The Brno staging of Janáček's Jenůfa at the Moravian Autumn Festival once again proved that even after many years, an original directorial concept can still reveal new dramatic and musical nuances when refreshed through a partly renewed cast and interpretive inventiveness. Martin Glaser’s direction remains firmly grounded in a realistic reading of the work, yet in combination with Robert Kružík’s musical leadership the production feels alive, gripping, and emotionally genuine.
The dominant set piece of Pavel Borák’s tree of life runs through all three acts as a silent witness to human change and the inevitability of fate. From the orchestral prelude onwards, the performance displayed remarkable sonic richness. Robert Kružík led the orchestra with precise control and natural drive. The strings in unison created a compact, lush foundation, while the woodwinds coloured the action with subtle transitions and the percussion's repetitive beats accentuated the tension simmering beneath the surface. The conductor shaped dynamic arcs in which even brief pauses in the musical flow pulsed with the drama of silence.
Kateřina Kněžíková in the title role captivated the audience from her very first notes. Her voice is noble in colour, precise in diction and full of inner expression. In the solo passages she combined flawless technique with a refined sense of intimacy; her Jenůfa was both vulnerable and resolute. Jaroslav Březina gave a powerfully dramatic reading of Laca, his tenor resonating with tension and passion. Jitka Zerhauová, as the grandmother, lent the role a soft, caring tone; her duet with Jenůfa was among the evening’s most touching moments. Svatopluk Sem impressed as the Mayor with a confident, well-rounded baritone, while Jana Hrochová’s Kostelnička, even in her first entrance, inspired respect and unease in equal measure, intensifying the dramatic tension.
The collaboration between orchestra and chorus was exemplary - under Josef Pančík, the chorus offered its trademark reliability and a touch of folk colour. Markéta Slámečková’s costumes sensitively drew on folk traditions while reflecting the theatre of the twenty first century. As Števa, Aleš Briscein convincingly portrayed a self-satisfied young man, his nonchalance spiced with hints of the verbuňk and čardáš, lending the scene a playful, spontaneous energy.
The second act marked a shift into deeper psychological terrain. The minimalist set magnified the tension between Jenůfa and the Kostelnička, and Jana Hrochová delivered an extraordinary performance. Her darkly coloured mezzo-soprano, slightly veiled in tone, conveyed both pain and strength, reflecting the torment of a woman torn between guilt, faith, and love. Martin Špetlík’s lighting design underlined the urgency and inner tightness of the scene.
The orchestra captured the shifting moods with precision, urgent string passages alternating with quiet stillness and brief outbursts of drama. The violin solo created a fragile bridge to Knežíková's stunning entrance, whose portrayal of maternal despair was both technically brilliant and emotionally disarming. The trio of Kostelnička, Jenůfa and Laco showed an impressive vocal integrity and a finely tuned expressive rapport.
Briscein’s Števa embodied arrogance and immaturity, while Březina’s Laca projected sincerity and devotion. The orchestra was not afraid to embrace contrasts — fullness gave way to bare delicacy, and even the smallest sonic detail carried expressive weight.
Despite the gravity of the subject, the final part of the opera flowed with remarkable ease — proof of Martin Glaser’s meticulous direction. The production felt like a perfectly synchronised whole, grounded in the assured craftsmanship of the Brno ensemble. The folksy prelude with its dance-like character soon dissolved into dramatic dissonance with the discovery of the dead child. Here, the orchestra built an arch of sound with extraordinary sensitivity — the tone shifting gradually from light to darkness, the tension growing to the edge of physical impact.
The idea of figures moving behind the main scene and the striking purple-toned costumes added symbolic gravity. In the role of Kostelnička, Jana Hrochová underwent a genuine catharsis - her confession was profoundly human, stripped of pathos, and filled with deep inner emotion. In the third act, Kněžíková’s Jenůfa embodied a woman of unconditional love, forgiveness, and acceptance of fate. A violin solo with gentle harmonics cut poignantly through the scene’s turning point. Eva Svozilová’s Karolka was charming with her fresh voice and unaffected presence.
The women’s chorus, at times heard from an acoustic distance, sounded natural and spirited, especially in Ej, mamko, mamko. Jan Št'ava deepened the colour of the finale with his resonant bass. The mother’s wedding blessing radiated genuine emotion, giving the moment a sense of the sacred. The final act built up to a monumental musical and dramatic climax. The orchestra unleashed each motif with explosive energy; the music burned with tension and life, while from the imagined stage sky a gentle rain began to fall — as if washing away all the horror and pain, opening the way for transformation and renewal. In this closing tableau, every element of the production came together — the orchestra’s precision, the singers’ conviction, the expressive scenography, and the coherent directorial vision — to form an intense, deeply moving conclusion that left the audience with a feeling of purification and hope. The audience rewarded the extraordinary artistic experience with prolonged standing ovations, during which the theatre paid tribute to Jana Hrochová for her twenty-five years on the Brno stage, her life jubilee, and her début in the role of Kostelnička.
Janáček’s Jenůfa in Brno’s production remains one of the cornerstones of the repertoire, one that stands up well even in an international context. The partly new cast brought freshness to the production while losing none of its authenticity or expressive power. Robert Kružík offered a sensitive reading of the score — balanced, thoughtful, and at the same time intuitive. All of the above combined to create a musically and dramatically unified whole that once again reminded us that Gabriela Preissová’s story still chills the audience with its human truth more than a century later.
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