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Death and Resurrection in Bruges Hannover
Staatsoper
05/09/2026 - & May 14, 23, 29, June 7*, 18, 27, 2026
Erich Wolfgang Korngold: Die tote Stadt, opus 12
Mirko Roschkowski (Paul), Kiandra Howarth (Marietta), Peter Schöne (Frank), Anthea Barac (Brigitta), Max Dollinger (Fritz), Julia Sturzlbaum (Juliette), Emilia Fietz (Gaston), Cassandra Doyle (Lucienne), Michal Prószynski (Victorin), Uwe Gottswinter (Count Albert)
Chor der Staatsoper Hannover, Lorenzo Da Rio (Chorus Master), Kinderchor der Staatsoper Hannover, Tatiana Bergh (Chorus Master), Niedersäschsisches Staatsorchhester Hannover, Mario Hartmuth (conductor)
Ilaria Lanzino (Staging), Martin Hickmann (Sets), Vanessa Rust (costumes), Johannes Paul Volk (Lighting), Max Schweder (videography), Christian Förnzler (Dramaturgy)
(© Bettina Stöss)
“Rien n’empêche le bonheur comme le souvenir du bonheur” (“Nothing prevents happiness more than the memory of happiness”), surmises a woman to Karim, the protagonist of French novelist Gilbert Sinoué’s novel Les Nuits du Caire. Happiness versus the memory of happiness is the gist of Korngold’s most famous opera, written in 1920 Vienna by the 23‑year‑old prodigy.
How realistic is it to look forward when the recent past is too magnificent to forget? This was the predicament of the Viennese intellectual elite after the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian Empire following WWI. This was especially true after the rise of Nazism and the persecution of the intelligentsia, whether socialist, anarchist, homosexual or Jewish. Many elements of Western modernity, whether in music (Schoenberg, Webern, Berg, Mahler, Zemlinsky); painting (Klimt, Kokoschka); psychology (Freud); philosophy (Wittgenstein); literature (Zweig, Schnitzler); or witticism (Karl Kraus) were achieved in secular, cosmopolitan, open Vienna. The vanishing of this golden age of human achievement was too much to bear for many. In the face of an increasingly bleak world, the great Viennese writer Stefan Zweig opted for suicide in exile. Given Korngold’s epoch, nationality and Jewish faith, such a premise is ripe for creative and innovative stagings of Die tote Stadt.
For a work so rarely presented, it’s sad that Italian director Ilaria Lanzino so muddled the plot that even those familiar with the work were confused. This is especially true when the opera’s essence is both simple and worthy, dealing with the loss of a beloved. Lanzino superimposed different subplots, which weakened the work’s intensity. The housekeeper Brigitta became the lady of the house, possibly the dead wife’s mother. This is gratuitous as it brings nothing to the plot; it just complicates matters. More troubling was the invention of a new character, a boy, the son of Marie and Paul. This goes against the plot, as the kind of obsessive love Paul has for his wife is a monomania more likely when the couple is childless. The presence of a child would have meant the adolescent‑like enamoured spouses would be forced to assume responsibilities. In Lanzino’s staging, Marie’s death is clearly shown as a suicide, with the child witnessing his mother bleeding to death in the bathtub, rendering Marie a self‑centered narcissist, not sympathetic.
The opera’s libretto is based on Belgian Georges Rodenbach’s short symbolist novel, Bruges-la-Morte (1892), the first work of fiction illustrated with photographs. Other than the obvious theme of memory versus reality, the novel satirically portrays Bruges’s rigid bourgeois society and excessive Flemish Catholicism, important ideas ignored by Lanzino. The religious procession in Act III, the backdrop against which Paul strangles his wife’s look‑alike dancer Marietta, is changed in this staging into Marie’s wake in church. This is absurd, as Marie had been dead for years. Moreover, the element of ostentatious religiosity of petty bourgeois Bruges, a major driving force in the opera, is omitted.
