The Tales of Hoffman actually calls itself an opéra fantastique, however, it’s just as comique as tragique and is therefore a veritable feast for directors looking for a challenge. For the Volksoper, Renaud Doucet and his designer André Barbe have concocted a courageous mix which is certainly colourful but by no means harmless: in the end, the devil has his finger in every pie.
The starting point for this concept is not just the work itself, but also its mysterious fate: after all, just before the first performance of the work in 1881, the Vienna Ringtheater burnt down, with the loss of around 400 lives; in 1887, the sheet music for the orchestra was lost in another fire at the Opéra-Comique. This staging evokes those fires with soot-covered proscenium, including loges. Within this framework, the stories of Hoffmann’s love life were played out, of which the Antonia tale should be noted as exemplary: in an icy chamber à la Doctor Zhivago, we see Antonia’s mother (the solid Martina Mikelić) as the girl coming out of the cake, or rather of a kind of iceberg; in the events that follow, Antonia is sort of conducted to death by a horde of dinner-jacketed zombies sporting Simon Rattle hairstyles and swinging luminous batons.
If that sounds bizarre to you, it certainly is. Nonetheless, this staging works thanks to ingenious acting direction, in which each action gives way to the next. Like a red thread, we imagine Offenbach as an escort to the work who pops up erratically, but this trick (which only reveals itself at the end) wasn't absolutely necessary: the colourful images were held together anyway through the everlasting themes of love and death, that is to say Eros (much naked flesh or, at any rate, skin-coloured body suits) and Thanatos (a death’s head). In the Giulietta act, these two themes were melded spectacularly in the shape of shapely dancers clad in bikinis made of death’s heads. So is that devilishly sexy, an Isolde's Liebestod 2.0, or is it the ultimate passion-killer? I’ll leave that for you to decide. In any cast, one can do worse than to give this staging a chance and allow oneself to be convinced that what seems foolish doesn’t have to be foolish at all, and that the sensible rule of “less is more” may not be without its exceptions.
The title role of Hoffmann isn't just long, it also needs a tenor with a big range and ability to sing in different voices: lightness and flexibility are required in the beginning; lyrical smoothness in the Antonia act, dramatic power in the Giulietta act – it’s a role that pushes even star tenors to their limits. So Mirko Roschkowski came as a pleasant surprise, with an agreeably bright voice which contrasted with the appearance of a friendly bear. Roschkowski impressed with good technique, solid high notes and clever dynamic control; he also delivered the big phrases with apparent effortlessness.