(Photos: Paul Leclaire)

Opernhaus Zürich revives its 2021 production of Richard Strauss’s “Salome,” directed by Andreas Homoki. The striking set design by Hartmut Meyer features two massive, crescent-shaped rotating structures—an evident nod to the libretto’s many references to the moon. One of these structures serves as a raked stage representing the terrace of Herod’s palace, while the other hovers above it. A gangway on the left connects the terrace to the palace’s dining hall (behind the scenes), and an enormous millstone moves along a curved track at the back of the stage. The overall visual impact is powerful, further enhanced by Franck Evin’s imaginative lighting design.

Beautiful Sets & Questionable Deviations From the Plot

The minimalist set draws all attention to the characters and their turbulent emotions, while Homoki takes notable liberties with the narrative, deviating from the original plot in several key details. One of the central themes of the opera—based on Oscar Wilde’s play—is the coming of age of the teenage Princess Salome: her awakening to her own sexuality and the realization of the power it grants her. The focus of her desire is Jochanaan, the imprisoned prophet. His mysticism and religious fervor, which lead him to reject her advances, only deepen her fascination. This rejection sets him apart from the many men, most notably her stepfather Herod, who lust after her without shame. By portraying Jochanaan as yielding to a brief sexual encounter with Salome, the production undermines one of the story’s key psychological dynamics, rendering her obsessive longing to kiss his mouth almost meaningless.

Narraboth, the captain of Herod’s guard, is one of the many men captivated by Salome’s beauty. Unable to deny her anything, he releases Jochanaan so she can speak with him, and ultimately takes his own life, unable to bear witnessing her attempt to seduce the prophet. In this production, however, Jochanaan inexplicably slits Narraboth’s throat as he lies dying—a gesture that feels out of character and difficult to justify.

Another puzzling deviation occurs during the Dance of the Seven Veils: Salome and Herod exit the stage, while Herodias—Salome’s mother—is both attacked and seduced by Jochanaan. Salome then reappears, seemingly jealous. This alteration is perhaps the most baffling of all, as it diminishes the depth of Salome’s motivations and distorts the opera’s psychological complexity. What was originally a dark, biblical meditation on love, death, horror, and sexuality is reduced to cheap drama—stripping the work of its tragic grandeur and veering uncomfortably close to soap opera territory.

Conductor Simone Young’s Inspiring Interpretation

Conductor Simone Young led the superb Zurich Opera House orchestra with electrifying energy, unleashing a tidal wave of sumptuous sound. Her inspired interpretation of Strauss’s intricate score dazzled the audience, allowing the lush orchestration to emerge as the true protagonist of the performance. At times, however, this rich sonic landscape came at the expense of the singers, who occasionally struggled to be heard over the orchestra’s sheer power. Nevertheless, the overall musical experience was exhilarating and deeply compelling.

Soprano Elena Stikhina Leads Stellar Cast

“Salome” is one of the most demanding roles in the operatic repertoire, requiring not only exceptional vocal technique but also intense emotional depth. Elena Stikhina rose impressively to the challenge. Her lirico spinto soprano was smooth and radiant in the upper register—sweet and tender when conveying Salome’s youthful innocence, yet powerful and cutting in moments of brutality. In the climactic final scene, where Salome sings her ecstatic love song to Jochanaan’s severed head, Stikhina delivered gleaming, forceful high notes and navigated the vocal demands with apparent ease. However, her emotional expression felt somewhat restrained, as though she were concentrating more on vocal precision than on dramatic immersion. That said, her singing was truly spectacular—there’s little to fault on that front.

Kostas Smoriginas portrayed Jochanaan with a resonant, richly colored bass-baritone that lent the prophet the appropriate air of mysticism. His prophetic authority was convincing, and his fury toward Herodias and Salome erupted with a raw, almost primal intensity. While he encountered some difficulty with his upper register—where a few notes sounded slightly strained—his overall interpretation was compelling and effective.

King Herod was sung by John Daszak. His bright, powerful tenor had the right timbral quality for the role, though he struggled in the upper register—several high notes came across as shrill or were missed entirely. Still, his stage experience allowed him to skillfully navigate these challenges, and his strong acting brought the lecherous Tetrarch vividly to life.

Herodias, Herod’s wife and Salome’s mother, was portrayed by Michaela Schuster. Her voice was steely and incisive in the upper range, yet smooth and burnished in the middle register. Her mezzo-soprano was well suited to the character: she hurled venom at Jochanaan with biting precision while maintaining vocal control, and the sinister laughter in her voice when Salome demands the prophet’s head was chillingly effective. Schuster was perhaps the most compelling actor in the cast. Dressed in a sumptuous blood-red brocade gown (costumes by Mechthild Seipel), she commanded the stage with a magnetic presence—even in moments of silence, she drew the eye.

Omer Kobiljak took on the role of Narraboth, the captain of Herod’s guard hopelessly enamored with Salome. His bright tenor featured an effortlessly ringing upper register and a beautifully smooth passaggio. He convincingly portrayed the vulnerability and longing of a man infatuated with an unattainable princess. The scene in which Salome coaxes him into releasing Jochanaan—offering him “a look, maybe a smile”—was particularly captivating, with an enchanting chemistry between Kobiljak and Stikhina.

The cast also included five Jews and two Nazarenes, though a footnote in Strauss’s score permits expanding their number. The director took full advantage of this, placing fifteen characters on stage dressed as frantic businessmen—constantly in motion, arguing obsessively over fine points of religious doctrine. This proved to be one of the production’s most successful directorial choices. The swarm of men, at first comic in their obsession with minutiae, turned dramatically intense as they tore their garments upon Jochanaan’s death, injecting a surreal yet strangely humorous tone into the opera. In the final scene, as Herod cries out “Man töte dieses Weib!” (“Kill this woman!”), Salome vanishes from the stage, and the Jews turn on Herod and Herodias, as if enacting divine retribution for the prophet’s murder.