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Pure Gold München
Nationaltheater
02/07/2025 - & February 11, 15*, 19, 22, July 19, 22, 2025
Richard Strauss: Die Liebe der Danae, opus 83
Malin Byström*/Manuela Uhl (Danae), Erika Baikoff (Xanthe), Andreas Schager (Midas), Vincent Wolfsteiner (Pollux), Christopher Maltman (Jupiter), Sarah Dufresne (Semele), Evgeniya Sotnikova (Europa), Emily Sierra (Alkmene), Avery Amereau (Leda), Ya‑Chung Huang (Merkur), Bálint Szabó, Kevin Conners, Paul Kaufmann, Martin Snell (Four Kings).
Chorus of the Bayerische Staatsoper, Christoph Heil (chorus master), Orchestra of the Bayerische Staatsoper, Sebastian Weigle (conductor)
Claus Guth (stage director), Michael Levine (sets), Ursula Kudrna (costumes), Alessandro Carletti (lighting), Rocafilm (videography), Yvonne Gebauer & Ariane Bliss (dramaturgy)
(© Geoffroy Schied)
Of Richard Strauss’ fifteen operas, one third have libretti based on Greek Antiquity: Elektra (1909), from Sophocles; Ariadne auf Naxos (1912); Die ägyptische Helena (1928); Daphne (1938) and Die Liebe der Danae (1952), based on Greek mythology. The first three libretti were written by his preferred collaborator and good friend Hugo von Hofmannsthal (1874‑1929), and the latter two are by Joseph Gregor (1888‑1960), but based on outlines by HvH, so in a sense, his exquisite hand is in all five. Some believe this brilliant Austrian poet, playwright and librettist never reconciled with the abruptness of the twentieth century and the eventual demise of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, seeking refuge in its nostalgic past, as seen in Der Rosenkavalier (1911) and even Arabella (1933) or in Antiquity and mythology, as he did in Die Frau ohne Schatten (1919). But there’s also new evidence, according to a recent biography, that HvH adapted well to societal changes following WWI, and in many cases also broke new artistic ground. After HvH’s death, Strauss too wrote such escapist fare as Daphne and Danae in the late 1930s/early 1940s, when Germany was at war, and the world at the abyss.
In his sketch for the opera’s story, the myth of Danae is modified to suit von Hofmannsthal’s values and to allow for irony. Mythology’s Danae, daughter of King Acrisius of Argos, was imprisoned in a windowless tower by her father as the oracle of Delphi foretold Acrisius’s murder by Danae’s son. Lustful Jupiter/Zeus came to the beautiful maiden in the form of golden rain. Their offspring was Perseus, the slayer of Medusa and his grandfather. The Danae in Strauss’s opera is the daughter of King Pollux of Eos, and the myth of Midas is fused into the story.
Claus Guth is a stage director I usually avoid, but he did a rather good job here, mainly by not superimposing convoluted subplots. He narrates the story as written, transporting us to the near future, a New York office tower replacing Ancient Greece. King Pollux is a Trump lookalike, though this trope is now so pervasive it retains little shock value. The opera opens with Danae posing for the camera in not‑so‑amazing dresses, but perhaps the near future’s sartorial taste will prove as gaudy. The scene with Wall Street bankers clamouring for their unpaid debts proved quite amusing, given the inherent slithery nature of financiers.
Bankrupt King Pollux needs to pay off his creditors by marrying off his beautiful daughter Danae to an immensely wealthy groom. He sends his four nephews, all kings of neighbouring islands, together with wives Semele, Europa, Alkmene and Leda (the latter wives are known conquests of Jupiter) in search of a rich spouse. Jupiter is interested, but, fearing the wrath of his jealous wife, Juno, proposes as King Midas (he of the golden touch). He sends Midas, disguised as his emissary.
Danae falls in love with the emissary, the real King Midas, who reciprocates, defying Jupiter. When Danae and Midas embrace, she’s transformed into a gold statue. When Jupiter claims her as his divine bride, Danae’s voice calls for the mortal Midas. As punishment, a furious Jupiter transforms Midas to his former incarnation as donkey-driver – without the golden touch – and banishes him. Danae doesn’t fare too well either; she’s driven to poverty. Jupiter pays off Pollux’ debts, attempting once again to seduce banished, indigent Danae. She rejects Jupiter’s advances, content and in love with newly‑poor Midas. She offers her last precious possession, a golden hair‑clasp, as a token. Jupiter graciously accepts his loss and moves on.
The libretto is astonishing for the period: it empowers a woman who chooses her own destiny, contrary to general expectations. Moreover, in Danae’s choice, she shows that love and virtue trump material wealth, something those with the hubris of power fail to understand.
