A few years ago, the US-American Corinne Winters was still something of an insider tip. A singer who was met with enthusiasm wherever she performed and predicted a great career. She has since lived up to these predictions and is one of the hottest sopranos in the world. Her previous appearances in Austria - such as Kátja Kabanová at the Salzburg Festival (2022) or Halka at the Theater an der Wien (2019) - will also be fondly remembered. Now, on March 31, she will make her eagerly awaited debut at the Vienna State Opera in the title role of Dvořák's deeply psychological fairy tale Rusalka.
Sven-Eric Bechtolf, the director of the current production of Rusalka, emphasized that fairy tales should neither be flatly retold nor debunked, as otherwise they would become mysterious. Now the symbolic nature of Rusalka's silencing requires an interpretive narrative. As the singer of the main character, how do you bring these two levels together? How do you manage to interpret and still leave room for the mystery of this fairy tale?
Corinne Winters: In this story, we have two opposing poles before us: the reality of human existence contrasts with a cosmos of elves, witches, mermen and will-o'-the-wisps, in which Rusalka is at home. The tragic thing is that the respective representatives of one world cannot understand or fathom the nature of the other. Rusalka at least gets a taste of what people experience physically and mentally, but nothing more. The level of sexual passion is unattainable for her, no matter how great her desires are, no matter how great her capacity for unselfish love is. Now we find much room for interpretation in the reasons that make Rusalka so insensitive to passions. Her longing and her desperate attempt to overcome her lack of understanding, but also the contrast created by the meeting of the two opposing worlds, create the mystery that is essential to a fairy tale.
Did Rusalka win something in the end or did she just lose something?
CW: She definitely won something. All fairy tales have a moral, or rather a truth, that we can take away with us. Here in Rusalka, it's about how the experiences that life has to offer are not in vain and are even gratifying, even if they are sometimes painful. Through her encounter with the prince and her ultimately unfortunate incarnation, the heroine has come to know great love, this overwhelming, albeit brief, absorption in another being. It’s exactly what every human being is searching for. Why do we love fairy tales? Because we can experience such feelings in their purest form.
And how does Rusalka feel towards the prince at the end of the story? Is it still love?
CW: Yes, I'm convinced of that. She has learned a new perspective. The intensity of love, but also the sadness and heaviness of the human world, have opened her eyes. She realizes that the prince still loves her and has only betrayed her because she could not give him something that is part of human life. The final kiss, which brings him death, is both forgiveness and fulfillment of love. For both of them.
There is the following opera joke in connection with Rusalka: a young, inadequate singer is hired. When she asks what she is booked for, she is told: for Act 2 of Rusalka - the act in which Rusalka has lost her speech and therefore remains mute. The joke doesn't really work because Rusalka regains her speech towards the end of the act. Hence my question: how is it possible to be mute on stage for so long and then suddenly have to sing?
CW: When I started to study Rusalka, I asked myself exactly this question, only to find out that Dvořák knew exactly what he was doing: in the 30 minutes in which you have to play on stage but not sing anything, you charge yourself with more and more energy. After all, I am not passive during this half hour; the character of Rusalka experiences an emotional state of emergency which is built up more and more and finally culminates in the moment in which, regaining her speech, she laments her suffering to Aquarius in a dramatic outburst. As an interpreter of Rusalka, I am therefore at this moment in precisely the mood that this lament requires. This also makes it easier to master the vocal challenge of having to start singing after such a long period of silence.
How does Dvořák generally write for the voice?
CW: In its lyrical component, the role of Rusalka in particular has something bel canto about it, so it is healthy and pleasant for the voice. At the same time, the Czech has something percussive due to the wealth of consonants, which creates additional space for the emotions. It is therefore a legato-rich, Italian vocal style peppered with consonants. But that's not all: the immense complexity of the orchestral texture provides the vocal part with a support that lends additional depth of detail to the interpretation and interpretation of the text.
If you ask singers from Germany about their favorite composer, the answer is often: Johann Sebastian Bach. Who is it for you?
CW: How can you choose just one? Slavic composers currently occupy an important place in my relatively extensive repertoire - both in the field of opera and symphonic music: my first love was Tchaikovsky, but since I've spent a lot of time in the Czech world, my favorites are Janáček and Dvořák, they are the heart of my current repertoire, so to speak.
We recently had a public discussion at the Vienna State Opera about whether artists are special people. What do you think?
CW: All people who felt like outsiders as a child or have a very rich inner life become either artists or great art lovers. In any case, art can also give expression to feelings that don't seem to be at the forefront of everyday life. Personally, I also appreciate being part of a community that is involved in creating a common work of art. The musical theater environment is therefore the ideal place for me.
Is this ideal place also reflected in your dreams?
CW: Yes, but in a rather nightmarish way: I'm usually just before a performance and realize that I've forgotten the text or don't even know which opera I'm in. However, such dreams were more frequent at the beginning of my career. Now that I have several years of experience and have had the opportunity to work with wonderful artists all over the world, the night terrors are becoming less frequent.
On March 31, you will make your debut at the Vienna State Opera. What are you most looking forward to?
CW: There are a few things: Rusalka is currently my favorite role - so I have the privilege of being able to make my debut with my favorite role at one of the most important stages. I also have the wonderful Tomáš Hanus on the podium, with whom I was able to work on Jenůfa in Geneva a few seasons ago. My expectations of his conducting of Rusalka are correspondingly high - I'm really looking forward to working with him! And then there's the great orchestra and this famously art-loving Viennese audience. In short: I can hardly wait.
To read this article in its original German publication, please click on the following link.
