Ms Jakubiak, is it really necessary for you to appear naked?
There’s not as much nudity in opera as there is in dance or spoken theatre. But in this particular case there is a justification for the person to be naked, because it’s what actually happens in the scene. The Stranger asks Heliane: “Can I see your body naked, please?”

Were you scared of taking your clothes off?
Not really. When director Christof Loy popped the question, I said: “My high C – now, that’s naked.” There are moments when I’m standing there with my bare voice, totally defenceless. My pianissimo, that’s naked. It’s not so much my body as the high and fine notes that make me vulnerable.

Singing is nudity?
It is, yes. Singing is very personal and intimate. A violinist has her instrument. My instrument is me. There is nothing screening me.

But surely you had reservations about showing yourself in the nude!
I did think about it a lot. My friends and colleagues in the United States, where people are much more conservative, can’t believe I’m really doing it. It’s like “Why are you doing that? And not even any underwear! That’s going too far.” But if you ask me, Heliane’s nakedness makes the scene a really powerful one.

What does the naked body tell us?
After she’s taken off her clothes, she says: “I’ll pray for you. And for myself.” Korngold gives directors two options: the line can be sung – or it can be spoken. We sing it, but very softly in a way that’s very unoperatic. You’re focusing on that point in the lyrics, not on the singing. And when I’m standing there absolutely starkers, those words pack quite a punch. If I were in my knickers at that point, the line wouldn’t have as much impact. And when Heliane talks about her shame afterwards, she falls harder if she really is naked. If she were in a bathing costume, she wouldn’t have so far to fall. I’ve never taken my clothes off in an opera before, but here it works. On stage you can’t just do something for the sake of doing it. That would be nonsense. An action needs a stimulus. When I’m immersed in the magic of the scene, it makes total sense to me. It’s all about extremes. Their love is extreme. Heliane even brings the Stranger back from the dead. So if you want to do justice to this work, you’ve got to go to extremes.

Sara Jakubiak sings Heliane's aria „Ich ging zu ihm“ ... Here in our video

 

The drama expert Ulrike Traub says this about theatre and naked bodies: “Onstage nudity is necessary, because it reveals how unfree the human body - and with it the human being - is.”
I agree. With Heliane, I think it’s about liberating the human spirit, liberating people in the way they think and feel about nudity. It’s easier to conceptualise your own lack of freedom if you’re watching a liberated character like Heliane.

Let’s go back. How did you work up to it? What were the rehearsals like, for instance?
The first nude rehearsal really surprised me. I wasn’t embarrassed at all. In fact, it was almost like a poetic experience. It doesn’t feel cheap or oversexualised. The music, the lighting, the interaction with all the people involved in putting the scene together – there was something magical about it.

So you don’t have a vain side to you, then?
Put it this way: I didn’t mind being naked in front of everybody in the dress rehearsal. I’m fully immersed in the opera, in the music. The role of Heliane really stretches me vocally. I’m not thinking about her physical nudity; I’m concentrating on this very demanding music and a very demanding role. So the fact that I’m naked is kind of way down on my list of preoccupations. Plus, my body isn’t perfect, like a model’s, and it has make-up on. Who knows, maybe I am a little vain? They covered up the scars on my legs, for instance.

Beauty as protection?
Yes! Make-up becomes a kind of protection. I now understand what models mean with #nomakeup, when they have themselves photographed au naturel and how important that tiny step is, dispensing with that last layer, before then you’re really and truly naked.

Is nudity more erotica or more innocence?
In this work there’s no real distinguishing between the emotional aspect and the physical. Korngold wanted the two lovers to melt into each other.

That sounds properly transcendental. Do you think Heliane would attend tantra seminars?
Transcendental is the right word! When I think about Heliane, that’s exactly what comes to mind. In fact, she’d probably be a tantra coach! For her, there’s something supernatural about sexuality.

What kind of a woman is Heliane?
No one I know is like her. She really is supernatural. She helps us to think outside of the box and look at society in a different way. I’m not sure if audiences will ‘get’ her, because she’s on a different level. By which I don’t mean she’s better than other people. She stands above certain categorisations. For me, she mainly reflects Korngold’s love for his wife.

Sounds like a tragic love story.
The two families were against their relationship. They insisted on Korngold and his wife living apart for one year before they got married, even though they’d already been together for six or seven years – a long time in those days. Korngold realised during this enforced separation that you can be deeply connected to someone without being physically close to them. I’m guessing they both felt a real buzz, even when their bodies were apart. And I think that’s the kind of thing going on with Heliane and the Stranger. In the love duet in the final scene we don’t touch each other. We circle each other. There’s this magical tension connecting us.

If Heliane were alive today, would she be living in an open relationship with someone?
I don’t think so. She’s loves the Stranger too much. And she’s not sleeping with her husband. I guess she’s holding out for her one-in-a-million star, and then she finds him. I’d say she does have her own way of looking at relationships.

Would Heliane be part of the #MeToo movement?
Heliane is her own movement. She wouldn’t understand the #metoo thing. Clearly, we’ve got to look at the anger triggered by injustice. But Heliane teaches us something else, namely what it means to really open up, to give oneself up to someone, to act selflessly. That’s what her nakedness is. If you think about all the stuff happening around the world, this opera is really positive. If Heliane had a movement, it might be called something like #positivenakedness.

There has been very little writing about the character of Heliane over the years. What is it about this blank or “bare” sheet that tweaks your interest?
I love it. I can draw what I want on the page. There are no expectations. Heliane is like a playground – and Korngold’s sound is like a jewellery box whose contents are a mystery. You open it up and see the rubies and emeralds. And suddenly they’re yours. I have to hit the right notes and sing in the right rhythm, but apart from that I have endless freedom to interpret. It’s like taking trips into uncharted territory.

What have you learnt from Heliane?
I’ve learnt something about love. The kind of love that Heliane has found, that’s what I’d like in my own life. I want the star-crossed-lovers thing. She really moves and touches me. We had a rehearsal recently where Christof Loy was talking about Heliane’s selfless love, her capacity for total devotion to another. I had to look down quickly, because I was welling up. I’ve never been affected like that by any other work. And that’s what’s so sad about the story. You think: “Oh, I so wish I knew love like that in my own life. But I’ll probably never find it.” At least, I haven’t found it.