“…the evening’s singing laurels went to Ying Fang as Ilia and Elza van den Heever as Elettra… In a much broader role, van den Heever commanded the stage in her three highly contrasting arias. Hers is a huge voice, but she brought delicacy and warmth to her seductive Act 2 “Idol mio” (My dearest). Then she showed off her Straussian power by exploding from silence into her rafter-shaking final aria, rushing out to stunned applause from the audience.”
San Francisco Chronicle
“Elettra, who always knows that her love for Idamante is hopeless, was sung by Elza van den Heever, certainly still basking in her recent triumph as Salome at the Met. She raged in her first act aria, purred in the second act as she is sent off into exile with Idamante,. But she lost all control in the third act when, in the opera’s final moments, she understands at last that she simply cannot have Idamante. It was a truly magnificent rage before she stormed off to kill herself.”
Opera Today
“Images of splashing storm waves tinted red reflect her fury in the dramatic Act III aria ‘D’Oreste, d’Ajace ho in seno i tormenti’ (‘I feel Orestes’s and Ajax’s torments in my heart’), which van den Heever delivered with savory explosiveness.”
Seen and Heard International
“Elza van den Heever… is Elettra, and she tears through the role with the power of a lioness with strong and accurate vocalizations. Near the climax, she finds her aspirations crumbling, and her mad scene is an emotive tour-de-force of sound and sight.”
Berkshire Fine Arts
“As Elettra, the Greek princess who loves Idamante, soprano Elza van den Heever provided a dramatically focused, thrilling intensity to the character’s unhinged music.”
Bay City News Service
“After gloriously portraying Richard Strauss’s Salome at the Met just last month (a performance so magnificent that I caught both the broadcast and the encore at the movie theater), I was very curious how Elza van den Heever would approach Elettra here… van der Heever approached the role with restraint and elegance, fully embodying the character as a member of the royalty without turning it into a caricature.
In her hands, the three arias turned into a demonstration of three different states of Elettra’s unstable, manipulative, yet somewhat hopeful mind, from jealousy to (temporary) bliss to finally rage and desperation of losing it all. van den Heever used her large and commanding instrument intelligently, full of nuances and gorgeous phrases. It wasn’t till “D’Oreste, d’Ajace” that the audience began to see splashes of Strauss (her self-professed favorite), and even then, she didn’t completely lose it and performed the rage aria with complete control.”
“Ms. Van den Heever could sing with the most intensity in “All Soul’s Day” to a restrained “Dedication.” Hers is definitely a Strauss soprano. Her middle ranges were beautiful in themselves, yet she expressed the German words with true clarity. And when she reached the highest notes–and each of the five song had its apexes–one didn’t feel that this was a singer’s feat. The voice was part of the complete structure.”
ConcertoNet
“Richard Strauss’ works as performed by van den Heever on this particular night included: “Zueignung,” Op. 10, No. 1, “Wiegenlied,” Op. 41, No. 1, “Allerseelen,” Op. 10, No. 8, “Cäcilie,” Op. 27, No. 2, and “Befreit,” Op. 39, No. 4. Her voice’s earthy richness came to life during the opening phrase of “Zueignung” as she sang ‘Ja, du weisst es, teure Seele,’ (Yes, you know it, dearest soul) with sumptuous ease and delight. Her silvery upper register spun into the hall during the phrase ‘Und du segnetest den Trank,’ (And you blessed the drink). She showed extra care in between phrases ‘Und beschwörst darin die Bösen, Bis ich, was ich nie gewesen,’ (And you exorcised the evils in it, Until I, as I had never been before), as she drew a short breath between ‘Bis ich’ and ‘was ich nie gewesen.’ Subtle details such as this meant the world for listeners who were on the edge of their seats, taking breaths at the same time as she did, feeling everything she felt along the way. The concluding words of this piece, ‘Habe Dank’ (Have thanks), resonated beyond the walls of Carnegie Hall and into the ethereal. The audience applauded immediately”
“She’s had a remarkably varied repertoire at the Met ranging from Handel to Berg, but her silvery, high soprano is an ideal fit for Strauss. Her upper register is spectacular, soaring over the orchestra with ease … She’s unquestionably committed as an actress, convincing as a teenager and deftly capturing the character’s twisted psychology.”
The Times
“Starring the soprano Elza van den Heever — simultaneously innocent and hardened, sounding silvery yet secure — this “Salome,” which opened on Tuesday, gives its title character not one youthful double, but six … Van den Heever is serious and measured, too. As in Strauss’s “Die Frau Ohne Schatten” at the Met earlier this season, her high register can both softly float and powerfully soar … she paces herself smartly, leaving ample stamina and focus for Salome’s great final monologue to be affectingly direct and sincere.”
