Król Roger seems to be the new flavor of the month: Bregenzer Festspiele's staging (seen Aug. 3) was the fourth major international production in a year for Szymanowski's 1926 opera. Is this the undiscovered masterpiece we've been hearing about for years? Reviews from New York (at Bard SummerScape Festival), the Marinsky (in St. Petersburg and Edinburgh), and most recently at the Opéra National de Paris have expressed doubts. The Bregenz production, which is to be shared with Barcelona's Gran Teatre de Liceu, suggests otherwise.

Festival director David Pountney let the three-act work unfold naturally over the course of eighty-six unbroken minutes without adding any agenda: there are no topical references or allusions to the composer's homosexuality. The staging was virtually abstract, relying heavily on imagery which seemed to flow from Szymanowski's mesmerizing lush, exotic score, redolent of Scriabin, the French impressionists, and, Richard Strauss, reflecting Jaroslaw Iwaszkiewicz's overripe libretto (often cited as the work's only weak aspect). The choral writing is astounding in its polyphonic complexity.

A simple amphitheater designed by Raimund Bauer served as the backdrop for stunning lighting and video effects by Fabrice Kebour and Gilles Papain. Decadence is supplied by Beate Vollack's vibrant choreography and Marie-Jeanne Lecca's timeless crimson costumes, increasingly bloodstained as the story develops.

In front of King Roger II of Sicily, a Shepherd is brought into the cathedral and is accused of heresy by the people and the Archbishop. Queen Roxana intercedes on the Shepherd's behalf, saving his life, but demands that he come to the palace to justify his behavior.

The Shepherd challenges everything that Roxana and the court have accepted in their religion, professing himself as God's messenger. They follow him out of the palace, leaving the shaken Roger with his trusted adviser, Idrisi. Inspired, Roger decides to follow, not as king but as pilgrim. The Shepherd goads the people into orgiastic revelry, at the height of which he is transformed into Dionysus. Roger, having witnessed the Shepherd slashing Roxana's throat while she is in a state of ecstasy (Pountney's apt interpolation), undergoes an epiphany and, as Apollonian foil to the Shepherd, sings a paean to the rising sun.

British baritone Scott Hendricks attacked the marathon title role with unbridled power and commitment, both vocally and physically, creating a complex figure of a monarch whose every tenet comes crashing down. The Shepherd had a perfect interpreter in Will Hartmann. With body paint, Hartmann was literally transformed into a golden god, and he sang like one, too, his smooth, dark tenor easily riding the more treacherous passages.

Olga Pasichnyk, a bald Roxana to match her bald king, conquered the queen's wild, stratospheric music, particularly memorable awaiting the Shepherd's arrival in a melismatic aria accompanied by female choir. John Graham-Hall showed a lovely, light lyric tenor as a sympathetic Edrisi. Sorin Coliban was appropriately enraged as the Archbishop.

Mark Elder drew a rich, revelatory performance from the Wiener Symphoniker, augmented by Camerata Silesia and the Polish Radio Chorus, Krakow.

LARRY L. LASH

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