ZURICH — Just a few days into Matthias Schulz’s first season as the artistic director of the Zurich Opera, Opernwelt, the German magazine for opera and ballet, raised the bar for him. It named the company “Opera House of the Year 2025” in honor of Schulz’s predecessor, Andreas Homoki, who headed the company for 13 years. In announcing the honor, Opernwelt highlighted Homoki’s professionalism, commitment to a sustainable ensemble, and innovative programming. After experiencing four consecutive nights at the Zurich Opera, I have no doubt that Schulz has embraced that legacy and expects the company to capture the its award again in half the time.
Schulz came to Zurich from the Berlin State Opera Unter den Linden, where he had held leadership roles since 2015. In an interview at his office at the Zurich Opera, Schulz acknowledged that nine years in Berlin was too short a time there. Still, he says, opportunities such as the Zurich Opera do not come around very often. It was not only the artistic opportunities that attracted him to Zurich, he says, but also being nearer the mountains, since he is from Bavaria.
Zurich will allow Schulz to present the core repertoire and explore interesting new and neglected works. He says that the prospect of mounting several new productions a season, as well as three ballets, was a key factor in his decision to come to Zurich. The first four operas of the season demonstrate his approach, with revivals of productions of Rossini’s La scala di seta, Massenet’s Manon, and Puccini’s Tosca, which brought fresh perspectives to the classics, while he presented a new, bold staging of Strauss’ Der Rosenkavalier.
Schulz revived Damiano Michieletto’s modern-day staging of the Rossini because it works. The set is basic, with the ground plan for the staging projected on the rear wall and the furniture arranged accordingly. It’s simple, colorful, and efficient, serving as the backdrop for Rossini’s high-spirited operatic farsa comica, in which acting and comedic talent are just as important as singing ability. This cast wasn’t only funny but also sang superbly.
As Gilda, soprano Olga Peretyatko tossed off silvery vocal lines with aplomb. Tenor Andrew Owens was particularly impressive with his shining lyric tenor as Dorvil, to whom Gilda is secretly married. As the other set of young lovers, mezzo-soprano Siena Licht Miller as Lucilla and baritone Nahuel Di Pierro as Blansac were cut from the same vocal and comedic cloth. Martin Zysset was a benevolent Dormont, while Enrico Marabelli provided nonstop laughs with his Germano, Giulia’s servant, who eagerly assists in his mistress’s contretemps. Conductor Leonardo Sini led the Zurich Opera Orchestra in a sparkling, lighter-than-air performance.
The revival of Floris Visser’s 2019 production of Manon was one of two revivals cast with international stars. With Sesto Quatrini in the pit, drawing rich, emotion-laden sounds from the orchestra, little more was needed than sumptuous voices, which Zurich provided in abundance, with Lisette Oropesa in the title role and Benjamin Bernheim as Le Chevalier des Grieux.
Bernheim, who is peerless in the French repertoire, is a local favorite, having been a member of the International Opera Studio and later of the ensemble at the Zurich Opera House. Manon is one of Oropesa’s best roles, showing her lyrical soprano to its finest advantage under normal circumstances, let alone when the soprano was in such voluptuous voice as she was for this performance.
Visser’s production is bare-bones but sumptuously costumed. Oropesa was stunningly glamorous in white at the gambling table at the Hôtel de Transylvanie. One large stage element dominates each scene, such as a bed and a small table in the Paris apartment, which Manon and des Grieux shared. Little more was needed as a backdrop for Oropesa to imbue “Adieu, notre petite table” with bittersweet tenderness and Bernheim to fill “En fermant les yeux” with tender longing.
Two other cast members stood out. Yannick Debus’ Lescaut was tall, lean, and louche, although loyal to his cousin, as well as his friend des Grieux. Debus’ youthful, robust baritone was as exhilarating as his appearance. As Count Des Grieux, Nicolas Testé grounded the performance both vocally and dramatically.
Schulz programmed Tosca because of the cast he could assemble: Sonya Yoncheva as Tosca, Jonas Kaufmann as Cavaradossi, and Bryn Terfel as Scarpia. In the pit, Marco Armiliato displayed total command of the score, relaxing tempos when appropriate and ratcheting up the tension and volume to propel the drama. It all made for an unforgettable Tosca.
