This one is a slight departure from my usual technical content on here, but hopefully you'll indulge me. About two years ago, I discovered that, contrary to the impression my high school music class gave me, I actually enjoy opera. This year, I ended up seeing one performance each month from January to March by coincidence, and then... I just kept going. So, over these last twelve months I attended twelve performances and I want to recap my experiences here.
January: Fin de Partie
I love absurd theatre. I commonly torture my friends with quotes from Waiting for Godot. So, seeing an opera version of Samuel Beckett's other famous play, Endgame, was kind of a no-brainer. The story behind this opera is pretty wild: The composer, György Kurtág, saw Endgame in 1957 and remained fascinated by it for decades. In 2010, the Teatro alla Scala in Milan commissioned him to write his first opera. When it premiered in 2018, Kurtág was 92 years old.
I haven't seen Endgame as a regular play yet, but the opera version was phenomenal. One of the common challenges of opera is presenting the story in a coherent and understandable way. Often, arias are not literal dialogue, but rather represent a character's state of mind. It can be unclear how much time passes during or between scenes. This means that Beckett's plays with their vague sense of location and time translate very well to an opera format. Together with the great scenic design I am used to from Staatsoper unter den Linden, this made for a mesmerizing and very memorable combination of text, music and visuals.
February: Der Freischütz
I sometimes lament that Potsdam does not have an opera house anymore. I am very happy with the plays put on by Hans-Otto-Theater, but apart from the annual Potsdam Winter Opera, they do not offer any opera productions. However, about once a year we get a guest performance from Staatstheater Cottbus. Last year, it was Die Zauberflöte, and this year we got Carl Maria von Weber's Der Freischütz.
Der Freischütz is the prototypical romantic opera. Thematically, both nature and the supernatural play important roles and the music has a restless, passionate quality to it. The opera follows Max, a young huntsman. In order to win the hand of his beloved Agathe as well as her father's forestry, he has to succeed at an examination shot. However, since he has been having terrible luck while hunting, he relies on his supposed friend Kaspar. Kaspar offers him Freikugeln (lit. free bullets), bullets that magically always hit their mark. He doesn't tell Max that six out of seven Freikugeln will hit their mark, but the seventh is guided by the devil. You can probably see where this is going.
I was surprised by the libretto, particularly the conclusion. Unsurprisingly, Max ends up using the last Freikugel for his examination shot and the shot appears to hit his bride-to-be Agathe. However, a holy hermit appears and redirects the bullet to hit Kaspar instead. You could easily imagine a version where Max now succeeds at the examination shot because he believed in himself or something like that. But I think the opera presents a much more satisfying resolution: It asks you to reconsider how Max got into his dilemma in the first place. The examination shot is a terrible way to determine his aptitude as a hunter. Yes, there is a history to it, but the pressure made Max rely on supernatural help. Instead, the hermit suggest an examination year. You know, fixing the systemic problem instead of just letting Max off the hook. This is honestly better writing than you get in a lot of modern media.
Visually, I also quite enjoyed this opera. The staging moves the plot to a modern-day company, but one where basically everyone hunts as a hobby. That part was honestly close to nonsensical. However, over the course of the opera, the concrete walls and office interiors become overgrown, leaning into an almost post-apocalyptic aesthetic. This ended up a very aesthetically pleasing way to integrate the natural themes of the opera into a more modern world.
March: Akhnaten
I did not know what I was getting myself into, but man, it was worth it. I actually discovered Philip Glass through his opera adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe's The Fall of the House of Usher. Looking at what else he had composed, I came across Akhnaten. When I saw that Komische Oper Berlin was staging Akhnaten in their 2024/25 season, I got tickets with a friend. Since said friend tends to be very busy, we got the tickets about half a year in advance. When we finally got to the performance, there were people outside looking for anyone willing to sell tickets. The auditorium was full. Well, I guess that's what happens when Barrie Kosky stages an opera by Philip Glass.
Akhnaten is the last in Glass's trilogy of portrait operas. Where Einstein on the Beach deals with science and Satyagraha deals with politics, Akhnaten is about religion. During his regency, Pharaoh Akhenaten replaced the traditional polytheistic Egyptian religion with the monotheistic worship of Aten, the sun disc. Glass's opera tells the story of Akhenaten's rise to power and eventual fall (although particularly the fall is dramatized from what is actually historically attested). There is not a story in the conventional sense. Instead, we get scenes from Akhenaten's (approximately) 20 year reign, from the funeral of his father to his deposal. Apart from the spoken narration and the central Hymn to the Sun, the opera uses historical texts related to Akhenaten in their original language. Even more than in other operas, you're not supposed to listen to the words, but rather feel the music. If you know Glass's other works, you won't be surprised that Akhnaten uses minimal music that plays with simple patterns, repetition and variation. You're almost guaranteed to get some of it stuck in your head after a performance.
