Recordings of Die Meistersinger do not grow on trees; more than any other of Wagner’s operas it almost defines “festival opera”. Its four-hour-plus length is just the start: Sachs is an incredibly long role, and the character is complicated (moreso, say, that Gurnemanz in Parsifal–another endurance contest–who is religiously tunnel-visioned); Walther’s biggest moment comes at the opera’s very end and simply cannot be anything but great; Eva is sweet without being cloying and while the role is lyrical, it’s not easy to pin down dramatically; Beckmesser must be foolish but not grotesque; the orchestra is huge, and if the chorus, orchestra, and soloists get through the first act finale with flying colors, they still have the second act’s, which is a true challenge for any conductor to keep both together and clear.
This is the greatest operatic recording ever made, and one of the reasons is the astounding difficulty of doing even a good performance of this opera, which in all other recordings fails to sustain, throughout the work's 4+ hours, a continuity of tension and of a sense of forward-motion. Karl Bohm was unsurpassed at achieving such archetectonic unity; and he surpassed even himself in this recording, which was the second and last complete studio recording he made of this joyous masterwork, and much better than either his Bayreuth or Metropolitan Opera live recording of the complete opera. It's also better than his first studio recording of the work, which he made in Dresden in 1938.
English-speaking audiences have always found Die Meistersinger to be a life-enhancing celebration of wisdom, art and song. So it proves in David McVicar's production – the first at Glyndebourne – which is updated to the early-19th century of Wagner's childhood. At the centre of a true ensemble cast is Gerald Finley, a 'gleamingly sung', 'eminently believable' Sachs (The Independent on Sunday), supported by the dynamic conducting of Vladimir Jurowski which, like McVicar's production, uses Glyndebourne's special intimacy to bring sharp focus to bear on the subtlety of Wagner's musical and dramatic counterpoint.
Featuring a true golden-age cast, this 1967 Radio Broadcast hums and bubbles with invigorating warmth and unquenchable passion under the sprightly baton of Rafael Kubelik. Thomas Stewart is a intelligent Sachs, who brings real weight and power to the great Act III monologue but who retains real lyricism for the role's more tender moments. It would be inconceivable that Gundula Janowitz's creamy-voiced Eva would pass him over if it were not for the ardent, fiery Walther of Sándor Kónya, who gives voice to an ethereal rendition of the Prize song. Thomas Hemsley is an nuanced Beckmesser thankfully devoid of caricature, and Franz Crass is a warm, fatherly Pogner. Brigitte Fassbaender may be the most sensuous Magdalena on record, and is paired expertly by the great Gerhard Unger, at his considerable best as David.
So this is, on the whole, a fine performance. The only other commercial recording of Die Meistersinger to come along in the last couple of decades has been Sawallisch's (for my review see Fanfare 18:3). And that one, despite its many virtues, is seriously disfigured by Weikl's Sachs. So if you want a Meistersinger in up-to-the-minute digital sound, you would do better with Solti. I must add, however, that while the sound on this new recording is very full and clear, it lacks warmth.
The 1970 film version of Richard Wagner’s opera Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg is based on a staging by the director Leopold Lindtberg, for which Herbert Kirchhoff designed the set and Rudolf Heinrich the costumes. Leopold Ludwig conducts the Chorus of the Hamburg State Opera and the Philharmonic Hamburg State Orchestra. A quick glance at the cast list of this film production of Die Meistersinger reveals the surprising fact that the vocal protagonists – all stars of international reputation – were almost all associated with the Hamburg State Opera ensemble. This production fascinates by its appealing classical staging, the brilliance of the whole cast and the great camera shots, which are only could be realised in a studio production like this and with the result, that the audience finds itself placed amidst the scene.
Wagner’s enchanting Nürnberg has perhaps never looked as marvelous as in this production by Otto Schenk, with sets designed by Günther Schneider-Siemssen. James Levine’s conducting is as authoritative as it is affectionate, and the orchestra, the chorus, and the all-star cast which could not be equaled anywhere else in the world—respond with a riveting performance. James Morris is a wise, avuncular Hans Sachs; Ben Heppner’s beautifully sung Walther is a perfect match for Karita Mattila’s radiant Eva; and René Pape and Thomas Allen turn in stellar performances.
Stefan Herheim's idea of staging a midsummer night's dream as a fairytale narrative is enchanting and with this admirably matched ensemble of excellent singer-players, all of whom bring sharp contours to their roles, and the brilliant details of characterization make each scene an experience to cherish. This unbelievably lavish and absolutely splendid stage set radiates youthful charm and conjures up a flood of incomparable images.