In this last collaboration with the brilliant librettists Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy, Jacques Offenbach wrote a biting satire of society and politics, wrapped up in his characteristic musical wit. Premiered in Paris in 1869, the setting and timeliness of Les Brigands are universal, skewering the absurdities of bureaucracy and the fickleness of fortune, camouflaged in a game of cops and robbers and mistaken identities. The moral of the story is that fraudulent bankers and ministers are much more corrupt than any honest thieves, highlighting the thin line between law and lawlessness.
The plot revolves around a band of whimsical Italian bandits who, rather than being menacing, are comical and inept, but always one step ahead of their pursuers. It weaves humorous misunderstandings, romantic entanglements and witty social commentary. In the end, Falsacappa, the bandit chief, is named head of the police force because he has always successfully eluded them.
It is not the first time that this operetta has been staged at Komische Oper Berlin – in 1989, shortly before the fall of the Berlin Wall, the iconic stage director Harry Kupfer brought it to the stage, with strong allusions to the Communist government of East Germany, with resounding success. The current semi-staged production has been drastically cut from its original three hours to a single act of 100 minutes. Performed in German, these cuts have not been to its benefit, especially not in terms of understanding the complex plot. The set consists of two gradients used to accommodate the commenting chorus and a forestage around the orchestra pit.
Stage director Max Hopp has the characters overdo their mannerisms, in an effort to make them funny. It doesn’t work. Combined with the elaborate and colourful costumes designed by Katrin Kath-Bösel, they look cheap, while trying to underline the stereotypical attributes of the characters – sad-looking ruffles on an aristocratic shirt, a heavily adorned pistol belt, miles of multilayered tulle skirts for a princess, overly adorned velvets for a finance minister – killing any subtleties. The last of Offenbach's great buffo operettas provides an opportunity for topical satire with its bitterly funny allusions to money, power, politics and, above all, the corruptibility of politicians and the ridiculousness of the institutions responsible for law and order. Sadly, Hopp’s attempts at updating it fall short of the mark.
Offenbach's music is lively and engaging, tickled out here by Adrien Perruchon as he animated the orchestra of the Komische Oper to show off the score’s melodic inventiveness and rhythmic flair. Despite his energetic approach and rapid tempi, the conducting was a touch too well-behaved, too correct, too humourless. It needed to be more tongue-in-cheek to set Offenbach’s score on fire. The members of the Vokalconsort Berlin were adept at following Perruchon’s direction, but here, too, there was a lack of wit.
The large cast was headed by Alexander Kaimbacher as Falsacappa, chief of the gang of thieves, who gave an outstanding vocal performance, had excellent diction, and was clearly having fun. The young and innocent owner of the inn, Fragoletto, was sung by tenor Johannes Dunz with a clear and natural timbre and clarity of text. The other male characters were also well cast: baritone Noam Heinz as the Duke of Mantua and tenor Ivan Turšić as Count de Gloria-Cassis were both convincing, imbuing their characters with a believable Offenbachian satire. One of the few comic highlights was the aria sung by baritone Tom Erik Lie as the finance minister Antonio, who delivered an over-the-top rendering of his love for the job where he can help himself to public monies to support his mistresses and other hobbies – the parodic showpiece of the evening.
Unfortunately, the casting of the ladies was not as top-notch. Soprano Nadja Mchantaf portrayed Falsacappa’s daughter, Fiorella, as an unconvincingly sweet character and her singing showed problems with high notes as well as being quite unintelligible. Elisabeth Wrede was a well-behaved Princess of Granada who follows the rules – a little more rebelliousness would have done her good.
This last of Offenbach's great buffo operettas provides an opportunity for topical satire with its bitterly funny allusions to money, power, politics and, above all, the corruptibility of politicians and the ridiculousness of the institutions responsible for law and order. Sadly, Max Hopp’s attempt at updating it falls short of the mark.
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