Exclusive: The private thoughts of Bayreuth’s Amfortas

But Wagner’s music tells a different story, despite his worst intentions. I’ve always felt that somehow Wagner himself struggled to understand his own music, often trying to shoehorn it into his world view. He seemed to be battling his demons through his libretti. The music itself, however, refuses to be so small. Klingsor’s music, like that of Alberich in the Ring, another character defined by his otherness, has an incredible sympathy inside it, and it creates a character full of humanity, both good and bad. The music tells us that while Klingsor may be the source of other characters suffering, he himself suffers. Kundrys music portrays the pain of womanhood from the beginning of time; sometimes as mother, sometimes as lover and always as a human being. You cannot help but empathize with her through her music. And when I hear the searing prelude to Parsifal, I feel as if the music connects me not only to all the other people in the room, but to all the people that have ever existed or ever will exist. All the joy and suffering of humanity distilled into sound. Beyond words.

I frequently feel distressed that this art form is too often reserved for the wealthy and powerful. But in this case, I think the wealthy and powerful are maybe the ones that need to hear this music the most. Those who struggle with war and poverty on a daily basis are no strangers to suffering, while those of us experiencing music-theater in Bayreuth are some of the most privileged people in this world. We, who spend our days on the Green Hill this summer, are in a unique position to shape the world we live in. I hope this music reaches us. I hope we can feel compassion for our own suffering, for Amfortas’ suffering, for the suffering of the world. And through that compassion, gain some understanding.

(c) Ryan McKinny