Kálmán’s The Duchess
of Chicago was premiered in Vienna’s
Theater an der Wien on 5 April 1928
at a time when operetta was on its last
legs and about to be superseded by the
musicals of first Broadway then Hollywood.
The Duchess represents a cultural
clash between East and West: Europe’s
elegant tradition of the waltz and the
czardas versus the thrusting youthful
brashness of the Charleston and the
foxtrot.
As is the way with
operetta the plot is thin and rather
silly. Nine daughters of seriously rich
Americans meet in the Young Ladies Club
of New York. Mary Lloyd, believing that
there is nothing that money cannot buy,
wagers a $1 million that she can ensnare
a Prince into marriage within a month.
Thereupon the daughters embark for Europe
and Mary for the tiny bankrupt state
of Sylvania. There, after the usual
series of misunderstandings she meets,
seduces and then falls in love with
the Crown Prince Sándor Boris.
This is a live performance
recording made from the stage of the
Vienna Volksoper in the Autumn of 2004.
The lighting, at times, is rather dim
and the sets are minimal with a backdrop
that suggests a cinema screen - the
second male lead, James Jacques Bondy,
is a movie house projectionist with
dreams of grandeur as a film director.
Quite bizarrely, in Act II, this screen
suddenly comes to life with cartoon
characters of a cowboy and an Indian
in a canoe introducing one of the few
memorable numbers (song and ballet)
of the show – ‘Rose of the Prairie’
– "Come into my little love boat".
The costumes are colourful
and sometimes quite bizarre – especially
for the Act II ‘angels’ sequence and
particularly embarrassing for the duet
of Bondy and his love interest Princess
Rosemarie – nicely sung by the vivacious
Renée Schüttengruber - who
was originally intended for the Crown
Prince. The scarlet costume that Norine
Burgess as Mary Lloyd has to wear during
most of the proceedings does nothing
for her figure and indeed it makes her
look quite beefy. Ms Burgess never looks
truly comfortable in this role, her
dancing tends to be stiff and her contralto
timbre, although colourful in the lower
registers, can be somewhat shrill at
the top. One feels that somebody younger,
more petite, more coquettish would probably
have sparked real chemistry between
Mary Lloyd and Mehrzad Montazeri, the
handsome and debonair Crown Prince who
shines in all his numbers.
Josef Luftensteiner
and Sándor Németh offer
sterling support as the ministers of
state and their comic duet, taking off
politics, is one of the highlights of
the show. Wolfgang Gratschmaier’s Brody
whose imaginary film direction acts
as a kind of narration is breathlessly
energetic and Peter Matic scores as
the old roué, King Pankraz.
Besides, ‘Rose of the
Prairie’ there are one or two outstanding
musical numbers including the ‘twenties’
dance routines in New York, Sándor
and the choir’s heartfelt paean to Vienna,
and the charming ‘Kindersmarsch’ with
Sándor and the young princes.
Something of a curate’s
egg, then. Moments of sparkling vivacity
interposed with much longer periods
of languor. East meeting rather uncomfortably
with the West.
Ian Lace
see also review
by Anne Ozorio