Program booklet »Rusalka« by Wiener Staatsoper GmbH

AN TONÍN DVOŘ ÁK

RUSALKA

CONTENTS

SYNOPSIS P.

EVERYTHING ABOUT THE OPERA RUSALKA IS SPECIAL!! JIŘÍ BĚLOHLÁVEK IN AN INTERVIEW P.

FAIRY TALES COME FROM THE SOUL AND NEED TO RETURN THERE SVEN-ERIC BECHTOLF IN AN INTERVIEW P.

ABOUT BURGEONING SEXUALITY MARIANNE GLITTENBERG IN AN INTERVIEW P.

INTUITION AND CRAFT JÜRGEN HOFFMANN IN AN INTERVIEW

JAROSLAV KVAPIL, LIBRETTIST OF RUSALKA ANDREAS LÁNG P.

WHAT IS THE ORIGIN OF THE TERM RUSALKA? P.

EXCERPTS FROM FREUD’S THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS P.

THE LIBRETTIST REMEMBERS... JAROSLAV KVAPIL P.

RUSALKA’S MAGICAL MUSIC HEINZ IRRGEHER P.

CONTEMPTIBLE TREATMENT IN VIENNA ANDREAS LÁNG P.

IMPRINT

AN TONÍN DVOŘ ÁK

RUSALKA LYRIC FAIRY TALE in three acts, Op. 114 Libretto JAROSLAV KVAPIL

ORCHESTRA

2 flutes / 1 piccolo 2 oboes / 1 cor anglais 2 clarinets / 1 bass clarinet 2 bassoons / 4 horns 3 trumpets / 3 trombones 1 tuba / percussion / 1 harp violin I / violin II viola / cello double bass 2 horns / harmonium

STAGE ORCHESTRA

AUTOGRAPH

České muzeum hudby Prague

PREMIÈRE

31 MARCH 1901 Prague National Theatre PREMIÈRE AT THE WIENER STAATSOPER 10 APRIL 1987 DURATION

3 H 30 M

INCL. 2 INTERMISSIONS

RUSALKA

SYNOPSIS Unlike the mischievous wood nymphs, the water nymph Rusalka does not tease the awakening Water Goblin, but confesses to him her desire to acquire a human form and a human soul in order to fulfil her love for a Prince whom she has often observed by the lake. Although the Water Goblin warns Rusalka, he advises her to seek Ježibaba’s assistance. The latter appears and drives a hard bargain with the impassioned nymph: Rusalka will be able to adopt the human form, but will lose the power of speech. However, if she is nevertheless unable to win the Prince’s unfailing love, only the death of her lover will enable her to return to the kingdom of nymphs. Since Rusalka agrees, she is transformed into a human being, and is able to win the love of the Prince when he appears by the lake. However, the planned wedding of the couple is prevented by a mysterious and seductive Princess who unexpectedly appears on the scene, and whom the Prince finds irresistibly attractive. When the Prince makes a declaration of love to the Princess and dismisses his planned wedding to Rusalka as a mere escapade, Rusalka makes one last desperate attempt to win him back, but is coldly rejected. The Water Goblin puts a curse on the Prince before pulling Rusalka back into his underwater realm. A short time later, Ježibaba offers the lonely and lamenting Rusalka a means of returning to the kingdom of nymphs forever. She hands Rusalka a dagger with which to murder her unfaithful lover. But Rusalka throws the dagger into the lake. Filled with remorse, the Prince comes down to the lake: Rusalka appears to him as a will-o’-the-wisp. He begs her to free him of his guilt. Though Rusalka warns him that her embrace will cost him his life, he insists on a final kiss. He dies in her arms, and Rusalka sinks back into the lake.

Previous pages: OLGA BEZSMERTNA as RUSALKA KS PIOTR BECZAŁA as PRINCE KS CAMILLA NYLUND as RUSALKA →

C ON D U C T OR J I Ř Í B Ě L OH L ÁV E K TALKS TO ANDREAS LÁNG

EVERYTHING ABOUT THE OPERA RUSALKA IS SPECIAL!! al

Rusalka is subtitled “a lyric fairy tale.” Does this description tell us anything about the musical structure of the opera? jb I regard Rusalka not just as a lyric fairy tale, but also as a drama of inner conflict. The entire concept for Rusalka is structured in such a way that it clearly reveals archetypal composition. To be more precise: the four main characters all are archetypes of different qualities. Rusalka is the concept of love and complete devotion to the loved person; the Prince is the contrasting archetype of the passionate but superficial lover; the Water Goblin represents justice and fatherly love; and Ježibaba mysterious forces, the impetus of the story. al Is Dvořák’s orchestration for Rusalka singer-friendly? jb To me, the orchestration is wonderful, incredibly rich and imaginative. Naturally, there are sections where you have to pay close attention to the singers and the balance between stage and orchestra pit. But if all the parties in-

volved respect each other, I see no problems in this regard. al When composing Rusalka, did Dvořák take the vocal abilities of singers into account? jb In my opinion, the maestro had a very good sense of what one can expect of singers. He does not tax them un necessarily, he never pushes them beyond their vocal limits – which does not mean that the roles are not vocally challenging... al Do any particular instruments represent specific characters in Rusalka? Is there such a thing as a harmonic or melodic scheme? jb In addition to harmonic richness, Rusalka includes thematic material that is clearly ascribed to the central characters. These are not exactly leitmotifs, as Richard Wagner uses them, but it is nevertheless a form of characterization that depicts the situation or character in music: for example, the Water Goblin motif, the Rusalka motif, a hunting motif. And the Rusalka motif is gener-

EVERY THING ABOU T THE OPER A RUSALKA IS SPECIAL!!

ally played by the woodwind section, while cellos and timpani depict the realm of the Water Goblin. However, Dvořák changes the orchestration to match the situation in the drama. al What are the challenges of Rusalka for the conductor? jb As with any opera, with Rusalka too the main responsibility of the maestro is to keep sight of the overall structure of the entire opera, to set it up properly and at the same time not neglect the smallest details. I also set myself the goal of coming up with an interpretation that gives the voices considerable latitude in terms of imagination and wealth of detail. al What about the quality of the libretto? Is it an artistic and linguistic masterpiece comparable to a Da Ponte or is it a technically clean piece of work? jb Jaroslav Kvapil’s libretto is a literary work full of poetry and love, but it is also rich in creative and even humorous elements. Think for example of the scene between the Kitchen Boy and the Forester. Dvořák included all this in his music, highlighting it again and raising it to a higher level. al The libretto is full of diminu tives. Are these diminutive forms expressed in any way in the music? jb Yes, of course; every word that is a diminutive or a minimisation has its musical counterpart in the score. al How Bohemian is the music in Rusalka? jb The Bohemian characteristics are definitely present for me – on every page of the score.

