The Cunning Little Vixen
Opera in three acts
Libretto by the composer baseed on the story Liška Bystrouška by Rudolf Těsnohlídek
in Czech language with German surtitles
Libretto by the composer baseed on the story Liška Bystrouška by Rudolf Těsnohlídek
in Czech language with German surtitles
“I no longer have time to think about myself. In no year have I worked so much mentally as in this one,“ wrote the composer Leoš Janáček while he was working on The Cunning Little Vixen. The composition absorbed him completely, so meticulously did he try to translate the sounds of nature and the animal world into music. Janáček got the inspiration for the story about a young vixen who comes into contact with the human world from a newspaper comic. Nevertheless, The Cunning Little Vixen is not a playful fairytale opera, on the contrary. Two worlds collide, that of the animals and that of the humans. The community around the forester and his family as well as the other villagers is cruel and at the same time full of longing for a better life - but who has the answer to the question of what a real life is like? When the forester and the vixen meet in the forest, nature and apparent civilization come face to face. Thus, The Cunning Little Vixen explicitly shows no cute anecdotes about animals, but a pragmatic, uncompromising world in which it is all about survival. And yet there is room for the love between vixen and fox. Janáček succeeds in sounding out the animal in man and the human in the animal, thus holding up a mirror to us. Almost 101 years to the day after its premiere in Brno in 1924, Stephan Kimmig now turns his attention to an opera full of contrasts and the longing to find a place where one can live free of rules, following Der Prinz von Homburg and Das Rheingold. But does this place even exist?
#StgtFüchsin
Duration
approx. 1 h 45 min (no interval)
approx. 1 h 45 min (no interval)
World premiere
1924 in Brünn
Premiere of this production
November 9, 2025
1924 in Brünn
Premiere of this production
November 9, 2025
Recommended age
from grade 8
from grade 8
There will be a German introduction 45 minutes before the performance at the Upper Foyer (I. Rang).
Introductory matinee on „The Cunning Little Vixen“ on October 12, 2025
Introductory matinee on „The Cunning Little Vixen“ on October 12, 2025
Nov 2025
The Cunning Little Vixen
Sun
9
18:00 – 19:45
Opernhaus
Opernhaus
Premiere
- / - / - / - / - / 82 / 99 / 119 / - €
Cast
Musikalische Leitung Ariane Matiakh
Regie Stephan Kimmig
Bühne Katja Haß
Kostüme Anja Rabes
Choreografie Jonathan Reimann
Licht Gerrit Jurda
Chor und Kinderchor Bernhard Moncado
Dramaturgie Johanna Mangold
Regie Stephan Kimmig
Bühne Katja Haß
Kostüme Anja Rabes
Choreografie Jonathan Reimann
Licht Gerrit Jurda
Chor und Kinderchor Bernhard Moncado
Dramaturgie Johanna Mangold
Füchsin Claudia Muschio
Förster Paweł Konik
Frau Försterin / Eule Olivia Johnson
Lehrer / Mücke Moritz Kallenberg
Pfarrer / Dachs Andrew Bogard
Haraschta Michael Nagl
Frau Pasek / Eichelhäher Catriona Smith
Herr Pasek Torsten Hofmann
Fuchs Ida Ränzlöv
Dackel / Specht Itzeli del Rosario
Hahn Oscar Encinas
Schopfhenne Carmen Larios Caparrós
Staatsorchester Stuttgart, Staatsopernchor Stuttgart, Kinderchor der Staatsoper Stuttgart
Förster Paweł Konik
Frau Försterin / Eule Olivia Johnson
Lehrer / Mücke Moritz Kallenberg
Pfarrer / Dachs Andrew Bogard
Haraschta Michael Nagl
Frau Pasek / Eichelhäher Catriona Smith
Herr Pasek Torsten Hofmann
Fuchs Ida Ränzlöv
Dackel / Specht Itzeli del Rosario
Hahn Oscar Encinas
Schopfhenne Carmen Larios Caparrós
Staatsorchester Stuttgart, Staatsopernchor Stuttgart, Kinderchor der Staatsoper Stuttgart
Dec 2025
The Cunning Little Vixen
Wed
10
19:00 – 20:45
Opernhaus
Opernhaus
For the last time this season
8 / 17 / 26 / 40 / 53 / 66 / 82 / 99 / 115 €
Cast
In short
Leoš Janáček’s The Cunning Little Vixen is a work of rare, contradictory beauty: tender and wild at the same time, imbued with deep sorrow and genuine insight. At its core is the encounter between a forester and a young vixen, whom he captures and takes home. But she is not welcome in the house: neither by the forester's wife, who wants to get rid of the strange “animal,” nor by the children, who in their cruelty repeat the patriarchal violence in which they themselves are growing up. The vixen rebels. She instigates a bloody revolt in the chicken coop and flees into the forest. But she has changed: she has learned on the farm what power means and what it means to resist it. She drives the domineering badger out of his den and takes her fate into her own hands. At the same time, the forester, teacher, and pastor sit in the tavern. Beneath the seemingly trivial banter about women, pseudo-morality, and card games, a deeper level opens up: the oppressive silence of unlived lives, of misunderstood language.
