FROM AROUND THE WORLD: MUNICH.(Review)

For a heavily subsidized company such as the Bavarian State Opera, commissioning a new opera from Aribert Reimann should have posed minimal risk. Reimann, sixty-five, is one of the most respected modern composers. His choice of Garcia Lorca's broodingly depressing La Casa de Bernarda Alba (The House of Bernarda Alba) might have given pause, but he always reaches for the sky, having already set such masters as Shakespeare, Euripides and Strindberg. Reimann not only composed the work but adapted his own libretto from Enrique Becks German translation. According to press reports, he wanted to find a musical language appropriate to the story and to orchestrate for maximum textual clarity. Reimann can blame only himself for not achieving his lofty aims.

Seen at the Nationaltheater (premiere Oct. 30), the single act of Bernarda Albas Haus lasted slightly more than two hours. Reimann's musical language turned out to be a combination of mind-numbing orchestral pounding and high-lying, hysterical vocal lines. Almost all the sung parts force the singer to remain in the extreme of her upper range; most phrases lurch and end with a jump downward. With few exceptions, everything was very, very loud. The text was absolutely incomprehensible. How could one be expected to understand high-pitched screaming? German supertitles were required for a work performed in German for a German-speaking audience. Nevertheless, one heard several brief moments of musical inspiration, of which the few calm sections are the finest, including a wonderful solo cello accompaniment to a scene for Bernarda's senile, elderly mother (a speaking role, superbly performed by Inge Keller).

Reimann's opera received an outstanding production. Frank Philipp Schlossmann's set design (a stage bathed in white light and crowded with chairs) created an atmosphere reeking of repression and sexual longing. Director Harry Kupfer guided his cast magnificently through this labyrinth of expressionistic symbolism.

As Bernarda, full of hate and self-righteousness, Helga Dernesch dominated. She made the most of her diminished vocal resources, and her stage presence was powerful. Bernarda's five daughters gave stunning performances; Claudia Barainsky stood out as Martirio, her voice soaring while she managed to bring dynamic differentiation to her very difficult part. Quite her equal was Anna Korondi as the resolute daughter Adelia, who is driven to suicide in the end. Anne Pellekoorne (Angustias), Jennifer Trost (Magdalena) and Margarita De Arellano (Amelia) rounded out the Alba brood, each with distinct personalities conveyed through overt or subtle gesture.

Conductor Zubin Mehta seemed to have the score well in hand, although it surely would have helped if the small orchestra (consisting of two prepared pianos, two standard pianos, twelve cellos and an ensemble of woodwinds and brass) could have played more softly. The audience rewarded the cast and the production team with an enthusiastic if short ovation. The composer received a mixture of boos and bravos.

Hans Werner Henze's Die Englische Katze, based on Honore de Balzac's satiric fairy tale, Peines de Coeur d'une Chatte Anglaise (Heartaches of an English cat), celebrated its world premiere in 1983 at the Schwetzingen Festival. In a new production on October 22 last year, the Staatstheater am Gartnerplatz presented the first Munich performance.

Although all of the major roles, with the exception of one mouse, are cats, the work ...