And what are the main musical differences to Dvořák’s other operas? jb Rusalka is a work from Dvořák’s maturity, his last but one opera and for me one of his most important, if not his most important work. It is a cultural treasure, not just for the Czech nation, but for the whole world. In other words: Rusalka possesses general significance in the context of music history. al What distinguishes Dvořák’s late style? jb Rusalka was written in 1900 in a very short space of time – within just six months. Shortly before that, as if in a preliminary study for Rusalka, he produced the four symphonic poems The Water Goblin, The Noon Witch, The Wild Dove, and The Golden Spinning Wheel. In terms of acoustic colour, these represent a pinnacle of Dvořák’s compositions. His mastery of orchestration with multi-hued colour combinations and shades reached perfection in Rusalka. al W hat do you think makes Rusalka special? jb All of it! Above all the musical qualities of the opera, the unlikely melodic richness, the fairy-tale subject matter, which is held up to humanity as a mirror; the masterful orchestration, the ingenious balance between the serious and the lighter aspects of the piece, and, last but not least, the basic wisdom which serves as a lesson to us: the laws of nature are strict, fate is by nature just, and love is an eternally wonderful blossom...

This interview was conducted in 2014.

DIRECTOR SVEN-ERIC BECHTOLF TALKS TO OLIVER LÁNG

FAIRY TALES COME FROM THE SOUL AND NEED TO RETURN THERE ol

As a director, when you start on a new piece, are you initially touched by the story, or do you immediately see the technical aspects, production details, the implementation? seb That’s a good question... Sometimes it’s a mixture. If for example you suspect from the start that a certain scene will be difficult to stage, then practical experience and ideas for solutions start coming to mind immediately. But normally I try to steer clear of that so that I can first get rolling, allow my inner film to run without censorship and not think straight away: is that even possible? Then characters can sometimes fly or become invisible. I tackle the practical implementation soon enough. ol Is there a core idea from which you develop an overall concept, or do you first try out several approaches and then decide on one of them? seb For reasons I can’t explain, one

has an intuitive approach to some things that is difficult to explain. You find a certain image and know that it is “right.” And sometimes you have to look for a long time, discuss at length with your artistic partners, and then a usable idea slowly emerges. ol How do you communicate the idea you come up with – whether slowly or quickly? In terms of arguments? Do you try to explain your intuitive process to the singers? seb There are works where validation through arguments is effective and where you can substantiate a certain reading. But there are other pieces that demand to be approached through instinct, an intuitive mode. Like Cardillac, for example, and Rusalka too. In such cases, your approach may not always be verifiable; indeed, you may not want it to be verifiable. You have the sense that some inner apparatus inside you is involved that you don’t want to disturb, but in fact want to protect. You

FA I R Y T A L E S C O M E F R O M T H E S O U L A N D N E E D T O R E T U R N T H E R E

don’t want to inhibit the creative process through the censorship of an argument, or with the precise derivation or with philological or music history aspects. The fact is that one only comes to an understanding of one’s self and one’s intentions through this process; I am certain that other artists will also confirm that. In the case of Rusalka, we set off on an expedition together. At the beginning of the rehearsal process, I had a lot of images in my head, and together with the singers – I have never done it this way before – we created new images, produced constellations, entirely without music. I then went through to see what was “right” and usable for us. As a result, I had several options and always had three or four ideas in my prompt book. That wasn’t easy for me, because in general I am a very “tidy” worker who tends to do everything very quickly, precisely and properly, if for no other reason than that I don't want to stress everyone involved by going off at a tangent. Sometimes you need to work against this tendency – as I am doing in this case. Ambivalence is the right atmosphere for the piece. The point is to preserve the fairy-tale world of Rusalka, without showing it in the wrong light. “Obscurum per obscurius, ignotum per ignotius” as I believe this method from alchemy is called: using the more mysterious to explain the mysterious or the more unknown to explain the unknown. ol Once you have developed an approach, how clearly do you want to convey this to the audience? seb I believe we should use images and not look for didactic translations, in other words we should not postulate. In Rusalka, the issue is really the

following – because otherwise the whole thing loses its mystery. What we need to achieve is for audiences to suspend their reason for a while and simply allow these strange, dark and sometimes grotesquely comic scenes to have their effect. They should reflect on what the story was really about later. That would be double the pleasure: first experiencing the work directly and later analysing how it made them feel. Fairy tales come from the soul and need to return there. They lose their power on the psychoanalyst’s couch. For this reason, it’s important neither to tell them in a banal fashion nor to expose them. If the story is about a woman without a lower body who obviously cannot have a sex life, but longs for one, and she finally gets legs but in exchange must give up her voice, we automatically make certain assumptions. The images come from deep down – we need to find adequate applications for them that have their own power and are not just kitchen sink psychology remarks and explanations. ol You brought up the word psychoanalysis. This opera was written at almost the same time as Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams. Are there psychoanalytic elements in Rusalka simply because they abounded at that time? Or did Dvořák deliberately incorporate them in the opera, perhaps even in the music? seb I don’t believe that Dvořák was directly influenced. It is however interesting that dream interpretation and Rusalka have certain anxieties in common. The were obviously in the air at the time. Psychoanalysis achieved two very revolutionary things: for one, it placed sexuality at the centre of our

