Avoiding the sexual themes often highlighted in many interpretations of the opera, Kratzer instead taps into Wagner’s revolutionary past. He skillfully contrasts the libretto’s contrasting worlds, presenting Venus’s band of libertines as a symbol of anarchic art against the structured bourgeois formality of the Festspielhaus. Kratzer’s Tannhäuser is notably original and emotionally compelling, celebrated as an exemplary piece of Regietheater that weaves references and ideas from Wagner’s life into the score in both logical and humorous ways.
As the Overture starts, Kratzer and his video artist Manuel Braun project a film that sweeps across the grand vistas of Wartburg castle and the lush Thuringian forests. The camera then zooms into a scrappy camper van inhabited by a bohemian troupe reminiscent of Zerbinetta and Harlekin. This group includes the leader Venus in a sleek leotard, Tannhäuser as a clown, the vibrant drag queen Le Gateau Chocolat, and the small, drum-playing Oskar.
Rather than embodying the carnal delights of the mythical Venusberg, this eclectic band of anarchists roams the countryside, spreading their libertine message through posters with the motto “Frei im Wollen, Frei im Thun, Frei im Geniessen,” a slogan from a pamphlet Wagner himself created during the Dresden May Uprising of 1849. A particularly moving moment in the opening montage elicited spontaneous applause from the audience when Oskar was shown raising a glass to honour the late Stephen Gould. This aesthetic touch continues to keep the production vital and engaging even after five years.
Tragedy strikes when Venus accidentally runs over a policeman who catches the group trying to scam a Burger King for a free meal. This event introduces the first of Kratzer’s innovative directorial choices, using the gravity of a lost life rather than the titular character’s disillusionment as the catalyst for his dramatic return to reality and departure from the gang. After jumping out of the Citroën, Tannhäuser meets a cyclist (the shepherd), who leads him back to the Festspielhaus, reimagined by set designer Rainer Sellmeier as a stand-in for the Wartburg.
With the vocal score in hand, Heinrich finds himself among the Bayreuth audience on their “pilgrimage” to the Festival for a performance of Tannhäuser—the very same performance in which he is set to appear! His reunion with the Minnesingers and the tense, silent interaction with Elisabeth—portrayed here as a troubled and complex character—sets up the metatheatrical elements Kratzer’s team has crafted for Act II. Although Elisabeth’s portrayal diverges from her traditional Marian archetype, Kratzer’s reimagining of the character provides a fresh and satisfying twist that pays off by the opera’s end.
Meanwhile, Venus and her troupe follow Tannhäuser to the Festspielhaus in an attempt to rescue him. As the first act concludes, the group is seen outside the theatre, leading into a vibrant, impromptu outdoor concert led by the captivating Le Gateau Chocolat. When the curtain falls, the audience moves down to a pond where Le Gateau Chocolat and the team host an eclectic drag concert/party featuring covers like “Ol’ Man River,” “Wannabe” (Spice Girls), “Vogue” (Madonna), and a robust bass rendition of “Dich Teure Halle.” This lively and diverse production element perfectly encapsulates the artistic contrasts that Kratzer has woven into his interpretation.
Act II smoothly transitions between the cinematic realm and the metatheatrical performance on stage. The lower half of the set presents a photorealistic version of Wartburg’s historical singer’s hall, while the upper half features video projections of the backstage and the Festspielhaus exterior. After Elisabeth and Tannhäuser reunite, the video shifts to show the Venusberg gang storming the theatre. In a humorous touch referencing Lyniv and Stutzmann’s recent involvement, Oskar and Le Gateau Chocolat rename the conductor’s hall from “Diregenten” to the more inclusive “Dirigintinnen” and unveil a poster with Wagner’s libertine slogan on the theatre’s façade.
Venus disrupts the proceedings by mugging one of the actresses scheduled to appear as a page and infiltrates the Wartburg set, behaving provocatively against the ensemble’s norms. The contest begins in a traditional manner but spirals into disorder when the trio joins Tannhäuser in unrestrained revelry following his heated challenge to Wolfram. Elisabeth’s cry of “Haltet ein!” signals the emotional core of Kratzer’s vision, integrating his carefully crafted character direction into his exploration of the opera’s thematic contrasts.
