Der Rosenkavalier opera review – a brilliantly unconventional comedy
The Marschallin is rumpled from a bout of horn-rutting sex with Octavian in a grandfather clock. No kidding. She emerges lubriciously from the casement, silk nightgown unwinding, followed by her youthful lover. How can I put this tastefully? Octavian was groping his way in the dark.
This is not a conventional start to Richard Strauss’ comic masterpiece, Der Rosenkavalier. Normally, the curtain rises on an elegant Viennese boudoir, all rococo/baroqueo, an enormous bed, gilded everything, the hanky-panky ambiguous, implied – pruriently shielded by copious bedclothes.
I’ve always thought most productions missed the point of Strauss’ unequivocal opening; that thrice repeated rising two-note horn call symbolising the act of fulfilled coition. What is the point if the Marshcallin and Octavian lie, almost discreetly, side by side? Come off it, prudes! We’re talking Boris Johnson and Jennifer Arcuri here. Not even the family sofa should be safe.
In the cold light of day, recollections may differ, but the whole point of Rosenkavalier is its starting point, a misplaced, driving passion – the older Marschallin and outrageously younger Octavian – which translates into something new and rather wonderful by the end of the opera. The plot is the journey.
So, what the heck? We are left in no doubt that the couple are doing what the horns imply. For tonight we are in Barrie Kosky land. Unbridled passion in a clock. Whatever next? The Australian producer is famed for breaking windows. Bayerische Staatsoper is happily complicit. After all, Sir Peter Jonas, once a Ferrari hard-driving wild child of English National Opera, was their Staatsintendant (doesn’t that sound much more purposeful than a prosaic ‘Director’) from 1993 to 2006. Mr. Kosky is building on his legacy.
The clock has another purpose. Reverse-revolving hands as the illuminated face floats around a darkened stage during the opening chords flag that the opera we are about to see is ‘timeless’. A morality tale for all seasons – and ages. Time occasionally stands still.
The device Mr. Kosky deploys to effect the time stopping illusion is, to say the least, unusual; an old, stooping man, naked apart from a loose grey loin cloth, unkept, long grey hair, sprouting small, grey wings from arched shoulders, clearly grizzled beyond the recuperative talents of any make-up department.
He is a constant presence, slowly traversing the stage, gummily glancing at the audience. Father Time himself? Time flies? He shuffles silently throughout, perching here, scattering magic sparkling dust from his bowl there. As he scatters, characters freeze frame and alternative action starts upstage.
In Act three, set as a reverse proscenium, empty seating to the rear, he is a prompter, in his illuminated prompter’s box, head, wings and wrinkly torso projecting from the stage, leafing through the libretto. For readers with a passion for 1960s BBC sitcoms he will be immediately identified. Albert Steptoe, of Steptoe and Son fame, has been plucked from feeding the horse in Oil Drum Lane to star in Der Rosenkavalier. Promotion indeed for the late Wilfred Bramble.
There are other Kosky ‘highs’ and quirks. The presentation of the rose scene brings Octavian onstage in an enormous silver coach drawn by silver caparisoned horses, so lifelike that it requires a double take to realise they are – of course they are, you idiot – operated by humans. The coach is a silver showstopper, conceived in a Queen’s State Coach meets Cinderella moment of madness.
There is a timeless and placeless feel to the production, which is currently online courtesy of Bayerische Staatsoper’s excellent website until April 19th, here.
I shall assume familiarity with the plot. We are not obviously in 19th century Vienna. But Hofmannsthal’s libretto, accentuating class differences by allocating different language forms to aristos and plebs, is faithfully followed. Even in the subtitles. The English version of Octavian’s lines when assuming the role of Mariandel, the Marschallin’s maid, are cannily converted to Cockney.
Leading the Bavarian State Orchestra is Vladimir Jurowski, who has built a fine track record at Wexford, Glyndebourne, the Royal Opera House and Bologna. Appointed as Bayerische Staatsoper’s Generalmusikdirektor from the 2021 – 2022 season, this production is an early indication that an exciting phase of collaboration with Barrie Kosky is on the cards.
Relaxed together in a pre-performance interview, Maestro Jurowski made the point that singers should be allowed to develop their roles without too many constraints from the pit; “I can always bring it back together after eight bars.” Laid back, or what?
The benefits from this latitude were on display as Octavian, sung by American mezzo soprano, Samantha Hankey, presented the silver rose to Sophie, Kyrgyz soprano, Katharina Konradi. The effect was spellbinding spontaneity. For my money, this passage is a moment made for opera and a Strauss dramatic high-water mark. A litmus test of every Rosenkavalier production. Can litmus tests be passed with flying colours? Whatever. Octavian and Sophie were allowed to nail it.
A niggle was the characterisation of the boorish Baron Ochs, intent on marrying the much younger Sophie. Oddly, he wasn’t boorish enough. After all, he is the Marschallin’s country cousin, out of context in Vienna, intent on chasing any bit of skirt he can find, while trading down to a young lower-class wife and up to a landed estate. What we were offered was German bass, Christof Fischesser, got up as a beige cardiganed actuary. I was left wishing that Mr. Kosky had taken a harsher swipe at the odious Ochs fortune hunter.
Marlis Petersen, a German coloratura soprano, was statuesque, except when she stumbled, deshabille and glassy eyed, from the grandfather clock at the start. As have other legendary Marschallin’s, such as Renée Fleming, she has transitioned over time from young Sophie to the older Marschallin. Her career path underscores the opera’s theme of transience and the need, ultimately, to “let go”.
In the third Act denouement, she dominates the stage, arbiter of the transition from the past – her love affair with Octavian – to the future – Octavian’s more appropriate relationship with Sophie. Other productions, including the New York Met’s current offering, lighten her act of self-sacrifice by having her strut off, bent on a Viennese promenade with a new beau. Did she really care about Octavian at all?
I think that is a mistake and undermines the self-sacrifice at the core of this tragicomedy. Barrie Kosky doesn’t fall for the soft focus ending. Having released Octavian, the Marschallin is alone. Her final reply to the remark, “young people are like that,” is the iconic, “Ja, ja”. A simple, poignant end to a complex opera. In a pre-performance interview Fräulein Peterson dwelt on the wistfulness of the moment and acknowledged that she always “played it by ear”. In this performance she is pitch perfect.
If traditional Sacher-Torte is your fancy, leave this Barrie Kosky production on the trolley and head elsewhere. Der Rosenkavalier is my favourite opera. Well, at least until I watch something else. This Bayerische Staatsoper production takes the piece beyond the boundaries of conventional comedy. I am sure that is what Strauss intended.
Not even the closing scene of the grandfather clock sinking into the stage, topped by Albert Steptoe triumphantly brandishing the minute hand can detract from that achievement. Barrie Kosky brings us a Der Rosenkavalier for all times and seasons.
You can stream Der Rosenkavalier on the Bayerische Staatsoper website.