Recent Reflections on a Sensitive Subject

Outside my window, Karneval season kicked into high gear today. While Cologne's Karneval is particularly famous, the holiday is celebrated far and wide, including in Munich, where it is known as Fasching. Though Karneval technically began months ago, heavy-duty merrymaking only commences in the days prior to Lent. Munich had one of its first major Fasching festivities, a parade, this past Sunday. The parade caused a storm of controversy in the press because it conflicted with -- and drew attention from -- International Holocaust Remembrance Day.

This blog has been almost silent until now about this particular period in Germany's history. That was deliberate. The Holocaust is an immensely complicated topic, and the current German political climate regarding the Holocaust is equally intricate. I did not want to add needless blather to a knotty and emotionally charged dialogue.

At this point, I have some thoughts to share. The topic of the Holocaust weighed on my mind in Munich last week. While there, I and the other participants of my seminar met with a high-ranking official of the Bavarian state government. He was obviously an intelligent, articulate man. He spoke fluidly and charmingly about Bavarian history and culture. He also made some very flippant remarks about the NS-Zeit.¹ At one point, he said that Bavaria is where all the "nice" elements of German culture come from, and that the negative elements -- here he actually listed the Holocaust as an example -- came from elsewhere.

The Nazis did not exactly enjoy overwhelming support in Bavaria, but it would be a lie to say the region opposed the Reich. Conversely, though it is an egregious exaggeration to claim Bavaria has "all of German's good culture," it certainly has its share. Bavaria birthed Richard Wagner and Richard Strauss; Max Planck and Werner Heisenberg; Bertolt Brecht and Thomas Mann. But it is also where the Nazi movement began in the early twenties.

I recognize that I tread on sensitive territory here. Especially dangerous is the drawing of inferences about modern Germans from historical lessons. The general rule, as I have seen it, is that contemporary Germans are exceedingly aware of their history, perhaps even haunted by it. The generation raised in the wake of World War II was taught, at home, at church, in school, to retain a sense of Schuldgefühl, a feeling of guilt for the sins of their country. Germans are by and large saturated with their history, and while this has occasionally created blowback, more often, I have seen it lead to a greater concern for human rights and a stronger belief in international cooperation.

As for me, from everything I have learned about the Holocaust, the only sure conclusion I have reached is that it was an immensely tragic and immensely complicated event. There is still much to be learned from the Holocaust. Some Germans have gone to great lengths to do so. We can learn from them as well.

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¹The most commonly used term among Germans today for the Nazi regime. NS-Zeit translates to the "time of national socialism."

Teutonic Travels, Part Three: München and the Staatsoper

Ludwigstraße, one of the main thoroughfares of central Munich, does not hint at its Italian influence so much as revel in it. Ludwig I, the first king of Bavaria, had a great love for Italian architecture and art, and he wanted as much of his capital to recall that tradition as possible. Thus does a visitor to Munich find himself walking through a number of Florentine arches. More often, however, Munich reflects its true position as the largest and wealthiest city of the Southern German world.¹ As one moves away from Ludwigstraße, the decor rapidly dissolves into the deep-red roofs and painted stucco walls that characterize picturesque southern villages. Alongside this old-world flair are the imposing edifices of some of Munich's monuments: the Frauenkirche, the Neues Rathaus² and the Theatinerkirche. Munich's appearance is therefore at once complex and forthright. The streets elegantly trim the city's many modern amenities with the ornamentation of Bavarian history, including Italian flourishes.

Following these streets leads to some pretty impressive places, as I learned throughout the past week. InWent assigned me to Munich for my mid-year seminar. There are worse places to deflate for a few days. Munich is Germany's most expensive city, and it shows. Besides the city's beauty, both art and industry thrive here. Munich houses BMW's headquarters, a bizarre edifice that seems to erupt from the ground like some massive piston. More memorable for me was the Bayerische Staatsoper, Germany's most important opera house. Fitting with the city's Italian undertones, this past week saw performances of Rossini's Il Turco in Italia, a fairly typical buffa with infidelity, death threats, and all the other clean family fun for which opera is known.³



The performance was weak for a stage like the Staatsoper. Most of the leads struggled to keep their runs audible and in tempo. At times the orchestra swallowed them completely. David Alegret, whose name I can only assume means "aggravating" in Spanish, was particularly bothersome as Don Narciso. I suspect Mr. Alegret feared he would be unable to provide sufficient resonance, because he sang through his nose the entire evening. Insult joined injury when Maximillian Schmitt, playing the relatively small role of Albazar, sang his first notes late in Act Two. Here was a perfectly competent tenor relegated to comic relief while a Spanish Paul Lynde honked his way through the night. A miscasting if ever there was one.

The silver lining of this so-so ensemble was Valentina Kutzarova, who captivated my attention with luscious coloratura every time she entered. Her Zaida was the treat of the evening, especially compared to Alexandrina Pendatchanska's Fiorilla. Though Ms. Pendatchanska improved enough in Act Two to give a massive performance of her closing aria,⁴ she tended both to warble and to slide lazily during cadenzas into colorless, indiscriminate vowels.⁵ Alessandro Corbelli managed at least to amuse throughout the evening, if not impress. With a stocky frame, rumpled garb and a wiry gray disaster of hair, his Don Geronio resembled no one so much as Peter Falk's Columbo, pacing hunched about the stage with pensive hands clasped behind his back.

If some of the leads were not up to the task, their support certainly did not falter. Herbert Murauer supplied sets that were clever without intruding. Opting for contemporary setting, Murauer initially decorated the opening scene, a gypsy camp, with a single modern camper trailer. Through terrific use of the trapdoor, over thirty performers entered from that one camper. The directorial team kept the audience laughing throughout this entire procession. The leads may have failed to grab the baton from their ensemble, but not for lack of a strong setup.

Perhaps I wax a little too critical. It is not every evening this American expatriate gets to visit one of Europe's best opera houses free of charge. Would that my program bothered to bribe me more often.

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¹Vienna is in fact slightly larger, but the Münchner economy is much stronger. Conversely, Vienna has a higher overall quality of life, and is the home of Sacher Torte, arguably the best chocolate cake in the world. So it balances out.

²Firstly, this is something of a misnomer. The older city government building was destroyed in the war and subsequently rebuilt. Thus, the "new" Rathaus is actually the older of the two buildings. Given its massive size and drippingly Gothic style, it looks it, too.

Also, you have to love any language that calls a political office a "Rathaus."

³Il Turco also has a memorable mistaken identities cliché, but mentioning that didn't really fit into the above wisecrack. But yes, masquerade party, dramatic irony, blah blah blah, the whole shtick.

⁴("Warmups! I knew I forgot something!")

⁵To be fair to Ms. Pendatchanska, who is both talented and gorgeous, I am hopelessly biased against her. I hate Fiorilla. Hate her, hate her, hate her. My own mother could sing the role flawlessly, and I'd still be crotchety.