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The apotheosis of Zdenko Berlin
Deutsche Oper
03/07/2025 - & March 15, 20*, 2025
Richard Strauss: Arabella, opus 79
Jennifer Davis (Arabella), Heidi Stober (Zdenka), Albert Pesendorfer (Graf Waldner), Doris Soffel (Adelaide), Thomas Johannes Mayer (Mandryka), Daniel O’Hearn (Matteo), Thomas Cilluffo (Graf Elemer), Roger Smeets (Graf Dominik), Tyler Zimmerman (Graf Lamoral), Hye‑Young Moon (Fiakermilli), Martina Baroni (Kartenlegerin), Heiner Bossmeyer (Ein Zimmerkellner), Jörg Schörner (Welko), Michael Jamak (Djura), Thaisen Rusch (Jankel)
Chorus of the Deutsche Oper Berlin, Jeremy Bines (chorus master), Orchestra of the Deutsche Oper Berlin, Donald Runnicles (conductor)
Tobias Kratzer (stage director), Rainer Sellmaier (Stage & Costumes), Jeroen Verbruggen (Choreography), Stefan Woinke (Lighting), Jonas Dahl & Manuel Braun (Videography), Bettina Bartz (Dramaturgy)
(© Bettina Stöss)
While the advance of time is inevitable, few are able to accept its progression, nor the subsequent changes to one’s surroundings. Many can identify with this statement, considering the often radical changes to their own societies, downfalls in their social standings or the decline of their nation’s power. Such was the predicament of the most talented and prolific composer-librettist team in operatic history, rivaled only by Mozart and Da Ponte. Austria’s Hugo von Hofmannsthal, the major poet, novelist and playwright, was Richard Strauss’s coveted librettist, and their fruitful collaboration yielded Elektra (1909); Der Rosenkavalier (1911); Ariadne auf Naxos (1912); Die Frau ohne Schatten (1919); Die ägyptische Helena (1928) and Arabella (written 1929; first performed 1933).
Von Hofmannsthal was born and raised in nineteenth century Vienna, capital of the multicultural Austro-Hungarian Empire, among the first European states to grant Jews full citizenship and rights. Though the son of a Christian Austrian mother and a Christian Austrian-Italian banker, von Hofmannsthal’s paternal grandfather was a Jewish tobacco merchant ennobled by the Austrian Emperor. Few are aware that it was Hugo von Hofmannsthal who in 1920 co‑founded the Salzburg Festival with esteemed theatre director Max Reinhardt.
Der Rosenkavalier, which Strauss & von Hofmannsthal wrote prior to the outbreak of WWI, evokes with intoxicating nostalgia the glorious epoch of Empress Maria Theresa (1717‑1780). Arabella, written prior to the Nazi takeover of Germany and its eventual annexation of Austria, evokes 1860s Vienna, capital of a slowly declining empire before its defeat by Prussia in 1866, the starting point of the decline of a once‑glorious empire. Von Hofmannsthal confronted unpleasant changes in his surroundings by seeking comfort in nostalgia. In Arabella, he lamented the Habsburg Empire’s multi‑ethnic nature by giving Count Waldner’s second daughter a Slavic name (Zdenka); by making Count Mandryka a Croat; and young officer Matteo an Italian or a Galician, all credible designations in an empire that then included Austria, Hungary, Bohemia (now the Czech Republic), Slovakia, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Northern Serbia, Southern Poland, Western Ukraine, Western and Northern Romania, Northeastern Italy and certain German enclaves.
Arabella finds the fallen Count and Countess Waldner drowning in debt, their only hope being the possibility of marriage of their oldest daughter Arabella to a wealthy suitor. As they can’t afford two daughters, their younger daughter Zdenka is reared as a boy. Arabella has many suitors: Counts Elemer, Dominik and Lamoral, and a young officer, Matteo. While Arabella enjoys the attention, none of her suitors are deemed worthy. Zdenka, disguised as Zdenko, is in love with Matteo and, befriending him, acts as messenger for a one‑sided love correspondence. Count Waldner, in a last‑ditch effort, sends Arabella’s portrait to an army friend, Count Mandryka, a fabulously rich landowner from Slavonia (present day Croatia). Alas, the old Count had died and his young widowed nephew had inherited his land, wealth and title. Smitten by Arabella’s portrait, he voyages to Vienna to search for her. Unknowingly, Arabella notices him in the street and is moved by his gaze. She wonders if the intriguing stranger could be “the one.”
