For the first time in its long history, the Salzburg Festival performs Giacomo Puccini’s La Bohème in the Great Festival Hall, offering a unique and rare music highlight. Anna Netrebko wins acclaim yet again in the lead role, giving a “deeply melancholic reading of Mimi”, according to the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung. Completing the dream couple she has Piotr Beczala at her side, whose rock-solid tenor voice keeps you with him at every turn.The protagonists are supported by a cheeky Nino Machaidze as Musetta and a strong male ensemble headed up by a resourceful Alessio Arduini. Daniele Gatti conducting the Vienna Philharmonic ensured “shimmering transparency of sound … And Italian style” (Süddeutsche Zeitung) and “reveals the orchestral sound, bringing the tone colours to full glow” (Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung).
Vec Makropulos
With the “breathtakingly grandiose” (Salzburger Nachrichten) Angela Denoke in the lead role, this emotionally powerful opera is given a superior treatment at the hands of the Wiener Philharmoniker under Esa- Pekka Salonen and in an ingenious staging by Christoph Marthaler. Denoke gives a winning account of the sensual, tormented leading role. While Salonen lets the Wiener Philharmoniker alternate between powerful accents, filigree textures and mighty outbursts of raw emotion, Marthaler charms the viewer with his typical witty, naturalistic details.
Die Frau ohne Schatten
“A shining hour”, trumpeted Vienna’s Kurier after the premiere of Richard Strauss’ “Die Frau ohne Schatten” at the Salzburg Festival, which was also the premiere of Christian Thielemann as opera conductor there. True to the Festival’s tradition, this production features a line-up of great Strauss singers, such as Anne Schwanewilms, Stephen Gould, Wolfgang Koch, Michaela Schuster and Evelyn Herlitzius. Christof Loy’s production is set in the mid 1950s in the Sofiensäle, a celebrated Viennese recording studio at the time. The singers portray singers from the Wiener Staatsoper recording “Die Frau ohne Schatten”.
Eugene Onegin
Director Andrea Breth has produced an intimate chamber play that mines the depths of veracity, precision and charisma of her singer-actors. The title role is a tour de force for any baritone, who must walk a tightrope between cynical, insufferable snob and sympathetic, broken-hearted lover. This is carried off superbly by Peter Mattei, who ‘has acquired a fabulous vocal profile and is a gifted actor blessed with debonair selfconfidence.’ (Neue Zürcher Zeitung) But the true hero of the opera is Tatyana, a multi-layered, conflicted, driven, doubt-ridden heroine. As portrayed by the dazzling Russian soprano Anna Samuil, this Tatyana ‘is ready to start a revolution.’ (F.A.Z.)
Benvenuto Cellini
The absence of the work in the operatic repertoire is certainly due in part to its musical excesses: the work is so complex, richly detailed and prolifically imaginative that Berlioz’s contemporaries considered it unplayable and unsingable. This is resoundingly proven false in the 2007 Salzburg Festival production of director Philipp Stölzl, conductor Valery Gergiev and a high-caliber cast accompanied by the Vienna Philharmonic and its chorus. Stölzl, above all, has poured his experience as director
of music videos (for Madonna, Mick Jagger and others), commercials and films into this project, termed ‘science fiction for Grand Opera’ (Süddeutsche Zeitung), ‘breathtaking’ (Der Standard), and ‘spectacularly successful’ (F.A.Z.).
Le Nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro) (Mozart 22)
Anna Netrebko, Christine Schäfer, Dorothea Röschmann, Bo Skovhus and Ildebrando D’Arcangelo under the direction of Nikolaus Harnoncourt and accompanied by the Vienna Philharmonic – this “Marriage of Figaro” is a feast for musical gourmets. Of all the Mozart 22 productions of the Salzburg Festival’s Mozart year 2006, “Figaro” is no doubt the most popular, both among connoisseurs and amateurs – perhaps because it is above all a triumph of superior music-making. The story is well-known, the work is fast-moving, witty, touching and vibrant. Based on a politically and socially explosive comedy by Beaumarchais, but toned down by Mozart’s librettist Lorenzo da Ponte, it treats the topic of love, lust and justice among the various classes: nobility, indentured servants and the rising bourgeoisie. The joy of the work lies above all in its characters, which are perhaps the most “human” human beings to be found on the opera stage. Harnoncourt’s musical concept is meticulously worked-out, interpreted with a wealth of subtle nuances and, with respect to the madness of the romantic intrigues unfolding on the stage, nothing less than thought-provoking. Director Claus Guth’s staging fits the music like a glove: there are no farcical elements or slapstick; he takes each and every character seriously. He sees the ensembles and arias as emotional rooms that are to be opened by the director. Everything takes place in Count Almaviva’s summer residence – a place devoid of furnishings but filled with erotic energy. The most erotically charged role in the opera is that of Cherubino, and with Christine Schäfer, Cherubino became the fulcrum of the performance, a luminous, dazzlingly virtuoso singer and consistently poignant actress – perhaps the vocal discovery of the Mozart 22 project. The celebrated Anna Netrebko proves her greatness by harnessing her sensual soprano to make it fit seamlessly into the ensemble. Bo Skovhus and Dorothea Röschmann give realistic and intense accounts of the Count and Countess as they movingly depict their “scenes of a marriage.” Finally, Ildebrando D’Arcangelo employs his powerful bass baritone to give authority to the work’s title role.
