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The Portrait of Claire Zachanassian: Munich’s Gärtnerplatztheater Uncovers the Hidden Oscar Wilde beneath Dürrenmatt’s Darkest Parable München
Staatstheater am Gärtnerplatz
07/03/2026 - & July 5, 8, 23, December 6, 11, 15, 19, 2026
Gottfried von Einem: Der Besuch der alten Dame, Opus 35
Sophie Rennert (Claire Zachanassian), Manuela Lindholm (Claire’s marionette), Ludwig Mittelhammer (Alfred Ill), Frances Lucey (Mathilde), Anna‑Katharina Tonauer (Ottilie), Gyula Rab (Karl), Norbert Ernst (Butler), Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke (Der Bürgermeister), Timos Sirlantzis (Preacher), Matija Meic (Teacher), Jeremy Boulton (Dr. Nüsslin), Levente Páll (Hahncke), Tobias Giesecke (Moby), Caspar Krieger (Koby), Juan Carlos Falcón (Loby), Dieter Fernengel*/Niv Beili (Toby), Christoph Mack*/Niv Beili (Roby), Yoojin Lee, Tamara Obermayr (Women), Paul Schweinester (Hofbauer), Juho Stén (Helmesberger), Holger Ohlmann (Chief guard, Cameraman), Thomas McGowan (Stationmaster), Angelo Konzett (Panther’s marionette), Algın Ozcan (Guard), Thomas Hohenberger (A voice), Christian Roggenkamp (Gymnast)
Chor des Staatstheaters am Gärtnerplatz, Pietro Numico (chorus master), Orchester des Staatstheaters am Gärtnerplatz, Michael Balke (conductor)
Nikolaus Habjan (stage director), Heike Vollmer (sets), Bernhard Stegbauer (costumes), Paul Grilj (lights), Alex Frei (choreography), Karin Bohnert (dramaturgy), Soffi Povo (puppetry)
(© Markus Tordik)
While it was once fashionable to dismiss Austrian composer Gottfried von Einem (1918‑1996) as a conservative whose refusal to embrace the serial orthodoxy of post‑war Europe condemned him to historical marginality, hearing Der Besuch der alten Dame (1971) today, one suspects the opposite. And while his more radical contemporaries now seem historically important but theatrically inert, von Einem’s work is more relevant than ever, because dramatic truth (rather than theoretical innovation) were always his principal concern. His language may be harmonically expanded, but it never abandons lyricism, and this accessibility is not a concession, but rather a dramatic strategy. Indeed, for many in the audience, the opera’s approachable score, with its remarkably lyrical orchestral fabric, was a revelation.
One of the greatest strengths of von Einem’s opera is that its libretto was written by none other than the original play’s author Friedrich Dürrenmatt (1921‑1990). Few composers have had this luxury; the intriguing dramatic pulse of the action is palpable throughout the opera. Given that many are familiar with the story and its ending thanks to the film The Visit (1964), starring Ingrid Bergman and Anthony Quinn, both the librettist and this production’s stage director paced the action masterfully, always leaving one guessing the next move.
The story goes like this. In the impoverished town of Güllen, the citizens eagerly welcome billionaire Claire Zachanassian, hoping she will rescue their failing economy, but she instead offers them a vast sum on the condition that her former lover, Alfred Ill, be executed in revenge for betraying her decades earlier by denying the paternity of their child and bribing witnesses to ruin her reputation. Though the townspeople initially reject her shocking demand, they gradually succumb to the lure of wealth, buying expensive goods on credit and convincing themselves that Ill’s death is justified. As Ill realizes his neighbors, friends, and even his own family have silently accepted his fate, he abandons hope of escape and confronts Claire one final time. At a public ceremony, the town accepts Claire’s donation while concealing its true cost from the outside world, and after the press departs, the citizens kill Ill, allowing Claire to place his body in the coffin she brought with her before leaving, as Güllen receives the promised fortune.
The choice of Nikolaus Habjan (b.1987) to direct the opera was indeed prudent, as the Austrian puppeteer could discern one aspect of the opera’s protagonist that few others have. Habjan’s stroke of genius for this highly creative staging is that the marionette never entirely replaces Claire Zachanassian. Had it merely represented her physical decrepitude, it would have been an ingenious theatrical device, but little more. Instead, it functioned as something infinitely more profound. One is reminded of Oscar Wilde’s >I>The Picture of Dorian Gray.
Wilde externalized moral corruption by transferring it onto a painted portrait, while Dorian himself retained his youthful beauty. Interestingly, Habjan reverses the process. The hideous puppet becomes the repository of Claire’s accumulated hatred, humiliation and desire for revenge, while Sophie Rennert’s flesh‑and‑blood Claire preserves something of the vulnerable Clara Wäscher who loved Alfred Ill forty‑five years earlier. The audience therefore does not see one Claire but two, who occasionally overlap and then separate. When they move together, vengeance and memory appear inseparable; when Rennert steps away from her silent alter ego, love briefly emancipates itself from hatred.
Initially, Claire alone appears almost inhuman. But by the conclusion, she is paradoxically the most human figure on stage. The citizens, on the other hand, gradually surrender their individuality until they resemble carved wooden caricatures of themselves. Their physical metamorphosis mirrors their ethical collapse. Even their facial features acquire marionette‑like features. At the beginning the audience fears Claire. At the end, they feared Güllen. That is Habjan’s superb dramatic arc.
One device that Habjan uses is colour; the citizens of Güllen are dressed drably before Claire’s arrival. After her horrific offer, their clothes gradually become red, reflecting Claire’s fury and desire for revenge. In the final scene, all save for Alfred Ill himself are dressed in red. They want Claire’s fortune and with it Alfred’s life.
Von Einem’s opera is a modern one, where the performers are more singing actors than bel canto voices. Only the two leading roles require truly operatic voices. German baritone Ludwig Mittelhammer possesses an attractive high baritone that perfectly fits the role: he’s charming and virile, yet vulnerable. The complex role of Claire Zachanassian requires a rich voice that can express the double nature of the character. Austrian mezzo Sophie Rennert had the right voice for this demanding voice; she can sound harsh and cruel as well as portray the young amorous Claire. For the latter, she displayed an agile light mezzo that perfectly captured the young girl’s vulnerability. In much of the opera, the flesh and bones Claire (the singer) is seen next to Claire the marionette, and the two appear to sing in unison, an interesting idea. In moments of passionate abandon, the singer is physically distant from the doll, producing a powerful dramatic effect.
German conductor Michael Balke masterfully helmed the Orchester des Staatstheater am Gärtnerplatz through this unique score. He deftly revealed the work’s lyricism as well as its great violence.
Interestingly, Alfred Ill, his wife and Claire are roughly the same age. But Alfred, his wife and Claire the singer are portrayed as middle‑aged and are represented by relatively handsome performers, while Claire the marionette is old and hideous, as was Wilde’s infamous portrait.
While the portrait ultimately destroys Dorian Gray, as it contains his soul, the trajectory of Habjan’s Claire is precisely the opposite. Once Alfred Ill lies dead, vengeance has accomplished its purpose and the monstrous marionette has become strangely irrelevant. It is Sophie Rennert, lying beside Ill’s corpse and singing with heartbreaking tenderness, who remains in the audience’s memory. The billionaire has won, but only Klara Wäscher survives. By separating the woman from the monster she created, Habjan transforms Dürrenmatt’s savage satire into a tragedy worthy of the ancient Greeks. One leaves the theatre convinced that not only has Claire’s revenge destroyed Güllen, but also the last remnants of an innocent girl who once believed in love.
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