Mozart’s “Mitridate, re di Ponto” premiered on the day of Germany’s elections on February 23, 2025 at the Staatsoper Hamburg. It was conducted by Adam Fischer and directed by Birgit Kajtna-Wönig, marking an ambitious co-production with the Salzburg Festival. Set in the final days of Pontic Greek King Mitridate VI’s resistance against Rome, the opera explores power, betrayal, and dynastic succession as the aging ruler’s return ignites political and romantic turmoil between his two sons.

An Unique Staging Concept

The set design immediately created a sense of desolation, with a vast rocky landscape filling the stage. Hanging menacingly from the ceiling were rock-like structures, their rough surfaces reflecting the moving stage lights. Amid this stark setting, a large, foldable curtain engulfed the area, its subdued color and irregular draping suggestive of the pliable political and emotional terrain of the play. Through subtle changes in lighting, it accurately mirrored the psychological condition of each character—cool, dark tones for despair and skepticism, warm glows for defiance or fleeting hope. Meanwhile, the floor was covered with jagged, brown-colored rugs, creating an irregular ground that was like an ancient Crimean war field where the opera tale of wars between Pontus and Roman empire was waged. The rugs were incorporated into storytelling: characters clutched them in fear, fell onto them in despair, or attempted to use them for futile concealment, making the empty set an active participant in the action. The orchestra took on a physical and dramaturgical centre stage. No longer relegated to the pit, the ensemble entered the drama as a participant, blurring the boundary between music and action. This setup did confine the singers to a small area in front of the ensemble, reducing their area of movement but increasing their intimacy and close confrontation with the audience.

This division underscored one of the fundamental principles of opera seria: recitative-aria contrast. Recitatives advance the plot action in libretto through action, while arias are moments of individual reflection. This production took that to an extreme level. Almost all the arias of the different characters were sung as solo monologues with minimal or no appearance of other singers to underline their internal conflicts. The outcome was one of utter isolation—each singer marooned in his or her own world, singing highly ornamented musical soliloquies with minimal outside contact.
While much of the digital projection felt hollow and lacked emotional depth, the innovative use of surtitles was a highlight. Roman characters were distinguished by a typeface mimicking classical Latin inscriptions, which effectively reinforced the opera’s themes of political and cultural division between the Roman and Pontic worlds.

Orchestral Performance: A Tale of Two Acts

The positioning of the orchestra at centre stage readily suggested the role of the Greek chorus in ancient drama. During the first half, their role remained passive, with occasional comic interchanges with the singers. Towards the end of the show, one of the most eye-catching points was during Mitridate’s defiance of Rome. Swaying overhead, a cluster of rock-like set pieces—a potential reference to the myth of Mitridate’s birth under meteor showers—suddenly crashed down, startling the musicians and scattering them in panic. This interruption was a biting, ironic remark on the rebelliousness of Mitridate, mocking his defiant utterance and his struggle against the might of Rome.

Another such arresting moment occurred just before the final quartet, when the orchestration was reduced innovatively to a string quartet. The four instrumentalists stood alone on one side of the stage, their isolation assuming a chamber-like intimacy. Musically, it recalled the textures of Haydn’s “Farewell Symphony’s” conclusion, and visually, the scene was reminiscent of the heart-wrenching final moments of musicians performing on the ill-fated Titanic. The dissonant contrast amplified the opera’s emotional impact, emphasizing its themes of loss and resignation.

Musically, the orchestral performance mirrored the psychological transformation of the singers, gradually evolving into a more compelling force. The strings, especially the first and second violins, during most of the first half sounded undermanned, producing an unexpectedly barren sound-world that struggled to propel the drama. Occasionally, the singers appeared to need to generate the energy themselves, instead of being supported by the orchestra. With Adam Fischer’s reputation for thoughtful Mozart interpretations, this was initially quite disappointing.

The second half ushered in welcome refinement. Pacing grew more intricate, more dynamic, and orchestral texture and overall dramatic clarity were achieved. The strings softened and gained articulation, mirroring the characters’ inner growth. Among the most memorable moments was the horn solo passage, which was both expressive and commanding. The fortepiano accompaniment was always consistent, although it lacked the kind of spontaneous invention that would have infused even more life into the recitatives.

Standout Vocal Performances

Vocal performances throughout the production were consistently impressive. Mitridate, portrayed by Robert Murray, commanded the stage from his very first aria, a heroic entrance piece that established his character’s strength and resolve. His resonant, metallic timbre cut through the orchestration with striking clarity, bringing an air of authority to the role. Murray’s performance adeptly juggled his character’s heroism with moments of stark doubt and vulnerability, none more so than in his final aria before death, where his physicality—kneeling in grief—contributed to the pathos. His voice rang out with tragic force, a fine summation of his emotional and psychological trajectory throughout the opera.

Aspasia, played by Nikola Hillebrand, was equally captivating. Her ability to navigate Mozart’s demanding coloratura passages with technical precision was impressive, but it was her emotional depth that truly brought her character to life. Although there was a touch of tension in her first entrance, Hillebrand soon got into her stride and effortlessly settled into the role with flawless consistency. Her poised, expressive stage gestures echoed her vocal acrobatics, rendering her performance not only a vocal tour de force but an electrifying emotional journey. Her Aspasia performance, with its virtuosic runs and breathtaking high notes, made her one of the standout performers in the company.

The two princes, Olivia Boen as Sifare and Adriana Bignagni Lesca as Farnace, were presented in the opera as immature and impulsive, yet their physique and vocal delivery matured impressively throughout the course of the opera. This physical transformation kept pace with their psychological development, and both characters had attained an aura of authority by the last act. The development of their voices and characters gave the impression of acquired adulthood, which underpinned the production’s exploration of power, succession, and the cost of leadership.

Seungwoo Simon Yang as Marzio, the Roman envoy, may have been a smaller role but his acting was phenomenal and nothing less than dramatic and authoritative.

Conclusion: A Thought-Provoking Reinterpretation

Rather than the clichéd picture of opera seria as being static or formulaic, this new production showed how much potential existed within the genre for dramatic innovation and contemporary relevance. Using an economical set and novel integration of the orchestra, the production successfully conveyed the multi-dimensional psychological characterizations of the original. This production avoided being dogmatic, presenting a lively and engaging interpretation that, much like in 18th-century Italian opera houses, focused on showcasing the singers’ outstanding skills and maintaining the audience’s attention throughout.