The New York Times
“In the title role, Elza van den Heever gave a committed performance that showed all the facets of Salome from a young woman who slowly devolves through her lust-filled and necrophiliac desires for Jochanaan … it all climaxed in the final scene where Van den Heever was completely bewitched by Jochanaan. Her visage was completely blank as if a demon had possessed her. When she walked to Jochanaan’s body with the head, she lustfully sat on it. Van den Heever seemed to be completely aroused by the image of the beheaded body. It was captivating to watch the soprano as an actress as she completely took control of the 20-minute scene, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of her … Van den Heever started her evening with a lighter sound, emphasizing the innocent aspects of Salome, and only started to let out her full voice when she met Jochanaan. Then in her scene with Herod and Herodias, Van den Heever played with her sound, giving her timbre a seductive feel as she rejected Herod’s offers. Her voice slowly evolved into desperation and obtained darker tones as she demanded the head of Jochanaan. And toward the end, Van den Heever combined the dramatic full voice as she rejoiced in kissing the head with eerie whispers. Her “Ah! Ich habe deinen Mund geküßt, Jochanaan” captured the possessed state of Salome with the slides in her voice sounding ghostly. And the final climactic repetition of “Ich habe ihn geküßt, deinen Mund” soared into the auditorium with power.”
Operawire
“Elza van den Heever embodied Strauss’s description of the singer he desired in this role as “a 16-year-old princess with the voice of Isolde.” The black dress visually infantilized Salome, while van den Heever’s complete immersion in the psyche of a teenage girl did so dramatically. Her transformation into a sexually charged woman was achieved by slipping out of the dress. A simple white sheath made all the difference, but was no symbol of innocence … Her luminous soprano … slicing through the dense orchestra with ease and beauty. The soprano not only conquered but triumphed in this notoriously difficult role.”
New York Classical Review
“At the end of the Metropolitan Opera’s new production of Richard Strauss’s Salome, the soprano Elza van den Heever stayed onstage to accept the uproarious ovations with a weepy smile and a grateful tap on her heart. That moment of curtain-call niceness came as a shock on opening night, because for the previous two hours she had exuded the kind of casual, carnal evil that zombies would kill for.
What powers van den Heever’s performance is the gulf between the nastiness onstage and the glimmering warmth of her voice. While she is stabbing, whirling, demanding, and indulging in a blood-soaked smooch, she sings as if she were wandering primly through a sunny meadow. Strauss chiseled that fissure into her role, writing seductive music for a violent story. She’s not Elektra, hollering about cataclysm and spewing curses. She’s a twisted, spoiled girl, cajoling her smitten stepfather, Herod, into lopping off that sexy prisoner’s skull … Later, when Salome descends into the palace’s bowels (or rather the dungeon rises to meet her), she finds Jochanaan in the divided form of a headless corpse, a corpseless head, and the memory of his magnetism. Van den Heever outdoes herself here: Not every great singer can get away with playing a scene of sloppy necrophilia with such aplomb. Fewer still can do that while singing with such untroubled suppleness, without a trace of steeliness or gristle in her voice.”
Vulture
“The opening night crowd roared when van den Heever took her bow, and rightly so. Her Salome was every inch a damaged and demanding adolescent, aided by the hint of steel in her otherwise warm, pure tone.”
Financial Times
“Soprano Elza van den Heever debuted her Salome in Lydia Steier’s 2022 production for Paris Opera, and her grip on the character was tight enough to leave marks. She brought the perfect balance of winsome innocence and iridescent rage to her performance, which highlighted the heat and heft of her instrument, but also her keen dramatic sensibilities.”
The Washington Post
“Mattei and Elza van den Heever last sang together at the Met in the 2019-20 season’s Wozzeck, and, in Salome, they once again proved an excellent pair. Wrangling over his fanaticism and her sexuality—in the only scene where both characters are visible and alive—both Mattei and van den Heever gave voice to the constant flux between Jochanaan and Salome as they talked at, to, and through one another. Briefly, it would seem like a real conversation between the two of them was possible, but then Mattei’s tone would revert to roaring zeal or van den Heever’s to feverish ecstasy, and the moment would be broken. It’s a treat to hear vocal acting so nuanced in opera, and even more so to hear two such performers together.
Stranded between childhood and adulthood, Elza van den Heever’s Salome mingled moments of childlike vocal sweetness with a soaring, rapturous sound that was undeniably adult. In her physicality, too, van den Heever was credible as the teenaged princess. Awkward in her body, yet clearly used to being the center of attention, van den Heever’s Salome was a young woman coming dangerously into her own…
In those final moments, Van den Heever’s Salome addressed with a hushed kind of calm the face that had sparked such violent and erotic fervor within her—confused, perhaps, that such a lifeless thing could have had such an effect. Why wouldn’t he look at her? Were his lips bitter with blood? Or with love?
