Mr. Zednik, in an interview you once said that your favorite role was Tristan.
Or Otello. Or Tannhäuser. Unfortunately, the good Lord didn't give me the voice for it.
Of the one hundred and fifty different roles you have sung in the course of your career, which have been the most important for you?
In terms of potency, it was Loge, then Mime, Herod, Pedrillo, the Captain in "Wozzeck", perhaps also the Witch in "Hansel and Gretel", in other words these classic character or buffo roles, as far as you can call them "buffo". Those were also the ones that challenged me the most. And finally, of course, Janácek's Broucek, which I sang at the Volksoper and which I love, especially because of its bizarre humor.
With the exception of your interpretation of this character, the production was not exactly characterized by humour.
You have to live with that. Because for the majority of directors today, humor doesn't necessarily seem to be a priority. Rather, the political and pedagogical interpretation of a work dominates, the pointing finger, sometimes even the sledgehammer. In our time, there is often a lack of creativity. Who else composes, who writes poetry? Sure, there is some creativity, but compared to what was written, composed and painted in the first half of the 20th century or the entire 19th century, the present is poorer. We tend to live with a kind of "retro culture" of reworking and archiving, of repetition, of re-creation, of the enormous importance of interpretation. On stage, this means: director's theater. However, its interpretations are often very personal and objectively uncontrollable - so the door is also open to charlatanry.
But isn't it precisely the staging of new interpretations that makes opera so modern?
Aren't they what keep opera alive in the first place? I agree with you to some extent: of course that's what's interesting today. Nobody wants to see a production from 1870, for example. But the question is how far one should and may go and whether the piece is still the piece in the end or a piece that is no longer recognizable. Please don't misunderstand me: I am not fighting the Regietheater, only its excesses. In my professional career of more than forty years, I have experienced the whole gamut from successful to unsuccessful productions. However, I have usually been able to assert myself by always coming to rehearsals perfectly prepared, not only musically, but also with an opinion about the piece. So I don't just learn the role, I also look at the context - history, literature, psychology - and form my own precise opinion. Then I try to take the path of least resistance: I let the director do what he wants and slowly incorporate my ideas - and in most cases it works out.
What was it like working with Patrice Chéreau on the Ring?
We had a lot of discussions with Chéreau, including arguments, because he did some things that really weren't in the piece. But the result was convincing: the "Ring" had never been seen in such an exciting, thrilling way before. It was real theater that entertained people, and it was full of humor. And he is an outstanding director of actors - as singers-actors, he virtually "kissed us awake" like the prince kissed Sleeping Beauty. Chéreau could lead actors wonderfully. He let people be people on stage and didn't artificially overload them with unnecessary ideas.
How did you actually come to Bayreuth?
That's a great story in a human sense. I was engaged at the Vienna State Opera from September 1, 1965, and Gerhard Stolze was also singing there at the time. I can remember that he often stood in the alley and watched me. One day he approached me, it was in 1969, and asked me: "Wouldn't you like to audition in Bayreuth? I recommended you to Wolfgang Wagner as a very talented young man with a promising voice." There was also a new "Ring" coming. I was deeply impressed that a colleague - and one from the same fach at that - was doing something like that. So I went there that same year, auditioned and was hired from 1970 onwards.
There's another strange story in connection with David in the "Meistersinger"...
I have to expand on that. I always rehearsed my specialist roles, even several in the same work, in order to be prepared for all eventualities. When I was engaged in Graz in 1964, I could sing David almost perfectly - with the exception of the fugue at the end of the 2nd act. So I came to Graz and suddenly they said, "Can you do David? We don't know whether Erich Klaus" - my Graz colleague - "can sing the performance." Cheeky as a young singer can be, I agreed without having had an orchestral rehearsal. But then the whole thing fell through, Klaus sang, and I was left with the small part of Augustin Moser. At the time, I was struck by my youthful, naïve and sometimes a little foolish singers' honor that I now had to sing Moser instead of David. But I didn't know how David would have turned out, I would probably have wet my pants in fear.
The "Meistersinger" was conducted in Graz by Maximilian Kojetinsky, who was also the director of studies in Bayreuth.
Exactly, and Kojetinsky was to become very important in this story. As fate would have it, a fortnight later the Vienna State Opera called to say that Augustin Moser had dropped out and they needed a replacement. So I came to Vienna, with a guest performance as Augustin Moser. This led to an interview and an engagement at the State Opera. Then things happened with Gerhard Stolze and Bayreuth. In my first year at the Grüner Hügel, in the summer of 1970, I had to sing Ulrich Eißlinger, who exhausted himself as a soloist in the incredibly demanding phrase "Hier!". And now fate comes into play again: Hermin Esser, who sang David, dropped out at very short notice. The aforementioned Maximilian Kojetinsky said to Wolfgang Wagner: "Zednik has already sung this for me in Graz." I don't know if he couldn't remember; in any case, I didn't correct him and said: "No, I've never sung it on stage." But now, of course, the moment of truth struck: I couldn't do the fugue. I learned it overnight, but had to confess the whole thing to the conductor Hans Wallat in a moment of silence. "But you sang the part on stage," he said. "Never. It's like jumping into water," I confessed. That seemed to impress him. He said he'd do it with me anyway, he'd give me every single cue. So I sang David for the first time in my life on stage at the Bayreuth Festspielhaus.
