Bayreuth, August 12, 2024.
I'll never forget this date in that place. It marked, for me, the end of 19 years of tormented waiting for a seat, having lost two opportunities to attend, during which I wondered how would be like to be at the Bayreuth Festival. A year later, in my home in Madrid, I am remembering about my only brief pilgrimage to the Wagnerian shrine, accompanied by my mother. I apologise for the length of this article, but as I was writing it, I relived that visit in a very special way.
Sinister: Bayreuth War Festival, 1942.
My trip to Bayreuth was a 26-hour trip. When I think about this, I get a sinister feeling. During World War II, which for this city were the years of the "War Festivals," the so-called "guests of the Führer"—soldiers, armament factory workers, nurses, and other personnel, not always interested in going to the opera—were given the forced honor of enjoying an opera evening at the Festspielhaus, to immerse themselves in the cultural peak of the "German spirit." The guests attended lectures with a frightening political bias, and then received tickets to the opera. The next day, they left the city, and another batch of guests arrived.
How did I come to compare myself to those people? For personal reasons, I couldn't be out of Spain for more than four days. Two of those were dedicated to exploring the city of Munich, my point of departure. The other two days in between were dedicated to traveling to and from Bayreuth and attending the performance, which in my case was the successful Tannhäuser production directed by Tobias Kratzer on stage, Nathalie Stutzmann on the musical, and a cast from the house led by Klaus Florian Vogt . On the performance, I speak in my review here.
The Festspielhaus seen from the Bayreuth Train Station.
To reach the Wagnerian city, I took the Bavarian regional train from Munich, making two connections in Ingolstadt and Nuremberg. In the latter city, a middle-aged German couple took the train and sat in front of us, each carrying a suit jacket tucked into a bag on a hanger. It was obvious we would be meeting them at the opera. Upon finally arriving at Bayreuth station, whose narrow central platform seems not to have changed very much since the sinister era of the War Festivals, one is greeted on the main platform by a sign in German, bearing the region's typical greeting, "Grüss Gott," welcoming visitors to the city and those attending the opera. Turning north, the beautiful and moving roof of the Festspielhaus, emerging from nature, greets the newcomer, making one feeling like Wotan when saying the just finished Walhalla for the first time: "The eternal work is achieved!". Wagnerians could not have a more poetic welcome.
On the first day, with just four hours to go before the performance began, we were only able to check in at the Ibis Budget Hotel, close to the train station, a fifteen-minute walk from the Festspielhaus. My trip coincided with a heat wave in the country. Since Germans are not accustomed to these temperatures in summer, not all public spaces have air conditioning, what made the touristic visit to Munich unconfortable. But at the Ibis Hotel in Bayreuth, it's different. Upon entering, as we felt with air conditioning, we felt blessed! The receptionist couldn't believe that it was a rare commodity in the Bavarian capital. At that moment, I would have liked to have a lunch at Eule, the famous restaurant where the maestro frequented. However, because of the heat and the limited time to rest, I finally chose the modern Asian restaurant YUYU on Bahnhofstrasse, close to my hotel, although that wasn't a problem for me because I love Asian food, and I attest that I ate there the best fried rice in my life. Before returning to the hotel to rest, I stopped by the city's Aldi supermarket to stock up on water to refresh myself during the performance.
In my way to the Festspielhaus...
While we were in our way to the Festspielhaus, I saw the couple from the train, fully dressed up, and as we were approaching the green hill, we heard a conversation between two men in Spanish, with a Venezuelan accent. Two police officers and a chain blocked traffic access to the green hill as the people entered. The first thing one meets is the familiar floral arrangement at the foot of the theater, with the golden Wagner statuettes by the artist Ottmar Hörl. As soon as we arrived, the theater musicians appeared at the royal balcony to play the fanfare with a theme from the opera; there was little time left to enter. I always felt that I would be very moved and excited, in the Stendhal-style, while stepping the area, but I had not much time to do so because of the extreme heat, the tiredness from the trip and the short time before the performance. At the entrance, I was told that my backpack with my water bottle was too big for the main hall, so I had to leave it in a locker on the other side of the theater, guided by an usherette who had to ask where the lockers were.
Shortly before the beginning of the performance...
