Among the nineteenth century practitioners of German Spieloper Albert Lortzing was perhaps the most deeply immersed in the world of the theatre: in addition to writing the libretti for many of his own operas, his presence on stage as an actor and singer gave him a unique insight into the public for whom he was writing, and his ability to place genial tunes in the service of undemanding scenarios in which everything works out in the end ensured that his works were popular both in his own lifetime and well into the twentieth century.
In recent decades, however, Lortzing’s name has been notably absent from the programmes of many German opera houses. The new production of Zar und Zimmermann at the Deutsche Oper Berlin was their first performance of any of his operas in at least fifteen years, and while the evening boasted sparkling musical direction from Antonello Manacorda and a handful of engaging comedic performances, it also highlighted some of the difficulties involved in trying to bring nineteenth century comedy to a twenty-first century audience.
In fact the production was closer to a free adaptation than a faithful rendering: while Lortzing’s music made it to the stage unscathed, both the spoken dialogue and the elaborate restructuring of the plot were entirely the work of Martin G. Berger (who, in addition to everything else, performed the heroic service of stepping in to fill the central role of Peter the Great after the original singer fell ill; the sung vocal parts were performed from the side of the stage by Daniel Schmutzhard).
Although Mr Berger’s revisions represented a valiant attempt to make the story relevant to a modern audience – and even Lortzing himself might have approved of tailoring the topical humour to its intended audience – in practice they served to make an already convoluted story even more impenetrable, while pursuing their political arguments with a frustrating lack of certainty.
Lortzing: Zar und Zimmermann. Antonello Manacorda, conductor. Martin G. Berger, director. Deutsche Oper Berlin, June 2026. © 2026 by Thomas Aurin / Deutsche Oper Berlin.
Central to the concept of the staging was a fictional people’s republic located (according the opening titles) between Latvia and Russia. The virtues of the country were extolled in a cringeworthy AI-generated video montage that accompanied the overture, featuring happy workers engaging in the national pastime of kayak racing, all under the watchful eye of their bearded Tsar, an obvious despot in the guise of a benevolent ruler.
The underlying political reality was more complex, although not by much: in fact the strings of power seemed to be pulled by the Tsar’s Uncle and his secret police agent – two speaking roles very obviously not found in Lortzing’s original – who send the Tsar to undermine a rival kayak manufacturer in the Netherlands; the Tsar’s absence, however, serves as the catalyst for a people’s revolt which the Tsar, incognito as a humble employee of the Dutch kayak concern, is unable to contain.
As modernisation attempts go it was reasonably far-fetched; but if one was willing to accept Zar und Zimmermann as a freewheeling comedy, the revised story was certainly not without potential. Unfortunately the comedy itself was too often content to fall back on the kind of cold-war clichés that were current back when Rocky and Bullwinkle was first on the air (indeed it was not difficult to imagine the Tsar’s Uncle and the secret police agent as having been modelled respectively on Fearless Leader and Boris Badenov). Admittedly the staging attempted to level the playing field by balancing the idea of a repressive eastern dictatorship with a more cynical view of the west as a hollow democracy run by inept statesmen and corrupt diplomats, but there were remarkably few scenarios and characterisations that didn’t seem familiar.
In fact the staging was at its most amusing when it fell back on good old-fashioned fourth-wall breaking: the surprise introduction of a completely new character ‘because Lortzing wrote a sextet’, or the secret police agent’s assertion that they were in a German Spieloper, not an operetta, were no less funny for being tossed off so casually.
Lortzing: Zar und Zimmermann. Antonello Manacorda, conductor. Martin G. Berger, director. Deutsche Oper Berlin, June 2026. © 2026 by Thomas Aurin / Deutsche Oper Berlin.
The staging grew more interesting, but also more muddled, whenever it tried to find some deeper political point beneath its satirical surface. Although the fictional people’s republic was ridiculed for the disparity between its lofty propaganda and its repressive living conditions, one of the evening’s most arresting passages of dialogue, delivered by the Tsar’s Uncle, cautioned that joining the European Union would erode the country’s industry and individuality. He had a point: one of the few downsides of the great European project has been that unity has paved the way for a series of increasingly homogenous urban spaces populated by bland international chain shops.
Nor was the West, with its bumbling bureaucrats and penchant for capitalist excess, presented as an unblemished democratic paradise. Indeed, the tendency of the staging to milk its opposing political systems for their obvious comedic potential made it difficult for any coherent argument to emerge: it was simultaneously too even-handed to function as a polemic, and too uncommitted to its ideological nuances to work well as a conversation piece.
Perhaps a greater flaw – and one for which Lortzing himself shares some responsibility – was that none of the characters were especially likable: Peter the Great’s undeniable charisma couldn’t conceal his despotic streak, the hapless Peter Ivanov spent the entire evening sabotaging his relationship with the opportunistic Marie by being jealous of her career, and van Bett was little more than a collection of stock buffo features. Indeed the only characters allowed to develop into a sympathetic presence were the Tsar’s Uncle and the secret police agent, although even they were too peripheral to allow us a way into the story. While the staging attempted to redress the balance with a frantic pace, flashy sets and costumes, and scenes of considerable spectacle – including a well-received tap-dance routine – there remained a lack of engagement with the characters and their respective plights.
Lortzing: Zar und Zimmermann. Antonello Manacorda, conductor. Martin G. Berger, director. Deutsche Oper Berlin, June 2026. © 2026 by Thomas Aurin / Deutsche Oper Berlin.
If the characters often consisted of little more than whatever the singers could impart, the cast had enough combined comedic instinct to make it work. Marie’s emergence as one of the engines of the drama was due largely to the charming performance of Nadja Mchantaf, whose ‘Eifersucht’ aria near the beginning of the first act was delivered with sparkling ease (albeit underpinned with knowing irony); yet her performance took on a darker edge during the bridal song, which was delivered with enough bile to transform it from wedding ode to break-up anthem. Patrick Zielke made sure that van Bett fit squarely into the grand tradition of buffo bass roles, bringing a genial mix of bluster and swagger to each appearance. ‘O sancta justitia’ was a highlight of the first act, and there was considerable energy in the subsequent duet with the timid Peter Ivanov of Philipp Kapeller.
In general the spirit of comedy presided over the evening, and there were delightful performances to be found even among the smaller roles: Nicole Piccolomini was scene-stealingly evil in her first appearance as the widow Browe – one wished Lortzing had written more for the character – and among the group of ambassadors, Kieran Carrel’s Chateauneuf was notable for the gently ardent ‘Flandrisch Mädchen’ song.
The evening’s finest vocal performance, however, was delivered from the side of the stage: Daniel Schmutzhard, freed from the demanding pace of the action, was able to craft passages of great fluidity and poise. His aria in the first act possessed great nobility of phrasing, and the ‘Zepter, Krone und Stern’ song in the final act was similarly elegant.
Time and again it was Antonello Manacorda who emerged as the evening’s greatest asset. Although the pace of the evening was dictated to some extent by the long spoken passages that separated the musical numbers Mr Manacorda’s spirited musical direction never allowed the momentum to flag, pushing van Bett’s first aria to near-Rossinian levels of inspiration, underlining both the confidence and frustration in Marie’s scenes, and keeping the energetic choral scenes under careful control; yet he was no less effective finding an appropriate tone for the opera’s few moments of unguarded sincerity. In an evening where the politics were confused and the comedy sometimes forced, Mr Manacorda’s effervescent way with the score was easily the production’s most consistent source of delight.
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