FA I R Y T A L E S C O M E F R O M T H E S O U L A N D N E E D T O R E T U R N T H E R E

mental activity and in doing so tried to prove to the turn-of-the-century Positivists with their belief in progress that they were not as dependable as they thought. To this day, we know little about ourselves. Paradoxically that is the link between this movement and late Romanticism. Perhaps there is a certain apprehensive malaise about the apparent compulsion of the present, the domineering factuality of reality in both: Dvořák and Freud both undermine that out of completely different interests. Even if one might criticise the Romantics for obscurantism, there is a thematic affinity to the (pseudo) science of psychoanalysis. However, I personally have not made a rigorous scientific examination of Rusalka. I read various relevant texts but found them only partially useful. A work of art is not an equation, you cannot add and subtract and come up with xy at the end of it. It contains themes that correspond to each other, that portentously move around something, helping describe and transport it. In the case of Rusalka, however, we find themes that almost automatically cause us to make the connection to psychoanalysis or the interpretation of dreams and the discoveries that Freud made, or at least they invite us to make such connections.

When you started working with the performers, you drew up a kind of family constellation of the characters. To what extent has that influenced your direction? seb It is very clear that there are three nymphs like sisters, who try to sweettalk the Water Goblin – the interfering uncle or daddy, we don’t know exactly – and the evil mother/witch. Indeed, one might regard this constellation of characters as a family. I do not know whe ther the Elektra complex actually plays as much of a role as Freud thought. But it is an image to explain a phenomenon that exists and that worries people. That cannot be suppressed. But as I said, a stark, theoretical interpretation alone would be too dry to tell the story. We have to meander between two worlds – as Rusalka herself does. Naturally, we could now talk about 19th century men’s projections onto women and their sexuality, but we would then be dissociating ourselves from a phenomenon, and that is something we cannot – yet – afford to do. That is another reason why I try to avoid giving commentaries. It is all too easy to shelve something as “understood” when it is still very much active and continuing to cause inner turmoil in us.

This interview was conducted in 2014.

KS MICHAEL SCHADE as PRINCE

COSTUME DESIGNER MARIANNE GLITTENBERG TALKS TO ANDREAS LÁNG

ABOUT BURGEONING SEXUALITY al

Let us start with a very simple question: how should we imagine Marianne Glittenberg’s creative process? Is there an idea first, does an existing scenic design set the creative process in motion, or is it a discussion with the director? mg The basis for all my work is always the music for the relevant opera, and to a lesser extent the libretto. Opera is dominant for me and defined by the music. Even with works that I have known virtually by heart since childhood, I enjoy listening to one or the other recording – perhaps even one that is new to me – as it were for inspiration. Basically, however, ever since my German studies I have been a kind of desk worker: I enjoy developing theories, I can find food for thought in the fine arts, in films and plays and then further develop or merge them. If it has not already happened spontaneously, at some point during this working up of the material, an idea emerges that will make an artistic, subjective contribution to the production. First of course there is a conversation with the director and the set designer. These joint discussions are the first tentative attempts to find a possible direction.

Once the stage design model has been made, or at least a draft exists, then I finally start drawing designs for the costumes. In the specific case of Rusalka I was unable to attend the early meetings between my husband Rolf and Sven, and so I had drawn up a few designs before I met with Sven. Later I showed him various different approaches; they were really intended more to stimulate discussion than as finished sketches. al Why was that? mg I would have considered it a bit rash to come out with finished designs. After all, it is not supposed to be a solo effort; one wants to design costumes for a certain production concept, to react to ideas. At all events, Sven did not respond first to the drafts for the protagonists, but to those for the chorus. He purposefully picked them out and said that they conveyed exactly what he wanted them to. With these sketches, which were what I had first started with, without knowing it I had hit upon what his approach was to be: a family in a turn-of-the-century atmosphere with nightmarish images emerg ing from it. I was definitely very glad that we had not gone in the direction commonly followed at the time, typical

ABOUT BURGEONING SEXUALITY

of 19th century opera: with the chorus entering as guests at a party, dancing to a polonaise. al But once a design has been drawn up, can changes be made to the costume in the course of rehearsals? mg Of course. In this case for example, I only noticed during rehearsal that despite Sven’s agreement with the designs for Rusalka and the Water Goblin – whom I had previously designed with somewhat “amphibian” elements – there was no real consistency between design and direction. Perhaps they were left over from my ideas before I had talked to Sven. In any case, I changed both of them. In the course of the director’s work with the singers, an amazing number of new ideas come up, and I want to follow through with those as well. It can also happen that one or the other costume seems very interesting in theory, but in practice does not suit the personality of the performer or does not seem credible. al Character and costume should form a single entity then? mg I don’t want to deprive the performer of their power by concealing their identity. That is detrimental both to the costume and the singer. al How do you go about selecting fabrics for the costumes? What are the main criteria in your final decision? mg I put myself into the world of the story being depicted, and then in the place of the individual characters. Incidentally, it takes quite a while until I am somewhat satisfied with my sketches. I erase bits of the sketches probably a hundred or a thousand times, before they can finally be considered finished. After this stage, I examine the sketches

as an outsider would. And I select the fabrics from this perspective too: I look for something special and expressive. al In this case, did you work with quotes from films or from literature, as you did with La cenerentola? mg No, not so much this time. I was more informed by story parallels from the opera literature: the similarly problematic relationship between the Emperor and Empress in Die Frau ohne Schatten, the terrors of the wolf’s glen in Der Freischütz. Furthermore the thought that for a girl in the Romantic era, the word sexuality was fraught with dread. The mindset of the era went through my head. al To what extent is Rusalka really a fairy tale? mg In the Czech Republic, Rusalka is a national opera to which people like to take their children. But apart from the fact that even so-called fairy tales for children very often contain elements of such cruelty and brutality that they do no more than teach the little ones about fear, we should not forget that in Rusalka the main characters are not children. The story is about burgeoning sexuality and fear of it. In this production, Sven shows that very beautifully, amongst other things with vision-like memories and mental images. Another question that arises in Rusalka is that of the different realities. How real is the story in fact, how real are the real parts? Is this Foreign Princess a real person, for example? Where does she come from, what does she want – she doesn’t really make an entrance, she is just suddenly there. But I think not everything needs to be answered, revealed. Inexplicable is also a definition. This interview was conducted in 2014.