La Clemenza di Tito (Mozart 22)
Mozart was still working on “The Magic Flute” when he was commissioned to write a festive opera for the coronation of Leopold II in Prague as King of Bohemia on 6 September 1791. Though in poor health, he accepted, even though he had little more than four weeks to write it. He immediately had Metastasio’s text revised by the poet Mazzolà, who not only built in the duets, trios, quintet and sextet that Mozart needed to hone the work’s emotional veracity, but also brought the abstract political dimension down to a human, emotional level. From a lofty reflection on politics and justice, it became a conflict between friends and lovers. Emperor Titus plans to marry Berenice, thus arousing the rage of Vitellia. She urges Sesto, who loves her, to lead a revolt against Titus. After further complications, Titus resolves to marry Vitellia. Vitellia tries to stop Sesto, but in vain: he has burned down the Capitol and tried to kill his best friend Titus. The Emperor escapes, but, surrounded by manipulation and betrayal, the future seems bleak¿ This opera seria, Mozart’s very last opera, is both a distillate of late 18th-century opera as well as an anticipation of the 19th-century opera with its tormented heroes. Director Martin Ku¿ej tells the story straightforwardly, digging into the substrata of the work to bring out the complex psyches of the characters, their neurotic impulses, their sexual drives and the motives of their intrigues. Ku¿ej’s “Clemenza” is a mad whirl of love, murder, arson and rebellion. He is ably supported by the Vienna Philharmonic under Nikolaus Harnoncourt, and a stellar cast that proves just how much flesh and blood pulses through this work. Michael Schade, one of the most exciting lyrical tenors of today, is a Titus who sings with fire and dignity. The dramatic soprano Dorothea Röschmann, who made her international breakthrough in Salzburg in 1995 as Susanna (“Figaro”) under Harnoncourt, portrays Vitellia as a power-hungry schemer with a broken soul. The incomparable mezzo Vesselina Kasarova paints her Sesto with all the passion and torment of a lover forced to betray his best friend. On a par with them are Aleksandra Kurzak (Servilia), Malena Ernman (Annio) and Luca Pisaroni (Publio). Premiered in 2003, this production of “Tito” was universally acclaimed as a musical and dramatic triumph in its 2006 reprise within the Mozart 22 cycle.
Così fan Tutte (Mozart 22)
Women are like that, women act that way – no matter how you translate the words “Così fan tutte,” it boils down to this: women are impossible to understand! The philosopher Don Alfonso, however, believes he knows how to read women’s hearts and is ready to test his theory in a little experiment of love. When Ursel and Karl-Ernst Herrmann’s production of “Così” begins, we find Don Alfonso playing with fire. First it’s only a cigarette, but then it’s the flames of love that he’s stoking. And the instrument he’s using is ancient, well-worn and very effective: jealousy. Don Alfonso is convinced that the sweethearts of the two soldiers Ferrando and Guglielmo, Dorabella and Fiordiligi, would be unfaithful to them, given the opportunity. The two soldiers are convinced otherwise and bet with him. With the help of the young ladies’ maid Despina, Alfonso devises an elaborate scheme to make the two young women believe their lovers have gone off to the army. Then he brings back the two young men, now disguised as “Albanians.” Dorabella and Fiordiligi are smitten, and soon fall in love with the handsome strangers, but not with the “right” ones… In their light-footed, witty and poetic staging, the Herrmanns took advantage of the wide stage of the Grosses Festspielhaus to create a luminous and elegantly minimalist landscape dotted with a few sparing but stylish props. The lovers are portrayed with verve and compelling emotional confusion by Ana María Martinez (Fiordiligi) and Sophie Koch (Dorabella) as the two sisters, and Stéphane Degout (Guglielmo) and Shawn Mathey (Ferrando) as the cocky soldiers who learn that lying isn’t the best way to find out the truth. Thomas Allen (Don Alfonso) and the great Helen Donath (Despina) add their incomparable stage presence to the action. Conductor Manfred Honeck entices a wondrous delicacy and tenderness from the Vienna Philharmonic. Coming after “Figaro” (1786) and “Don Giovanni” (1787), “Così fan tutte” (1790) is the third of the magnificent trio of operas on libretti by Lorenzo da Ponte. “Così” has long been problematic on account of its libretto, which in earlier days was decried as immoral and in more recent times as politically incorrect. But the beauty of the music and the psychological truth at the heart of the text have ultimately redeemed this opera buffa, which Nikolaus Harnoncourt calls “the saddest opera in the world.”
