Rare Opera | Loneliness and Effectiveness with Richard Strauss

Among Richard Strauss's operas, "Salome," "Elektra," and "Der Rosenkavalier" are the repertoire pieces. "Frau ohne Schatten" and "Arabella" are occasionally encountered. The other ten are rarities on stage. Nevertheless, it can certainly be worthwhile to try them again; in the seemingly trivial marriage play "Intermezzo," for example, Tobias Kratzer's direction last year revealed surprising tensions.

Shortly after Strauss began composing "Die schweigsame Frau," the government was handed over to the Nazis. The books of librettist Stefan Zweig were burned as belonging to a Jew. Strauss, however, believed that as president of the Reich Chamber of Music, he could do good for German art. At least, when the Dresden premiere was due in 1935, he managed to ensure that Zweig's name was mentioned. After a few performances, the opera was canceled and staged only abroad until 1945.

But even later, it was rarely staged. The story of this "comic opera," for which Zweig drew on a play by Shakespeare's contemporary Ben Jonson, offers some quite effective scenes. Sir Morosus, a retired admiral, lives an isolated life and suffers from any kind of noise. His nephew, Henry, has, against all social rules, joined forces with a theater troupe and married the actress Aminta. Morosus disinherits him.

Marriage is the only escape from his loneliness. His barber finds suitable candidates for marriage, but is secretly in league with the theater people. He arranges everything so that Morosus chooses the seemingly well-behaved and submissive—and above all, quiet—Timidia, who is actually none other than Aminta. As soon as Morosus thinks he's married, Timidia transforms into a fury, torturing the old man without restraint—and, above all, making a lot of noise. Henry now appears as the only escape from the supposed wife.

Zweig's libretto is full of linguistic subtleties, and Strauss presents one of his most complicated scores. Even in the overture, various rhythms overlap, and the harmony is difficult to grasp. In short, the two have presented such a level of artistic effort that the immediate effectiveness suffers. They also refrain from malicious ridicule. As much as Morosus, as the patriarch, seeks a humble female, his loneliness is as evident as the affection he develops for Timidia. Accordingly, the actress initially hesitates to treat her victim as planned.

These are perhaps the most haunting moments of the work. This is heightened by the fact that she has to pretend to be a stranger to her real husband, Henry, and for a moment the question arises as to whether the two are truly becoming strangers to each other; the comedy threatens to tip over into seriousness. The ending, however, is comedically harmonious: the theatrical play directed against Morosus leads him to a realization. One might ask whether all this is escapism or the preservation of humanity in difficult times.

Director Jan Philipp Gloger sets the action in the present day, in an old Berlin apartment. At the end, he hints at how the housing shortage could be solved: The theater troupe moves into Morosus's apartment, because the apartment is too large for one person. Projections inform about the problem of loneliness in old age, which is socially important. However, one might ask whether this is Morosus's problem, whose noise phobia is only superficially explained by a war experience and points to an inner inhibition that the play within the play ultimately helps to overcome.

Beyond the superfluous updates, Gloger gives the main characters a pleasing amount of space. Peter Rose manages to convey the touching quality of the old grump, and Siyabonga Maqungo is convincing as his nephew. Brenda Rae as Aminta/Timidia, with her somewhat sharp voice, arouses fears in the first act, but later on, she portrays the tyrannical wife as convincingly as the compassion she develops for Morosus. Samuel Hasselhorn gives the barber, who directs the play, the appropriate poise without malice. The group scenes, however, are hampered by the overly cramped stage design and often fail to transcend crowding and hustle and bustle.

Above all, the evening belongs to the orchestra. The score is ideal for Christian Thielemann as a conductor, with a penchant for finely nuanced, exquisitely refined sound. His numerous fans in the audience at the State Opera celebrated him with corresponding enthusiasm at his first premiere as General Music Director (they will have to wait a bit longer, as no further premieres are planned for the 2025/26 season).

In fact, Thielemann held the Staatskapelle back enough to make it easier for the singers to play their very extensive parts, while still drawing attention to the complexity of the orchestral events. This was a decisive plea for "The Silent Woman" – admittedly one that was more convincing from a musical perspective than from a stage-by-stage perspective.