Robert Carsen’s 1990 production retains its potency. Updated to the present day, the drama is seen from the backstage perspective, with the curtain closed. The staging is relatively stark, but Carsen fills it with his customary broad strokes. A large unfinished portrait of Mary Magdalene, with the blue eyes of the Marchesa Attavanti, dominates both the first and second acts. The “Te Deum” ends with a classic Carsen touch, with Yoncheva as a dazzling Madonna flanked by burning candles and ornately vested bishops. There is no hint of the grandeur of the Farnese Palace, except for Scarpia’s impressive desk. Likewise, Cavaradossi’s execution takes place on a bare stage. When Tosca jumps to her death, the floor lights suddenly blaze.
Yoncheva’s Tosca purred and roared with equal passion. She began “Vissi d’arte” as an intimate prayer, which gained in fervor and power until the final thrilling climax. Kaufmann’s voice didn’t spin or float in “Recondita armonia,” but his sensitive phrasing saved it. His triumphant cries of “Vittoria” in the second act were full-voiced and glorious. He began “E lucevan le stelle” as softly as possible, gradually increasing the volume and emotion to a shattering climax, as Cavaradossi rued that never had life been so dear to him as when he faced death. It brought down the house.
Schulz chose Der Rosenkavalier for his first new production because it reveals the full power of opera. He describes it as a huge work in every sense, especially the richness and color of Strauss’ orchestral writing. With Lydia Steier, he found a director who transformed the opera by eschewing most of the nostalgia and the weight of history associated with it. Some touches are crude, but in the final scene, all was redeemed.
There is no Baroque cream and gilt in Steier’s concept. Each act is basically monochromatic — yellows for the first, the palest of pinks for the second, and lurid reds for the final one. The period costumes follow the same color schemes, except for the bold colors for Baron Ochs’ outlandish attire and the loveliest, most regal ice-blue gown imaginable for the Marschallin in the final act. With one brilliant stroke, Steier visually captured the transcendent emotions that Strauss released in the music as Diana Damrau’s Marschallin, in all her magnificence, stood alone on stage.
Damrau is first seen flushed with the bliss of love-making as the curtain rises. The voice is full and supple, with gently crested phrases topped by shimmering high notes. Her Marschallin, however, seems to age before our eyes, as she tells Angela Brower’s Octavian that one day he will leave her. Skulls projected on either side or the stage, ornamenting a massive chandelier, drive the relentless passage-of-time theme home. The Marschallin is one of Damrau’s finest creations, both vocally and for the humanity she brings to the role.
Brower’s Octavian is coltish and ill at ease in every situation, except in the opening scene when cavorting in bed with the Marschallin. Her voice has a fascinating timbre, which she sends skyward with ease in Strauss’ soaring musical lines.
Emily Pogorelc’s Sophie was a delicate, obedient Dresden doll, eager to experience marital bliss, until she met and was instantly repulsed by Günther Groissböck’s Ochs. Her Sophie then turned into a petulant spitfire, only momentarily tamed by her love for Octavian, until she is overwhelmed by the Marschallin’s grace and tact and the realization that Octavian indeed loves her. Vocally, her brilliant lyric soprano had the same fire, coupled with the requisite glistening high notes.
Groissböck’s Ochs is one of the wonders of opera today. He dominates every scene, and with the passage of time, his low notes now match his dramatic impact. Steier put Ochs on steroids, and Groissböck did outlandish and crude with relish. Never more so than when Ochs was chained and stripped to the waist, while being whipped by Octavian. It took a Marschallin of Damrau’s stature to put Groissböck’s Ochs back in the box and send him packing to his country estates with his dignity intact.
Conductor Joana Mallwitz embraced the spirit of Steier’s concept. From the start, it was clear that this was going to be an exciting and fast-paced performance. The opening measures were loud and unsettling, containing the same heat and energy that Damrau and Brower conjured frolicking in bed. In the conversational scenes, Malwitz maintained brisk but suitably elastic tempos and never failed to provide the space for Damrau or Pogorelc to spin their magic. The orchestra played splendidly, with conductor and players receiving a lion’s share of the applause during the curtain calls.
The new productions this season include Verdi’s La forza del destino, Humperdinck’s Hänsel und Gretel, and Mozart’s La clemenza di Tito. The forays into new and neglected works include Olga Neuwirth’s Monster’s Paradise, which she created with Nobel Prize-winning author Elfriede Jelinek, and Paul Hindemith’s Cardillac, in commemoration of the 100th anniversary of its premiere in Dresden. The Zurich Opera’s former music director, Fabio Luisi, returns to conduct the Hindemith.