Don Giovanni (Mozart 22)
“Il dissoluto punito, ossia Il Don Giovanni” is the full title of the opera that is widely held to be the most perfect work of its genre. Luckily, it is known today merely as “Don Giovanni,” a title that far better evokes the hero in all of his seductive power, his disregard for the social order, his merry wantonness. It is this hero who fascinated Mozart, not the “dissoluto punito” – the “rake punished” – who harks back to the morals and conventions of the late 18th century. The work, again on a libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte (like “Figaro” and “Così”), was written for Prague after “Figaro” had enjoyed such an overwhelming success in the Bohemian capital. It was premiered there on 29 October 1787. The opera’s perfect fusion of opera buffa and opera seria is suggested by its novel designation as a dramma giocoso, or merry drama. It is a moral tale of murder, sexual exploitation and betrayal that is lightened by comedic elements that infuse the whole with warmth and humanity. As sung by baritone Thomas Hampson, who made his international breakthrough as Don Giovanni under Harnoncourt in 1987, the title hero superbly incarnates the aging rake and emotional anarchist who’s seen and done everything. Ildebrando D’Arcangelo plays his servant without exaggeration, as an astute observer. While Melanie Diener dazzles as Donna Elvira, it is Christine Schäfer and Piotr Beczala who, with their powerful stage presence, give exceptionally unforgettable performances as Donna Anna and Don Ottavio. Director Martin Ku¿ej interprets “Don Giovanni” with compelling images that cast the rake as a child of today’s consumer society, a man who acquires women, uses them and disposes of them after consumption. Happiness can be bought – but the specter of retribution is never far away, as in the evocative “tableau vivant” of spent and broken high-society hedonists. Under the baton of young conductor Daniel Harding, the Vienna Philharmonic weave a fresh, transparent and jaunty musical fabric that underscores every nuance of passion and despair, as well as every shading of wit and humanity that make “Don Giovanni” a work of unequalled artistry.
Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute) (Mozart 22)
“The Magic Flute” is Mozart’s most popular and beloved opera, and its melodies – from Papageno’s folkloric tunes to the Queen of the Night’s breathtaking coloraturas – are familiar even among non-listeners of classical music. In this production by Pierre Audi, however, it is the eyes and not the ears that first fall under the spell of this truly magical “Magic Flute.” From the illustration on the stage curtain to the incredible, wildly colored, primeval-looking monsters, animals and decorative elements on the stage, the production is dominated by the unmistakable expressive world of the Dutch artist and sculptor Karel Appel. A co-founder of the acclaimed Cobra Group, Appel developed a darkly expressionistic idiom and was the “secret dramaturge” of the production, says director Audi. Appel died at the age of 85 three months before the premiere of “Die Zauberflöte” at the Salzburg Festival. Blending smoothly into Appel’s exotic designs, director Pierre Audi’s production is neither a contemporization nor a deconstruction of Mozart’s German Singspiel, which was written in 1791 and was one of Mozart’s last works. Instead, Audi leaves the alleged stylistic breaks and unresolved conflicts between good and evil as they are and seeks to “give them a home,” as he puts it. He relates the fairy-tale story of the “Magic Flute” in a sensual and playful, but never childlike or childish way, using Appel’s sets as a component of his vision. While the sets may be a treat for the eyes, the music is a feast for the ears. Metropolitan Opera and La Scala star Diana Damrau shines as a Queen of the Night who effortlessly tosses out her coloraturas with dazzling accuracy. René Pape’s Sarastro is a worthy counterpart, a solemn figure with balsamic bass tones. Paul Groves’ supple tenor voice ensures a faultless Tamino next to the captivatingly natural lyricism of Genia Kühmeier’s Pamina. Christian Gerhaher is a welcome, almost restrained Papageno. His Papagena, Irena Bespalovaite, brings her fresh musicality to the ensemble. The Vienna Philharmonic is led with an expert hand by the great Riccardo Muti.