Herod has not yet uttered his cry "Kill this woman!" or his soldiers roughly lift Salome onto their shoulders and hurl her into hell. - The fancy drawing room, which had been turned into a ruin, was visible through a see-through hatch for almost the entire opera. Salome's blood-soaked dress seems to flare up for a moment, but then - pats! - the curtain falls. With this powerful image, director Ivo van Hove concludes a compelling staging of Richard Strauss' opera.
Pearl in richly decorated crown
This production of Salome is a new jewel in De Nationale Opera's already richly adorned crown. Indeed, Ivo van Hove tells the story without frenetically imposing his own 'vision' on us. The austere but inventive stage design by his regular designer Jan Versweyveld forms a striking counterpoint to the hyper-emotional charge of both libretto and music. A simple moon depicts the fierce moods of the morally unhinged characters on stage.
Ominously waxing, she overshadows the salon, with its canapés and palms outlined in a black backcloth. Gliding slowly from left to right, she turns red as Salome tries to seduce Jochanaän, only to fade again.
After Salome's fatal veil dance, the habitat of Herod and Herodias is even completely hidden from our view by a lunar eclipse rushing head-on. The oppressive image evokes associations with the apocalyptic, all-destroying planet from the film Melancholia by Lars von Trier.
No one is innocent
No one is innocent. Young Salome (Malin Byström) complains about her stepfather Herod's (Lance Ryan) lecherous looks, but attacks Yochanaän (Evgeny Nikitin) herself. Herod lusts after his stepdaughter, but wants to spare the life of Jochanaän when she asks for his head. - Not out of respect for the prophet, but out of fear of the calamity his execution will bring. His wife Herodias, on the other hand, incites him, out of well-understood self-interest: she can no longer tolerate Jochanaaan's allegations.
The stunning stage setting is matched by the exemplary performance. Daniele Gatti aptly leads the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra through the swirling score. At times subtle and seductive (Salome as a still innocent teenager), then undercurrently threatening (doom-messaging Jochanaän), ferociously and deafeningly cacophonous (Salome demands his head) or with restrained suspense (awaiting execution).
Room for singers
Gatti gives the singers plenty of room to shape their often almost atonal melodies. That they are nevertheless sometimes drowned out is not down to him but to Richard Strauss. In his efforts to give musical expression to all the rampant emotions, the composer sometimes overshoots the mark a bit. But on the whole, his Wagnerian score is a feast for the ears.
Thanks in part to the many leitmotifs. Take just the woozy, 'oriental' melody that Salome introduces, or the dark cellos and horns that characterise Jochanaän. Wonderfully beautiful too are the sound imitations. For instance, the gust of wind that 'blows' through the orchestra when Herod thinks he hears 'mighty wings'. Gatti and his musicians make every nuance audible.
Boosted by the subservient orchestra, the singers also come up with great performances. Leading the way is Swedish soprano Malin Byström, who excels as Salome. Despite her slender stature and girlish appearance, she has a dyke of a voice. Effortlessly and flawlessly, she sings her heavy part, shooting from low to high in awkward tonal distances.
Meanwhile, she flawlessly manages to capture the narcissistic, recalcitrant and selfish nature of her adolescent character. True, her sensual veil dance is not always smooth, but at times she has the allure of a Barbara Hannigan. Especially when she indulges her perverse lust on the bloodied corpse of Jochanaän.
Herodias wanders around lost
Canadian tenor Lance Ryan is unsurpassed as an actor. He is a Putin lookalike, smoothly downplaying his lust for Salome, brutally breaking down his wife Herodias and stumbling disturbed over Narraboth's corpse. 'I gave no order to kill him, away with it!' Too bad his fine tenor has a little too little power to resist the orchestral violence.
Photo: BAUS
German mezzo-soprano Doris Soffel has a stronger but somewhat shrill voice and falls somewhat short in terms of empathy. Like a lost Aunt Sidonia, she wanders across the stage, seemingly wondering what she is actually doing there. Russian Evgeny Nikitin may have a sonorous baritone, but he does not manage to give his character meat on the bones either. À propos meat: with his tattooed body and grey tail, he looks like Henk Schiffmacher. This results in ludicrous moments when Salome sings about his lily-white body and raven-black hair.
The smaller roles are well cast. Peter Sonn is a convincing Narraboth, Hanna Hipp his ditto page. The five Jews (Dietmar Kerschbaum, Marcel Reijans, Mark Omvlee, Marcel Beekman and Alexander Vasiliev) provide a comic note with their bickering over matters of faith.
Anyway, in this essentially leaden opera, there are more often than not some laughs to be had. The inventive staging and directing by Ivo van Hove and his team cannot be praised enough. Go and see it, go and hear it!
Heard: Tuesday 12 June. Salome can still be seen until 5 July. Tickets and info here.
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