In the forest, however, something new emerges: the vixen encounters a beautiful fox, sung by a female voice! A love of rare clarity grows between them, present and free. It is a small utopia of life. But the world does not tolerate such moments for long. The poacher Harašta, irritated by the vixen's spiritual presence and dignity, reacts with what people often do when they do not understand vitality: with violence. A shot is fired. The vixen dies.
But Janáček does not let the story end in death. The forester returns to the forest, searches for the vixen – and finds enlightenment: that nature itself is the greatest comforter: infinite, forgiving, creative.
Utopia of vitality
When we consider Leoš Janáček’s work, which premiered in Brno on November 6, 1924, we encounter something radically new: with the Vixen, Janáček created a hybrid female character that was unprecedented in the world of opera at that time. A character who defies all traditional attributions, for she is neither the victim nor the devoted lover, neither femme fatale nor femme fragile. What distinguishes her is radical: her presence in the moment, which does not submit but shapes.
The experiences she makes at the forester’s farm are traumatic: she suffers humiliation, violence, and misunderstanding. But she does not remain a victim of these experiences. She accepts them, transforms them, takes responsibility for what has happened to her, and turns it into an inner strength.
When we speak of utopia, we mean a world that does not yet exist but appears to us as a possibility. Janáček created such a utopia with his Vixen. It is a vision of lived vitality in which a female being is no longer defined by roles but by the ability to be completely absorbed in being. And who has the courage to express and give voice to her uniqueness.
In the forest, however, something new emerges: the vixen encounters a beautiful fox, sung by a female voice! A love of rare clarity grows between them, present and free. It is a small utopia of life. But the world does not tolerate such moments for long. The poacher Harašta, irritated by the vixen's spiritual presence and dignity, reacts with what people often do when they do not understand vitality: with violence. A shot is fired. The vixen dies.
But Janáček does not let the story end in death. The forester returns to the forest, searches for the vixen – and finds enlightenment: that nature itself is the greatest comforter: infinite, forgiving, creative.
Utopia of vitality
When we consider Leoš Janáček’s work, which premiered in Brno on November 6, 1924, we encounter something radically new: with the Vixen, Janáček created a hybrid female character that was unprecedented in the world of opera at that time. A character who defies all traditional attributions, for she is neither the victim nor the devoted lover, neither femme fatale nor femme fragile. What distinguishes her is radical: her presence in the moment, which does not submit but shapes.
The experiences she makes at the forester’s farm are traumatic: she suffers humiliation, violence, and misunderstanding. But she does not remain a victim of these experiences. She accepts them, transforms them, takes responsibility for what has happened to her, and turns it into an inner strength.
When we speak of utopia, we mean a world that does not yet exist but appears to us as a possibility. Janáček created such a utopia with his Vixen. It is a vision of lived vitality in which a female being is no longer defined by roles but by the ability to be completely absorbed in being. And who has the courage to express and give voice to her uniqueness.
In the beginning was the image
Even the origin of this opera is unusual. The Cunning Litte Vixen was not born from words, but from an image. The vixen was created by Czech landscape painter Stanislav Lolek (1873-1936). It was not until 1920 that Czech author and columnist Rudolf Těsnohlídek (1882-1928) added text to the humorous, sometimes satirical drawings about the relationship between humans and animals. These comic-like episodes appeared in 1920 in the Brno daily newspaper Lidové noviny as a serialized story and were particularly well received by female readers. Leoš Janáček was also fascinated. He took the illustrated episodes as the starting point for his opera. At the same time, as numerous essays show, he devoted himself to the acoustic world of living things: the sound of water, the singing of birds, the breath of the forest, and even the sound of silence. Janáček was not a romantic admirer of nature, but an analytical listener. This intense engagement with the sounds of nature resulted in a work that can probably be described as his most personal.
