Take one practical joke, add a wife, an amorous tenor, an ambitious maid, an ambiguous Russian prince, a mysterious “Hungarian countess,” one drunken jailor and mix them all together. The result? A madcap comedy of lighthearted deceit and sweet revenge!

In a mischievous cocktail of mistaken identities and playful pranks, Strauss’ irresistible operetta features a cast of incomparable characters and musical favourites galore and is considered his “masterpiece.”

Die Fledermaus (The Bat)

Music by Johann Strauss, Jr.
Libretto in German by Carol Haffner and Richard Genée
Based on the French comedy, Le Réveillon, by Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy
Premiere Performance: Theater an der Wien, Vienna, April 5, 1874
Place: Vienna
Time: Late 19th Century

ACT I
Through the windows of the Eisenstein home floats the serenade of Alfred, a tenor still in love with his old flame Rosalinde, now the wife of Gabriel von Eisenstein. Adele, a chambermaid, saunters in reading an invitation to a masked ball. Rosalinde enters and Adele immediately asks for the evening off to visit a "sick aunt," a plea her mistress dismisses. Alfred steps into the room and begins to woo Rosalinde, who resists his verbal blandishments but melts on hearing his high A. The suitor leaves as Eisenstein and his lawyer, Blind, arrive from a session in court. Eisenstein has been sentenced to eight days in jail as a result of a legal mistake by his stuttering lawyer. No sooner does he dismiss the incompetent advocate than his friend Falke comes to invite Eisenstein to a masquerade, suggesting he bring along his pocket watch, which charms all the ladies, so he can accumulate pleasant memories to sustain him during his confinement in jail. Rosalinde joins Adele in a bittersweet farewell to Eisenstein before he goes off to prison, dressed, to his wife's surprise, in a tuxedo. Sending Adele to her "aunt," Rosalinde receives the ardent Alfred. Their tête-à-tête is interrupted by the prison warden Frank, who mistakes Alfred for the man he has come to arrest. Rosalinde persuades Alfred to save her name by posing as her husband, and Frank carts him off to jail.

ACT II
In the palace of Prince Orlofsky, the guests enjoy dancing and Champagne. Orlofsky enters, quite bored. Falke promises to entertain him with a comedy of errors involving the guests he has invited to the party. Adele arrives, to the surprise of her sister, Sally. The prince proclaims his guests free to do anything that suits their fancy — "Chacun à son gout." Adele, dressed in one of Rosalinde's most elegant gowns, laughs off Eisenstein's suggestion that she resembles his wife's chambermaid. Frank enters, and Rosalinde, also invited by Falke, arrives disguised as a temperamental Hungarian countess. She is soon wooed by her own reeling husband, whose pocket watch she steals to hold as proof of his philandering. Rosalinde agrees to sing a song about her "native" land, a spirited czardas, after which the guests toast the joys of wine, good fellowship and love. Champagne flows, and the guests dance wildly until dawn. When the clock strikes six, Eisenstein staggers off to keep his appointment at the jail.

ACT III
Moments later at the prison, Frosch, a drunken jailer, is irritated by Alfred’s incessant singing.  Frank arrives, still giddy with champagne, followed shortly by Sally and Adele, who, thinking him a wealthy chevalier, believes he might further her stage aspirations. Frank, hearing someone at the door, hides the girls in a cell and then admits Eisenstein, who has come to begin his sentence. The new prisoner is surprised to learn his cell is already occupied by a man who claims to be Eisenstein and who was found dining with Rosalinde. In order to obtain an explanation from the impostor, Eisenstein snatches a legal robe and wig from his astonished lawyer. No sooner is he disguised than Rosalinde hurries in to secure Alfred's release and press divorce charges against her errant husband. She and Alfred confide their innocent flirtation to the "lawyer." Enraged, Eisenstein removes his disguise and accuses his wife of promiscuity, at which Rosalinde whips forth the watch she took from him at the ball. Falke, Orlofsky and the party guests arrive. Eisenstein and Rosalinde blame their late-night hijinx on Champagne. All toast the “King of Effervescence.”  

Director's Notes

Perspectives by Rory Runnells

About the composer...