Probably the most striking thing about Akhnaten to me is how purposeful everything in it feels. There is no such thing as a "perfect" opera, but I feel like I understand why every scene has to be there. Taking any piece away would weaken the whole. Of course, staging such a piece is difficult. Kosky and Komische Oper Berlin did not go for a classic Egyptian look and feel. Instead, they opted for an abstract, minimal stage design. I was skeptical at first, but the minimal design works incredibly well with Glass's music. It gives the whole thing an alien, timeless feel. I would highly recommend Akhnaten in any case, but if Komische Oper Berlin ever repeats this staging and you have the opportunity, you should absolutely go see it.
April: Der Fliegende Holländer
When you're dealing with German language opera, there is no way around Richard Wagner. He is probably best known for his epic Der Ring des Nibelungen which combines a variety of Germanic tales with the Norse Edda for four evenings of opera, ranging from two and a half to over four hours in length. Wagner's interpretation of the myth of the Flying Dutchman is a much gentler introduction to his work.
The original legend tells of a captain who is cursed to sail forever because of some transgression. His only hope for salvation is finding a woman who truly loves him, and he is only allowed to go ashore every seven years. Wagner builds his story around this original legend: The central characters are the Dutchman and Senta, a young woman who is intimately familiar with the legend. Senta sees it as her fate to redeem the Dutchman, and her father Daland is happy to accept the Dutchman's promises of riches for the hand of his daughter. However, Senta's betrothed Erik is obviously unhappy with this arrangement. Ultimately, after a series of misunderstandings, the Dutchman believes Senta will not stay loyal and leaves. At the last moment, Senta sacrifices herself in order to redeem the Dutchman.
Like Der Freischütz, this is a romantic opera. Once again, the music is dramatic and stirring and the story has a strong emphasis on the (often conflicted) emotions of its characters. The staging at Deutsche Oper Berlin was fine, albeit not particularly exciting. Having water constantly dripping on the stage was a nice touch, but a more intricate set design could have elevated this performance.
May: Written on Skin
Three angels are talking about dismantling modern civilization - cancelling all flights and tearing up carparks. They reminisce about a time when books were objects of artifice, "written on skin". They send one of their own back into this time to "illuminate" (i.e. illustrate) such a book for a wealthy man. That is the framing device for George Benjamin's 2012 opera to a libretto by Martin Crimp.
The story told in this framing device is based on the medieval story Le Coeur mangé ("the eaten heart"). As long as the angel works on the book, he lives with the man and his wife. Said wife has always been oppressed by and dependent on her husband, but takes an interest in the angel and his work which quickly turns into an affair. When the husband notices this, he murders the angel and serves his heart to the unknowing woman. In a final act of defiance, the woman commits suicide by jumping from a window.
Written on Skin is strange. As a chamber opera, it only features a small cast of characters. These actually feel less like individual characters and more like archetypes: The man is only called "The Protector", his wife is usually referred to as "The Woman" and the angel takes on the role of "The Boy". It is a huge step when the woman demands to be called by her name, Agnès. The characters also narrate their own actions which creates further distance between the viewer and the story. The orchestra mostly keeps in the background, supporting the singers.
At about one and a half hours, this is a short opera and the fact that the libretto is in English helps make it more accessible. I highly recommend Written on Skin, especially as an introductory experience if you don't know if opera is for you.
June: Pikovaya Dama
When you think of opera, you're probably thinking of Italy and France, but lots of countries have their own opera tradition. German-language opera is probably best known for the works of Mozart and Wagner, although Mozart also composed a number of operas in Italian. Russia also has its own opera tradition which I got a taste of in Pyotr Tchaikovsky's Pikovaya Dama.
The plot of Pikovaya Dama blends bleak realism with the magical: The soldier Herman is in love with a young woman (Lisa) who is above his station and also happens to be engaged. Herman is also interested in gambling, although he never actually places bets. When he begins an affair with Lisa, he learns that her grandmother supposedly knows a secret sequence of cards to bet on which always wins. He threatens the old woman until she tells him, but she dies of shock. Lisa realizes that Herman was always more interested in gambling than in her and after one last attempt to win him back commits suicide. Herman has already gone to a club where he wants to test the secret of the three cards. With his first two bets, he wins big. However, for his third bet he accidentally bets on the queen of spades (aka the pique dame) instead of the ace and loses everything. Seeing the old woman's ghost, he shoots himself.
