MR. BROUČEK’S EXCURSIONS • BREGENZ
★★★★☆☆
Photo: Anja Koehler/David Ammann
REVIEW: MR. BROUČEK’S EXCURSIONS: THE LITTLE OPERA THAT MIGHT STEAL THE SHOW IN BREGENZ
Leoš Janáček’s *The Excursions of Mr. Brouček* is one of the opera genre’s rare oddities. An operatic comedy brimming with beer, dreams, satire, and absurd scenes, it rarely makes its way to the big stages. In Bregenz, the work shines as a rare gem of original musical theater: festive, imaginative, and comical, grounded in an authentic historical and political context.
The title character, Mr. Brouček, travels—with a bit of a buzz—from his armchair at home in Prague all the way to the Moon and back again. The journey is both literal and symbolic, and it’s executed with wonderful theatrical magic as Brouček’s house takes off toward the Moon and spins around the stage along the way, forcing him to walk along the walls and ceiling of the house to avoid being spun around.
Reality and fantasy blend together in a universe where, for long stretches, it is difficult to tell what is actually going on.
Photo: Anja Koehler/David Ammann
On the Moon, as far as one can tell, he encounters new versions of people from his own social circle. It’s hard to tell, since the inhabitants up there are encased in semi-transparent fabric boxes the size of shower stalls or fridge-freezers, with an opening at the bottom so they can move around freely. Frankly, it’s a crazy sight to see 25 boxes in beautiful bright and pastel colors shuffling around after one another, jumping, teetering, bumping into each other, or shaking all over the place when Brouček gets angry.
The meaning seems decidedly elusive. In many ways, this is symptomatic of the work itself. Janáček worked on the opera for nearly a decade, and along the way, it was pulled in many different directions by various librettists.
Photo: Anja Koehler/David Ammann
The result has often been described as uneven and difficult to piece together into a coherent whole. The opera’s erratic progression and hazy plot can be interpreted as a reflection of its alcoholic protagonist.
At its core, it’s about a person who would rather sit at home with a beer and ignore the world’s problems. Brouček becomes a portrait of the modern comfort-seeker: passive, self-absorbed, and preferably free of responsibility. Added to this is a tribute to Czech identity, which requires a keen understanding of Czech history around the year 1420 to fully grasp. It was then that the people of Prague defeated a large crusader army and secured their freedom.
The visual world of the production is wonderfully executed. The set design is graphic and imaginative, with references to Czech animation and comic-book aesthetics, which lend the production an entertaining lightness.
Photo: Anja Koehler/David Ammann
Musically, the first act is a far cry from the Janáček world most people know from *Jenůfa*, *Katja Kabanova*, or *The Cunning Little Vixen*. The grand, emotionally charged soundscapes take a back seat to a more fragmented, circus-like musical logic that supports the production’s playful character. But the antics come to an abrupt end.
While the first part deliberately wanders through dreams, absurdities, and satirical whims, the second part suddenly gains a dramatic momentum. Brouček’s encounter with besieged Prague in 1420 lends the plot a sense of historical gravity that the moon-based fantasy deliberately avoids. Now the focus is on people fighting for something greater than their own comfort. Brouček is no longer merely a comical drunkard, but a human being whose selfishness and self-interest are put to the test. This lends weight to the conflict and, at the same time, gives Janáček’s music greater emotional resonance. Suddenly, the performance is not just about strange experiences, but about courage, community, and responsibility.
The stage rises through Brouček’s house, leaving him in the basement beneath the house in the year 1420. Now the story grows darker, and the music takes on the richly colored and emotionally intense qualities typically associated with Janáček.
Photo: Anja Koehler/David Ammann
Brouček barely survives the battles against the invading army that take place in the basement. The entire cast is dressed in medieval costumes in a trippy staging where a giant slanted mirror, filling the entire backdrop, allows the audience to watch the antics both straight on and from a slanted angle above. Thus, there’s twice as much of everything as Brouček ends up being stuffed into a beer barrel and sent back to the present.
“Can’t we get a little peace?” he seems to be saying as he raises his beer mug toward the audience from his armchair at home.
The production by the progressive American director Yuval Sharon has led the international press to hail the performance as one of this year’s artistic successes in Bregenz.
On paper, *Mr. Brouček’s Excursions* is the small-scale opera in this year’s Bregenz program, which is, of course, dominated by the massive production of *La Traviata* on the lake stage. Several critics have described *Brouček* as the festival’s true artistic triumph.
Photo: Anja Koehler/David Ammann
I wouldn’t go that far. The first act sometimes gets so caught up in its own contrivances that the work loses some of its hold on the audience. But the second act ties everything together and transforms a quirky operatic comedy into a compelling piece of musical theater.
The production is full of inventive stage magic, visually striking ideas, and, at times, breathtaking music by Janáček. Not necessarily the festival’s best production, but perhaps the most surprising. Four stars from *Det Sku’ Du Se*.