Final destination: insight
The question of what Janáček’s The Cunning Little Vixen actually is – fairy tale, fable, comedy, or tragedy – is difficult to answer. This opera defies any genre boundaries. It is a multifaceted mixture, an interweaving of various dramatic and dramaturgical concepts, and it is precisely this that makes it so unique and great. For although the human characters – the forester, the teacher, and the priest – appear petty bourgeois in their thinking, and their attachment to everyday life and their speechlessness bring them closer to naturalism than to tragedy, something happens at the end that points far beyond them. The forester’s moment of insight, his realization that he is part of a larger, pulsating context, lifts the work out of the everyday into another dimension. The forester is no king, no mythological hero. And yet, in the end, he experiences what the ancients called anagnorisis: the recognition of his belonging to a larger whole, to the creative order of life itself. For Janáček, then, it is enough to be HUMAN – no more and no less – to comprehend the miracle of existence. Therein lies his quiet yet incredibly timeless message.
Even the origin of this opera is unusual. The Cunning Litte Vixen was not born from words, but from an image. The vixen was created by Czech landscape painter Stanislav Lolek (1873-1936). It was not until 1920 that Czech author and columnist Rudolf Těsnohlídek (1882-1928) added text to the humorous, sometimes satirical drawings about the relationship between humans and animals. These comic-like episodes appeared in 1920 in the Brno daily newspaper Lidové noviny as a serialized story and were particularly well received by female readers. Leoš Janáček was also fascinated. He took the illustrated episodes as the starting point for his opera. At the same time, as numerous essays show, he devoted himself to the acoustic world of living things: the sound of water, the singing of birds, the breath of the forest, and even the sound of silence. Janáček was not a romantic admirer of nature, but an analytical listener. This intense engagement with the sounds of nature resulted in a work that can probably be described as his most personal.
Final destination: insight
The question of what Janáček’s The Cunning Little Vixen actually is – fairy tale, fable, comedy, or tragedy – is difficult to answer. This opera defies any genre boundaries. It is a multifaceted mixture, an interweaving of various dramatic and dramaturgical concepts, and it is precisely this that makes it so unique and great. For although the human characters – the forester, the teacher, and the priest – appear petty bourgeois in their thinking, and their attachment to everyday life and their speechlessness bring them closer to naturalism than to tragedy, something happens at the end that points far beyond them. The forester’s moment of insight, his realization that he is part of a larger, pulsating context, lifts the work out of the everyday into another dimension. The forester is no king, no mythological hero. And yet, in the end, he experiences what the ancients called anagnorisis: the recognition of his belonging to a larger whole, to the creative order of life itself. For Janáček, then, it is enough to be HUMAN – no more and no less – to comprehend the miracle of existence. Therein lies his quiet yet incredibly timeless message.
Plot
Act one
Autumn sun against a black background. A grasshopper and a frog meet when the forester appears. Exhausted from a nightmare, he lies down to sleep. A mosquito, frightened by a frog, wakes him up. The forester discovers a little vixen and catches her.
In the courtyard of the forester’s house, the forester’s wife wants to chase the vixen away. The dog Lapak, tired of the constant marital quarrels, suffers from loneliness and seeks to get closer to the young vixen. She talks to him quite openly about love, but rejects him. The forester’s children torment the vixen and are bitten by her. The forester then ties her up.
At night, the vixen dreams of freedom. Transformation. The next day, she gives a rebellious speech in the chicken coop, urging the hens to rise up against the rooster. But the hens remain inactive. Disappointed, the vixen fakes her death, then tears off the hens’ heads. The forester and his wife rush over. Commotion. The vixen frees herself and flees into the forest.
Act two
The vixen is unstoppable now, her spirit of resistance ignited: she drives the badger out of his burrow and leaves him to the forest animals.