Under Kratzer’s direction, Elisabeth is no longer the idealised, saintly figure but a tragic, self-destructive individual who realises she may never have Tannhäuser, at least not within the constraints of “Wartburg” and its rigid formalism. As Tannhäuser is drawn back into Venusberg’s hedonism, Elisabeth comes to understand that she may not fit within her confining and moralistic world. Her intense condemnation of Wartburg’s hypocrisy and Tannhäuser’s arrest mark a crucial turning point, setting up Kratzer’s poignant conclusion. Venusberg has become a Beckettian wasteland, Le Gateau Chocolat has resorted to selling luxury watches, and Oskar is left homeless, the last of the troupe surviving in the decrepit hipster bus.
In a moment of desperation, Elisabeth, unable to locate Heinrich among the returning pilgrims, seduces Wolfram. She requests that he dress as Tannhäuser in a clown costume for their encounter—an illusory act meant to guide her towards her tragic end. After their encounter in the back of the van, Elisabeth ultimately takes her own life. Tannhäuser, now a dishevelled vagrant, tears up his vocal score in frustration, scattering its pages across the stage as a symbol of his release from the role of Tannhäuser. When Wolfram reveals Oskar cradling Elisabeth’s bloodied corpse, Tannhäuser moves to her side, leading to the opera’s finale: a final video montage of Tannhäuser and Elisabeth driving the Citroën van into the sunset.
Kratzer’s insights are profoundly thought-provoking, transforming the way both dramatists and audiences can engage with the opera on multiple levels. While the traditional contrast between pure and erotic love is less emphasized in this production, Kratzer’s exploration of Tannhäuser and Elisabeth within his thematic dualities renders them more complex and tragic, unable to find genuine love within the flawed realms of Wartburg and Venusberg. Their emancipation through death allows them to escape the philosophical extremes and find their resolution.
Kratzer’s production is further enhanced by an exceptional group of soloists who bring his vision to life with musicality and insight. Klaus Florian Vogt, who performed Act III of the opera in Boston last year, portrays a Tannhäuser of notable integrity and distinction. He navigates the demanding high passages with fluidity and ease, adding vivid detail to the final act’s Rome Narrative. Dramatically, Vogt skillfully represents the character’s three facets: the libertine clown of the first act, the assured Minnesinger of Act II, and the world-weary vagrant of Act III.
Elisabeth is portrayed by Norwegian soprano Elisabeth Teige, whose ample voice handles the character’s intense moments with power. While Teige’s richly coloured soprano possesses the necessary depth for Wagnerian roles, her diction occasionally falters, and her instrument sometimes lacks the nuanced dynamic range required to fully convey the radiance of the character’s “Allmächt’ge Jungfrau.”
Markus Eiche, the veteran Wolfram in this production, delivered his solos with nobility and ardour, although his baritone has brightened since its 2019 premiere. While his performance may not surpass the brilliance of recent great Wolframs like Peter Mattei and Gerald Finley, Eiche offers verbal nuance, complexity, and a sense of wounded pride that aligns with Kratzer’s intriguing interpretation of the character.
Making her Bayreuth debut as Venus, young Californian mezzo-soprano Irene Roberts showcased a promising lyric instrument. Initially compact, her voice grew into a richly coloured, robust mezzo throughout the opera. As the leader of the anarchists, Roberts presented an athletic and charismatic presence onstage, embodying her character with intensity and a humorous defiance.
Günther Groissböck, as Landgraf Hermann, demonstrated greater vocal resonance and freedom compared to his portrayal of Marke in this Festival’s Tristan. His registers were more even, and his jaw acrobatics were more controlled.
Among the principal roles, Vogt, Eiche, and Groissböck should be praised for their impeccable diction in Wagner’s lines. In their minor roles as Minnesingers, Siyabonga Maqungo offered sweet tones as Walther von der Vogelweide, while Olarfur Sigurdarson’s Biterolf was strained and less memorable. Le Gateau Chocolat and Manni Laudenbach, though playing silent parts, continued to delight with their presence and antics, adding vitality to Kratzer’s inventive staging.
Eberhard Friedrich, the Bayreuth Festival’s chorus director, elicited performances of dramatic conviction and clear enunciation from the impressive chorus assembled for this production.
Nathalie Stutzmann, who debuted at the Bayreuth Festival last year as the third official conductor for Kratzer’s Tannhäuser, provided a balanced and singer-friendly interpretation of the score, vibrant in colour and kinetic in momentum during the first and second acts. However, the third act seemed somewhat static, lacking the rhythmic tautness, cohesive through-line, and tension needed to convey its prevailing desolation. The Rome narration, a demanding solo requiring precise interplay between the lead tenor and the orchestra, occasionally faltered with syncing issues. Despite this, Stutzmann’s overall performance was convincing and theatrically compelling, complementing Kratzer’s masterful production.
Photos: Enrico Nawrath and Christian Ocier
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