With little time left before the start, I was able to enter the theater, whose simplicity in the aisles surprised me. But as we know, the maestro didn't want the goer to get lost in luxuries but focus on the performance instead. Upon reaching my seat on the second floor, I could feel the tremendous heat everyone talks about: in an area where all the seats are full and the area is quite closed off, the heat is more concentrated. The burning sensation I felt under my left armpit as a result, was one I had never experienced before. But when the lights go out, firstly in the stalls and then in the gallery, the theater is completely dark, with the only light coming from the hidden pit behind the stage, and the clarinet timidly begins the opera, the magic makes you forget everything else. The acoustics are truly special: Wagner designed them for his works. Certainly, singers who sound different on recordings or in other theaters see their voices flow here. The invisible orchestra, being under the stage, sounds as if it were uncovered, even the hidden percussion in the back row. It's no wonder many musicians want to perform here.
Formal dress code, although not mandatory, seems to still be widely respected by the audience, as even in an area as affordable as mine, there were several men in suits. Next to my mother, an woman in her eighties wearing a long-sleeved green blouse sat... but she didn't return for the third act! On the other hand, a tall, extremely thin German youth, sitting in front of one of the columns (a blind seat between 5 and 15 euros), was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt. The boy might not have seen anything, but at the end of the show, his ovations were the loudest in the gallery. When leaving the hall during the intermissions, one was surprised to see the high number of sweaty white shirts. One is also surprised by the audience's obsession with silence: my mother was told not to use a fan because of the noise it might make, so we used the tickets as fans. I was also surprised by the enormous booing that was heard at the end of the first act.
During the first intermission, a performance by mezzo-soprano Iréne Roberts , drag queen Le Gateau Chocolat , and dwarf actor Manni Laudenbach awaited the spectators at the pond at the foot of the hill. One is surprised by the lack of benches in this area. Those of us who were more or less dressed up didn't sit down, but those in more casual clothing were happy to do so on the grass. Was this lack of of amenities, probably due to the well-known special connection Germans have with nature, which is why they prefer to feel the fresh grass?
Paying a heartfelt tribute to Ottlie Metzger (1878-1943)
While ascending the stairs toward the Festspielhaus for the second break, on the right a special place is found: the famous bust of Wagner by Arno Breker, the most successful sculptor of the Nazi era, dominates the space, already somewhat worn by time. But around it lies a painful and necessary contrast: the permanent exhibition called "Verstummte Stimmen" (Silenced Voices), featuring murals with biographies and photographs of Festival artists who were persecuted, exiled, or murdered by the Nazis. Among them, we can find two major German divas: Henriette Gottlieb, a soprano who died in poverty and overcrowding in the Lodz Ghetto in 1941, and the famous contralto Ottilie Metzger, who was murdered at Auschwitz in 1943. Their only fault was being Jewish. An exercise in memory and atonement by a Festival that was one of major cultural centers of the Nazi era.
"Free to Wish, Free to do, Free to Enjoy"...
After the intervals, it's necessary to leave the auditorium so it can be aired out. I wasn't able to visit the stalls, as the ushers told me to leave. An "Entschuldigung!" (Excuse me! in German) prevented me from my enterprise. To mitigate the heat, the lines at the theater's toilets are quite long. But this year, as a novelty, fresh water canisters were placed in the cloakroom, where you can also borrow free cushions, to endure the performance, since the discomfort of the backless wooden seats is legendary. I've said before that Wagner wanted the audience not to get lost in trivial things like the luxury of the auditorium. Following his instructions, the main hall with its ocean of seats is elegant but extremely simple. Too modern and minimalist for its time, compared to the palatial Opéra Garnier in Paris, which opened a year before the Festspielhaus.
The heat and fatigue from the trip kept me from moving around much, but I was able to visit the shop, where they were selling some recordings, books, and black T-shirts with quotes from Wagner's operas and writings. I was pleased to see my friend Emilio Gómez's book, " El Bayreuth de Wieland y Wolfgang Wagner (The Bayreuth of Wieland and Wolfgang Wagner)", one of the few Spanish-language books available there, on the shelves. At the ticket office, you can buy programs for that year's operas, but instead of the plots, they include articles about the work and its staging, since it's assumed that anyone who goes to Bayreuth is familiar with the master's works. During the second intermission, I was able to see the now-famous sign "Free in Will, Free in Action, Free in Enjoyment" hanging on the royal balcony, taken from Wagner's essay "Art and Revolution" written in 1849, and a staircase that anyone who wished could climb. But I only saw people taking photos. It was imperative for me to approach the monument dedicated to the first performers in the history of the Festival, who premiered The Ring of the Nibelung in 1876, whose names are carved in gold letters on that enormous stele.
