I Am Lost to the World
Among “sacred monsters” of music, those marching to their own beat, disregarding conventions, fame, or the opinions of others, there are such legendary figures as Sergiu Celibidache, Glenn Gould, Arvo Pärt, and Carlos Kleiber (1930–2004).
The subtitle of the new DVD documentary about Kleiber is the name of the Mahler song to text by Friedrich Rückert, “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen” (I am lost to the world). While a bit overdramatic, there is much truth to that association.
The bottom line on Kleiber as a conductor — other than universal, passionate acclaim — is that he never held a regular position (he turned down the Berlin Philharmonic, which wanted him to succeed Herbert von Karajan), never had an agent, and never accepted a conducting or recording assignment unless he felt compelled to do the work. He canceled performances, or entire engagements; he frequently would not budge from the dressing room; he threatened or actually walked out.
Erich Kleiber, his father, was himself a iconoclastic, important figure in the music world, who advocated new works and became music director of the Berlin State Opera but would not work under the Nazi regime or — later — the Communist one in Germany. He made a career in Buenos Aires, where he became music director of the Colón Theater. His death, in 1956, on the 200th birthday of Mozart, was believed by some to have been suicide. The younger Kleiber was born in Berlin, and his mother was Ruth Goodrich, an American.
Featured Video
Carlos Kleiber rehearsing Tristan und Isolde in Bayreuth in 1976.
Purchase Recording
A portion of each purchase helps
support San Francisco Classical Voice
“Eccentric, reclusive, intense, hypernervous, ecstatic, alarming” are just a few adjectives regularly coming up in descriptions of Carlos Kleiber.
In 50 years, he gave a mere 89 concerts, conducted some 600 opera performances, and made 12 recordings. There are conductors around today who do that in a couple of years. The difference between today’s jet-setters and our man is that every one of those precious few Kleiber memories is cherished with passion and gratitude.
Classical Voice contributor and City Opera Vancouver Artistic Director Charles Barber is one of the keepers of the flame. Having studied with Kleiber and then corresponded with him for years, Barber is preparing a book, Corresponding With Carlos: A Biography of Carlos Kleiber, which, Barber says, “comes in at 150,000 words, with 689 footnotes and 20 pages of photos, and will be released in October ... all going well.”
Barber’s assessment of Kleiber: “The most amazing musician I ever encountered. He was an astounding personality, funny as hell, extremely well-read, and a very private man who worked — intermittently — in a very public profession.”
Kleiber, says Barber, “despised mere celebrity, and refused to join that circus. He worked when ideal circumstances might prevail, and under no other. I believe he is best understood as an ‘ecstatic.’ He combined the rigors of German form and analysis with the joy of Latin pulse and dance. He obtained results the rest of us could only dream about.”
The documentary opens with a dark and grainy black-and-white video of Kleiber’s rehearsal of Tristan und Isolde in Bayreuth in 1976. I attended a performance that summer, and though the visible, publicized attraction was the cast (Spas Wenkoff, Catarina Ligendza, Yvonne Minton, Karl Ridderbusch, and Donald McIntyre), I still remember the sublime sound of the orchestra under the baton of the self-effacing conductor, who later that year clashed with Patrice Cherau, Pierre Boulez, and the festival leadership, left, and never returned to Bayreuth.
The documentary traces Kleiber’s life, and it offers a great variety of comments by prominent musicians, such as Riccardo Muti’s dictum that, for Kleiber, conducting was “a religious act.” Perhaps by necessity, though, it’s terribly short on showing him at work.
It offers some home-video quality scenes of Kleiber in rehearsal and performance, but, with our appetites whetted to see what all the talk is about, it’s not enough. The DVD’s director, Georg Wübbolt, was obviously handicapped by the lack of footage. If only Kleiber had lived at a time of video and phone cameras everywhere! On the other hand, with his strict rules against microphones and cameras at all times, it might not have made a difference.
His American appearances were few and, for him, unhappy. He had a much better experience in Japan, where he was given everything he required.
The best of the documentary are rehearsals, showing a superbly talented conductor at his passionate, at times humorous, instructive, inspiring best. Of audio excerpts, even brief samples speak more convincingly of the man’s greatness than all the comments put together.