LIGHTDESIGNER JÜRGEN HOFFMANN TALKS TO ANDREAS LÁNG

INTUITION AND CRAFT al Do you design the lights for an opera production based on the score or does what is happening in the music play a subordinate role for the lighting? jh I always start with the piano score or the full score and work through the piece effectively note by note, phrase by phrase, bar by bar. If there is a significant change of harmony, a change in orchestration, or an entrance by a character, that generally influences the lighting. It has to be that way, because with a work as complex as an opera production, the individual parts all have an impact on each other. al Do the set design, costumes, stage direction nevertheless set certain criteria that require you to go in a certain direction? jh By the time you are invited to design lights for a production, the stage design is generally largely complete. That means that in most cases lighting designers do not have a say in the overall concept, but we can help implement it by emphasising the ideas of the director, of the set designer, to an extent make them visually real, and add atmosphere. In other words: people ask me for a specific mood which I then try to create with the means at my disposal.

al Do you design everything at a desk, or do you have to be on the stage in front of the set to start your work? jh Of course there is a lot of preparatory work that must be done at a desk, if for no other reason than that there are relatively few rehearsals with lighting. I cannot come to the first rehearsal with nothing, we simply don’t have that much time. But naturally in the course of the rehearsals, as a production comes to life, details are sometimes changed in the set that I as lighting designer have to respond to. In addition, I may not be happy with some of my initial lighting ideas, so I try to improve on them. In short, I am in the auditorium for all the stage rehearsals. al Have you made any changes to your lighting concept for Rusalka? jh Minor changes are almost always necessary, but if you’d like a specific example from Rusalka, here’s one: I had always assumed with this opera that I would make extensive use of wing lights to create a mysterious atmosphere. In the final analysis, that didn’t work very well as there was too much shadow on the stage. So the head of lighting for the opera house and I came up with a better solution. al Are directors and set designers always present at rehearsals that are solely for lighting?

INTUITION AND CRAFT

jh Normally. In the course of my fairly long career, I have experienced few productions where I was left to myself. As I said: directors and set designers have very specific ideas that I try to help re alise, so it is understandable that they want to be present when the lighting design is implemented. al In your profession, how much is craft and how much intuition? jh The answer is very simple: you must know intuitively where you are heading and should be heading, and then you must have the skills to accomplish that. al Does creativity play a greater role when you find fewer technical resources in a theatre or when you have all the options of a modern lighting system at your disposal? jh That question is not easy to answer. Naturally it is exciting when you have unlimited resources at your disposal, but normally you can only make limited use

of these options because of the time constraints in rehearsal. al Are there any problems that a lighting designer faces in every the atre and with every production? jh Yes, there is a very specific practical problem that we always have to deal with: since the singers are dazzled by spotlights, without realising it they tend to seek out the dark areas. As a result, they are difficult to see because they are standing in shadow. As lighting designer, you have to ensure from the outset that the lighting coverage is smooth. al How many light cues are there in Rusalka? jh Relatively few, perhaps a total of fifty. To me, a calm flow is more efficient than when the lights change every few minutes. In productions with numerous lighting changes, the audience is normally aware of only a fraction of them.

This interview was conducted in 2014.

ANDREAS LÁNG

JAROSLAV KVAPIL, LIBRETTIST OF RUSALKA Outside the Czech Republic, the name Jaroslav Kvapil is inextricably linked to Antonín Dvořák or rather to the only work they collaborated on for the opera stage, for which Kvapil wrote the libretto: Rusalka. Within the Czech Republic / Bohemia, the achievements of this theatre professional and personal friend of Max Reinhardt and Konstantin Stanislavski are better known. Born on 25 September 1868 in Chudenice, Kvapil was a celebrity in the cultural life of his country throughout his life; he left his mark as a poet and playwright, but also as a director, dramaturg and theatre manager. Initially, however, he exercised his talent as a writer in journalism, in part simultaneously for newspapers that had widely differing political views. After the turn of the century, his increasingly evident anti- Habsburg mindset culminated in a manifesto written at his prompting by Czech writers during the First World War, demanding the dissolution of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy. However, the practical political career of the dedicated Freemason came to an abrupt end after a brief interlude as a ministry official of the newly formed Czechoslovakia. Kvapil’s marriage to the actress Hana Kubešová, who was very popular in Bohemia, was one reason for his general passion for the theatre, but it also made him better connected with the cultural establishment of his homeland. As a consequence, he was less the focus of public attention following the death of his wife.

J A R O S L AV K VA P I L , L I B R E T T I S T O F RU S A L K A

Incidentally, Dvořák was not the only composer for whom Kvapil wrote libretti. For example, years before he wrote Rusalka, he wrote the operas Debora (composer: Josef Bohuslav Foerster), Selská boure (composer: Ludvík Lošták) and Perdita (composer: Josef Nešvera). Nevertheless, he achieved national acclaim primarily on account of the successful plays he wrote and with his productions of plays by Shakespeare, Sophocles, Ibsen, Schiller, Goethe, Gorky, Chekhov, and Molière, some of which then became fixtures in the Czech repertoire. In due course his directing work, which he pursued with great passion, and his work as manager of various theatres gradually edged out his work as a playwright and librettist. After Rusalka, Dvořák was very keen to continue his collaboration with Kvapil, but the latter pursued it only half-heartedly, and it soon petered out. Years later, Kvapil deeply regretted this fact. Highly honoured, he died on 10 January 1950 in Prague.