Yeah, this is not exactly a fun piece. All the main characters have to deal with strong passions and unfulfilled desires. Ultimately, Herman can only hope for salvation in death. The opera's strong emotional throughline is emphasized by the grand nature of the music. The bleak feelings are juxtaposed with opulent scenery. It certainly made me interested in seeing more Russian operas.
July: Cassandra
In Greek mythology, Cassandra is a priestess who is cursed with the ability to see the future. Why is it a curse? Because nobody will believe her predictions. Bernard Foccroulle's opera Cassandra juxtaposes the mythological figure with a modern climatologist. The entire opera is divided into the mythical and modern world. We see Cassandra struggling in the aftermath of the Trojan war and climate scientist Sandra Seymour struggling to get people to listen to her research.
Ultimately, the inability or unwillingness to listen is the main theme of this opera. In Cassandra's time, Apollo mocks her for her inability to prevent the destruction of Troy. In the modern world, Sandra and her boyfriend disagree on the best way to create awareness for the climate crisis. Sandra's parents are mining executives who wilfully ignore or play down her research. Only in the finale, after Sandra has experienced a tragic loss, she meets Cassandra who reminds Sandra that she is not cursed and can make herself heard. The opera does not end with a neat resolution (after all, climate change is an ongoing issue), but with the question "What now?"
Musically, the distinction between the two worlds is clear. Cassandra is accompanied by more conventional orchestration and often by an invisible chorus. Her dialogue sounds close to, and even quotes Greek drama. On the other hand, Sandra's music and dialogue feel more modern, you might even say naturalistic. The set design works with relatively few props, but uses projected images, even live ones from a TV camera to create striking visuals.
Cassandra does not want to be a timeless opera, it wants to highlight issues that exist right now. Any piece of art is influenced by the time of its creation, but Cassandra especially presents a reflection of our current times. If you are interested in more modern, provocative opera, I highly recommend it.
August: Die Fledermaus
Most theatres and opera houses go on summer break during August, but not Kammeroper Schloss Rheinsberg. They usually only have a small number of performances every year, but they mostly play open air during the summer. Last year, I went with some friends to see Gluck's Iphigenie en Aulide, this year we went to see Johann Strauss's operetta Die Fledermaus.
Unlike most of the other operas I saw this year, this one is just plain fun. It's a cast of more or less awful people trying to get each other and creating a huge mess of love affairs and false identities at a party. The intricate, playful music built around easy to hum melodies just helps to make the whole performance more memorable.
The courtyard of Rheinsberg castle makes for an incredible backdrop for an opera and I should also mention that Kammeroper Schloss Rheinsberg especially supports younger talents. You'll probably want to there by car or plan to stay the night, though. If there are problems with public transport, you might end up stranded at the edge of Berlin. Ask me how I know.
September: Tannhäuser und der Sängerkrieg auf der Wartburg
I already wrote about Richard Wagner, so I'll keep it short. Tannhäuser was first played just two years after The Flying Dutchman. This time, Wagner adapted two German legends. Two? Well, originally Tannhäuser and the "minstels' war at Wartburg" were separate stories. The Tannhäuser legend deals with a knight who lives inside the sinful Venus mountain for many years. After some years, he leaves the mountain and travels to Rome to request absolution from the pope. The pope denies this absolution unless a miracle happens. Tannhäuser leaves and returns to Venus mountain. When the miracle does occur, it is too late and Tannhäuser cannot be found anymore. The minstrels' war is the legend of a singing competition between various real and fictional minstrels in the 13th century.
Wagner combines these legends by making Tannhäuser a participant in the minstrels' war: After leaving Venus mountain, he returns to Wartburg where the minstrels are vying for the hand of the noble Elisabeth. He causes a controversy when his songs are about sensual love as opposed to the chivalric love of his opponents. He is thrown out and leaves for Rome where he is denied absolution by the pope. The ending, however, is completely changed by Wagner. When Tannhäuser returns, he finds that Elisbeth has died to atone for his sins. He breaks down at her funeral procession and, saved by her sacrifice, both ascend to heaven.
This opera is remarkably similar to Der Fliegende Holländer in a number of ways. While the music borrows from sacral music, it is still a romantic opera. The cursed main character who is saved by a woman's sacrifice is also quite similar. Something unique to Tannhäuser is the juxtaposition of Venus and Elisabeth. They represent the two opposite roles of women in society and today it is common for both roles to be played by the same actress. Tannhäuser also cannot commit to the chivalric or sensual world. Ultimately, the opera posits that it is not possible to unite both worlds in this life.
