Years that end in a four have a special significance in the Czech Republic as a cause to celebrate their national musical heritage with a ‘year of Czech music’. The Janáček Brno Festival therefore extended its umbrella this year to include works by other Czech greats like Antonín Dvořák. His opera Rusalka was seen on Nov. 23 in a production by David Radok that premiered earlier this year at the festival’s hometown National Theatre of Brno. This deeply psychological interpretation exchanged the opera’s traditional, fairy tale associations for an adult story centred around problematic relationships.
Czech director Radok, who also designed the sets, establishes a somber, gray Ibsen/Bergman aesthetic in Act 1, with a cavernous gray room circumscribed by large windows and doors. Rusalka’s natural lake abode is hinted at with tall, dry reeds that grow from wooden slat boardwalks. An exaggerated, deep perspective is achieved by a geometric floor tile pattern.
In a breathtaking coup de théâtre, Act 1’s confined space suddenly opens up to reveal the full depth of the Janáček Theatre stage. There, the Prince’s predatory court is suddenly revealed, dressed in stunning early 1900s ice blue silk gowns and suits designed by Zuzana Ježková. Přemysl Janda’s subtle lighting suggests clouds, water and shimmering moonlight. All of the design elements are highly refined and cohere to support Radok’s conception.
Jana Šrejma Kačírková (Rusalka) & Jan Šťáva (Vodník) in Rusalka at Janáček Brno Festival
Water siren Rusalka is disturbed and haunted from the start. She twitches and stiffens when making physical contact with her father, Vodník (here, a kind of street person). Likewise with the witch, Ježibaba, who will enable her human transformation so that she might pursue a relationship with the Prince.
At the start of the opera’s most famous aria, the “Song to the Moon”, Rusalka caresses a moonlit window, then opens it for the tune’s signature melody. This type of subtle stage business is the production’s hallmark. The always-tricky problem of granting a mermaid the ability to walk is solved by having the witch lift her up from behind, using her own legs to march Rusalka across the stage.
Radok keeps the focus on the title character and her tortured journey into the human world where she is immediately betrayed by the man for whom she has forfeited everything. This singular vision is not only achieved via the production’s pared down aesthetic, but also with some surprising musical choices. Gone are the comic duo of the turnspit and cook who can be relied on to enliven more conventional interpretations. They usually provide a level of social commentary about the Prince’s court, as well as some clownish antics when visiting the witch in Act 3, but we get none of that here.
Scene from Antonín Dvořák’s Rusalka at the Janáček Theatre.
Also excised is Ježibaba’s “hocus pocus” ditty as she prepares the potion that will transform Rusalka into a human. In fact, the witch is stripped of any conventional iconography and here, is more of a severe, nun-like, wise woman possessed of ancient knowledge about medicinal herbs and potions.
Removing the more light-hearted musical moments puts a lot of weight on the remaining artists to carry the resultant psychodrama. Luckily, Brno company member Jana Šrejma Kačírková is a consummate actress who conveys all of Rusalka’s fragility, misplaced hopefulness and eternally deadened future. She transmits pent-up tension with stiff poses, arms outstretched, or when she rolls herself up under a tablecloth at the Prince’s palace. Vocally, she manages a wide dynamic range with a lot of soft, piano singing through to full-throated, soaring phrases. Though clearly on the brink of a breakdown from her first entrance, Kačírková never resorts to exaggerated ‘madness’, delivering instead a holistic, moving portrayal.
The Prince is a signature role for tenor Peter Berger at home and abroad. Vocally and dramatically, he too excelled. His formidable technique allows him to pare down his big lyric sound, but also grants him absolute security in the role’s more treacherous reaches. Radok doesn’t have much sympathy for this character. Immediately after their wedding, the Prince cold heartedly betrays Rusalka with the Foreign Princess after realising his new bride cannot reciprocate his physical passion. In the final act, he returns like a ghost, visibly older and repentant, but it is too late. Rusalka has made a deal with the witch to destroy the man who has betrayed her.
Jan Šťáva (Vodník) & Václava Krejčí Housková (Ježibaba) in Rusalka at Janáček Brno Festival
Jan Šťáva’s Vodník is menacing, even violent, when he tackles the Prince onto the table after learning Rusalka has been betrayed. Šťáva’s rich bass lends a nobility to his portrayal despite his dusty overcoat and penchant for eating chips. Václava Krejčí Housková’s tangy lyric mezzo is perfect for this straight-backed, no nonsense witch.
In a remarkable transformation, soprano Eliška Gattringerová, so affecting as the careworn, t-shirted Kostelnička in the previous night’s Jenůfa, was virtually unrecognisable here as the Foreign Princess. Resplendent in her top hat and elegant gown, she exuded sensuality as well as utter contempt for Rusalka, and for the Prince, who she discards as quickly as she beds him. As in the Janáček, Gattringerová unleashed a voluminous, clean sound, secure throughout its range. Surely her trajectory will include bigger roles in the dramatic repertoire as her career develops.
Peter Berger (Prince) & Jana Šrejma Kačírková (Rusalka) in Rusalka at Janáček Brno Festival
Music director of Brno’s National Theatre, Marko Ivanović, led his home orchestra in a nuanced account of one of the great operatic scores. Rusalka may contain an abundance of gorgeous melody, but it is arguably Dvořák’s rich orchestration that accounts for its longevity. It is always a pleasure to hear a native Czech orchestra in this repertoire. The chorus excelled in Andrea Miltnerová’s movements, waltzing in between verses of Vodník’s haunting song, and then advancing with vocal and choreographic precision in their polonaise.
Radok’s Rusalka is a very specific take on this Freudian fairytale. Its success can be attributed to how well the creative and artistic team coalesce to create a unified vision that delves deeply into the psychological effects of displacement, betrayal and bargained destiny.