Next pages: VALENTINA NAFORNIŢA as FIRST WOOD NYMPH GÜNTHER GROISSBÖCK as WATER GOBLIN ILSEYAR KHAYRULLOVA as THIRD WOOD NYMPH

WHAT IS THE ORIGIN OF THE TERM RUSALKA? Rusalka is not a name, but one of the many terms used in different cultures and regions for bewitched and bewitching female creatures. They are associated with the perils and blessings of water, without which there can be no life on this earth. The eternal element of water is found in a multitude of different forms, now helping, now destroying, but always challenging man. “Rusalka” is not the word originally used in the Czech language for these legendary apparitions that can be traced in literature from the naiads and sirens of antiquity to the later ondines and undines and to nixies and mermaids. In old Czech literature, “divoženka” (approximately “wild maiden”) is the term typically used to describe the fabulous creatures devised to help people explain and cope rationally with incomprehensible occurrences. The term rusalka is clearly Russian in origin, although it has yet to be determined whether the etymological origin is the old Slavic term for river (“rusa”) or whether Roman antiquity’s festival of roses (“rosalia”) was the main influence; the appearance and activities of the

rusalki were closely linked to the time of this festival, or what is now Whit suntide. At about the time when Antonín Dvořák was composing his opera, the first modern Czech illustrated encyclopaedia of general knowledge appeared in Prague. The 22nd volume contained this surprisingly long article under the keyword rusalka: “In traditional language usage in Russia, rusalki are wondrous creatures. They generally appear as maidens who are very beautiful and endowed with many charms. They are capable of bewitching a weak mortal. They cover their slim and agile bodies with green leaves or with a white shirt without a belt. Their mysterious grey eyes shine out from the pale, almost translucent skin of their faces. Their green hair reaches down to their knees. Their headdress contains special magic. As long as their hair is wet, rusalki can flood vast areas of the earth, with the help of a comb made of fish bones. When their hair is dry, they lose their magical skills. The rusalki live in rivers whose waters conceal their crystal palaces. Their gold

WHAT IS THE ORIGIN OF THE TERM RUSALK A?

and silver glistens in the rays of the sun or the moon, and they have an abundance of pearl adornments as well. On clear summer nights, they leap out of the water and frolic in the waves. They go ashore to pick flowers, which they weave into garlands to wear on their heads. In the evening, they rock above the water on slender trees and branches, enticing unwary wanderers into the depths. They often run across meadows and fields, where they love to dance in the pale light of the moon. They love music above all else. With their enchanting singing, they can even

intoxicate humans, whom they then draw down to their watery realm with them. Russian folklore includes numerous, extremely vivid myths and tales about rusalki. It is often assumed that children who die without having been baptised or who meet an unnatural death become rusalki. These mythical creatures were originally called navky or mavky, but later when their periods of greatest activity and power became associated with the spring festival of rusalje, they were given the name by which they are still called.”

SIGMUND FREUD

EXCERPTS FROM FREUD’S THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS In this volume I have attempted to expound the methods and results of dream-interpretation; and in so doing I do not think I have overstepped the boundary of neuro- pathological science. For the dream proves on psychological investigation to be the first of a series of abnormal psychic formations, a series whose succeeding members – the hysterical phobias, the obsessions, the delusions – must, for practical reasons, claim the attention of the physician. The dream, as we shall see, has no title to such practical importance, but for that very reason its theoretical value as a typical formation is all the greater, and the physician who cannot explain the origin of dream-images will strive in vain to understand the phobias and the obsessive and delusional ideas, or to influence them by therapeutic methods. (...) In the following pages I shall demonstrate that there is a psychological technique which makes it possible to interpret dreams, and that on the application of this technique every dream will reveal itself as a psychological structure, full of significance, and one which may be assigned to a specific place in the psychic activities of the waking state. Further, I shall endeavour to elucidate the processes which underlie the strangeness and obscurity of dreams, and to deduce from these processes the nature of the psychic forces whose conflict or cooperation is responsible for our dreams. (...)

EXCERPTS FROM FREUD’S THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS

I have been forced to perceive that here, once more, we have one of those not infrequent cases where an ancient and stubbornly retained popular belief seems to have come nearer to the truth of the matter than the opinion of modern science. I must insist that the dream actually does possess a meaning, and that a scientific method of dream- interpretation is possible. (...) My patients, after I had pledged them to inform me of all the ideas and thoughts which occurred to them in connection with a given theme, related their dreams, and thus taught me that a dream may be interpolated in the psychic concatenation, which may be followed backwards from a pathological idea into the patient’s memory. The next step was to treat the dream itself as a symptom.

J A RO S L AV K VA P I L

THE LIBRETTIST REMEMBERS... FROM JAROSLAV KVAPIL’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY WHAT I KNOW In 1899, while on holiday in Andersen’s homeland, on the Danish island of Bornholm I remembered the fairy tale of The Little Mermaid, who was willing to suffer torment for the love of a human, and even when he left her would not take revenge. Using this storyline as a starting point, I wrote the libretto for an opera. Although it was impossible to avoid some of the themes of the then famous Sunken Bell by Gerhart Hauptmann, I believe that the libretto for Rusalka is essentially Czech in character. I wrote the libretto for Rusalka in autumn 1899, without any particular composer in mind. Perhaps this whole thing would have turned into a play, had I not been apprehensive about the similarities to Hauptmann’s tale. Three Czech composers, all good friends of mine, read the libretto, but each of them was occupied with something else, and I did not press the matter. Around Christmas, I heard that Antonín Dvořák was looking for a libretto for a new opera. The director of the Prague National Theatre, Šubert, off ered to act as middle man. And so I told Šubert that I had a libretto. The very next day, we met Dvořák at the director’s office. When his friend, music critic Emanuel Chvála, recommended the libretto of Rusalka to him, Dvořák told me that he was ready to set to work. We already knew each other: Dvořák had given my late wife piano lessons when she was a girl and wanted to make a virtuoso of her. We often met at the coffee house, but if texts to be set to music came up in the conver-