Mark Thomsen: “displayed a fresh tenor and sensitivity to mood in Un’aura amorosa”
— The New York Times

Robin Follman: “a strong, secure and silvery soprano”
— Los Angeles Times

Nikki Einfeld: “… Her performance has major career stamped all over it…”
— San Francisco Classical Voice

Gregory Dahl: “Dahl’s resonant baritone was a perfect fit for the role.”
— Winnipeg Free Press

Norine Burgess: “Norine Burgess is worth the price of admission alone.”
— Globe & Mail

MUSICAL HIGHLIGHTS:

From one of opera’s most popular overtures to the waltzes and grand ensembles, Die Fledermaus (The Bat) overflows with the infectious melodies of the Waltz King.

• The Champagne Waltz is the work’s most famous piece.

ACT I
• The farewell trio of Rosalinde, Eisenstein, and Adele when they all anticipate the evening ahead.

ACT II
• Adele’s ‘Laughing Song’ aria, Mein Herr Marquis and Rosalinde’s aria, Csardas.

• The overture and the waltz alone have become deservedly entrenched in the classical music repertoire.

Director's Notes

The title of this opera, Die Fledermaus or The Bat, refers to a practical joke played on one of the characters long before the opera begins, in which a drunken party-goer is left to walk home through the city the morning after a costume party, still dressed in a full-length bat costume.  This college-style prank has made Dr Falke (since nicknamed by all as Dr. Fledermaus) plan an elaborate revenge in which his buddy will, in various ways, be humiliated throughout an evening of celebrating. A rather obscure and complicated back-story for the title of an opera? Perhaps, but in many ways, The Bat is appropriate, as bats become very active only at night and in this opera, Falke’s revenge takes place during one night - one busy, silly, fun-filled night. 

For this is Vienna, the home of the Viennese Waltz. Originally considered scandalous (because the partners directly faced and held each other in their arms), the waltz developed into the hottest dance craze of the century. And Vienna in particular embraced it. On any given night, approximately one-third of the city’s population could be found in enormous ballrooms, waltzing to the music of Johann Strauss (Senior and Junior). All classes met and mingled together, and if, while spinning around and around, one didn’t know if one’s current dance partner was a chambermaid or a countess, a manservant or a marquis that made it all the more thrilling. 

Rosalinde and Eisenstein (the man who will be the butt of Falke’s practical joke) are two of the ‘beautiful people’ of this world - married for just four years, missing their single lives and tempted to take another sip of the good old days. In true farce style, each plans just one more fling and joins the other characters in donning a disguise, grabbing a glass of bubbly, and throwing caution to the wind for one final night of excess.

For it was a champagne-soaked, decadent time, one which, like the dot-com boom of the last century, everyone believed would last forever. Or did they? One has to wonder if Strauss and his librettists knew that Vienna’s bubble would soon burst, for scattered throughout the opera are gentle warnings that change may be just around the corner, such as the gorgeous Act Two ensemble:  “Sing to love, everlasting happiness...for tonight may be just a memory tomorrow.”   Or, Alfred’s chiding of Rosalinde:  “Happiness accepts what must be, without regret,” and his final aside: “Who wouldn’t choose happiness over truth?”  In a farce, the characters seldom hear such warnings, but hopefully the audience does, as amidst the mayhem and the bubbles we are gently reminded of the dangers of denial at all costs and warned of the inevitable hangover to follow.

Indeed, just a few months before Fledermaus opened Vienna’s fortunes did fall in a devastating stock market crash.  The nights of swirling around a ballroom came to a sudden halt, and its citizens were forced to “accept without regret.”  However, fortunately for us, the show did go on, and Die Fledermaus became one of the most beloved operas in the world. Strauss’ effervescent music and his librettists’ crazy story of disguises, deceptions and denials withstood the crash.  And their champagne-addicted characters, who seem constantly a breath away from bursting into dance, continue to emerge on nights like this, like The Bat of the title, to delight us with their flights of fancy.  The title of this opera, Die Fledermaus or The Bat, refers to a practical joke played on one of the characters long before the opera begins, in which a drunken party-goer is left to walk home through the city the morning after a costume party, still dressed in a full-length bat costume.  This college-style prank has made Dr Falke (since nicknamed by all as Dr. Fledermaus) plan an elaborate revenge in which his buddy will, in various ways, be humiliated throughout an evening of celebrating. A rather obscure and complicated back-story for the title of an opera? Perhaps, but in many ways, The Bat is appropriate, as bats become very active only at night and in this opera, Falke’s revenge takes place during one night - one busy, silly, fun-filled night. 

