A milestone of 20th century opera: in good time for the 150th anniversary of Franz Schreker’s birth in 2028 a new critical edition of his opera “Christophorus” is in preparation. His “Vision einer Oper” is at the same time an affirmation and a gripping drama.

Franz Schreker’s “Christophorus” should have been premiered in 1933 in Freiburg im Breisgau, but politics intervened so the work was first staged there in 1978, a success with audiences and critics alike. Later performances in Vienna (a concert performance), Kiel and Tokyo confirmed what Reinhard Beuth wrote back in 1978: “The opera offers a glimpse into the intellectual world of the 1920s, such as is not usually found in musical theatre.” The condition of the manuscript full score and set of parts hindered its wider dissemination. The Franz Schreker Foundation is now preparing a new critical edition of the work, in which errors and omissions in the score have been corrected and the original three-act structure recreated in order to re-establish the work in good time for the 150th anniversary of Schreker’s birth in 2028.

Composed between 1925 and 1929, “Christophorus oder ‘Die Vision einer Oper’” displays many of the characteristics of a ‘Zeitoper’, or ‘opera of the times’. It is fast-moving, set in the present and contains biting satirical commentaries on a range of social and cultural topics. But at its core “Christophorus”, which is dedicated to the composer Arnold Schoenberg, is a Bekenntnisoper (confessional opera): at the same time a profound meditation on the creative process and a Credo, which expresses Schreker’s fundamental beliefs on the relationship between art and life.

The form of the opera is unusual. Schreker described it as “something in between a play, a melodrama and an opera”. In fact, it is a groundbreaking piece of Pirandellian metatheatre which takes place on three dramatic and temporal levels. In a prologue, the enigmatic Meister Johann sets his students the exercise of composing a string quartet based on the legend of St Christopher. His search for the most powerful of all lords leads him firstly to serve the emperor, then the devil who still arouses fear, and finally the power which stands behind the crucifix – that symbol which causes the devil so much fear. On the advice of a hermit the gentle giant devotes himself for years to the task of carrying travellers over a river, until one night a child asks him for help. It is an unexpectedly heavy burden, and the child reveals that he is carrying the weight of the world: “Because you have carried me on your shoulder, from now onwards you shall be called Christophorus – the bearer of Christ.”

Anselm, Meister Johann’s most talented student, turns down the task and instead resolves to write an opera – a modern rewriting of the old legend. In his vision he casts the leading roles with himself and Meister Johann’s daughter Lisa; he also devises a third figure, the composer Christoph. He embodies a modern Christophorus who initially serves art, but later obsesses over his love for Lisa and their new-born child. After the murder of Lisa in a jealous rage, he seeks refuge in opium and the supernatural. Anselm, as creator, then does not know how he should complete his opera. In a surprising dramatic ruse Christoph openly rebels, and responding to pressure from his child he extinguishes the lights in the theatre, whereupon Anselm’s vision and the phantoms of his imagination crumble. In the Epilogue, the third narrative entity ultimately comes to the fore: Meister Johann, whom Anselm had taken on a journey of self-discovery with the original task: “Far away from the world of light, the world of illustion, you will find the end of the legend of St Christoph: Music and nothing else – a quartet movement, my son.” With this, Anselm –and not his fictional stage figure Christoph – turns out to be the modern form of Christophorus. The sounds of a string quartet Andante end the opera.

The particular attraction of “Christophorus” lies in the mastery with which Schreker balances out three interwoven narrative strands. Anselm’s operatic vision is a gripping, often melodramatic story of passion, envy and regret; it runs parallel to Anselm’s own creative struggle: he repeatedly slips out of his fictional role in order to criticise the opera in the making, to fight with his unruly figures and to despair of his inability to find a dramatic or musical equivalence for the conclusion of the legend. Over these two strands stands the silent presence of Meister Johann. Like the hermit in the legend, he led Anselm not only on his path to enlightenment, but at the beginning of the epilogue combines Christian allegory with Daoist wisdom, by reciting verses from Laotse’s “Tao-te-king”.

“Christophorus” is a spare, tightly assembled work – a chamber opera of less than two hours’ duration with a small scoring, minimal chorus and orchestra of around 45 players, which succeeds in alternating between the transparent web of individual lines and high points of overwhelming intensity. In addition, the work is distinguished by an unusual fluidity. Anselm’s Visionary scenes flow seamlessly into one another and draw on techniques from film language, as was first tried out in “Der ferne Klang”. The opera is characterised by a rapid change between sprechgesang, or speech-song, arioso, lyrical belcanto and dramatic outbursts; the satirical elements are predominantly reserved for the spoken roles, including a magnificently unctuous music critic and a charlatan spiritualist along with his medium.

The three main roles offer exciting challenges for the actors. In Anselm’s imagination Lisa (lyrical-dramatic soprano) becomes entranced by his seductive influence; but she defends herself against the infiltration of demons. The imaginary Christoph (heroic baritone) initially appears as a one-dimensional artificial figure; his music is rigid, unyielding and full of clichées. Whilst he increasingly enforces his own will, his music increases in complexity and deeper expression and develops a unique character all of its own. The role of Anselm (lyric-dramatic tenor) calls for an artist of rare musical and acting talent, for he is present on the stage for the whole duration of the performance. As the creator and at the same time a character in his own opera, he is charming and manipulative in equal measure and suffers at the same time under his creative dilemma.

Schreker’s masterly handling of the dramatic dynamics lends a distinctive instrumental and harmonic texture to each of the three narrative strands. The story around Christoph, Lisa and their “puppet master” Anselm rushes along with constantly increasing chromatic intensity to its theatrical resolution, whilst Anselm’s cool calculations – calm and characterised by uncanny dissonance – gradually give way to a panicked despair. The scenes around Meister Johann – coupled with the majestic, modal stasis of the account of the legend in the prologue and the recitation of Laotse’s verses in the epilogue – form a basis of majestic calm. With this new critical edition, “Christophorus” can finally take its place as one of the milestones of 20th century opera.
Christopher Hailey

(from [t]akte 2/2026)
(translation: Elizabeth Robinson)