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Scener ur ett äktenskap (Scenes from a marriage) Berlin
Deutsche Oper
03/13/2025 - & March 16, 23*, 2025
Richard Strauss: Intermezzo, Opus 72, TrV 246
Maria Bengtsson (Christine), Philipp Jekal (Robert Storch), Anna Schoeck (Anna), Thomas Blondelle (Baron Lummer), Gerard Farreras (Notar), Nadine Secunde (Frau des Notars), Clemens Bieber (Stroh), Joel Allison (Kommerzienrat), Simon Pauly (Justizrat), Tobias Kehrer (Kammersänger), Lilit Davtyan (Resi), Elliott Woodruff (Franzl)
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), Jörg Königsdorf (Dramaturgy)
M. Bengtsson, P. Jekal (© Monika Rittershaus)
Detractors of Richard Strauss (1864-1949) are wont to note the composer’s arrogance and tendency to flaunt his personal life and success, citing his symphonic poems Ein Heldenleben (1899), Sinfonia domestica (1904) and his opera Intermezzo (1924) as proof of this supposed self-aggrandisement. But more impartial observers sympathize with the inherent challenges facing successful artists privy to incessant chatter and gossip – especially famous ones. Since his symphonic poem Don Juan (1889) premiered when he was all of twenty‑five, Strauss was renowned. After the debut of his opera Salome (1905), his position as Germany’s leading operatic composer was assured. But with this mantle comes a challenging weight that counters the glamour and cachet that success brings.
When Strauss approached his librettist Hugo von Hofmannsthal (1874‑1929) to collaborate on Intermezzo, the Austrian poet and playwright declined to be involved in such a risqué, intimate affair. Austrian critic and author Hermann Bahr (1863‑1934) was equally reluctant and suggested the composer write the libretto himself, which he eventually did. And why the reluctance? Because the opera is based on true life experiences involving Strauss and his wife, soprano Pauline de Ahna (1863‑1950). The names of the protagonists are the similar-sounding Robert Storch and Christine. Their son Franzl is also the name of Strauss’s son. At the 1924 premiere at Dresden’s Semperoper, the living room of Strauss’ home was reproduced onstage. It shows Christine constantly bickering with her husband. While he’s away conducting, Pauline had a tobogganing accident with a skier named Baron Lummer, the son of acquaintances from her childhood in Linz.
As she’s bored and he penniless, she takes him under her wing and arranges for him to lodge at her notary’s home. Though pleasant and excelling in sports, the young man is decidedly dull. She’s shocked when he sends her a message requesting a substantial amount of money. While confronting the young Baron, she opens a letter addressed to her husband from a woman named Mitzi Mayer. The furious Pauline sends the Baron to investigate and rushes to the family’s lawyer to request a divorce. The lawyer, an admirer of Storch, refuses to take her case.
In Act II, Storch, while playing cards with fellow musicians, receives a telegram from Pauline demanding a divorce, as his alleged affair with Mitzi Mayer has been revealed. Bewildered by the accusations, Storch asks if anyone knows the mysterious Mitzi. Stroh, a fellow conductor and friend, admits knowing such a woman and that she might have confused him with Storch given the similarity of their names. Storch figures out that Stroh has been passing himself off as the more famous conductor. He demands his friend go to Pauline and explain the imbroglio. The Baron, turned investigator, confirms Mitzi’s confusion and Pauline is satisfied that her husband is blameless. The couple reconciles and all is forgiven.
Many consider Intermezzo the weakest of Strauss’s mature operas. Compared to the perfect union of music and lyrics in his von Hofmannsthal collaborations, the libretto (in prose, not verse) isn’t impressive. But the music is sublime, especially the irresistibly sumptuous musical interludes that comprise much of the score.
Intermezzo is possibly Strauss’ least-performed opera, as its subject matter is deemed overly personal and therefore not relatable for the average concert goer. The other challenge is in staging the work without it becoming a “soap” opera. In this respect, the present production was exceptionally good. Director Tobias Kratzer, who staged it in the context of a Strauss “trilogy” at Deutsche Oper that included disappointing productions of Die Frau ohne Schatten and especially Arabella, managed to excel here. This is undoubtedly because expectations are low for Strauss’s “weakest opera,” but also as there’s no great tradition for this unfamiliar work. The other two are wrapped in an impressive aura of symbolism (for the former) and nostalgic glamour (the latter). Innovation, especially when incoherent or forced, can be tenuous.