Years before, a friend had told me about the supposedly harshness of the ushers, called "Blauen Mädchen" (Blue Girls) in German. While in the past they were exclusively women, now they are young people, both male and female, mostly students of arts and humanities. However, I found them friendly, smiling, and helpful youths, all of them pretty, well-groomed, and polite. I was delighted by them!
Miraculously, during the third act, I felt a miraculous gust of fresh air in the hall. It was in this moment when I thought on those glorious performances preserved on disc, such as the 1930, 1962 or 1978 productions of this opera. At the end of the performance, everyone was applauding wildly. Although it wasn't historical, the performance was very good and enjoyable. Wagnerian passion and the feeling of attending something special was amoung the audience, as usual with every performance in this theater. I remember everyone applauding and simultaneously stamping their feet on the floor, expressing their enthusiasm. I gladly joined in.
A successful Tannhäuser performance...
As we left the theater, I could see buses with the names of the city's hotels on them. Some would come up to greet the artists, but I was exhausted. On the dimly lit, tree-lined avenue, on my way back to the hotel, I shared my thoughts about the performance with a Spanish friend I happened to meet.
The next morning, knowing we were leaving for Munich at 2:00 PM, we got up early to go sightseeing. After breakfast at Café Oetter, we continued along Bahnhofstrasse toward the Margrave's Theatre, the famous Baroque opera house and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Before reaching the theater, as walking through the Opernplatz, the former Nazi-era German Education House, now an office building for the energy company E.ON, was visible in the distance. In front of the DERPART travel agency, there was a bench with a statue of Wagner and a dog. Very suitable for funny tourist photos.
A balcony from the Margravial Opera...
Upon arriving at the Baroque opera house, right next to it, small and unnoticed, stands the city's synagogue, dating from the 17th century. It was saved from destruction by the Nazis during the infamous Kristallnacht, because the adjacent theater would have been damaged if touched. It is still operative today, but closed to tourists. The first contact with the old theater is the air conditioning that welcomes the visitor. The entrance to the Baroque hall is like entering an art paradise, so beautiful that one doesn't want to leave. Not a single corner is undecorated: statues of angels, each box decorated with gilded arrangements, in the center, the luxurious main box with the crown, and on the ceiling, paintings by Giuseppe Galli Bibiena. Holograms of performers of Baroque arias and dances are projected onto the ornate stage.
The infamous Judensau, blurred...
The next building to visit was the 17th-century Church of the Holy Spirit, the best-known in the city, as it presides over the historic center. Its rich neo-Gothic exterior contrasts with the simpler interior decoration from the following century, making the church a peaceful and simple place, following the Protestant conventions. On the east side of the façade, the infamous Judensau (of Jews suckling a sow, an animal they considered unclean) sculpture, so typical of old Central European churches, used to be displayed. It has now been blurred, and a plaque below warns visitors against anti-semitic hatred.
Finally, it's time to head to Wahnfried. In the center, beautiful houses and historical buildings are found, many restored after World War II, as well as the Old Palace with its white facade and reddish columns. On the way down Maximilianstrasse, the SuXul hair salon played Jennifer Lopez's song "Let's get loud." Alongside the Asian food kiosks ,cartons of fruit juices in Arabic language, at the Sarah supermarket, run by a young woman in a hijab, at the end of Bahnhofstrasse, or an Asian supermarket in the Richard-Wagner-Strasse, they are signs of how globalization has also reached the provincial and quiet Wagnerian city. Near Wagner's house, one has to walk across the New Palace's arches to reach the Hofgarten. A haven of peace within the already quiet city. The first contact with Wagner's estate is his grave, opposite his former home. The same grave contains his and his wife Cosima's remains.
The Richard Wagner Museum includes three houses, the first being Wahnfried. Visitors are greeted by the façade with the inscription "Here, where my madness found peace, let it be called my home." Restored in the 1970s, one is moved upon entering the main hall, which houses the piano, a library of 19th-century books, and the imposing portrait of Cosima, dominating the room and the house as she did in her lifetime, during the 47 years she outlived her husband. In the house, one finds instruments such as the Parsifal bells (a replica) from the 1882 premiere in the entrance hall; and upstairs, various props from the first performances of the Ring and Parsifal: Parsifal's cloak and armor, the Valkyries' jewels, Wagner's death mask, scores, and, descending a spiral staircase, an intermediate room containing the clothing and personal effects of Wagner and his wife.
