The digital light installation on the façade of the Wiener Staatsoper yesterday bore the welcome message: HEUTE LISE AUF NAXOS. This revival of Sven-Eric Bechtolf’s 2012 production wasn’t scheduled to feature Lise Davidsen at all, but the Norwegian soprano stepped in as the most luxurious of replacements when Anna Netrebko withdrew a few weeks ago, citing illness as having interrupted preparations for her role debut as Ariadne. It was nothing less than a triumphant return to the production in which Davidsen made her 2017 house debut.
Bechtolf’s staging does the business very well in this grandest of operas about opera. The house of the richest man in Vienna is clean and minimalist, but Bernhard Schir’s supercilious Haushofmeister sets the perfect tone in the Prologue, uncorking the Sekt, tasting the caviar and, deliciously, depositing the teaspoon into his top pocket. The stage is transformed into a backstage dressing room as the anguished Composer – mezzo Kate Lindsey, who has become a house darling in recent years – frets after the last minute instruction to combine his new opera with an Italian commedia dell’arte troupe’s burlesque.
The Opera itself features a stage populated by three derelict pianos beached on Naxos like driftwood, with a detached lid providing the perfect adventure playground for Zerbinetta and her troupe. Behind, we watch the audience, but also the frantic shenanigans as the gloriously camp Dance Master (Thomas Ebenstein) and sympathetic Music Master (Adrian Eröd) help keep the show afloat. The troupe’s comedy routines look slickly rehearsed, with plenty of synchronised scooter and umbrella antics, even if they can’t quite disguise the score’s occasional longueurs in their scenes and the trio of nymphs. The final scene – lit by candles and chandeliers – is perfect, Primadonna and Tenor departing here on polite terms, leaving the stage for a passionate kiss between Zerbinetta and the smitten Composer.
Musically, this was a stellar evening on the Haus am Ring. Ariadne only calls for a small chamber orchestra, but Cornelius Meister teased out some unbelievably plush string sounds and the woodwinds were outstanding in the prelude to the Opera. Tempi were buoyant and, with the raised Staatsoper pit, one could clearly see Meister having fun, occasionally bouncing on his heels.
Lindsey was an energetic Composer (a trouser role cousin of Octavian in Der Rosenkavalier), suitably anguished when artistically compromised. The role lies high for a mezzo (Strauss wrote it for a soprano) but Lindsey scaled those heights with ease, her ability to bend a note for emotional effect or control dynamic swells with pinpoint precision was exquisite. And her caramel low notes, when required, were creamy. Her reactions to the Opera performance, accompanying Zerbinetta at one of the clapped out pianos, then growing increasingly ecstatic as Ariadne’s great monologue unfolded.
Spanish soprano Sara Blanch sang a vivacious Zerbinetta, coloratura high notes popping like Champagne corks, strutting the stage and sliding down the piano lid in her red sequined heels during her tireless “Großmächtige Prinzessin”. Among her troupe, Jusung Gabriel Park’s mellifluous Harlequin and the refulgent bass of Simonas Strazdas’s Truffaldino caught the ear.
Michael Spyres’ distinctive baritenor dispatched Bacchus’ brief but taxing role with bronze tone and clarion high notes. Not everyone can pull off a leopardprint suit, but he prowled and pawed from the piano lid with a knowing wink.
Lise Davidsen and Richard Strauss are a match made in heaven. Hers is a Rolls Royce soprano, luxuriously rich and powerful, filling the house. She rode the long gleaming lines of “Es gibt ein Reich” with ease, a molten glow that I can still feel now. The final duet with Spyres was sublime. But Davidsen does comedy too. There was some nice bickering with Spyres as Primadonna and Tenor tried to negotiate with the Composer to preserve as much of their part in the condensed Opera as possible. On Naxos itself, Davidsen’s annoyance at the scene-hogging troupe was hilarious, disdainfully lifting their proffered handkerchiefs into the piano lid and gesturing to Meister in the pit to cut the music to Zerbinetta’s incessant warbling. An outstanding portrayal.
