Hindemith’s Cardillac has a plot that resembles more a psychological thriller than an opera. Based on a character out of E.T.A. Hoffmann’s expressionist story Mademoiselle de Scudéri, the opera’s main focus is on Cardillac, a goldsmith of incredible talent and renown who is so obsessed by the beauty of his own work that he secretly (yet unapologetically) kills his Parisian clients to reclaim it. It has a spooky, sinister fascination that both intrigues and horrifies and which is quite successfully expressed in this striking production by Sven-Eric Bechtolf.
Visually, the massive, colourful tableaux and rich textures of the stage design (Rolf Glittenberg) are absolutely striking. Black, slanted building cut-outs and a huge clock (Hoffmannesque indeed) kick off the evening, looking like the black-and-white opening from the graphic-novel film, Sin City. The chorus (which deserves a special shout-out for its efforts, both vocally and theatrically) is clad in black robes, Tim Burton-like white faces with black accents, and hats that are stylized pilgrim bonnets brims combined with cylinder-shaped elongated top-hats, and brandishing large white knives. A massive, lush red curtain frames the following act, where after singing a gorgeous aria, “Die Dame” (Olga Bezsmertna) and her “Kavalier” (Matthias Klink) are amorously united over a stunning gold necklace then, after some seductive shadow-play, brutally murdered by a faceless black figure. Scenes with Tomasz Konieczny's Cardillac are, naturally, completely gilded and feature a massive, beautifully textured burnished gold cupboard against an arching black frame.
The movements of the characters are equally stylized, each having their own visual “tics”. Angela Denoke (Cardillac's daughter) continuously reaches with her arms, shaking them like a silent-movie era diva. Wolfgang Bankl's gold merchant hops about and twitches nearly comically, belying his own not-so-comical fate. The use of dancers, including a child ballerina for the royal daughter, an Igor-like guardian, also worked wonderfully, as did the white-faced and painted (think A Clockwork Orange) briefcase-carrying henchmen underlining the grotesque, fantastical elements that made E.T.A. Hofmann a household name.
Although not universally pleasing, the cast is also well worth hearing. Konieczny cannot seem to miss out on a big role these days at the Haus am Ring, having appeared this season alone as Wotan, Jack Rance, Mandryka and now proving an imposingly maniacal Cardillac. Vocally, Bezmertna is a stand-out, and looked absolutely stunning in her bejeweled headpiece and feathery black dress (costumes by Marianne Glittenberg). The second scene, where she waits for her Kavalier, was musically spectacular (and she does have some of the most beautiful bits to sing in this work), though one hopes her German diction will improve with time.