Marietta’s Song
by Jan Schmidt-Garre
Marietta’s song is by far the most famous number in Korngold’s » Dead City «. Because it is a song, a kind of theatre on the theatre or music in the music, it is an alien element in this opera, both musically and dramaturgically, even apart from its popularity. How to stage it?
A postmodern director would stage his attitude to the song, perhaps quoting the typical pose of Marietta and Paul with the lute that we know from historical performances. He would emphasise the character of the alien element and ironically expose the song in its familiarity. Why would he do that? Because otherwise he would be embarrassed in front of himself, friends and experts, who might assume that he was unaware of the song’s show piece character and its popularity. So he quotes ironically, because it seems no longer possible for us to take such a request concert number seriously with our consciousness today – perhaps even regrettably. He mistrusts the piece or its integrative power as a director and seemingly critically unmasks what is already out in the open. Ultimately an act of desperation. An unreflected display of coolness, immunisation against criticism.
In my production, I try instead to integrate the song, to take away its (dramaturgical) show piece character. Marietta’s visit to Paul, which she was afraid of but also looking forward to and perhaps even hoping for, threatens to turn into a catastrophe. On the street, Paul had approached her so passionately and urged her to visit him that she couldn’t resist. She fell in love with this passion, this fanatically flaming gaze. She wanted to feel this gaze on her again and again. » You knew how to ask so urgently. « Now she comes to him and he doesn’t speak to her, stares at her strangely, examines her hair, her voice, her shoulders, her dress, exchanges conspiratorial words with the housekeeper, hangs a scarf around her neck and presses an old lute into her hand. Only when she tells him that she can sing passably well does he thaw a little. And when she starts the song, he finally becomes softer, more approachable, more normal. He opens up. He even reveals that he knows the song and associates it with memories from » younger, better days «. Now he takes over the lute and sings the second verse. They now even sing a duet. They have never been this close before. Marietta puts her hand on his shoulder. The form of singing together allows her this transgression. But as soon as the song ends, Paul sinks into gloom – a depressive counterpart to the manic comparison between the living and the dead. The lute slips from his hand, threatening to fall to the floor, and Marietta takes it from him. In a last attempt to reconnect with the previous intimacy, she gives him a little kiss. But in the end she realises with resignation: » That stupid song, it’s completely bewitched you. «
Here, the song is an organic part of the plot, logically integrated and psychologically motivated for both protagonists. It drives the plot forward and illuminates the characters. The audience doesn’t even realise that this is a famous piece. There is no applause!
Opera: » Die tote Stadt «