For this is Vienna, the home of the Viennese Waltz. Originally considered scandalous (because the partners directly faced and held each other in their arms), the waltz developed into the hottest dance craze of the century. And Vienna in particular embraced it. On any given night, approximately one-third of the city’s population could be found in enormous ballrooms, waltzing to the music of Johann Strauss (Senior and Junior). All classes met and mingled together, and if, while spinning around and around, one didn’t know if one’s current dance partner was a chambermaid or a countess, a manservant or a marquis that made it all the more thrilling. 

Rosalinde and Eisenstein (the man who will be the butt of Falke’s practical joke) are two of the ‘beautiful people’ of this world - married for just four years, missing their single lives and tempted to take another sip of the good old days. In true farce style, each plans just one more fling and joins the other characters in donning a disguise, grabbing a glass of bubbly, and throwing caution to the wind for one final night of excess.

For it was a champagne-soaked, decadent time, one which, like the dot-com boom of the last century, everyone believed would last forever. Or did they? One has to wonder if Strauss and his librettists knew that Vienna’s bubble would soon burst, for scattered throughout the opera are gentle warnings that change may be just around the corner, such as the gorgeous Act Two ensemble:  “Sing to love, everlasting happiness...for tonight may be just a memory tomorrow.”   Or, Alfred’s chiding of Rosalinde:  “Happiness accepts what must be, without regret,” and his final aside: “Who wouldn’t choose happiness over truth?”  In a farce, the characters seldom hear such warnings, but hopefully the audience does, as amidst the mayhem and the bubbles we are gently reminded of the dangers of denial at all costs and warned of the inevitable hangover to follow.

Indeed, just a few months before Fledermaus opened Vienna’s fortunes did fall in a devastating stock market crash.  The nights of swirling around a ballroom came to a sudden halt, and its citizens were forced to “accept without regret.”  However, fortunately for us, the show did go on, and Die Fledermaus became one of the most beloved operas in the world. Strauss’ effervescent music and his librettists’ crazy story of disguises, deceptions and denials withstood the crash.  And their champagne-addicted characters, who seem constantly a breath away from bursting into dance, continue to emerge on nights like this, like The Bat of the title, to delight us with their flights of fancy. 

Perspectives

Dr. Freud Is Waiting
By Rory Runnells

Die Fledermaus is about everything its first audience - the Viennese middle class - knew, but denied was important: sex and money, so comes as a surprise to learn that its premiere was a failure. Maybe the recent financial collapse had something to do with that. Fledermaus is about life as a party at which one overindulges, and the reality of overindulgence seemed too close to the audience. In any case, it wasn’t until about 25 years after its first performance that Die Fledermaus came to be a hit in Vienna, and then the world. 

Johann Strauss, the “Waltz King,” its often depressed composer (he could compose only when it was pouring rain) was culture’s first true pop star. He thought all his work frivolous and longed for recognition as a “serious” composer. He should have realized that Fledermaus, like all great comedies, was serious in conveying its message of life as a party in the swirling world of ambitious servants, incompetent lawyers, vengeful doctors, drunken jailers, vain opera singers, and a couple: Rosalinde and Eisenstein, desperately in love, but bored in marriage and edging towards a breakup.  

In Die Fledermaus champagne is the engine which drives the never-ending party. How to live without it? Domesticity certainly isn’t enough; career won’t do; and the society outside the plush interiors of middle class ballrooms doesn’t seem to exist, either in the glitter of the evening, or the early light when the partygoers, finally, do go home. It’s a cliche to say that Strauss’s music is intoxicating, but, don’t forget, it was the rock music of its day, and what else is rock and roll but sex, money, and partying?

Yes, lessons are learned, oaths to behave are made, but the champagne will keep flowing. Will the Viennese behave? The one outsider in Fledermaus, paradoxically, is the person throwing the party - the young Russian, Prince Orlofsky. He recognizes this important principal: not to judge those who do something to their own taste. The action which pivots around him will come to be judged in the third act, but good behaviour is hard for any length of time. They will continue to blame everything on the champagne, but, let’s remember that soon the middle class inhabitants of Die Fledermaus will be going to see Dr. Freud who will assure them everything can be explained by something else entirely. Then again, maybe they knew that all along. 

And the Prince? His party will end in the Winter Palace in 1917, when all good parties came to an end for a long while. No matter. The waltz goes on and on, and it’s time to share the champagne.

SHOWTIMES

Friday and Saturday shows at 8:00 p.m.
Tuesday show at 7:00 p.m

Room 105, 555 Main Street, Wpg. R3B 1C3
(Lower Level, Centennial Concert Hall)
phone: 204.942.7479 | fax: 204.949.0377
e-mail: mbopera@manitobaopera.mb.ca
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