October: Carmen
I have a difficult history with Carmen. Back in high school, we watched a performance as part of my music clss (it was my first opera) and for a long time, it had me convinced that opera is not for me. I liked the music, but I found the staging boring and didn't see what made the story so great.
To appreciate Carmen, you have to understand its historical context. Operas were either parodies of proletarian life or stories of gods and heroes. Carmen doesn't romanticise the world of crime that its protagonists live in. Its protagonist, Don José, does that for a while, but when Carmen gets bored of him, the illusion breaks. He cannot live in Carmen's wild and exciting world, but by this time he has burned the bridges to his orderly, civilian life. This breaks him to the point where he kills Carmen.
First of all, the staging I saw this year was much more interesting: Striking imagery and costumes that play on Spanish stereotypes make clear that Don José and Carmen are not just individual people, but representations of different parts of society. Carmen is still not my favourite opera, but I feel that I can now appreciate it much more.
November: Falstaff
Giuseppe Verdi is best known for big, dramatic operas. Think Don Carlo or Aida. Falstaff on the other hand is a comedy about a fat conman who somehow always manages to get out of trouble. Verdi's final opera is an interesting one, indeed.
To quickly summarize the plot: Sir John Falstaff is always close to bankruptcy. He believes that he has charmed two married women and can scam them out of their money. However, the women both realize this and try to trick Falstaff. Unbeknownst to all of them, the husbands separately try to trick Falstaff, leading to a range of comical misunderstandings. Ultimately, they do get Falstaff to repent, but also agree with his assessment that without him, life would be awfully dull.
Falstaff really is a comic masterpiece. The libretto makes fun of opera conventions and the music really helps to sell many of the jokes. Staatsoper unter den Linden reimagines the story to take place in what looks like Berlin Kreuzberg. I'm often skeptical of such modern reimaginings, but in this case it helps to show the timelessness of the humour.
December: Salome
For my final opera this year, I watched Richard Strauss's Salome. Salome is based on a play by Oscar Wilde which is itself based on the biblical story of John the Baptist. The biblical story is quite short: Salome, adoptive daughter of king Herod, performs a dance for the king. When he offers her any reward of her choosing, she asks for the head of John the Baptist.
Wilde's play tells this story as a much more scandalous, sensual affair. Salome falls in love with John (here called by his Hebrew name Jokhanaan), but he rebukes her. King Herod is afraid of Jokhanaan who dares to oppose him. While he is not Jewish, he sees him as a holy man. When Salome asks for Jokhanaan's head, he initially refuses and offers her riches. In fact, after she has her wish and proclaims that, finally, she has kissed Jokhanaan, the opera closes with Herod ordering Salome killed.
Of course, that's all from the play. Salome is a literary opera, taking its libretto straight from the play. However, Strauss's music helps amplify the strong emotions, the undercurrent of perversion running through the story. Salome lusts after Jokhanaan, Herod lusts after his adoptive daughter. They are all terrible people and the music rising up to a feverish, almost dissonant climax helps make this clear.
I greatly enjoyed the set and costume design at Komische Oper Berlin. Salome wears a kind of faceless white mask covering her entire head. In a way, this implies that she wants Jokhanaan's head because she lacks her own. There is also Salome's dance, arguably the highlight of the opera: In this staging, more and more Salomes appear and it is not clear which one is the "original". I also greatly respect that they have a whole wall of severed heads that appears for just one scene. I love that level of commitment. This was a very memorable way to round out my year of opera.
In Summary
I had seen a number of opera performances since late 2023, but this year let me broaden my horizons, both in terms of opera composers and stagings. The goal to see one opera a month made me see pieces that I might not have otherwise considered. I visited five different opera houses or venues: Staatsoper unter den Linden, Hans Otto Theater, Komische Oper Berlin, Deutsche Oper Berlin, and Kammeroper Schloss Rheinsberg. I saw almost half of my performances at Deutsche Oper Berlin. I don't love the building (it's a concrete monstrosity from the 1960s), but their selection of operas clearly fits my tastes well. Staatsoper is a safe bet for me, but their tickets tend to be sold out quickly. I was particularly suprised by the two performances I saw at Komische Oper. Of course, two is not a great sample size, but it seems like I might want to visit them more often.
Will I continue this goal of one opera per month in 2026? Probably not. It was very educational, but also stressful at times. I already have my eye on some performances, but I may be more selective in what I watch. As a closing remark, I want to mention ClassicCard. If you live in the Berlin area and are under 30 years old, you can get tickets at a great discount plus a flat yearly fee. I got most of my tickets through them and can highly recommend it.