Mundruczó's Lohengrin in Munich

Munich Opera Festival Mounts Wagner's Most Frequentlyly Performed Work

By: Susan Hall - Jul 31, 2025

No opera company today rivals the Munich Opera when it comes to innovative yet deeply respectful productions of the classic repertoire. While it’s tempting—and often rewarding—to look beyond the traditional opera circuit for new creative voices, few choices are as effective as Hungarian filmmaker and theater director Kornél Mundruczó.

Known for his regular appearances at the Cannes Film Festival and the success of Pieces of a Woman on Netflix, Mundruczó has already made a mark in European opera: Rusalka in Berlin and The Markopoulos Affair in Lille. Now, his 2022 Lohengrin returns to the Munich Opera Festival. The production reveals that, beyond his filmmaking and theater credentials, Mundruczó possesses an intuitive musical sensibility—something that can’t be said of all film or theater directors now working in opera.

This matters. Particularly in light of missteps by institutions like the Metropolitan Opera, which has prioritized diversity in hiring theater directors—sometimes at the expense of musical and dramatic understanding. Munich’s revival proves that artistic excellence and inclusivity need not be mutually exclusive. Mastery of the art form still matters.

This year’s Lohengrin cast includes Piotr Becza?a in the title role, Rachel Willis-Sørensen as Elsa von Brabant, and Anja Kampe as Ortrud. Wolfgang Koch plays Friedrich von Telramund, René Pape is King Heinrich, and Kostas Smoriginas appears as the King’s Herald. Under the baton of Sebastian Weigle, the orchestra played with restraint and intensity. At times, the music seemed to hover in the air—ghostlike, sacred. I felt The Grail.

Though the director describes the staging as post-apocalyptic, I found it more timeless—evoking the minimalism of Krzysztof Warlikowski’s best work, which Munich audiences know well.

The opening tableau features two barren trees—full of leaves yet stark like Beckett. It evokes Waiting for Godot: an existential landscape in which two figures await a savior—or the illusion of one. Elsa, possibly falsely accused of killing her brother, is trapped in the suspension of waiting. The rules of this world are both symbolic and sacred: she may never ask Lohengrin his name.

Arin Arbus’s recent Godot at Theatre for a New Audience featured a two-lane highway that began and ended nowhere, comes to mind. The comparison works: Lohengrin is a mythic opera, a meditation on faith, identity, and impossible love. Lohengrin himself is the son of Parsifal, guardian of the Holy Grail. He arrives not as man, but as myth incarnate.

Mundruczó makes smart visual choices. The chorus wears white gym-style sweatsuits—not as trendy streetwear, but as markers of collective identity. They’re not just townspeople; they are the emotional atmosphere of the opera. They serve as a living set. Their synchronized gestures—sometimes including chilling Nazi salutes—act as visual punctuation: political, social, and psychological.

René Pape, who first sang King Heinrich at the Met in 1998, remains commanding. His authority blends with the chorus, suggesting that leadership is not above the crowd, but part of it. The chorus doesn’t just observe the action; it refracts it. They become us—the audience—mirroring our judgments, our complicity, and our hopes.

In an era when opera houses prioritize accessibility and audience connection, this production hits the mark. 

Lohengrin is Wagner’s most frequently performed opera. Even during World War II, it remained in the Met’s repertoire. It endures because it touches something eternal.

The music has always been an audience favorite.  Piotr Becza?a’s Lohengrin warmed over the course of the evening, reaching full resonance in a deeply moving “In fernem Land.” Rachel Willis-Sorensen brought both radiance and emotional complexity to Elsa. Anja Kampe’s Ortrud stole the show—seductive and chilling, equal parts allure and threat.

Mundruczo wisely avoids retrofitting the opera with contemporary “Me Too” critiques. Lohengrin is not a modern man, boy buddying. He is mythic, otherworldly—closer to one of Wim Wenders’ angels than a flesh-and-blood prince. His behavior may read as cold or cruel, but the production reminds us: he is not of this world. Yet he can be tempted by love and sex, even if he never fully belongs.

Under Sebastian Weigle’s direction, the orchestra was dynamic but never overpowering. At times, the strings were so soft they barely breathed. The offstage horns—placed in a stage-right balcony—delivered blaring clarity. Weigle, unfortunately, forgot to acknowledge the horn section during curtain call, prompting murmurs from the audience as the musicians waited for recognition.

Despite that oversight, the musical and dramatic achievements of this Lohengrin are undeniable. Mundruczo’s theatrical background proves an asset: his understanding of stage, gesture, and myth allows him to honor the opera’s mystery while making it accessible to a modern audience.

This Lohengrin doesn’t try to reinvent Wagner. It listens to him. And in doing so, it gives us something rare: a production that feels both ancient and immediate.