Arabella is intended to be the embodiment of a feminine ideal: elegant and refined, yet natural, fragile and strong of character; capricious and insouciant, yet adorable. Indeed, this complex character may be why this masterpiece is rarely performed. In the 1950s and 60s, only one singer, legendary Swiss soprano Lisa della Casa, could perfectly embody the role, with her radiant beauty, natural elegance and glorious lyric soprano. Other great lyric sopranos, including Anneliese Rothenberger, Gundula Janowitz, Lucia Popp, Julia Varady, Anna Tomowa‑Sintow, Kiri Te Kanawa and Renée Fleming, attempted to portray Arabella, but mostly without success and others with un succès d’estime. Few can render this destitute, carefree aristocrat captivating, when such insouciance in the face of dire circumstances is humanly impossible.
As this is a Strauss opera, the orchestra is as important as the voices. I expected more of Donald Runnicles, renowned for this repertoire. Overall, there was a distinct lack of balance. While he provided Jennifer Davis with support in the role’s most difficult moments, the orchestra sounded alternately and dull during several passages, notably in Act II’s dances. It may be that the conductor and the musicians were as turned off as I was by the fatuous artistic choices of director Tobias Kratzer.
Kratzer obviously deemed this romantic opera too old-fashioned in its view of love, courtship and the traditional conjugal roles of a bygone era. The premise that the Zdenka/Zdenko disguise was an affirmation of a transgendered person rather than a necessity by the impoverished Waldners was Kratzer’s pretentiously bankrupt idea of being en vogue. It’s true that living much of her life as a boy, especially in the shadow of her perfect older sister Arabella, must weigh heavily. One could indeed question the eagerness of Zdenko to please Matteo, who gets much less attention from Arabella than her three other suitors. However, in the libretto, it’s simply the frustration of an adolescent acting as a go‑between.
Sadly, Kratzer’s staging is antithetical to the work’s essence. Fortunately, the production fared better on the vocal front. The two leading singers portraying Arabella and Mandryka were excellent. Irish soprano Jennifer Davis is endowed with a beautiful timbre and facile high notes. Had she worn more appealing dresses, she would have enchanted us, but her 1960s and present‑day attire were dreadfully drab. Thanks to her excellent interpretation, she managed to convey Arabella’s warmth in the Act I duet with her sister Zdenka/Zdenko, “Er ist der Richtige nicht für mich.” Her Act II duet “Und du wirst mein Gebieter sein” and the Act III final duet with Mandryka, “Das war gut, Mandryka,” conveyed her tenderness and the nobility of character. Despite the botched setting, Arabella’s final words, “Ich kann nicht anders werden, nimm mich wie ich bin!” concisely and touchingly expressed Arabella’s essence.
German bass-baritone Thomas Johannes Mayer was splendidly convincing as Mandryka. His dark timbre and imposing physique conveyed his boorish and unpolished provincial origins. Thanks to his nuanced acting, he portrayed Mandryka at turns noble, naive, impetuous and amiable, and he succeeded magnificently, his virile bass perfectly blending with Davis’s lyric soprano.
American singer Heidi Stober was a charming Zdenka/Zdenko, completely convincing as a boy. Her light lyric soprano blended superbly with Davis’s in Act I’s duet, and her confession at the end of the opera was effectively moving. One could feel her remorse for having impersonated Arabella when she invited Matteo to her bed, in order to prevent the lovesick young officer’s suicide.
American tenor Daniel O’Hearn was not an ideal Matteo. Usually sung by a light lyric Mozartian tenor, O’Hearn’s voice wasn’t appropriate. Nonetheless, he was an excellent actor, ably portraying the young officer’s impetuousness and naiveté.
