Past Production Reviews
7Am Ende blies Martin Kušej der frostige Wind eines Buhorkans ins Gesicht, als der Regisseur auf die Bühne des Theaters an der Wien trat. Erstaunlich kalt nahm das Opernpublikum am Dienstagabend seine Neudeutung von Puccinis "Tosca" auf, die der Burgtheaterdirektor in einer Eislandschaft statt dem Palazzo Farnese oder der Engelsburg ansiedelt. Im Kern zeichnet die Inszenierung eine erfrorene Welt mit zutiefst heutigen, verlorenen Figuren. Schnee von morgen anstatt von gestern.
Das kann auch altgedienten Opernregisseuren passieren. Da haben sie eine Superidee - und werden nach der Premiere von den Hooligans der konservativen Fraktion niedergebuht. Warum soll nicht - wie bei Claus Guth in Paris - Puccinis "La Bohème" im Weltall spielen oder "Tosca" nicht in Rom, sondern an einer eiskalten Hinrichtungsstätte im verschneiten Nirgendwo? Dorthin verlagerte Martin Kušej, im Hauptberuf Burgtheaterdirektor, Puccinis spannungsgeladenen Opernthriller, der wie keine andere Oper eigentlich nach präzisen Angaben über Ort und Zeit gebaut ist.
Laughter is a powerful dramatic weapon. Not the kind of laughter you normally get in the Royal Opera House - knowing, self-conscious - but actual inelegant, snorting-before-you-even-realised-it laughter. Kosky harnesses this anarchic force, startling an audience expecting an improving piece of musical modernism by giving them instead a disarming piece of cutthroat comedy.Kosky, in a brilliant sleight of hand, transforms the oversized nose into a mischievous tap-dancing boy. Ilan Galkoff clearly has a ball, and together with his troupe of adult tap dancers (ten in total) they nearly romp off with the piece, thanks to Otto Pichler's superb choreography and the witty designs of Klaus Grunberg.A rash of false noses and some elaborate costumes make it hard to identify many of the players, but the core ensemble make their presence known, relishing the vernacular rough and tumble of David Pountney's new English translation. John Tomlinson leers and lurches and broods as (by turns) the Barber, Newspaper Office Clerk and Doctor, while the double act of Helene Schneiderman and Ailish Tynan forms a deliciously grotesque mother and daughter team. Alexander Kravets's Police Inspector finds comic gold in the composer's extraordinarily demanding vocal writing, and Susan Bickley makes much of her cameo as the Old Countess. But the evening belongs to Martin Winkler, a singing-actor of such skill, whose physical and vocal clowning as the luckless Kovalev - all orifices and ooze in Kosky's hideous portrait - must penetrate this bustling phantasmagoria and make us care. Panto season has arrived early, and for those who like their clowns sad and their comedy sharpened to a point, there won't be a better show this winter.
The singers maintain a sense of structure in their wildly veering vocal lines and intense onstage action. Angela Denoke’s Montezuma has a dramatic, direct soprano that communicates her character and emotions expressively. Opposite her stands Bo Skovhus as Cortez, who adds the challenge of surrealistic physical spasms to the already-considerable challenge of his vocal part. He approaches it with frankness that matches Denoke’s, singing solidly and straightforwardly. Both voices carry through the large space while maintaining a natural, spoken quality. Montezuma is supported beautifully by a rich-voiced contralto (Marie-Ange Todorovitch) and a bell-toned, inhumanly high soprano (Susanna Andersson), who sometimes sing from the pit and sometimes climb onto the stage to commiserate with her and do shots together. The two “speakers” (Stephan Rehm and Peter Pruchniewitz), who support Cortez, also manage their tricky rhythms and guttural grunts with accuracy and feeling. Rihm’s music and Konwitschny’s vision have combined to create something extraordinary that is simultaneously abstract and concrete, challenging and accessible, surprising and familiar, modern and ancient, exciting and bewildering. If this is a possible future of opera, it’s one worth pursuing.
