I had no idea Der Rosenkavalier was a breakup story. At Santa Fe Opera’s sumptuous, brightly-colored production, the first this company has offered of this Strauss classic in decades, I found myself connecting powerfully to the character of Princess Marie Thérèse von Werdenberg, the Marshallin. It may be oversharing to admit that my own “moving on” from a long-term relationship (not a fling like the Princess has with Octavian, but still, a relationship with a much younger man) had none of the grace, wisdom and control that she showed. As the opera ends and she sings about giving up her lover but keeping a part of him in her heart—I was sobbing. The Marshallin is my new touchstone. I need one.
The brilliance of the opera, for me, was not in the Mozartian silliness of its plot, with a romper room of characters colliding in a comic plot to save the beautiful Sophie (Ying Fang) from a marriage to the clownish Baron Ochs (well-played by Matthew Rose). Rather, it was in moments of stillness—with gravity offered by the Marshallin—when the opera built power, when it resonated for me, anyway, in a deeply personal way. This bookending of bittersweetness around a filling of fluff is a little like life itself—joy surrounded by sorrow.
The last moments of the opera were unforgettable. The Marshallin appears to settle matters, rid the scene of the Baron and all his rabble, brings her young friends together, and saying goodbye to Octavian, and youth, walks off stage.
The Santa Fe production was directed by Bruno Ravella. He successfully managed a circus with singing. His energetic staging and well-curated shtick accomplished the setting of mood and declaration of tone. Gary McCann, the costume and scenic designer, offered a visually sumptuous series of rooms set in a stylized Vienna. The three different sets, including two glorious, fleur de lis and chandelier-laden rooms (even the Act III brothel is quirky and interesting) each represented different layers of a stratified society. Costumes, on the other hand, make a nod at the future, with the passing of a generation suggested by the Marshalin’s 1950’s couture vs. young Sophie’s 1960’s, Jackie Kennedy-style outfits.
Der Rosenkavalier is known for its three great soprano roles. In addition to the bigger sound of the Marshallin, and the light, very high voice of Sophie, there is the pants role of Octavian, sung by mezzo soprano Paula Murrihy. The Marshallin, Rachel Willis-Sørensen, playing an older woman, may not have had the emotional gravitas of a singer like Renée Fleming, who performed the role 27 times at the Metropolitan Opera. But Fleming really was aging out of opera and Willis-Sørensen, making her debut in the role at 40, is in the midst of a stellar, multi-dimensional career. Still, her singing, as well as her elegant demeanor, carried well the weight and emotion of the role. Her Marshallin exemplified the sublime possibilities of the soprano voice.
In the lead role, Murrihy did well in pants despite an ankle injury that required an Ace-bandage and possibly interfered with waltzing. In 2024, pants roles, to me anyway, seem more charged than charming. Drag performances are being banned from entire states in the U.S., but they still haven’t gotten to opera. Murrihy is required, in the first act alone, to play a randy-17-year-old male, then (quick change) a female maid, then a more dignified version of the boy, who is also a Count.
Pants roles may or may not pass the test of political correctness at the moment, but they do allow for some amazing female trios. The stunning culminating trio, “Hab mir’s Gelobt.” (See video) is Strauss brilliance—and for me, heart-breaking.
Fang starred in Santa Fe as Susanna in “La Nozze de Figaro” in 2021. In Rosenkavalier, she employed her crystal-clear sound and ingenue looks to create a very charming Sophie. Baron Ochs, (Matthew Rose) was played for laughs— Rose was buffoonish and more goofy and uncouth (playing into the opera’s class distinctions) than rich and randy. Der Rosenkavalier critiques the social strata of the day by offering an animalistic Count contracting to marry a young commoner, Sophie, who is more royal than he in every way (except birth).
Ravella replaced the traditional black servant with a blonde cherub (Maximiian Moore).
