When the curtain rose on the second act of the Met’s new production of Richard Strauss’ Der Rosenkavalier, the audience applauded and cheered for the set. Represented onstage was the circa-1910 palace of a nouveau-riche arms merchant, complete with two giant mortars on wheels, a dozen Josef Hoffmann Kubus chairs and Fledermaus tables, and a black-figure freeze, taller than a man, wrapping around the high grey walls. It was beautifully done. So was the silk and painting-covered palace of the traditional aristocracy in the first act, a set which used three matching pairs of receding double doors (white with gold trim) to create an extraordinary sense of space and depth.
When the production team appeared on stage for their curtain call, after the singers and the conductor had been riotously applauded, they were booed. And since Brigitte Reiffenstuel, who designed pitch-perfect costumes, looked concerned, we should clarify on behalf of the audience: She deserves applause. The set designer, Paul Steinberg, deserves downright adulation. It was only the director, Robert Carsen, who was booed—heavily—and deserved it. His third act took the previously accrued goodwill of an eager audience and blew it all to hell.
