Rufus Wainwright

(Appears in the magazine Die Zeit, August 21, 2008)

This is the third time I've written this article. To begin this (hopefully!) final session I have just put on Das Rheingold, the first opera of Wagner’s Ring Cycle and by the way things seem to be going I'mjudging Valhalla should start crumbling at around 3am. To explain toyou the beginnings of this, MY epic cycle, once upon a time a kind and generous newspaper called Die Zeit sent me to Bayreuth to see Stefan Herheim’s controversial production of Parsifal in order to writesomething about it. And now, comfortably sitting in my bright livingroom in New York City a week later with a deadline tomorrow I'm facedwith a dilemma: two approaches have been unsuccessfully tried, bothdiametrically opposed in terms of culture and era. One is a straight uptry at an old fashion review (my mom likes this one) and the second ismore of a personalized blog (my hip and gorgeous boyfriend likes this one). The first attempt goes, and yes I'm trying to fill up space here,like this:

 "The town of Bayreuth is famous for two theatres.Most people know about the Festspielhaus, a huge 19th century opera house built by King Ludwig II of Bavaria to present Wagner’s massive works, which over the years has been both the glory and bane of Germany's cultural existence. The other theater, located in the center of town, is much smaller and from a much more refined period, "a better time" as Evelyn Waugh once said, the 18th century.  Let's begin with the big one. I held a pretty sacred view of the place when two years ago I first went there to see Christoph Schlingensief incredible production of Parsifal, but this year on returning to see the newproduction by Stefan Herheim I had developed a more critical stance towards the Festival. Due mainly to a book about Winifred Wagner byBrigitte Hamann (suggested reading by a prominent member of the Wagner family, kudos to them!) I had learned about the festival's extreme Nazipast and on driving up the "Green Hill" after visiting Villa Wahnfried,Wagner's old home which is now a museum, I was a little miffed that inthat "museum" there had not been one single picture of Adolph Hitler.The reason I bring all this up, aside from the fact that it shouldalways be pointed out in such a hallowed place, is that if I had seenany other production of any other Wagner opera, or ANY opera for that matter, there could not have been a more important and moving stageshow than the one I saw that evening by the great director Stefan Herheim."

 I think this is pretty good! And perhaps if I was agreat newspaper critic, of which there are hardly any, I could havedriven it home. But as the piece continued it became inflated andpretentious and by the end was something only a mother could love, andI'm not talking about my mother (she actually re-wrote the end, which Iwill definitely be trying to put in somewhere to make things easier onmyself). Anyway, at this point you may be asking yourself  "what thehell is he going on about?" Especially since I've totally given awaythe fact that I have a tight deadline to stuff with a lot of words, butlet me assure you, there is a method to this madness, and in my humbleopinion there is no other subject in the world more deserving of thescattered, unorthodox and free style   examination that you are goingto get than that of the extreme art and personality of the greatRichard Wagner.  

 CLANG!!!!! In my sound system it seems Wotanhas just struck the rock with his spear, the Rainbow Bridge hasappeared and Das Rheingold is coming to a close. For good measure (andto fill space), here's the beginning of the next version I wrote afterreading my first try and hating it. Let us cross the Rainbow Bridge byway of "blog" into Valhalla:

 "This is the second time I'vewritten this article. The first was an attempt to encapsulate my tripto Bayreuth in a succinct and critical fashion with explanations ofwhat I believed to be deep thoughts on the physical place, its dubioushistory and the thick rope that binds them. Speaking of ropes, and notonly in terms of hanging myself, I think I thought I was a Norn (a Wagnerian mother time creature who lives in the earth in Gotterdammerung) sifting through the various threads of German historyfrom the 19th century to today, revealing to my poor readers strikingsimilarities that can only be viewed through the passage of years,blind and moaning, cursing the fact that nothing ever changes. Well, onre-reading what I'd done, I was quite disappointed, well actually, Jornmy German boyfriend (thanks guys!!!) in true Berlin fashion wasn'treally that impressed. Basically I sounded like an American teenagerwriting about his trip to Europe back to mom in the Mid West whereeveryone is still really excited about NASCAR and having won World WarII. Don't get me wrong, it's still important to mention the fact thatin Villa Whanfried, Wagner’s old home which is now a museum dedicatedto the festival, there is not one single picture of Adolf Hitler, whoactually back in the day lived next door and tended to pop over quite abit. Still, speaking of pop, for a pop musician, even a rathersophisticated pop musician like myself, tackling the Third Reich'sconnection to Bayreuth is way out of my league and for this secondattempt I will focus more on my impressions, but don't worry, I tend toget very impressed."

 I'm not sure if anything you've read sofar has anything to do with anything. At least it disseminates someinformation. But for classical form, let us turn to the Master himselffor inspiration, specifically Das Rheingold, and like the opera DasRheingold let’s consider everything you've read so far merely aprologue, and that at least I've created some kind of atmosphere. Or asJudy Garland once said: "I don't know if anyone's interested, BUT I AM!"

(read Part 2 to continue)