THE LIBRETTIST REMEMBERS...

sation, Dvořák would bristle. Several years earlier, I had asked him in a roundabout way if he would like me to write a libretto, but he replied – back then he was always in a bad mood when he had been criti cised – that he wanted to throw anyone who brought him a libretto out on their ear. As a result, it didn’t even occur to me to offer him the libretto for Rusalka since I had more or less written it just for myself. I was all the more surprised that he so eagerly accepted the idea, albeit once his advisers Chvála and Šubert had recommended it to him. This took place shortly after the première of the opera The Devil and Kate. Although the opera was well received, someone had accused Šubert of persuading Dvořák to use a libretto by his nephew Adolf Wenig. Šubert was now set on being able to recommend a libretto by someone else; furthermore, the libretto was by an author whom Šubert had absolutely no reason to promote. Dvořák set to work immediately and composed Rusalka in 1900. During that period, we met often, and Dvořák also wrote to me at length. The subject of the libretto and its form met his expectations more than any of the other libretti he had read, and he set Rusalka to music just as I had written it. He asked for an additional aria only in the first act, namely when Rusalka kneels before the witch. Sometimes he had his artistic moods, such as when he did not completely understand a particular word. In such cases, he would come straight to my flat, even before 7 a.m.; he would get me out of bed and ask me all kinds of questions. Sometimes, however, he would suddenly forget why he had come and would start chatting about everyday matters: how much rent I pay, and that Bendl had bought an expensive home, and that he had already attended early mass or had been to Prague station to study the locomotives, which was his real passion outside music. At some point in May we signed a written agreement. Karel Kadlec, an expert in copyright law, wrote the agreement for Dvořák; at the time, Kadlec was secretary of the National Theatre. The contract was as if etched in stone – in such matters Dvořák was almost fanatically pedantic – and when we had signed the contract, Dvořák said as we shook hands: “With God’s help, we shall succeed!” However, the following morning Mrs Dvořák woke me with the words: “Please come at once

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to see my husband. He hasn’t slept all night – yesterday he signed the agreement, but apparently it does not expressly state that he has the right to set the text to music.” Once – when he was already on act 3 – Dvořák came to see me in a state of great agitation. “Listen, I can’t set this to music! I am a devout Christian and will not curse the Lord!” He pointed in my manuscript to the verses spoken by the Prince: I invoke both heaven and hell: What have you done with my love? I invoke both God and demons! “I am a devout Christian, I will not curse the Lord!” Dvořák said again. He calmed down after a while, when I ex plained to him that no one was asking him to curse the Lord; the libretto was merely about invoking God and the spirits. “Very well, if that’s the case,” he appeased his Christian conscience, and he went home and composed the music for that section. The première of Rusalka took place at the Prague National Theatre on 31 March 1901, now under new management, of which I was part. It had been scheduled to happen a few months earlier, but that was when a huge dispute broke out in the orchestra, and it was a month before we had a handle on the matter. The role of the Prince was double-cast with Karel Burian and Bohumil Pták, which was extremely fortunate because, as frequently happened, Burian cancelled 90 minutes before the première was due to start. If we had not double-cast the role, the famous première for which critics had come from a variety of different countries – would have fallen through. Early the next morning, Dvořák rushed to the theatre. “Is Kvapil here?” And when I walked into the room, he threw himself on me. “Kvapil, Kvapil dear fellow, quickly, give me another libretto with a big role for our Rusalka, Maturová! What, you don’t have one? You don’t have a new libretto for me?” I promised that I would come up with something quickly, and I did in fact start writing a new libretto. It was based on a story from an old Czech ballad that I wanted to combine with the Slovakian tale of chatelaine Cachtice, who allegedly used to bathe in fresh human blood. I

THE LIBRETTIST REMEMBERS...

had the concept largely completed in my head and had started writing. However, I then became enchanted with directing, and writing lost its appeal for me. And so I never completed the libretto, because Dvořák died three years after the première of Rusalka. He composed one more opera, Armida, set to a libretto by Jaroslav Vrchlický, but it proved to be a difficult project. Dvořák forced himself to write, but his heart was not in the subject and form, and so I was often witness to his frustration. Sometimes he accused me of having left him in the lurch, and once when I ran into him, without further ado he burst out with: “I hope no one ever sees fit to bring me a four-act libretto again; if Armida had only three acts, I could have finished it by now.” Years later, it still breaks my heart that after Rusalka I never wrote another libretto – or even two – for this outstanding composer. Decades later, I bless his memory for having taken me with him on that heavenly flight where my verses alone would never have flown.

Next pages: KS KRASSIMIRA STOYANOVA as RUSALKA JANINA BAECHLE as JEŽIBABA

HEINZ IRRGEHER

RUSALKA’S MAGICAL MUSIC “I am filled with enthusiasm and joy that my work is going so well,” Dvořák wrote about his work on Rusalka to his best friend Alois Göbl. Göbl was an amateur musician and godfather to several of Dvořák’s children, by profession administrator of Sychrov Castle in northern Bohemia, where Dvořák also spent holidays at Göbl’s invitation. The work was indeed progressing well: he started Rusalka in April and had finished it by November. It was written in an area where untouched nature abounded; in Vysoká, a small village in southern Bohemia, surrounded by pristine forests, meadows and lakes – all ideal inspiration for his work. It is certainly not wrong to picture Dvořák’s surroundings based on the music of Rusalka. He had purchased the house after his first trip to London in 1884 and later called the villa Rusalka. This was the late stage of Dvořák’s creative life. He had already turned his back on so-called absolute music (although a little programme music was probably always there, as he said) and devoted himself to symphonic poems: The Water Goblin, The Wild Dove, The Golden Spinning Wheel

and The Noon Witch, all based on the fairy tales of Karel Erben. And then he turned his attention exclusively to opera. That’s how you reach the most people, he said. Dvořák had occupied himself with opera throughout his life, and the influence of every possible composer is ascribed to him: starting with Wagner, from whom he supposedly borrowed concepts (Alfred, The King and the Charcoal Burner), Smetana (Wagner was said to have been his model too) and Lortzing (The Stubborn Lovers, The Cunning Peasant), all the way to Meyerbeer (Dimitrij). In his famous book Opera in a chapter simply entitled “Czechs”, Oskar Bie credits Dvořák with having a “national conscience,” but only until he went to America. After that, he said Dvořák’s music underwent a certain “Europeanization”, although he never defined exactly what he meant by this. What Bie had written earlier about national and Czech music in general would certainly apply to Rusalka, which like The Devil and Kate was written only after Dvořák’s stay in America: “The national elements stem from correct musical declamation,

