Mallorca, Udo Jürgens songs, generously moustached soldiers in aviator sunglasses. What may sound completely random to you is actually a list of some of the comic highlights of the new production of Albert Lortzing’s opera Zar und Zimmermann at the Deutsche Oper Berlin. Sitting in the theatre, surrounded by a visibly amused German audience, I had a realisation. Despite having lived in Germany for a few years, learnt the language and social customs to a reasonable extent, something is still almost impenetrable to me – German humour. I am certainly not immune to the appeal of a good comedy of errors. So, what got lost in translation?
Inspired by a real historical event, Peter the Great’s Grand Embassy of 1697-98, Zar und Zimmermann (Tsar and Carpenter) revolves around a case of swapped identity between the Tsar and an everyman, also called Peter. The original opera is indebted to the stylistic quirks of both opera buffa and opéra comique, featuring extensive spoken dialogues between musical numbers. Instead of adjusting Lortzing’s libretto, director Martin G Berger decided to rewrite the spoken parts almost entirely to devise a new, updated plot. To further complicate things, both the baritone scheduled to sing the main role and his understudy fell ill before the premiere, causing the role to be split in two – ‘singer Peter’, sung by Daniel Schmutzhard from one side of the stage, and ‘stage Peter’, played by Berger himself miming along to the music and reciting the spoken dialogues.
Berger’s Zar und Zimmermann was thus relocated to the fantasy land of Chirikistan. At the beginning of the opera, a flashy, acid-coloured newsreel projected on the curtain tells us all we need to know about Chirikistan: a small land placed between Latvia and Russia, clearly inspired by the GDR and Soviet satellite states in both aesthetics and politics, and yet somehow ruled by a Tsar who – among other incredible feats – is said to have found the last digit of pi. A questionable execution reliant on AI-generated imagery and occasional Borat-like humour obstructed what might have otherwise been a fun overture.
The production then proceeded to maintain this restlessness, following political and personal intrigues with the exuberance of a spy comedy B film. From grim secret rooms where wacky Chirik agents hide to intercept conversations, to the factory where Peter the Great works incognito, to the burgomaster’s office, to a wedding with a giant pastel pink cake and women dressed like bunnies – there is always something happening on stage, also thanks to the frequent presence of dancers and choristers. In this kaleidoscope of events, the plot seems to fade more and more into the background as time passes, and diplomatic twists and turns become an excuse to present themes dear to Berger: the clash between Western individualism and Eastern collectivism, the short-sightedness of politicians, and the geopolitical consequences of everyone being called Peter. Despite having its moments, Berger’s horror silentii made the opera dangerously similar to a stand-up comedy show where the comedian is so afraid to let the audience breathe that they tell one joke after the other – only 20% of which are actually funny.
The same cannot be said about Antonello Manacorda’s conducting, visibly at ease with a score that owes much to Mozart, Donizetti and Rossini. Manacorda’s experience with the repertoire fit the opera like a glove, checking possibly every box: a good ear for melody, consistent balance between pit and singers (including choral scenes), and convincing pacing both in comic and lyrical musical numbers. And if Lortzing’s score isn’t memorable for its timbral innovation, Manacorda still managed to add some touches of colour here and there, especially in the woodwinds.
Among the Peters, Daniel Schmutzhard arguably gave the best performance. His Tsar didn’t quite match Berger’s stage presence – fidgety, nervous, impulsive – and instead offered a different side to the character, more imposing and lyrical. With a pleasant coarseness to it, his baritone took up space and sported some nice phrasing. Since the other Peter has no aria of his own, Philipp Kapeller made the most of the role during duets and spoken dialogues, thanks to a reliable tenor and adequate acting. Next to him, Nadja Mchantaf’s Marie was possibly the best acted – and only likeable – character on stage. Unfortunately, muddy articulation especially while singing faster buffo sections cast a shadow on her soprano.
The same could not be said about Patrick Zielke, whose skills as a basso buffo are above any doubt. Good comic timing and a solid, clear bass both in sung and spoken parts made Zielke a perfect Van Bett. Kieran Carrel and Padraic Rowan portrayed the French and English ambassadors against the odds of their unforgiving characterization, Carrel having a moment for himself with the Lied Lebe wohl, mein flandrisch Mädchen.
