One s too few...

Barrie Kosky directs Die Perlen der Cleopatra in Berlin (***)

Dagmar Manzel as Cleopatra © Iko Freeze

Author : Jos Hermans

When Oscar Straus still called himself Oscar Strauss -he had the s deleted in order to distinguish himself from the Strauss dynasty- and was studying with Max Bruch, he was shown the door by a hysterical Bruch: "I never want to see you again and I will curse you if you ever dare to make musical rubbish like your pathetic namesake". Oscar counted Johann Strauss among his great examples along with Jacques Offenbach and Arthur Sullivan.

Die Perlen der Cleopatra was created for the operetta diva Fritzi Masary and was created in a fit of Egyptomania. In 1924, date of the Berlin premiere, Tutankhamun's tomb had only just been discovered and the bust of Nefertiti had only just been shown to the public.

In the program booklet, director Barrie Kosky recalls general truths about operetta : "These pieces, like baroque operas, almost require an arrangement. The scores of baroque operas and operettas are only a skeleton. In Monteverdi's time, at the beginning of the 17th century, each performance of a work differed from the previous one. The orchestration was changed, a different pitch was chosen, there were adjustments, cuts and improvisations by the singers. This is what authenticity means in the Baroque and it is no different in modern operetta"

And then Kosky calls Die Perlen der Cleopatra a masterpiece, a masterpiece that has hardly been seen since its Berlin premiere in 1924, so we may speak of a real rediscovery! Seriously? The truth is that there is not a single musical idea to be found in the whole piece that justifies a reprise of this work. You cannot compare this with the brilliant scores of Lehar and Kalman. Straus' musical ideas are so weak that conductor Adam Benzwi felt compelled to occasionally insert fragments from Verdi's Aida (the invocation of Ptah, the ballet and the victory march) in order to give the score some weight, each time supported by jazzy drums for the necessary alienating Weimar effect.

What remains is a flat revue around the Berliner Schnautze of Dagmar Manzel, the foul-mouthed diva of Berlin. But when this is not supported by music of any importance it loses much of its power. Wafer-thin is also the story: Cleopatra rules from her bed or from her bath full of milk ("Warum bade ick in Mülsch?"). Her beauty waning, she resorts to pearls dissolving in wine, turning her pretenders into sex slaves. Both of whom are effeminate: the Roman officer Viktorian Silvius, the Persian prince Beladonis ("Meine kleine Flöte"). The third, Mark Antony, is normal that is, he has an alcohol problem. But he also likes her without an aphrodisiac and so they step into a sarcophagus armed with a can of Berlin beer. The final scene is the funniest and most endearing moment of the evening.

Kosky, of course, has created a dazzling, well-timed show which starts when girls throw confetti into the audience and shout "Showtime in Egypt." Otto Pichler's choreographies all look alike and quickly get boring. The acting throughout the evening is excellent: Dagmar Manzel as Cleopatra, Peter Renz as Mark Antony, Stefan Sevenich as Pampylos, Dominik Köninger as Silvius, Johannes Dunz as Beladonis, Alma Sadé as Charmian. Everyone sings with microphone. The spoken dialogues are very difficult for non-Germans to follow as no subtitling is provided.