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from a feeling for the rhythm of the language. The looped thirds, systematic repetition of phrases, suspended dot ted notes, syncopation” effectively created a distinctive notation “that one could read like a musical confession,” without understanding or needing to understand the text. This introduces a key expression: looped thirds. That is what one might call the figures that occur repeatedly throughout Rusalka, in every possible variation: a rising third, either in whole tone or chromatic steps. They are present in the overture, as well as in the famous aria sung by Rusalka to the moon (or in Czech, the little moon), but you will also notice them in the admonitions of the Water Goblin: either as true triplets or as false triplets, namely an appoggiatura of two grace notes and finally the “target note.” In the Song to the Moon, in several cases both are repeated even in two consecutive bars. They give this aria its special, floating character; one might even say the dilatory, gentle lustre of the moon. And they send a message: used together or isolated and/or chromatically, they can seem threatening, heralding disaster or advis ing caution. In the Song to the Moon, they underscore Rusalka’s character: a creature of nature, romantic, lyrical, and longing for true love – and a soul. Incidentally, in this paragraph Bie mentions a second key word, namely: repetition. “If you come up with something that sounds pretty, then repeat it,” he advised his music students. In the context of repetition, we should also consider Dvořák’s com positional technique of using leitmotifs. Never fear: there is no need to re member more than a hundred musical

figures, as you do with Wagner in his Ring cycle, each representing a person, a building, an emotion, death, love, redemption, or whatever. In Rusalka Dvořák makes do with four: Rusalka, the Water Goblin, the Witch and The Foreign Princess each have (almost) their own musical identity. The Prince gets nothing: he has no character. Dvořák expresses this brilliantly in that he borrows from the musical characterization of Rusalka as long as the Prince remains true to her. However, when he disappointedly abandons her and turns passionately to the Foreign Princess, lo and behold, suddenly he sounds suspiciously like the Princess. Unlike Wagner and his more or less unchanging leitmotifs, Dvořák makes things a little more difficult for himself, but also more appealing: he modifies the musical descriptions of the protagonists to match their current situation and state, he psychologizes his characters. Apart from these character themes (three themes for four characters) there is also a so-called curse theme, and that makes the fourth: a vigorous chromatic rising figure, played forte. It occurs repeatedly when disaster is impending or transpires. It is called the curse theme because it is in the accompaniment when the Water Goblin curses the Prince because, as the Water Goblin suspects, he will bring misfortune to Rusalka. One might also describe it as the big angry brother of the negative looped thirds (see above). Rusalka’s theme is the first theme that we are introduced to. Hardly has the overture started when we hear it: elegantly melodic, aesthetic, melancholic and a little sad. The overture is simple and in one movement, but

HEINZ IRRGEHER

also heralds impending disaster. As Werner Oehlmann put it in his book Four Centuries of Opera, it is “an extract of the drama, a section of natural sound that urges to be given life and sinks back to the elementary.” Gustav Kobbé’s Complete Opera Book contains this insightful description: “The short and beautiful prelude admirably sug gests the poetical, twilit atmosphere of the opera.” Rusalka’s first entrance is announced with her theme; it accompanies her in different variations throughout the opera, whether it be in act 2 in her G minor aria or in act 3 when her life has lost its meaning: the void that has set in is illustrated by the monotony of a simple bowed figure repeated 25 times; but Rusalka’s theme floats above it in constantly changing harmony. Dvořák also devotes a specific instrument to her: the harp. It is the instrument of the spirits and is ideally suited to giving a vivid depiction of water with arpeggios and glissandi. The themes for the Witch and the Foreign Princess can be taken up together. The characterisation of the Witch essentially comprises seven notes. That of the Princess as well. If one were to copy these two themes onto a transparency and set them one on top of the other, it would be come clear that these two themes have the same structure in terms of motion and rhythm. The only difference is that the Foreign Princess sings part of the theme a third lower. It is highly unlikely that this happened by chance. Since both roles are for mezzo sopranos, this is a further indication of the fact that Dvořák intended to reveal at least a certain spiritual kinship, or perhaps that the Foreign Princess is indeed none other than the

Witch transformed. In a project paper at the Institute of Musicology of the University of Vienna, Sabrina Hof schneider found some twenty musical parallels in the part writing for the Witch and the Foreign Princess, of which this was just one example. In this opera, both characters represent evil, the disruptive and deconstructive that Dvořák portrays in much more complex writing than the good, namely Rusalka and the Water Goblin. In musical terms, this is expressed in big jumps in the part writing, in the use of the tritone (called diabolus in musica, the devil in music, as long ago as the Middle Ages: it is the interval of three adjacent whole tones, such as C – F-sharp), and chromaticism. Dvořák also uses this technique for the transformation music, a clear sign that Rusalka’s transformation to a human being is a painful process. During the Witch’s incantation, she deviates from her usual vocal pattern and recites monotonously, in the way that invocations are normally intoned; this makes it all the more mysterious. The Water Goblin is a good char acter and is depicted as such in the music. In long phrases, he moves from one note to the adjacent note, which makes him come across as reassuring and at the same time concerned. In act 2 he has a beautiful, melancholic twoverse aria full of melodious sadness, spanning an extremely mellifluous arc between sections of micromotion in the vocal line. His theme is usually the curse theme, for he is after all the character who delivers the curse. As a water inhabitant, he too is frequently accompanied by the harp. The musical depiction of nature, richly represented by Rusalka and the

