Master of all subjects

I would rather say: there is Offenbach and there is Les Contes d'Hoffmann-Offenbach, i.e. the composer of the last Offenbach opera. And the parts he completed are in many ways different from anything he had written before. Incidentally, this phenomenon of a final, suddenly "different" work also exists with a number of other artists. It is amazing to see how a composer suddenly creates something completely new at the end of his operatic career. Think of Verdi with Falstaff, Wagner's Parsifal, Rossini with Guillaume Tell. Or let's look at the visual arts: I saw Claude Monet's last paintings in an exhibition at the Albertina a few years ago. What a surprise! Suddenly he was painting like a Matisse or a Picasso. Crazy, isn't it? In this context, I remembered a study in which dying people were asked what they regretted in life. The answer was often: not having lived enough, not having loved enough and not having done enough of what they really wanted to do. So what does this mean in our context? That at the end of a creative process, it becomes clear once again, with great honesty, what artists really want, what is important to them. In Offenbach's case, this can be seen in the fragments of Contes d'Hoffmann that he left behind! Shortly before his death, he said that he would have loved to see the premiere of this opera. Unfortunately, he was not granted this. But the parts he still completed are his innermost, most honest expression.

It is a great tragedy that Offenbach was not allowed to leave behind at least a complete sketch of the overall concept. The most important part, namely the last act, only exists in the libretto, which had to be submitted to the censorship authorities, but musically there is virtually nothing. This, of course, opens the door wide for speculation: Perhaps it is a résumé of his work? Or do we see the opera as a sequel to Don Giovanni in the sense that Don Giovanni is the great seeker who chases after the phantom of the one true, "ideal" partner and wants to find various facets - mother, wife, lover, confidante, best friend and so on - in one person? Seen in this way, the various female figures in Contes d'Hoffmann would be parts of an idealized, fantasized overall person that the title character dreams of. Offenbach possibly also wanted to create such an all-encompassing ideal musically: In other words, all conceivable facets in one opera! From the nonsense sung by the drunken students in the wine bar to the greatest beauty and the deepest emotions. Of course - how could it be otherwise with Offenbach - humor is also essential, there are moments in Contes d'Hoffmann where you can laugh heartily, and even in the tragic moments there is always a twinkle in the eye. Jacques Offenbach wants to reconcile and bring everything together in Contes d'Hoffmann.

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For this revival, I see it as a matter of course that we are playing exactly the version that premiered in this house in 1993. I still think Andrei Şerban's production is a scenic solution that works excellently. We're refreshing the whole thing - but we're not changing the structure. Interestingly, I'm also in the middle of working on a new Hoffmann in Berlin. I've been working with the director for months on my own version of the work. Of course, with these versions you always have to consider the house for which a new production is being created: If it's a stagione or a festival, i.e. a theater that only puts on one series of performances with one cast, then you can let off steam a bit in terms of the version. In a repertory theater like the Vienna State Opera, this makes less sense; there you need a version that as many international singers as possible can master. A rarities version would be useless in this case.

A few weeks ago, I performed Mozart's Requiem and Poulenc's magnificent Sept Répons des ténèbres with the Orchestre National de France at the Théâtre des Champs Elysées in Paris. In other words, French repertoire with a French orchestra. Of course, the very special lightness, the somewhat drier sound - especially in the strings - that we heard there will not be heard elsewhere in this form with a different orchestra. Here in Vienna, the same music would certainly sound fuller and rounder. But does that make a difference? No - quite the opposite! In the meantime, I almost miss this beautiful round, warm sound when I'm not in Vienna. Of course, the French repertoire demands a certain transparency, flexibility and often also lightness, but neither of these are in contradiction to the Viennese sound. I was recently able to conduct Roméo et Juliette, Faust, Dialogues des Carmélites and Guillaume Tell at the Vienna State Opera - and it gave me great pleasure. The orchestra knows what is important to me thanks to our long collaboration, and I know the local tradition, which I incorporate into the interpretation as a matter of course. The result was French music with a touch of Viennese charm. It's fantastic, isn't it? And as for Offenbach - well, as I said, he was German by birth. Just like his father - a more than passable violinist, by the way - from whom he absorbed a great deal of musical knowledge and then combined it with his own experiences at the Paris Conservatoire and as a cellist in the Opéra-Comique. These different sources are reflected not least in Les Contes d'Hoffmann.