With *The Woman Without a Shadow*, the opera in three acts, Op. 65, this work created in a collaboration that wasn’t free of conflict, Richard Strauss and Hugo von Hofmannsthal probably produced their most artificial and symbol-laden work. The lengthy piece, which premiered at the Vienna State Opera in October 1919—the last romantic opera, in a way both a culmination and an end to the literary opera—poses one of the biggest challenges ever for both performers and audiences when it comes to musical theater. In a co-production with La Monnaie/De Munt in Brussels and the Greek National Opera in Athens, the Aix-en-Provence Festival is now taking on a new production of this complex masterpiece.
Barrie Kosky stages this play at the Grand Theatre de Provence, supported by Michael Levine with a sparse set, Victoria Behr, whose costumes at times resemble works of art, especially when it comes to the characters of the Empress and the Dyer, Franck Evin with magical lighting, and Antonio Cuenca Ruiz with convincing dramaturgy. The director takes this play seriously, extremely seriously, without a hint of any farce, what he masters just as well. On the almost bare stage, he gets to the heart of the characters, subtly, psychologically, already dissecting their problematic relationships with each other. The play an oriental fairy tale? Not at all. Depth psychology by Sigmund Freud on stage? Far from it. Successful, theatrical effects? That Kosky can do! And this multi-layered direction, which, like the play, unfolds on several levels, is entirely developed from the wonderful music of Richard Strauss and represents musical theater in its purest form. In the world of the emperor and the empress, minimalism reigns; the tower-like designed Dyer’s House is a chaotic jumble. The demonically cunning figure of the nurse is given Mephistophelian traits, as her appearance is accompanied by a host of lemur-like creatures. Reduction to the essentials, sometimes to very little, even nothing on the bare white stage in the third act, seems to be the motto of his concept, which is coherent on all levels and results in a rare clarity regarding this difficult play. What does it mean to be human in today’s world? Is humanity still relevant? Doesn’t the shadow of women stand not just for motherhood, but also for the essence of humans, of the soul itself? All these questions come up when you watch this production closely. And even if these questions are probably unsolvable, it’s worth dealing with them – Kosky shows us this aspect ruthlessly, bringing the work’s unrestrained emotions almost to an abyssal expression.
Only conductors extremely experienced in opera have been able to succeed with this work at all, which makes it all the more remarkable that the just-turned-30 Klaus Mäkelä, one of the most interesting young conductors when it comes to orchestral works, chose this gigantic piece for his debut in the pit. Naturally, he lacks the experience of a long conducting career for such a difficult work, but the young man grasps Strauss’s grand score with enormous, sleepwalking-like instinct. The Orchestre de Paris, certainly not an ensemble one would associate with this opera, plays perched on the edges of their seats for their chief conductor, who gives the orchestra a shimmering sound that sometimes seems to glow with a mediterranean warmth and at other times the orchestra almost pours out a silvery, finely shimmering splendid brilliance. The giant score, which combines chamber music and full orchestral sound, delicate instrumentation as well as lush, large symphonic scenes, demonstrates the maestro’s special expertise throughout the evening, as if under high voltage. With the brilliantly arranged formation of all instrumental groups on the evening of July 9, 2026, meticulous rehearsal work must have been carried out thoroughly: every branching, every voice, unexpected timbres and nuances are drawn by the young conductor from the orchestra with impressive skill, remaining clear and transparent even in the strongest fury. What a finely woven carpet of sound he creates for the artists on stage, repeatedly encouraging his musicians to listen to each other and to the singers, so that everything and everyone is and remains audible. Between the orchestra and the conductor, you can almost feel a mutual give and take – that is the secret that makes this evening extraordinary, indeed worthy of a festival.
The performance in the cooled, modern house, with outside temperatures around 40 degrees Celsius, becomes not only a grand celebration of orchestral brilliance but also a festival of exquisite voices. It is absolutely worth mentioning the outstanding articulation and clarity of the protagonists’ diction. Nina Stemme, with her full, richly grounded voice, still has all the vocal nuances required for the nursemaid, and the often-seen hysterical screeching in this role is completely absent; which is why her announcement before the third act comes as a surprise. The Emperor is superbly cast with Michael Spyres – a youthful dramatic tenor who masterfully handles the high tessitura of the part, especially achieves strong, dramatic, stentorian outbursts in the second act, and, inspired by Mäkelä, creates wonderfully spun, exceptionally beautiful legato lines in the third act. Brian Mulligan as the dyer Barak has an extremely warm voice and moves you with his human portrayal of the character.
Vocally as well as artistically, however, the crown of the evening belongs jointly to the two women in the leading roles, both of whom are extremely attractive in their vocal and acting abilities. Ambur Braid as the Dyer’s Wife more than fulfills the requirement of a partly genuine, highly dramatic soprano with a brilliance almost like steel in the voice, combined with expressive singing; she also offers subtle nuances and impresses with a deep vocal foundation. Regarding personal character interpretation, she fortunately does not lean towards the usual portrayal of the Dyer’s Wife as a hysterical neurotic, but rather as a fundamentally deeply wounded, proud young woman. As the Empress and the title-giving ‚Woman Without a Shadow,‘ Vida Mikneviciute experiences a truly genuine and convincing vocal development that evening. At first, her voice sounds bright and silver with slight top-note sharpness, but as the performance progresses, she lets her soprano become increasingly dramatic and youthful-sensual, radiant and fully blossoming in the high notes; in the final act, her captivating voice exudes a compelling, grand jubilant tone.
THE WOMAN WITHOUT A SHADOW was seen in Aix once again, just as it should be, as a drama for the enlightened viewer. And they heard it more wonderfully, as it should be at a festival, in an extraordinary musical performance. The audience’s cheers on this evening were deservedly enthusiastic for all the performers.
