The enduring allure of Richard Strauss and Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s Der Rosenkavalier has always rested on the delicate, often painful tension of interpersonal relationships. In the latest production at the Graz Opera, director Philipp Krenn and set designer Momme Hinrichs have decided to make that tension literal. By transforming the stage into a revolving architectural maze, the production strips away the polite veneer of the Viennese aristocracy to reveal the raw, often clumsy mechanics of desire and power.
From the opening notes of the overture, Krenn establishes a world of transparent secrets. While the Marschallin and Octavian engage in their early-morning flirtations, the revolving stage reveals the “downstairs” reality: a bustling crew of servants sorting laundry, eavesdropping, and gossiping. This Upstairs/Downstairs dynamic ensures that no intimacy is truly private, framing the high-society romance as a performance witnessed by those who actually keep the house running.
This is not a period piece frozen in the early 20th century. Instead, Hinrichs’ set and Eva Maria Dessecker’s costumes create a dissonant, anachronistic collage. The audience is treated to a visual timeline that jumps from the rigid dress of student fraternities and nobility to the psychedelic sensibilities of the 1970s—complete with a Bubble Chair and oversized floral wallpaper—and subtle nods to the present day. The result is a production that feels less like a historical reenactment and more like a psychological study of archetypes that persist across eras.
A Proletarian Twist on Baron Ochs
Central to the production’s success is the reimagining of Baron Ochs. Rather than a buffoonish aristocrat, Wilfried Zelinka portrays Ochs as a “schmieriger Austro-Prolet”—a greasy, self-assured opportunist who views women as mere acquisitions. Zelinka’s Ochs is defined by a specific, recognizable type: sunglasses perched precariously in slightly-too-long hair, a shirt stretched tight across a protruding belly, and a commanding presence bolstered by the audacity of wearing shoes without socks.
Whether he is interpreted as a fading noble or a crude industrialist, Zelinka captures the essence of a man who believes his wealth grants him total dominion. While some critics noted that his lowest notes weren’t always fully realized, the performance succeeded in making Ochs a genuine threat rather than a caricature. This menacing edge sets the stage for the production’s most shocking departure from the traditional score.
The Architecture of the Production
The revolving stage serves as more than a technical flourish; it is a narrative device that mirrors the characters’ emotional trajectories. The movement through the house—from the foyer to the anteroom, the servants’ quarters, the billiard room, the bedroom, and finally the kitchen—strips the characters of their social masks.
| Role/Creative | Artist | Key Contribution |
|---|---|---|
| Director | Philipp Krenn | Concept of “interpersonal” movement and gender agency. |
| Marschallin | Polina Pastirchak | Warm, poignant portrayal of aging and loss. |
| Baron Ochs | Wilfried Zelinka | Reimagined as a modern “Austro-Prolet.” |
| Sophie | Tetiana Miyus | Character arc culminating in physical resistance. |
| Octavian | Anna Brull | Nuanced portrayal of youthful conflict. |
| Conductor | Vassilis Christopoulos | Dynamic leadership, particularly of the brass section. |
Female Agency and the “Staffelübergabe”
The production’s most daring narrative choice occurs in the second act. Krenn employs a coup de théâtre that transforms the Marschallin from a passive observer into a spiritual guide for Sophie. Through the use of a home projector in Act I, the production flashes back to the Marschallin’s own wedding. This prepares the audience for a symbolic “passing of the torch” (Staffelübergabe), where the Marschallin stands before her younger self, mirroring Sophie’s struggle for marital self-determination.
In this version, the Marschallin is stumm—silent but present—supporting Sophie in her quest to control her own destiny, a luxury the Marschallin herself never had. This psychological layering reaches a visceral peak during the confrontation between Octavian and Ochs. When Octavian proves insufficient in the duel, it is Sophie who takes decisive action, stabbing Ochs in the calf with a knife to prevent further escalation. This moment of violence serves as a powerful metaphor for the breaking of patriarchal chains, turning a comedic opera into a statement on female autonomy.
Musical Execution and Critical Reception
Musically, the production was a study in contrasts. Under the baton of Vassilis Christopoulos, the orchestra delivered a largely superb performance, with the brass section receiving particular praise for its precision and power. However, the strings were occasionally less consistent, and the overall volume was, at times, overwhelming, threatening to drown out the vocal nuances.
The cast, however, remained a strong point. Polina Pastirchak’s Marschallin was described as moving and warm, while Tetiana Miyus brought a captivating energy to Sophie. Even Anna Brull’s Octavian, portraying a character torn between duty and passion, held their own. Supporting roles, including Corina Koller as the Leitmetzerin and Neira Muhič as Annina, added essential texture to the ensemble.
The production concluded with a touch of irony. As the Field Marshal watches Sophie and Octavian embrace, he is given a line of colloquial dialogue: “Sind halt aso, die jungen Leut‘!” (That’s just how young people are!). The curtain falls not on a grand aristocratic gesture, but on a tender, admonishing slap from his wife, who leads him away with a simple, “Gemma, Peppi,” returning him to the reality of his domestic life.
This production of Der Rosenkavalier marks a significant shift in how the Graz Opera approaches the classics, prioritizing psychological truth over period accuracy. The rare occurrence of the audience exclusively cheering for the directing team at the end of the premiere suggests that Krenn’s vision of “women who hit and stab” resonated deeply with a modern audience.
The production continues its run at the Graz Opera, with upcoming performances scheduled throughout the season. Tickets and full performance dates can be verified via the official Oper Graz website.
Do you think modernizing the classics helps them stay relevant, or does it distract from the original composition? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
