Transcendence...(part two)

As I noted in my last post, I recently heard two concerts in which the context of a particular composition infuses the work itself with dramatic energy. While I was very familiar with the works of Luigi Nono, I have to admit to never having heard of Viktor Ullmann. Just over a week ago his chamber opera Der Kaiser von Atlantis was staged at UCSD in a production led by Susan Narucki and conducted by Steven Schick. You can read a review here.

Ullmann found himself in the periphery of Schoenberg's circle after the First World War, eventually studying with Zemlinsky, who had been Schoenberg's teacher. After a somewhat peripatetic career Ullmann had the misfortune of not leaving Europe as the Nazi regime came to power in Germany. He was first brought to the concentration camp at Terezin in 1942. Remarkably, Ullmann composed several works while he was imprisoned there, including Der Kaiser von Atlantis.

The rich cultural life within the Terezin camp was part of the propaganda machine of the Third Reich: if the Jews were making music, how savagely could they have been treated? I suppose it isn't possible to know for certain whether Ullmann knew what lay ahead, but the libretto written by his fellow prisoner Peter Klein suggests that they were fully aware of the appalling dimensions of their captors' plans. The work is a savage satire of the Reich, which was stunningly brave given the circumstances. Apparently, an S.S. officer heard part of a rehearsal and canceled the entire affair, and Ullmann was soon sent to Auschwitz and the gas chamber. Somehow, manuscripts of the opera survived.

A question loomed in my mind as I went to hear this performance, and it's one that lingers, still: is it possible to hear the work without the tragic circumstances of its author constantly framing the material? In short, the answer seemed to be "no" even though there were many compelling elements to the work (and its performance) that surely demanded one's attention and admiration. Indeed, the performers were remarkably skilled and committed. The vocal program at UCSD has grown significantly since I was a student there, as Narucki's presence has consistently drawn a cluster of talented singers into her studio. It's quite a remarkable thing to behold.

And it seems to be, in some way, a victory for humanity to have this fierce little opera in the world. It survives and the Nazis are in the dustbin of history.

I was reminded somewhat of Schoenberg's Survivor from Warsaw, a compact yet epic sort of oratorio in which a narrator gives a harrowing account of the Warsaw ghetto uprising. It often seemed to me that -- powerful as the music truly is -- the situation it invokes dwarfs the music. Invite the monster into your bedroom and he may take over. It's not a fair situation, of course: artists should be able to comment on these things, indeed they must, but direct reference to historical events will subjugate the musical materials into an accompanying role.

Ullmann's work (which, oddly, had a trumpet riff not unlike the opening gesture in Schoenberg's Survivor) was sufficiently distanced from the Holocaust because of its fictitious setting and allegorical themes. But his own personal history looms over the entire work. I am left in awe of a creative spirit able to produce incisive, poignant, provocative, and beautiful work in impossibly dire circumstances.