Classical Music: Wagner Der fliegende Holländer

Richard Wagner Der fliegende Holländer
An Opera in 3 Acts

Dutchman, Gerald Finley (bass-baritone); Senta, Lise Davidsen (soprano); Daland, Brindley Sherratt (bass); Erik, Stanislas de Barbeyrac (tenor); Mary, Anna Kissjudit (contralto); Steersman, Eirik Grøtvedt (tenor)
Chorus and Orchestra of Norwegian National Opera
Conductor: Edward Gardner

Decca 4870952
More information here.

Like a mariner finally spotting land after years at sea, Edward Gardner's debut recording as Music Director of the Norwegian Opera and Ballet feels like a homecoming—not just for the conductor, but for Wagner's most restless opera itself.

Having witnessed this tale of cursed wandering at its spiritual home in Bayreuth last year, I approached this Norwegian production wondering if lightning could strike twice. Sometimes the most profound journeys happen not at pilgrimage sites but in unexpected harbours.

Gardner stamps his authority from the opening bars of the Overture, conjuring storms with the precision of a meteorologist and the passion of a poet. The orchestral colours surge and retreat like tides against Norwegian granite, while his rhythmic energy captures something essentially modern about this ancient tale of redemption. In our age of endless scrolling and perpetual restlessness, who among us hasn't felt a bit like the Dutchman—trapped in cycles of our making, searching for something or someone to break the spell?

The allegorical heart of this production beats strongest in Lise Davidsen's luminous Senta. Opera Now's description of her as a "phenomenon" understates the case; she's more like a force of nature, perfectly suited to an opera born from Wagner's own tempestuous voyage along these very Norwegian fjords. Davidsen doesn't simply sing Senta—she embodies the archetype of the believer, the dreamer who sees beyond the mundane world to possibilities others dismiss as fantasy. In our cynical age, her portrayal reminds us that sometimes the most radical act is simply to believe in transformation.

Gerald Finley's Dutchman, while not quite matching Davidsen's emotional intensity, brings his own weathered dignity to the role. His rich baritone carries the weight of centuries, and his phrasing suggests a man who has learnt to find beauty even in despair. The supporting cast—Stanislas de Barbeyrac's ardent Erik, Brindley Sherratt's pragmatic Daland, and Anna Kissjudit's warm Mary—creates a community that feels genuinely lived-in, not merely operatic.

The chorus work deserves special mention, particularly in how it captures the essential duality of the piece. The sailors' exuberant rowdiness contrasts brilliantly with the haunted melancholy of the Dutchman's crew, creating a sonic metaphor for the two worlds that exist side by side—the everyday and the eternal, the mundane and the mythic. Their women's chorus in Act II sparkles with an almost impish playfulness that makes Senta's eventual sacrifice all the more poignant.

There's something beautifully circular about this production's geography. Wagner found his inspiration during a storm-tossed journey along the Norwegian coast in 1839, struck by what he called the "remarkable and beautiful impressions" of voices echoing off fjord walls. Now, nearly two centuries later, a Norwegian-born soprano returns this music to its birthplace, completing a kind of artistic homecoming that feels both inevitable and miraculous.

The sound engineers have captured the live energy of those two summer nights in Oslo with remarkable clarity, preserving the electricity that only comes from performers and audience sharing the same space and moment. This is Wagner for our time—urgent, immediate, and surprisingly hopeful.

In the end, Der fliegende Holländer offers a surprisingly optimistic message for our fractured age: that redemption is possible, that love can break even the most stubborn curses, and that sometimes the very thing that seems to doom us—our restless searching—might actually be leading us home. Gardner and his stellar cast have given us a production that honours both the work's mythical power and its very human heart.