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Water Goblin, is complemented by Rusalka’s sisters, the other nymphs (incidentally in Czech Rusalka is also called a nixie or nymph). They float and dance above the water in the music as well; in keeping with Czech folklore, they are are happy and accordingly melodious. The world of humans is one-dimensional and ordinary compared to nature, and is menacingly thwarted by the sounds of the spirit world, which resolve the conflict peaceably despite Rusalka’s defeat. In the final duet, a new world of sound emerges, pointing the way to

eternity. After a big orchestral climax, Dvořák allows the music to fade away in a pianississimo, the reconciliation of nature and humans in transcendence of pain and passion. In conclusion, once again we quote Oehlmann in this difficult attempt to express in words that convey musical ideas Dvořák’s music for Rusalka, which his biographer Otakar Šourek described as verging on Impressionism. “The music is given plenty of space to develop, and it fills it with an abundance of lyrical emotions, atmosphere and resounding prose.”

ANDREAS LÁNG

CON- TEMPTIBLE TREATMENT IN VIENNA Strauss’s Salome was heard first at the Wiener Volksoper and only after that at the Wiener Staatsoper. Puccini’s Manon Lescaut was heard first at the Wiener Volksoper and only after that at the Wiener Staatsoper. Tosca and Andrea Chénier were heard first at the Wiener Volksoper and only after that at the Wiener Staatsoper. With Rusalka, things were no different. On 16 February 1935, Dvořák’s most popular music theatre work was performed at the opera house on Vienna’s Gürtel; it was not until more than 50 years later – to be precise on 10 April 1987 – that it was performed at the House on the Ring. However, the Volks oper cannot make the claim to have presented the Viennese première of Rusalka (nor that of Salome). That honour goes to the Vienna Metropol Theatre in the second district (not to be confused with the current Metropol in the 17th district), which also bore the rather strange name of Federal Theatre at the War Exhibition. It was a rather small theatre where in the First World War morale-boosting

plays and films were shown in parallel with propaganda exhibitions in a neighbouring building. After 1918, the Metropol Theatre often stood empty and was therefore available for a variety of organisers to use. At all events, on 9 June 1924 Viennese audiences first became acquainted with Dvořák’s un fortunate water spirit on this strange stage, to a certain extent as part of the cautious Austro-Czech rapprochement following the “hostile” divorce of 1918. Following consolidation of the political situation, starting in the early 1920s an increasing number of theatre and opera troupes from neighbouring countries gave guest performances in Vienna: the Bratislava Theatre in 1922, the Prague National Theatre in July 1924 and a month earlier the Olomouc Theatre. The latter had brought Rusalka with them. As mentioned above, it was performed at the Metropol Theatre and was extremely well received by critics and public alike. The question of why Rusalka was introduced at a secondary theatre, as it were through the back door, and has

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until now never found a permanent place in the Austrian repertoire remains unanswered. There is no doubt that there was a plan to produce the piece at the country’s foremost opera house shortly after the Prague world première. After reviewing the piano score, Gustav Mahler had immediately written to the composer, declaring his intention to mount a production of Rusalka at the Vienna Court Opera and requesting a German translation of the libretto. After a few royalty hurdles (Mahler asked Dvořák to scale down his financial requests to the level normal for the Danube metropolis), there were in principle no further obstacles to presenting the opera. When the two composers met in December 1901, Mahler finally proposed a première in March 1902 and even provided Dvořák with a cast list: Leo Slezak was to sing the Prince, Bertha Foerster- Lauterer the title role, Wilhelm Hesch the Water Goblin, and Marie GutheilSchoder the Foreign Princess. To his great disappointment, approximately one month before the première Dvořák received a short letter from Mahler, postponing the première until the fol-

lowing season. The fact that ultimately nothing came of this production, and further that it would be another eight decades before the première here is a stain on the reputation of the Wiener Staatsoper. That the very few performances given before this first Staatsoper production of Rusalka disappeared from the repertoire also does the opera house no credit. The archives indicate only 23 performances conducted by Vaclav Neumann over a period of five years, despite an outstanding cast: Peter Dvorský as the Prince, Gabriela Beňačková as Rusalka, Jewgenij Nesterenko as the Water Goblin, and Eva Randova as Ježibaba and the Foreign Princess. Another 22 Rusalka-less years would pass before the première of the current new production directed by Sven-Eric Bechtolf. On 26 January 2014 Jiří Bělohlávek conducted the performance, with Michael Schade as the Prince, Krassimira Stoyanova in the title role, Günther Groissböck as the Water Goblin, Janina Baechle as Ježi baba and Monika Bohinec as the Foreign Princess.

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IMPRINT ANTONÍN DVOŘ ÁK

RUSALKA SEASON 2023/24 PREMIÈRE OF THE PRODUCTION 26 JANUARY 2014 Publisher WIENER STAATSOPER GMBH, Opernring 2, 1010 Wien Director DR. BOGDAN ROŠČIĆ Music Director PHILIPPE JORDAN Administrative Director DR. PETRA BOHUSLAV General Editors SERGIO MORABITO, ANDREAS LÁNG, OLIVER LÁNG Design & concept EXEX Layout & typesetting MIWA MEUSBURGER Image concept MARTIN CONRADS, BERLIN (Cover) All performance fotos by MICHAEL PÖHN Printed by PRINT ALLIANCE HAV PRODUKTIONS GMBH, BAD VÖSLAU TEXT REFERENCES With the exception of the texts by Jaroslav Kvapil, Sigmund Freud and the text about the term Rusalka all articles were written for the programme of the première 2014. IMAGE REFERENCE (COVER) Brooke DiDonato: You Could Go Anywhere but You Won’t, 2023. ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS Andrew Smith. Reproduction only with approval of Wiener Staatsoper GmbH / Dramaturgy. Holders of rights who were unavailable regarding retrospect compensation are requested to make contact. This production is sponsored by

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