Music review: With a talented cast of singers and actors, Die Fledermaus offers evening of unserious fun
Adaptation of Strauss’s beloved operetta opens Vancouver Opera’s 65th season with cheeky dialogue and musical delight
Vancouver Opera’s 2024 production of Die Fledermaus. Photo by Emily Cooper Photography
Vancouver Opera presents Die Fledermaus at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre to November 3
AT OPENING NIGHT of Vancouver Opera’s 65th season, attendees could spot David S. Pumpkins, glamorous drag queens, and little kitty cats—and that was just in the lobby before the show. Local opera fans had apparently received the memo: anything goes; the more fun, the better.
Timing Johann Strauss II’s farcical Die Fledermaus to Halloween season was an inspired choice; much of the beloved operetta’s action takes place at a masquerade ball, hosted by a Russian Prince, Orlofsky. In this updated production, set in the Swinging ’60s, that ball becomes a Hollywood-themed party, so we see performers disguised as Marilyn Monroe, James Bond, Spock, and other classic screen characters. What’s more, a Batman getup replaces the generic fledermaus (German for bat) costume referenced by the title. (Spotting all the pop-culture references in the wardrobe, courtesy of the Opéra de Québec, becomes a game in itself.)
It’s not only the setting that’s been modernized; the spoken dialogue has been adapted into English and given a sparkling update by playwright and actor Mark Crawford. Practically, this requires performers to not only possess the vocal chops to perform the entrancing polkas, waltzes, and spirited group numbers in German, but the acting ability to bring the sizzling script to life. It’s a big ask—one answered with an emphatic “just watch us”, thanks to the assured direction of Ashlie Corcoran.
John Chest displays a rich, powerful baritone voice and easy charm as Gabriel von Eisenstein, the wealthy Viennese aristocrat enjoying one last night of revelry before having to report for a week-long stay in prison for assaulting a police officer. As his wife Rosalinde, soprano Lara Ciekiewicz has an engaging conspiratorial presence, coupled with a warm and soaring voice. And tenor Owen McCausland, as her old flame and would-be paramour Alfred (who now insists on being called “Alfie”), ably handles his vocal part, and enthusiastically delivers charged lines like, “Sexual liberation, baby!” with abandon. In the trouser role of Orlofsky, mezzo-soprano Mireille Lebel exudes a languid, detached glamour.
If there’s a standout amidst this plethora of talent, it’s soprano Claire de Sévigné as Adele, Rosalinde and Eisenstein’s unenthusiastic maid (and desperately aspiring actress), who shows off a dazzling coloratura and a magnetic stage presence. At the ball, she rocks a pink gown and glimmering diamonds à la Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, nailing the iconic laughing aria in Act II with choreography plucked from the Marilyn Monroe film.
But the greatest triumph here is Crawford’s, whose crackling dialogue is filled with naughty innuendos and winking self-referential jabs—this has to be the only VO production to feature a wiener joke, a classic tenor slight (“There’s a tenor at the door.” “How do you know it’s a tenor?” “He can’t find the key”), and one-liners at the whole genre’s expense: “Put a sock in it, this ain’t the opera! This is a respectable joint!” yells Beatrice Zeilinger as the prison guard, Frosch, in an extended monologue in Act III. Later, she warns Adele about the hazards of the acting world: “One minute you’re on a TV show, and the next you’re playing a guard in an operetta.” (Zeilinger’s extensive filmography includes appearances in Da Vinci’s Inquest and The X-Files; and no previous opera.)
Through it all, music director Jacques Lacombe ensures the music is bubbling along, with the musicians keeping the dotted rhythms crisp and sharp—not always an easy feat. During the bouncy overture to Act III, he poked his head above the pit toward the audience and encouraged the crowd to clap along.
With its endless songs extolling the joys of drinking—there are not one, but two rousing chorus numbers proclaiming “Champagne is King!” and debates over the merits of gin versus vodka—Strauss’s most beloved operetta isn’t particularly deep, or profound, or moving. But it is damn good fun, kicking the season off not with a bang, but the pop of a Champagne cork. 
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