Richard Strauss’s penultimate opera, Die Liebe der Danae, finished in 1940, enjoyed a private premiere in 1944, when theatrical performances weren’t allowed in Germany, for security reasons. Since its 1952 posthumous official premiere, it’s rarely been performed. The story is somewhat confusing, especially in this age, with most ignorant of Greek mythology. Thanks to Strauss’ music and its inspired libretto (though less brilliant than HvH’s, it’s based on his sketch), the public was moved (to tears, in my case) by Danae’s transformation, through love’s power, from a naive, self‑absorbed daddy’s girl to a fully alive, aware, vulnerable woman.
Swedish lyric soprano Malin Byström, portraying Danae, was the principal object of my enthusiasm. Days earlier, she was stricken with bronchitis, unable to fulfill her opening night engagement. Thankfully, German soprano Manuela Uhl saved the day, and by all accounts performed admirably. By this third performance, Byström had recovered and hopefully will remain in good health. She’s a perfect fit for the role, both vocally and dramatically. The silver timbre of her lyric voice is truly enticing, and she’s marvellously at ease in her stratospheric upper range, so important in defining soprano roles by Strauss. In Act I, she played the fetching spoiled girl to perfection. In Act III, she was positively glowing with humility and contentment. It’s hard to imagine a better Danae.
Die Liebe der Danae boasts three tenor roles: King Pollux, Midas and Merkur. The role of Danae’s father (Pollux) is not too demanding vocally, and quite hilarious. American heldentenor Vincent Wolfsteiner is an important Wagnerian interpreter endowed with a considerable voice that he employed perfectly to express Pollux’s bombast. Importantly, he didn’t exaggerate the role’s comic aspect, which made him more convincing. Taiwanese tenor Ya‑Chung Huang specializes in character roles. Though Merkur is a small role, Huang’s comic verve was nonetheless effectively biting.
Admired recently in Gurrelieder in Milan and last season as Tristan in Vienna, Austrian dramatic tenor Andreas Schager was as glowing as soprano Malin Byström, an almost impossible task. The role of Midas has a high tessitura, even higher than that of the much shorter role of Bacchus in Ariadne auf Naxos. Schager sang this notoriously difficult part with astonishing ease. Danae and Midas’ Act II love duet is among Strauss’s most ravishing, gloriously executed here by Schager and Byström.
English baritone Christopher Maltman, recently Don Alfonso in Così fan tutte in Vienna, was a magnificent Jupiter. Amazingly, his German here was as excellent as his Italian was in the Mozart opera. His huge stage presence made him credible as a God. Director Guth had the novel idea to draw a parallel between Jupiter in Act III and Wotan as the Wanderer in Siegfried. Diminished, compared to the two previous acts, Jupiter wore a robe reminiscent of the Wanderer’s. He even held a stick similar to Wotan’s. Guth’s message is that even Jupiter, like Wotan, can be humbled – God or not.
Another subtle addition by Guth was a nasty looking older woman superciliously observing some of the events. Obviously, it’s the jealous and baffled wife Juno, a role not included in the original opera.
Act III takes place in the desolate abode of Danae and Midas. Guth has transposed it to a futuristic apocalypse in the Trumpian tower, likely to convey his own political convictions and warnings. I’m not convinced this overly bleak scene helped. A stark dwelling may have been more effective, but the entire destroyed office building was an excuse to project archival video of a destroyed Munich. In the final glorious minutes, we enjoy a charming video of an older Strauss, walking in his garden in Garmisch.
The quartet of queens, Semele, Europa, Alkmene and Leda provide comic relief: their nagging flirtations with Jupiter; the remembrance of the intensity of their trysts; and even envying Danae for having captured Jupiter’s attention. Their synchronized imprecations remind one of the three nymphs in Ariadne auf Naxos, though their roles here are more important. Their voices blended harmoniously, generating a unified, seductive feminine sound – one of Strauss’ specialities. All four singers were excellent, and doubtless slated for great careers. Canadian coloratura Sarah Dufresne recently starred – to deservedly rave reviews – as Ophélie in Hamlet, in Montréal.
It’s believed Strauss originally ended the opera after Act II, but the story would have only shown the defeat of Jupiter and would have been insufficiently ironic. Thankfully, he did write a third act, and some of its music counts for the opera’s most glorious. The Danae/Jupiter duet is the pinnacle of vocal and orchestral writing, and much of the final act is gorgeously reminiscent of the composer’s sublime Vier letzte Lieder.
Much of the evening’s success is due to Sebastian Weigle’s skillful conducting. Admired last season for his conducting of another infrequently performed Strauss opera, Daphne, in Vienna, Weigle specialises in Strauss and other late romantic composers. Some accuse Strauss of bombast in his late operas, but in Weigle’s able hands, I heard poetry. May this triumphant production augur well for the fascinating neglected masterpiece that is Die Liebe der Danae.
Ossama el Naggar
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