South Korean soprano Hye-Young Moon was a petulant Fiakermilli, the mascot of the coachmen’s Carnival Ball. This role is a clin d’œil to Zerbinetta in Ariadne auf Naxos. Given the vacuity of the character, it’s also the most irritating coloratura role in the repertoire – stratospheric notes with little dramatic weight. But she impressed with both her high notes and her zany acting. Given Kratzer’s “updated” staging, she was quite hilarious as a cokehead, a trait that actually rendered the character’s stupidity more forgivable.
Veteran German mezzo Doris Soffel, seen recently as Madame de Croissy in Dialogues des carmélites in Valencia, was delightful as Countess Adelaide Waldner. As with the opera’s smaller roles, this one is parlato, without much demanding singing. However, it requires great acting skills and Soffel splendidly captured the essence of the superficial, downtrodden aristocrat.
Austrian bass Albert Pesendorfer portrayed a wonderfully pathetic Count Waldner, an avid gambler and fallen aristocrat, with a resigned dignity. His darkly virile voice betrayed someone once in a prominent position of authority, rendering the character even more tragic.
Of the three suitors, Count Elemer is the only one who really sings. Though it’s a smaller role, it nonetheless requires dexterity in the upper register. American tenor Thomas Cilluffo certainly did it justice. Most importantly he projected the essential aristocratic demeanour required of the role. One hopes to hear him soon in larger roles.
The concept of different epochs within different acts was elegantly achieved by Christoph Waltz in his staging of Der Rosenkavalier in Geneva, but there it was appropriate, as the opera concerns aging and the passage of time, and it also juxtaposes an aristocracy of yesteryear and an ascending bourgeoisie. In Arabella, neither concept is present. So, having the first act set in the 1860s (as written) and the second act at the coachmen’s Carnival Ball transporting from the 1920s to the 1930s, 1960s and finally to the present‑day is merely a cute gadget, allowing various styles of dancing and different modes of being outrageous.
By omitting the ballroom and setting the action at its door, we’re presented with the chaos of party revellers emerging (one supposes through time‑travel) as 1920s flappers, 1930s cabaret characters, 1960s junkies and present‑day coke snorters, while uniformed Nazis drag a person in ape costume (rather than the countless transvestites), and Countess Adelaide as dominatrix holding one of her daughter’s soupirants by dog‑leash while youngsters are glued to their cellphones.
The pivotal third act featured no sets. Instead, the audience was subjected to a full‑screen projection of Matteo and Zdenka’s lovemaking, replete with close‑ups and shots of Matteo touching Zdenka’s moustache, followed by fornication. A little nuance would have been more effective! Sadly, Kratzer’s Arabella is not von Hofmannsthal, but rather his own paean to sexual liberation. Truly disappointing.
The opera’s dénouement takes place with revellers from the previous act, witnessing the scandal and cheering them on, despite being wasted from drugs. It was an odd throwback to the 1960s “love‑in,” featuring present‑day junkies, LGBT and polyamorous couples, as if a young woman’s honour is a subject of interest nowadays. The “noble” message is the power of love and forgiveness.
A further video showed the inner thoughts of the tormented Zdenka after her tryst in the dark as Arabella. A duel à la Onegin between Mandryka and Matteo is then shown. Zdenka intercedes and is shot dead. Ah, the splendour of guilt!
In the final scene, Arabella, remembering Mandryka’s recounting how Slavonian peasant girls affirm their betrothed, by bringing the man a glass of water. This glorious final scene is rendered bland by having them play water games with the plastic bottle. Perhaps this is Kratzer’s way of signifying that his modern‑day Arabella is the equal of Mandryka, and not his docile bride. Arabella, as carefully described by von Hofmannsthal, is no one’s docile bride, no matter how poor her family may be or how dominant Mandryka. The final scene is further altered, with Zdenka and Matteo joining in, with Zdenka, now to marry Matteo, proudly showing her moustache. Matteo wants her as Zdenko. Vive la libération!
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