Winifred Wagner's dining room... where Hitler used to eat with her and her children.
To the left side of Wahnfried, stands the house of his son Siegfried, where his widow Winifred lived when the famous 1975 documentary chronicling her management of the Third Reich Festival was filmed. A short documentary is shown about the history of the house and Winifred's relationship with Hitler. Inside the house, one can see, intact and dominated by a portrait of the composer Richard Strauss, the dining room where the genocidal dictator and the composer's daughter-in-law ate with her children and debated until the early hours of the morning about the performances they saw at the Festspielhaus. In front of it, a documentary is shown about the history of the Festival during that turbulent period, where one experiences the painful experience of seeing images of the infamous anti-Semitic journalist and hate-monger Julius Streicher, disliked even by his contemporaries, and burning in hell after his execution in 1946.
Historical costumes: Waltraud Meier's gown for the 1993 Tristan und Isolde production.
To the right of Wahnfried, one comes across the modern museum, where, after descending some stairs, an exhibition of costumes from various Festival productions lies. One finds the evolution from the traditional 19th-century costumes for Ortrud and Isolde, through the simpler costumes of Wieland Wagner's era, to modern costumes such as that of Venus for the 1978 production of Tannhäuser, or the rat disguises for the Hans Neuenfels' notorious 2011 Lohengrin staging. In the same room, one can see scale models of various old productions, from the beautiful 19th century sets by the Brückner brothers, to the minimalistic Wieland Wagner's Tristan of 1962. In the same museum, there is a room where one can listen to recordings of Wagnerian operas, and a cinema where the 1913 Wagner biopic was shown at that moment, although the room was empty at the time. Sadly, I missed the gold-colored wall dominated by a bust of Wagner.
After visiting the maestro's residence, I had little time left in the city. It was already midday, and Richard-Wagner-Strasse, a pedestrian street lined with many shops and supermarkets, was already bustling with people. Another sign of globalization was seeing a TEDi store with a big welcoming teddy bear, which reminded me of the store of this franchise near my home in Madrid. On that street is found the prestigious Bratwursthäuschen, a typical sausage stand famous throughout Bavaria, which provided me with a tasty lunch of bread and sausage.
Time to leave... Bayreuth's Chamber of Commerce building...
It was time to say goodbye. Shortly before entering the main station, my last impressions of the city were the statues of colorful little men walking across the facade of the Chamber of Commerce building, and a last view of the Festspielhaus in the distance, before boarding the first of three trains that would take me back to Munich. Incidentally, if the so-called German efficiency has a deadly enemy, it's Deutsche Bahn and its terrible delays: a one-hour delay in Ingolstadt, where I waited for my train under a scorching sun.
It must be said that you should approach Bayreuth at a leisurely pace, and you should try to be relaxed during performances. Otherwise, you can become overwhelmed, as I nearly was during the second act of the show. But as a Wagnerian, I can say that probably better Wagner opera productions could be done in major opera houses worldwide ,but the Festpielhaus is still the best place to do them. The high level of the orchestra and choirs, which sounded heavenly in the third act, the marvellous acoustics despite the terrible heat (I think with climate change, they must find a solution or something terrible will have to happen before they finally decide to install any air conditioning in the hall without damaging those unique acoustics)... everything makes it special and any effort worthy of it. It's something better felt than explained. In addition, the beautiful city offers interesting places to visit and relax. Wagner knew what he was doing when he chose it for his festivals.
I will return...
As Wagnerian, I understand why some people dares to compare to visit Bayreuth at least once in a lifetime, to Muslims' pilgrimage to Mecca. I dream of returning. I know, I am deeply convinced that I'll return several times throughout my life. I project to do so by 2027 or 2028, even 2029, to see the Ring or Parsifal, which were composed for the theater's acoustics. George Bernard Shaw said that whoever goes to Bayreuth never regrets it. I would add that whoever does, if they're a Wagnerian, already dreams of returning from the same moment the train departs from the Wagnerian city towards home.