Kratzer’s take on Intermezzo included his penchant for updating. Christine and the Baron experience a car crash instead of an accident on the slopes; Christine texts rather than telegraphs Storch her intention to leave him; Stroh reveals to Storch the imbroglio regarding Mitzi on a flight, and other innocuous elements of modernity. These failed to illuminate the opera, but nor did they hinder its pacing.
The more effective gimmicks included Christine and the Baron passing time by trying on costumes. The Grecian costume alluded to Daphne, the oriental to Salome, and the baroque to Der Rosenkavalier. Though Pauline de Ahna never interpreted her husband’s operas, she was a major opera singer until the birth of their first child. Kratzer perceives that as an artist, she would feel ennui if she were to retire from her profession, fulfilling society’s expectations for a proper wife and mother. This may have been a factor in portraying Pauline/Christine as a nagging, frustrated woman.
Another variation typical of Kratzer is rendering Christine’s interest in the Baron distinctly carnal. The scene in which they waltz in a ballroom is now transported to Pauline’s bedroom. Instead of dancing, they fornicate. Given the text, there’s no hint of such an affair. Given Christine’s psychological profile, it’s incongruous. Other than this faute de gout, Kratzer’s changes were harmless or marginally constructive.
Visually, the most impressive effect was the usage of videography to show the orchestra in the pit during the many orchestral interludes. This was a brilliant idea, without which these long passages may have been tedious for many opera goers (not known for their knowledge or appreciation of orchestral music). The culmination of Kratzer’s visualization of the orchestra was in the opera’s finale, where an apparent reflection in the rear of the proscenium showed what appeared to be the orchestra. In fact, it was extras impersonating an orchestra directed by Storch, resulting in a double vision of orchestra and conductor, one helmed by Runnicles and the other with the baritone interpreting Storch, thus recreating a theme dear to Strauss and von Hofmannsthal: art and artifice, a theme that reaches its pinnacle in Ariadne auf Naxos.
The triumph of this production is also thanks to Swedish lyric soprano Maria Bengtsson. In Christoph Waltz’s impressive Geneva production of Rosenkavalier in 2023, she portrayed the most incandescent Marschallin I’ve ever seen. Thanks to her charm and magnetic stage presence, she was at turns nagging, superficial and capricious, yet engaging and charismatic. Very few can achieve this balance. The timbre of Bengtsson’s voice is superbly distinct and easily recognisable, a rare quality indeed. Endowed with a strong middle voice and a soaring upper register, she confronted Strauss’s favourite high tessitura with aplomb.
The role of Robert Storch is not a vocally demanding one. Might it have been Strauss’s feigned modesty to disarm his detractors? What’s essential in the role is charisma and stage presence. German baritone Philipp Jekal had both in spades. Moreover, his virile voice was deeply pleasing and blended beautifully with Bengtsson’s soprano.
Belgian tenor Thomas Blondelle was a delightfully despicable Valzacchi in the aforementioned Geneva Rosenkavalier. Here, he excelled in the vocally undemanding role of Baron Lummer, perfectly conveying the man’s fickleness and ennui.
The other roles are of minor characters, and all were well-interpreted. Of note, as is the Berlin tradition, veteran singers are given character roles that suit their diminished means. American dramatic soprano Nadine Secunde, a glorious Wagnerian soprano in the 80s and 90s, memorably interpreted the small parlando role of the notary’s wife.
Donald Runnicles, renowned for his Strauss and late Romantic repertoire, delivered a lush orchestral soundtrack for this intimate opera. Crucially, he provided Maria Bengtsson the necessary support for this demanding role which requires her to be onstage more often than not. The orchestra sounded glorious in the many orchestral passages that were rendered even more intoxicating thanks to Jonas Dahl and Manuel Braun’s brilliant videography.
I was pleasantly surprised by Intermezzo as I had expected so little from this minor opera helmed by a director who’d been so disappointing in previous Strauss operas. This excellent production will remain engraved in memory for a long time.
Ossama el Naggar
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