimed to be an artistic pioneer. This year they are surfing the wave of digitalisation. “Augmented reality” is the buzzword. Unlike the virtual reality of video games, you are not immersed in a completely artificial world, but the visual experience is spiced up with digital content. Sounds good. But is it?
For each performance of Jay Scheib's new production of Parsifal, spectators in 330 seats are equipped with special glasses that are only slightly heavier than normal sunglasses and make it possible to superimpose visual effects on what is happening on stage. If necessary, these glasses can be adjusted to the lens prescription of individual audience members, which is quickly done with the support of the numerous, friendly and patient staff. But this is only a small intermediate step in the elaborate process behind the set-up: the visual conditions of each individual seat are taken into account and the colourful animations are triggered manually in coordination with the music.
Before the curtain rises, however, it becomes clear from the virtual dove fluttering around that this technology is only made of pixels. The fact that it is being shown at a venerable opera house does not make it any better per se than what one experiences in mundane amusement parks (or has experienced – for example, in 2019 Universal Studios scaled back its Minion Mayhem simulator ride in 3D to a standard film after only two years existence).
What is interesting, however, is how the stage is expanded with the cross-fading through the virtual image worlds – you can turn your head as far as your neck vertebrae will go. The virtual stripped forest is seemingly endless, and in the third act we discover that the water in the lake of the Grail Castle is polluted with batteries and plastic waste. The idea of nature as a desecrated sanctuary is not consistently developed or pursued, however, which brings us to the crux of this virtual flood of imagery: it cannot compensate for the weak staging and it has other pitfalls too. Although the technology sometimes makes the back view of the seat in front disappear, this also applies to parts of the stage, depending on the colour density of the virtual elements which, naturally, is also distracting. You may miss why Parsifal suddenly has a human heart in his hand, or that Klingsor disappears behind a giant pink skull that opens and closes its jaw awkwardly.
The artistic nature of this artificiality is also open for discussion, for no particular style is discernible. Surreal lilies alternate with stylised trees and clumsily moved human silhouettes, a blanched Kundry avatar plants itself in front of you... the list of imagery is long, but only Klingsor's magic garden in Act 2 succeeds convincingly, because the virtual flowers and vines that are shown, in addition to the colourful backdrop, actually conjure up a magical atmosphere. The Flowermaidens also radiate a certain Valkyrie feeling (there is a bloodied man lying dead on a mattress, and it takes several bars until their seductive siren sounds are heard) as well as “flower power” flair. However, these are also the moments when you prefer to look under the AR glasses, because they darken all the colours and especially the useful background videos, which often show close-ups of the action.
However, the value of experiencing this production without glasses is considerably diminished, because the brilliant second act is sandwiched between two musically and directorially below-average performances. This was primarily due to the conducting of Pablo Heras-Casado, who was already hyped pre-pandemic, but only really demonstrated his potential in the second act. With an earthbound, rather than soaring, prelude, Act 1 still passed as solid, but Act 3 revealed a few things that should not be, such a missed opportunity due to a monotonously unaccented transition from the Good Friday Spell to the "escorting" of the Grail, hurried harps and other inconsistencies, so that the usual emotion at the conclusion did not set in.
Unfortunately, this was also due to special circumstances. Andreas Schager deserves thanks for jumping in as Parsifal, but after singing Siegfried the previous day (!) he was exhausted during “Nur eine Waffe taugt”. Until that point, he had given an impeccable performance, which can also be said of Georg Zeppenfeld as Gurnemanz; the latter, however, can develop even more radiance under other conductors. Derek Welton portrayed Amfortas as a model disciple who has made a single mistake in his life, and also showed greatness in suffering. As Klingsor, Jordan Shanahan successfully made an impression against the virtual spectacle, and Tobias Kehrer, in a slit evening gown that seemed tailored from grey rubbish bags, gave a remarkable Titurel in every respect. Goosebump moments were provided by the excellent chorus.
However, the star of the evening was Elīna Garanča, who showed the many facets of Kundry, and for whom a beautiful closing effect was devised: she acknowledges Parsifal's rejection in a manner similar to a queen's indignation at a disobedient subject, and with the final failure of her seduction she ages (via the video screen) for a few moments. How this happens is much more interesting, offering more theatrical magic than the production’s striking virtual imagery.
Translated into English by Mark Pullinger
