Claus Guth’s once-controversial, space-set Bohème returns to Paris to a packed, euphoric house. What felt scandalous in 2017 now reads as a piercing meditation on grief, memory and first love.
Claus Guth propels Puccini’s most beloved opera into the future and off the planet. His conceit is simple and devastating: after Mimì’s premature death, Rodolfo never recovers. Years later, adrift in space with Marcello and starved of oxygen, he relives the happiness of long ago as delirium blurs past and present. The result is a La Bohème that plays like a haunting epilogue—Part II to the familiar story.
The production assumes you know the opera. The “original” Paris episodes are now memories that surface as Rodolfo logs his final days. Each act opens with a new diary entry—“expedition in danger… last oxygen reserves… imagining times long past”—as the spacecraft’s water and air run out. Flashbacks flood in: the friends jokingly reconstruct the landlord as a mannequin (wittily sung by Colline); “Che gelida manina” [“what a cold little hand”] unfurls with Rodolfo writing in his sleep capsule, Mimì materialising like breath on glass. Their “O soave fanciulla” [“O gentle maiden”] becomes a dream-duet; when he reaches to lead her away, she vanishes, and we feel the gut-punch of a man grasping at a ghost.
Guth and his team execute clever body-double switches, snapping the men from space suits into their earlier selves. Café Momus erupts as a surreal carnival—acrobat waiters, jugglers, stilt-walkers—while Musetta sashays through “Quando me’n vo’” [“When I walk alone”] with knowing sparkle. By Act III, a funeral cortege drifts past; outside the ship, Rodolfo spacewalks after it in slow motion, already half gone. The finale is visually simple and emotionally direct: silver streamers veil the stage like nebulae as figures from the past flicker in and out. Mimì steps onto a moon-scape, Rodolfo follows; she dies in his arms as he, out of oxygen, falls with a final cry—“Mimì!”
If that sounds convoluted, it isn’t. Guth’s framework clarifies rather than clutters, channelling the opera’s ache into a single through-line: how unimaginable loss lodges in the body. Many live with unspoken grief; first love never quite lets go. Here, Rodolfo’s end reads as release—reunited with the joy that once was.
Musically, the night glows. Mexican-American dramatic tenor Joshua Guerrero is a standout Rodolfo—expressive, ardent, and believable, his tone shifting colour through the range; “O soave fanciulla” [“O gentle maiden”] is a highlight. Chilean soprano Yaritza Véliz (a 2018 Jette Parker Young Artist) brings a Puccinian sheen to Mimì; “Mi chiamano Mimì” [“They call me Mimì”] is delicately phrased, balancing fragility with resilience. As Marcello, Canadian baritone Étienne Dupuis is luxury casting—warmth, depth of colour and easy chemistry with Guerrero. Xiaomeng Zhang’s crisp, attractive baritone makes a stylish Schaunard. As Colline/Benoît, Alexandros Stavrakakis offers a lovely, rounded bass; at the very top the sound tightens slightly and doesn’t always ring freely.
Eight years after its bumpy birth, this Bohème lands with authority. Guth’s science-fiction frame doesn’t compete with Puccini—it deepens him. A superb cast and confident music-making seal the deal. Catch it if you can.
Opera in four acts
Music: Giacomo Puccini (1858–1924)
Libretto: Giuseppe Giacosa & Luigi Illica, from Henri Murger’s Scènes de la vie de bohème
Conductor: Domingo Hindoyan
Director: Claus Guth
Videos: Ariel Andiel
First performance: 1 February 1896, Teatro Regio, Turin
Cast includes: Yaritza Véliz, Andrea Carroll, Joshua Guerrero, Étienne Dupuis, Xiaomeng Zhang, Alexandros Stavrakakis, Franck Leguérinel, Hyn-Jong Roh
Running time: 2 hours 30 minutes, one interval
Photo credit: Monika Rittershaus