Other absurdities are the many flashbacks, including scenes in which Paul had cheated on Marie with another woman, a highly unlikely prospect, given their relationship. Seemingly, Lanzino has invented a subplot: during Marie’s life, Paul only claimed immense love. His cheating on her caused her depression and eventual suicide. This caused Paul great guilt, hence his obsession with Marie. This may be interesting, but it’s a different plot. Lanzino, who is occasionally a librettist, ought to write her own libretto for a new opera.
A major element in this work is the temple Paul had built in memory of his dead wife, a morbid hybrid between a Catholic saint’s reliquiario and a showroom in a contemporary funeral home, where her photos, lyre, dresses and a lock of her blonde hair are on display. Accordingly, Martin Hickmann’s sets consist of a small cabinet and the bathtub where Marie slit her wrists. The modesty of these sets are not consistent with Paul’s “grand” idée fixe.
In Rodenbach’s novel, Paul strangles Marietta when she plays (disrespectfully) with Marie’s hair. Korngold chose to make her murder into a dream, one which awakens Paul from his illusions. Never one to be content with the actual libretto, Lanzino substitutes this episode with Paul’s own attempted suicide. Again, this may be interesting but it’s not the opera’s plot. Attempting to or actually killing Marietta has substantial weight in the context of Paul’s obsession. It is a “necessary” catharsis to his ailment. Suicide is but a narcissistic act that doesn’t address the issue at hand.
As if things were not confusing enough, we were subjected to endless Maries. All the members of Marietta’s touring company, including the men, are transformed into Marie look‑alikes, with her characteristic blond hairdo. The public finds itself mysteriously transported to The Stepford Wives (1975). Again, the provocative suggestion is never clarified. If Paul sees Marie in all women (and even some men), he is either sexually obsessed or insane. The relentless equating of Marietta’s resemblance to Marie kills the plot altogether.
A detail in the libretto ignored by the director is the musical reference to Meyerbeer’s Robert le Diable (1831). It is not fortuitous that this is the ballet from this opera that Marietta has travelled to Bruges with her troupe to perform. In that opera, the evil Bertram conjures the ghosts of the dead nuns at the cloister; they rise from the graves to engage in a dance lauding the pleasures of lust, drinking and gambling. If no ideas can be elaborated on based on the obvious reference, one at least hoped for an entertaining choreography. Alas, we only got a dull cabaret number.
Seen last summer as Froh in Bayreuth’s production of Das Rheingold, tenor Mirko Roschkowski is an accomplished tenor who sang Mozart and other lyric roles until recently. In recent years, he has taken on heavier repertoire such as Lohengrin. The demanding role of Paul is at the limit of his abilities at this stage of his vocal development. A testimony to his stamina, he sang Paul without showing signs of fatigue up to the end of the opera. Nonetheless, Roschkowski does not possess the needed high tessitura, and his voice is too small for the role, especially as his Marie/Marietta has a substantial voice.
Australia’s Kiandra Howarth was an incandescent Marie/Marietta. Though one is more used to a lighter lyric soprano voice in the role, Howarth’s more dramatic voice was well suited for this high tessitura role. The problem with the heavier voice is that it gives Marietta unwarranted gravitas, which is perplexing given the triviality of the dancer in the touring company.
The smaller roles were well sung and acted, from Croatia’s mezzo Anthea Barac as Brigitte to German baritone Peter Schöne as Paul’s friend Franz. The director made him bespectacled, as if to insinuate he was Paul’s therapist. This is yet another of Lanzino’s many ideas adding nothing to the opera, only weakening it. Most outstanding was baritone Max Dollinger in the small part of Fritz in Marietta’s touring company. His rendition of Pierrot’s song, “Mein Sehnen, mein Wähnen” was exemplary, magically melancholic, performed with lyricism and refinement.
Mario Hartmuth conducted Niedersäschsisches Staatsorchchester Hannover with panache, emphasizing the lyricism of the work, although at times got carried away to the point where the orchestra was too loud. Some passages felt positively Straussian, which is one way of looking at Korngold’s music. Despite superlative music and some excellent performances, the flawed staging sadly made this a mostly forgettable evening, and that’s a shame.
Ossama el Naggar
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