
HALLE, Germany — Just in time for the 20th anniversary of the founding of the Halle State Orchestra, the merger of the city’s philharmonic and opera orchestras, the Halle Opera presented Franz Schreker’s rarely performed Das Spielwerk und die Prinzessin (The Music Box and the Princess), directed by Nele Lindemann, in her first-ever opera production (seen April 11). It was a great success, despite the considerable challenges.
Schreker worked on the piece 1909-1912, a pivotal time in his career of new beginnings and artistic intensification: He discovered the sonic language that would make him one of the most frequently performed composers of musical theater in Germany during the 1920s. With Das Spielwerk, for which he also wrote the libretto, Schreker approached an operatic form in which music, stagecraft, movement, and image emerge from a single creative impulse. One could therefore say that with this opera, the composer drew on Richard Wagner’s concept of Gesamtkunstwerk (total work of art).

After the acclaimed premiere of Der ferne Klang in Frankfurt in 1912 catapulted Schreker to fame, Das Spielwerk und die Prinzessin premiered simultaneously in Frankfurt and Vienna in 1913. It was not a resounding success; in Vienna, the work was met with strong reactions. Schreker, however, clung to his controversial vision. He continued working on the material and in 1920 released a condensed, one-act version in Frankfurt.
Toward the end of the 1920s, the Jewish composer came under increasing political and ideological pressure. The Nazis ultimately forced him out of all his positions and declared his music degenerate art. This affected Schreker’s oeuvre for decades. In Das Spielwerk und die Prinzessin, we encounter a composer who believed in the power of musical theater despite all the tensions that defined his art: the proximity of beauty and danger, the allure of sound, and the fragility of every promise.
Schreker came across the story after reading a newspaper article about a famous, elderly violin virtuoso who returned to a small village somewhere in Spain. After receiving a most heartfelt welcome, he played all of his melodies on the violin for the residents, who were deeply moved.
The composer recounted this on a summer evening in Vienna’s Grinzing district, where he saw the artist entering a castle, appearing youthful, though he actually was old. Later, at a boisterous party in Vienna, Schreker experienced numerous bands, the ringing of bells, and a roaring crowd, as he wrote in the Musikblätter des Anbruch in 1920. Suddenly, the crowd erupted in panic, and everything ended in catastrophe, much like in his opera Das Spielwerk und die Prinzessin. He narrowly escaped mortal danger. This is likely the source of the piece’s tension between the magic of sound and mass movement, promise and peril, celebration and downfall.
Bringing this work to the stage is a remarkable feat, which the production team in Halle accomplished with excellent and proficient acting singers and a highly engaging choir, prepared by Frank Flade, to a full house.

A summary: Master Florian is working on a mysterious music box that can influence people both positively and negatively, leading to extreme situations and even total loss of control. One immediately thinks of social media, algorithms, and, of course, the artificial intelligence of our time. Many see Florian as a sorcerer who, rejects his wife Liese when she begs him for help with their dying son. The local princess is ill and longs for a rapturous feast where sound, ecstasy, and death merge. A wandering lad dreams of her and wins her affection so that she wants to elope with him. The toy begins to work again, plunging the people into collective ecstasy. In the end, the people destroy Florian’s house and the Spielwerk. The opera ends, like Schreker’s experience in Vienna, in an apocalypse.
Thomas Weinhappel was an exceptionally committed and vocally powerful Florian, possessing a resonant baritone and great charisma. His voice, having developed into heavier repertoire, clearly points towards Wagner: He has already sung Telramund onstage and Wotan in concert performances. Franziska Krötenheerdt portrayed a princess marked by illness with a multifaceted soprano and impressive dramatic expressiveness in her character’s inherently precarious situation. Chulhyun Kim played the Wandering Boy with a powerful tenor, though his acting was somewhat restrained. Yulia Sokolik embodied Liese with great emotion and a resonant mezzo-soprano. She provided a magnificent female counterpoint to the princess. Ki-Hyun Park delivered a highly committed performance as the Wolf, and Michael Zehe sang the Castellan with a bass that was a bit too rough.

Zana Bosnjak was responsible for the vibrant and multifaceted set design, with the costumes in particular demonstrating a great deal of imagination. Bosnjak, along with Piero Glina, also created the videos, which at times overwhelmed the action. Henrik Aleith was the cinematographer, and Michal Sedláček provided largely unconventional choreography.
Schreker’s music reflects the late Romantic era but also hints at modernism. Different sound worlds collide and, as conducted by Halle Opera general music director Fabrice Bollon, find a cohesive unity that sustains the work. At times, echoes of late Wagner can be heard, and even Richard Strauss is present. The music takes on an almost monumental quality in the orchestral interludes. The increased number of string instruments was particularly impressive, bringing moments of profound tranquility to the dramatic tumult on stage. The Halle State Orchestra played at its finest. This is a piece that should be seen two or three times to truly appreciate.

























