VIENNA — The inflight movie offering on my Austrian Airlines flight here was made up of films I had already seen or had no interest in watching. “Perhaps I am missing something?” I asked the cabin attendant. “Didn’t Austrian use to have full opera videos to watch?” That was the case not long ago, but no more. To my surprise, he proposed that I watch Mission: Impossible — Rogue Nation because it has a very exciting scene in the Vienna State Opera House. And so it did.
Watching Tom Cruise jump from one catwalk to another high above a performance of Turandot reminded me of how iconic this theater is and the thrill I experience every time I attend an opera there. Mission: Impossible — Rogue Nation had its world premiere at the State Opera in July 2015.
Typically, when opera lovers — and those who might be less familiar with opera — are asked to name the great opera companies of the world, three come to mind: the Teatro alla Scala in Milan, the Metropolitan Opera in New York, and the Vienna State Opera. There are, of course, other outstanding companies, including those of London, Paris, Barcelona, Zurich, Munich, Berlin, St. Petersburg, San Francisco, Chicago and Buenos Aires.
And yet, for most every opera fan and singer, La Scala, the Met and Vienna are the legendary theaters that must be experienced at least once in a lifetime and, better yet, as often as possible. The Staatsoper (the Vienna State Opera House) originally opened in 1869 and reopened in 1955 following extensive damage in World War II.
The way one experiences the Staatsoper in the context of its city is different from most other theaters. The Met sits above and removed from the hubbub of urban life on the cultural acropolis that is Lincoln Center. Most major American opera houses are similarly removed from the busiest part of their cities. La Scala is in central Milan, close to important crossroads such as the Piazza del Duomo and the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, yet there is a stately feeling to the square in front of the opera house. The old theaters in London, Paris and Barcelona are tucked into the hearts of their cities but there is not much communication with what goes on just outside their doors.
In contrast, the Staatsoper sits at an important juncture of the Ringstrasse, the 150 year-old boulevard that encircles Vienna’s old town. Most of what surrounds the building came to be because of the opera house. Two grand hotels, the Bristol and the Sacher, rose to provide accommodation, meals, coffee and cake to audiences, artists and theater staff. One does not have to tarry long in these places before hearing juicy gossip or a wicked opinion.
On the other side of the opera are record shops, ticket agencies and the Bitzinger Würstelstand, a kiosk selling delicious sausages to opera lovers on a budget who stand, post-performance, debating the merits of singers and conductors. Within a couple of blocks of the theater are many more restaurants geared to feeding the opera crowd before or after a show. All of this makes the buzz in operatic Vienna unlike any other city.
I can recall, about 35 years ago, when huge crowds would stand outside the stage door, not far from the Sacher, waiting to cheer singers as they exited the building. If the weather was pleasant, the performers would stop to sign autographs and greet their fans. One night I saw enthusiasts at the stage door lift José Carreras on their shoulders and pass him through the cheering crowd as if it were a mosh pit.
This close geography also creates a problem that has always characterized performances at the Vienna State Opera: because there is only a small area between the sausage stand and the Sacher where trucks containing scenery and costumes can come and go, the productions are seldom as elaborate as at the Met, La Scala, Paris and other major houses.
In the absence of compelling scenic design, pride of place in Vienna is said to go to musical values. Its orchestra is comprised of members of the Vienna Philharmonic. Many of the top singers in the world appear there. I just attended an Arabella made wonderful by Anja Harteros in the title role and a Rigoletto with Olga Peretyatko, Juan Diego Flórez and Carlo Alvarez in fine form as the jester.
One of the reasons the State Opera has had access to excellent singers is that so many of them, including non-Austrians, have chosen to live in Vienna because of the high quality of life, good European transit connections, social benefits and availability of work. These include Johan Botha, Flórez, Ferruccio Furlanetto, Thomas Hampson, Anna Netrebko, Luca Pisaroni, Neil Shicoff, among many more. Countless other singers from all countries live in places such as Salzburg, Munich, Zurich, greater Milan, or the French Riviera, all an easy flight to Vienna.
Austria is a nation that particularly loves titles and honorifics. Leading singers, native and foreign, who are especially loved are accorded the rank of Kammersänger (or, for women, Kammersängerin). Such a designation means a listing in the house program for international stars such as KS. Plácido Domingo or KS. Barbara Frittoli, but it is also bestowed on singers known primarily in Vienna, such as Wolfgang Bankl, a house baritone who might sing Arabella’s father one night, Dr. Bartolo another and then the doctor in Wozzeck or the jailer in Die Fledermaus. Local audiences know and love these versatile company members and profess a sense of warm satisfaction when these artists appear on the stage.
According to a company spokesman, 70% of the audience is Austrian, particularly from greater Vienna, and another 30% comes from abroad, mostly elsewhere in Europe. The annual budget is 109 million euros ($124 million) of which 59 million ($67 million) comes from the Austrian government and another 34 million ($38.5 million) comes from ticket sales. Because most performances sell out, the company is trying to increase its revenue and reach with live streaming to homes around the world.
The State Opera has 1,709 seats and 579 standing places. In contrast, the Met has 3,786 seats and approximately 200 standing places and its fiscal year 2015 operating expenses was $310 million.
The question of scale at both companies is entirely different. The offerings at the Vienna State Opera in its 11-month 2015-2016 season include 50 operas, double what is being presented at the Metropolitan Opera, although the Met (in a 7-½ month season) tends to give more performances of each opera it mounts. In addition, Vienna presents some 10 ballet programs inserted in the repertory over the course of the season.
How does Vienna, with a budget just more than one-third that of the Met and with stage facilities that cannot compare with its New York cousin, do 50 operas and 10 ballets a year and offer much more variety each month than the Met? The answer — and this is hardly a state secret — is that many revivals of standard repertory opera get little or no rehearsal. As a friend in the company remarked, “we can be a little bit proud of this truth.”
When I attended Rigoletto, the last of four performances of the run, I saw some orchestra musicians looking up at, listening to and following the singers rather than looking at the conductor. Viennese friends tell me they admire the versatility of the orchestra for knowing most of the repertory by heart. There were some technical glitches such as noisy scenery and Juan Diego Flórez singing an aria in almost total darkness. Yet, it was a gripping performance because of the sheer talent as well as spontaneity of soloists, chorus and orchestra. I am not recommending this approach in other theaters, where lack of rehearsal could be perceived as lack of talent and seriousness.
In Vienna, somehow, it often works. This is what happens when you have great singers and musicians performing for an audience with a profound emotional investment in its company in a neighborhood that lives and breathes opera.