At night, the forester and the teacher sit in the tavern playing cards. Soon the priest joins them, dissatisfied and complaining that he would be better off in Strání. The forester teases the teacher, asking if he is in love, and talks about his own vixen. When the cock crows, they leave; the forester stays behind alone for a moment.
On the way home through the forest, the drunken teacher loses his stick and falls. The vixen watches him. The teacher believes he recognizes his beloved Terynka in the shadow of the wall and confesses his love to her. He stumbles and falls when the priest appears. He, too, wistfully remembers his childhood sweetheart.
The forester searches for his vixen.
Autumn sun against a black background. A grasshopper and a frog meet when the forester appears. Exhausted from a nightmare, he lies down to sleep. A mosquito, frightened by a frog, wakes him up. The forester discovers a little vixen and catches her.
In the courtyard of the forester’s house, the forester’s wife wants to chase the vixen away. The dog Lapak, tired of the constant marital quarrels, suffers from loneliness and seeks to get closer to the young vixen. She talks to him quite openly about love, but rejects him. The forester’s children torment the vixen and are bitten by her. The forester then ties her up.
At night, the vixen dreams of freedom. Transformation. The next day, she gives a rebellious speech in the chicken coop, urging the hens to rise up against the rooster. But the hens remain inactive. Disappointed, the vixen fakes her death, then tears off the hens’ heads. The forester and his wife rush over. Commotion. The vixen frees herself and flees into the forest.
Act two
The vixen is unstoppable now, her spirit of resistance ignited: she drives the badger out of his burrow and leaves him to the forest animals.
At night, the forester and the teacher sit in the tavern playing cards. Soon the priest joins them, dissatisfied and complaining that he would be better off in Strání. The forester teases the teacher, asking if he is in love, and talks about his own vixen. When the cock crows, they leave; the forester stays behind alone for a moment.
On the way home through the forest, the drunken teacher loses his stick and falls. The vixen watches him. The teacher believes he recognizes his beloved Terynka in the shadow of the wall and confesses his love to her. He stumbles and falls when the priest appears. He, too, wistfully remembers his childhood sweetheart.
The forester searches for his vixen.
The vixen observes a handsome fox and is captivated by him. He speaks to her, and she tells him about her past and her resistance against the forester. The fox is impressed. The conversation becomes more intimate and ends in a confession of love. The dragonfly dances while the owl gossips curiously.
The vixen confesses to the fox that she is expecting offspring. Shortly thereafter, the animals celebrate their civil wedding.
Act three
Autumn in the forest. The forester meets the poacher Harašta, who tells him about his planned wedding to Terynka and shows him a dead hare. The forester sets a trap, but the vixen with her cubs and the fox laugh at the clumsy construction.
Harašta bellows a song. The vixen stands in his way, provokes him, and brings him down. In his anger, Harašta shoots, fatally wounding the vixen.
The forester sits with the silent teacher in the inn. The pastor and innkeeper are absent, and Mrs. Pasek is too busy to converse. The forester tries to strike up a conversation, but the news of Terynka’s wedding to Harašta hits the teacher hard. The forester leaves.
After the rain, the sun shines again on the black valley. As exhausted as he was at the beginning, the forester falls asleep. In his dream, he recognizes the reawakening of nature and the oneness of all living beings: he sees a young vixen that resembles her mother, as well as a frog. As he does so, his rifle slips from his hands.
The vixen confesses to the fox that she is expecting offspring. Shortly thereafter, the animals celebrate their civil wedding.
Act three
Autumn in the forest. The forester meets the poacher Harašta, who tells him about his planned wedding to Terynka and shows him a dead hare. The forester sets a trap, but the vixen with her cubs and the fox laugh at the clumsy construction.
Harašta bellows a song. The vixen stands in his way, provokes him, and brings him down. In his anger, Harašta shoots, fatally wounding the vixen.
The forester sits with the silent teacher in the inn. The pastor and innkeeper are absent, and Mrs. Pasek is too busy to converse. The forester tries to strike up a conversation, but the news of Terynka’s wedding to Harašta hits the teacher hard. The forester leaves.
After the rain, the sun shines again on the black valley. As exhausted as he was at the beginning, the forester falls asleep. In his dream, he recognizes the reawakening of nature and the oneness of all living beings: he sees a young vixen that resembles her mother, as well as a frog. As he does so, his rifle slips from his hands.