Das schlaue Füchslein – NP Slovak National Theatre Bratislava
Inszenierung: Sláva Daubnerová; Dirigent: Juraj Valčuha
Premiere: 21. September 2024
„It is too often the case that Janáček’s “The Cunning Little Vixen” is presented as an opera for children, no doubt because it has lots of furry animals that talk and sometimes act like humans, although it is also probably a reaction to the fact that Janáček’s inspiration for the opera came from a cartoon strip in his local paper. Even in productions that steer clear of such a presentation, the readings tend to be heavily sentimentalized, so that it becomes a tale that tugs on the heartstrings when the poor vixen is shot by Harašta, the poacher; as the opera draws towards its conclusion, we are, however, comforted by the forester, who, on seeing a young fox cub, reflects on the inevitable cycle of life and death that affects man and beast alike. The Slovak National Theatre Opera, however, managed to transcend such sentiments with a production that captured the cruelty of all the characters involved, both human and vulpine, and which unequivocally sets the behavior of the humans in a far more negative light with far reaching disastrous consequences.
It is, of course, impossible for any production to free itself from the anthropomorphic nature of the animals, which is always going to exist given the fact that they talk and exhibit very human reactions. However, the director, Sláva Daubnerová, ensured that this did not end up magnifying the sentimental aspects of the work. Rather, she allowed the animals to embrace both their positive and negative human qualities, so that the courting scene between Sharp Ears and Gold Stripe was very recognizably human, down to the male fox offering the vixen not just a dead rabbit but also tobacco and alcohol. The vixen was also portrayed as a very vain animal who enjoyed looking at herself in the mirror and saw herself as the queen of the forest after kicking the badger from his den. It was a clever interpretation as it presented the animals with negative traits, which acted as a barrier to an overly sentimental reaction from the audience.
Moreover, Daubnerová was also keen to play up the wild nature of the animals themselves, in which play, aggression and killing were part of life. The vixen and her family of cubs were seen playing happily in the forest, but she was equally at ease chasing the badger from his den or slaughtering the rooster and the chickens simply because she could. She was bold and sly and deliberately taunted those around her, including the humans that crossed her path. She was wild; she was not playing a role in a picture book story.
It was a brutal depiction of forest life, in which the lives of the animals and the people cross with unpleasant consequences. The forester caged the animals in what can only be described as something akin to a concentration camp, with the dog acting as a guard, dressed suitably in a semi-militaristic costume. The vixen was brutally maltreated, hung up by her feet in the air in chains. The chickens also suffered at the forester’s hands, exemplified by one chicken, who covered in blood, found laying eggs a painful experience. There was a lot that was uncomfortable to watch, and it successfully managed to muscle out the sentimental.
None of the human characters were given a sympathetic reading; they were garrulous drunks who spent their evenings letting each other know their opinions, oblivious to the suffering of the animals or to the damage they were doing to the planet, which they viewed as no more than a resource, made clear by the fox fur coats lowered from the ceiling after the poacher’s killing spree, in which the vixen was just one of his victims. Even the forester’s sentimental musings were clearly an aberration, and he would, no doubt, soon return to his usual ways.
The brutality and destruction wreaked upon the forest by the humans was reinforced by the scenographer, Volker Hintermeier, who covered the stage with a dark forest of dead trees. It was a message that Daubnerová added to with the introduction of a figure representing the spirit of nature, who appeared occasionally during the performance, either fleeing from the poacher’s gun or in a symbolically strong image in the final scene in which, dressed as a bride, she sat on a proud looking stag.“
— Alan Neilson, The Slovak National Theater Opera 2024 Review: The Cunning Little Vixen, in: OperaWire, 11.10.2024