Zunächst hatten Sie ja an den Schauspielberuf gedacht.
Ja, ich habe auch in Kellertheatern gespielt, aber die Schauspielerei eigentlich nie studiert. Das heißt, ich habe mich zwar am Reinhardt-Seminar beworben, kam aber wegen «Mangels an Persönlichkeit» nicht in die letzte Ausscheidung. Dann habe ich eben Gesang studiert und diese Persönlichkeit auf der Opernbühne entwickelt. Ich habe als junger Mensch alles, was ich auf einer Bühne sah, aufgesogen und für mich umgesetzt. In all den Jahren, da ich auf den Stehplatz in der Oper ging, zerbrach ich mir den Kopf: Warum passieren die Dinge gerade so und nicht anders? Bei «Andrea Chénier» habe ich, um nur ein Beispiel zu nennen, sehr viel über die Französische Revolution gelesen. Insgesamt konnte ich mir dadurch ein großes geschichtliches Wissen aufbauen.
If you could start your career all over again, would you want to do it the same way?
Of course I would. With the same boldness, this feeling of being absolutely sure of what you're doing, as you have as a young person. Even when you jump in from one day to the next. I don't understand the whining of some colleagues: "I have no orchestral rehearsals, no staged rehearsals." Yes, children, learn your parts in good time, work on your basic repertoire at home, not just with the repetiteur at the theater. Take care of the themes, rack your brains: what were people like at this or that time? If you know about it, it will help you a lot, especially when you have to jump in at short notice.
You have also been directing for a few years now.
I've had a very happy life overall, and so I slowly slipped into old age, where you realize that not everything is as playful and easy as it should be. Directing came about as a result of constantly dealing with the ideational and historical background when studying roles. I did my first two productions - "Fledermaus" and "Ariadne auf Naxos" - for the Mann Auditorium in Tel Aviv, with Zubin Mehta and the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra. I found a new form for the possibilities there - I had a podium built and operated with very few set pieces. It was a completely stripped-down stage.
Even now in Tokyo, where you have just staged "Die Fledermaus"?
No, of course I had more money there and was able to realize things that I couldn't do in Israel. I love operetta; I find it funny and very comical. On the whole, you just have to leave it as it is, perhaps as an ironic mirror of its time. If you think you have to save it with some "contemporary" ideas, then it's ruined. I think this "Fledermaus" palimpsest in Gerard Mortier's last season in Salzburg, for example, was chutzpah, along the lines of "Now we're going to punch the stupid Austrians in the face with their sentimental operetta obsession". In my opinion, that was simply "revenge" on Salzburg, and even on Austria.
On the other hand, isn't it boring to see the same thing over and over again, or at least something very similar?
Maybe for you, who often goes to the theater for work. But how often does the average family go? How often do these people see "Carmen" or "La traviata" in their lives? Or "Die Fledermaus"? How many times have I seen "Traviata" myself? If I'm honest, maybe five times - I'm not talking about listening to records, I'm talking about going to a performance. How often does the average person hear a "Ring"? Maybe two or three times in a lifetime. Shouldn't these people get to see the piece rather than the stuff from some directors who only have personal side notes to offer and possibly suffer from mental indigestion? Which is not to say that today's problems shouldn't also play a part. I am definitely a friend of new theatrical ideas. For example, I thought Peter Konwitschny's production of "Don Carlos" at the Vienna State Opera was very good.
How could opera be saved for our time?
Surely, if I love the genre, I have to try to bring it over into the times we live in with a new perspective. I would probably laugh at a production of "Traviata" from the 1920s today; those things evolve. But the question is: do I have to completely revolutionize theater to do this, or do I leave it to a natural evolution? In this context, it also seems very important to me that I don't play against my clientele, i.e. not against the audience.
So a dumbing down, as some politicians are calling for today?
No. I don't mean mass culture and the associated trend towards the lowest common denominator, but an approach to people at a certain level. You shouldn't make theater just for the few freaks. That the number of people absent emphasizes the quality of those present, as Ortega y Gasset once put it, is in my view utter nonsense. In the premiere of "The Magic Flute", for example, everyone was there, from the petty bourgeoisie to the aristocrats. Richard Wagner also had an interested audience right from the start. Art doesn't just come from "ability", but also from "proclamation"; there is a lot in art that has to be ahead of its time. But of course you need someone to whom you can proclaim something. Personally, I don't like performing and singing to empty seats with perhaps twenty "knowledgeable" people.