Die Fledermaus
INO's Der Fledermaus. Image by Ros Kavanagh
***
Mention Johann Strauss II and many imagine a nineteenth century Andre Rieu. The undisputed king of waltz and polka, Strauss’s frolicking dance tunes are as effervescent as sparkling champagne. As is his most popular operetta Die Fledermaus. Whose instantly recognisable overture opens onto a fizzy tale of frivolous lust, revenge served cold, masked duplicity and sprightly infidelities, all sprinkled with a smidgen of social commentary. Its tale of revenge for a practical joke setting up a serious of wild scenarios in which mistaken identities, an impending prison sentence and a bawdy party get the alcohol flowing. Yet what scandalised in 1874 looks dated in 2025. Irish National Opera resorting to naughty postcard humour and slapstick shenanigans, relocating from 1870’s Vienna to a 1920’s cabaret to try make it fizz. But the result is Cava rather than champagne. It’s bubbles not always popping. Doing enough to get you tipsy, but not enough to intoxicate.
Alex McKissick, Jade Phoenix and Sarah Shine in INO's Der Fledermaus. Image by Ros Kavanagh
Even allowing for the economy required of a touring production, the 1920's device looses much by way of glamour and glitz, with Paul O’Mahony’s claustrophobic design resembling a Hollywood movie apartment for a Noel Coward play. Low budget opulence with Art deco touches include bat emblems Bruce Wayne would be envious of. As for Bohemian cabaret, what’s presented is more cut price speakeasy than a debauched Kit Kat Club. Catherine Fay’s cliched costumes reinforcing the Cava level rebranding, with chorus girls looking like pound shop Follies. Facilitating a reduced orchestra onstage, suggestive of a cabaret house band, O’Mahony’s pyrrhic victory proves costly. The restricted playing area impacting on dancing and acting even as it places music on an equal footing.
INO's Der Fledermaus. Image by Ros Kavanagh
Conductor Richard Peirson’s playful arrangement might have distinct charms, with Peirson delighting when directly involved with the onstage action, but it comes at a cost as music sounds flimsy at times and, on occasion, tinny on account of less musicians. Choreography by Stephanie Dufresne, often clunky and clumsy, mirrors Davey Kelleher’s overactive direction. Relying on comic overacting, what emerges is less human nature so much as human caricature. Kelleher, like Dufresne and O’Mahony, suggesting influences in search of an identity. Under Kelleher’s heavy handed direction Die Fledermaus resembles less a lively operetta so much as a vaudevillian parody of an operetta. If madcap comedies and the silent movie era inform much of the look of Die Fledermaus, the result is a Mel Brooks Silent Movie styled send up. One approximating its inspiration more by accident than design. Granted, Strauss consciously subverted opera’s conventions in 1874, with many references evident throughout. But Kelleher over eggs the send up till it becomes comedic Grand Guignol. Soprano Jade Phoenix’s Rosalinde, with her Jean Harlow hairstyle, might aspire to evoke 1920’s chic, but her flustered fluttering suggests a Margaret Dumont clone hamming it up in a Marx Brothers sketch. Tenor Alex McKissick’s Eisenstein might convey a Hollywood movie idol, but a Clark Kent moment which sees McKissick uncannily resembling Harold Lloyd highlights the gulf between Lloyd's inventive physical comedy and the second rate antics on display. Antics that would look more at home in a children’s TV programme.
Jade Phoenix, Alex McKissick, Aaron O'Hare in INO's Der Fledermaus. Image by Ros Kavanagh
Where Die Fledermaus succeeds is in Daniel Dooner and Stephen Lawless’s English translation of Karl Haffner and Richard Genée’s German libretto. Singing, which struggles for balance with spoken dialogue at times, achieves a Goldilocks quality; sometimes too high, occasionally too low, mostly just right. And, lest we forget, occasionally stunning. The conducted chorus, the ‘So Sad’ trio, along with several solos remind you of what could have been, with mezzo-soprano Sharon Carty delighting in a trouser role. Yet it is soprano Sarah Shine’s vivacious and flirtatious maid, Adele, that holds everything to account. Shine’s solos, superbly sung, are married to top class acting and impeccable comic timing. Ably supported by Megan O’Neill as Adele’s sidekick sister, Ida, Shine shows serious comedic skill by playing the scene rather than playing for laughs. A comedic straight woman exposing others trying too hard to be funny. Reminding you that less is often so much more.
Megan O'Neill, Sean Boylan and Sarah Shine in INO's Der Fledermaus. Image by Ros Kavanagh
Musical theatre has its roots in operetta. Both trade in light, comic romances designed to delight and distract. Both rely on singing married to speech, acting and dancing. Subversions many opera purists turned their nose up at when Die Fledermaus first premiered in 1874. If Kelleher fails to grasp the operetta ball on occasion, uncharacteristically, he still manages to drop it. A send up of a send up, Die Fledermaus is filled with fun and frolics. You’re sure to giggle, but not always to laugh. To tap your feet, yet rarely to feel the urge to dance. Even so, when it finds its sweet spot, Die Fledermaus delivers some utterly glorious moments.
Die Fledermaus, by Johann Strauss II, libretto by Karl Haffner and Richard Genée, English translation by Daniel Dooner and Stephen Lawless, presented by Irish National Opera, is currently touring nationwide till February 23.
For more information visit Irish National Opera.