Even here, in the stark white basement of her unconscious mind, surrounded by the stunted and fractured ghosts of her younger self, Salome found no easy answers, no convenient self knowledge. But as the orchestra teetered on the edge of romanticism and revulsion, as van den Heever’s voice ascended to shivering delirium, as the set lifted her up to face her ambiguous fate, the music affirmed Salome’s rapture, not her doubt. What does it matter? Wherever that stage elevator was taking her, it certainly was not her stepfather’s house anymore.”
Parterre
“Elza van den Heever, a stunning Salome, floats in white during the opening overture, embodying the innocence and seduction of youth … her execution of every note and phrase is flawless, showcasing her as a consummate singing actress who first captured America’s attention with her performance of Fidelio at Caramoor a decade ago.”
“ … she quickly made a strong impression with her perfectly projected, velvety soprano. Her high notes were both powerful and assured, and by the third act, she unleashed the full force of her voice in a breathtaking performance, capturing the desperation of a mother fighting to save her unborn child.”
Bachtrack
“Elza van den Heever, the French-South African soprano making her house debut, was a rapturous and devastatingly sorrowful Sieglinde.”
“[Elza van den Heever] managed to convey Sieglinde’s misery even before she sang. Her bright soprano is sensual, capable of conveying her rapture in her Act I duet with Siegmund. Her voice contrasted beautifully with Nylund’s in their scenes together.
“Pour ses débuts dans le rôle, Elza van den Heever choisit d’offrir une Sieglinde victime expiatoire de bout en bout. Son chant sait superbement exprimer cette longue souffrance. Actuellement dans la plénitude de ses moyens, le soprano remplit l’auditorium de sa voix percutante, homogène sur toute la tessiture.”
Forum Opéra
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“The night was Elza van den Heever’s, though. As the Empress, she turned in technically polished, empathetic and outlandishly beautiful singing from her first line to her last. By the third act, when most singers would be flagging, van den Heever emerged as only more vocally poised, lending a combination of propulsive torque and sweetness that endeared and delighted. The Empress’s ultimate refusal to buy her happiness at the expense of the Dyer and his Wife’s marks her as a true heroine; van den Heever made her both ethereal and earthly.”
“Who is the star of the show? […] this time around, it was van den Heever, whose voice poured out like there was no tomorrow as the Empress and made her a figure to relate to…”
“Elza van den Heever’s voice proved the sweetest of the dramatic sopranos, her high notes the purest in execution… She perfectly embodied coolness in Act one, both vocally and physically, but there was greater warmth in her voice and concern in her face as she watched the drama unfold in Act two. But in Act three, she came alive with the dramatic and musical potency few singers have managed at the Met in quite some time. It starts before her “Vater, bist du’s” but there’s no doubt that this long musical section was the moment that truly crystallized what a special performance she was giving. Her singing started with hushed tones as she spoke to her invisible father, assuredness coming through the sense of emotional trepidation, the Empress confronting her fear and ready to seize it. Her voice blossomed throughout this passage. As the music grew, so too did her soprano, the legato line so fluid, so pure. When the Emperor appears as a Stoneman, the music erupts in waves, the soprano forced to speak the text and as noted earlier, Van den Heever delivered a tour-de-force moment, her body throwing about as she hurled out the text with increased fury. It was magical.”
Operawire
“The soprano was fantastic all night, with a glowing sound that was consistently full throughout her range, her top tessitura seemed limitless. The Empress has an entrance and aria in Act I that is one of the most difficult in the literature, and van den Heever not only sounded effortless but beyond human. It was stunning and powerful to hear this music sound so natural. As shining at the conclusion as at the beginning, her energy never dropped.”
New York Classical Review
“As the Empress, the soprano Elza van den Heever shimmers with purity and throws spears at the top of her range.”
The New York Times
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“…the clear star of this production is Elza van den Heever, who artfully combines body language and communicative singing to portray the hope and determination of Leonore but also her doubts and obvious discomfort with a disguised identity[…] The South African soprano is at her absolute best in Leonore’s big aria in Act 1, drawing on a range of sometimes dark-tinged vocal timbres to subtly and powerfully inhabit all the character’s contradictory emotions, generating an unusually long and well-deserved ovation.”
“The role of Leonore is taken on by the formidable soprano Elza van den Heever, whose performance is a masterclass in both vocal dexterity and emotional depth. Her rendition of “Abscheulicher!” was breathtaking, filled with passion and dramatic tension, perfectly conveying Leonore’s unwavering determination to save her beloved.”
“Elza van den Heever’s Sieglinde was as theatrically intense as a concert performance allows and vocally resplendent throughout. A highlight of her singing – amongst many – was its culmination and a most rapturous ‘O hehrstes Wunder!’.”
“Elza van den Heever was a radiant Elizabeth. The soprano’s voice was thrilling in “Dich, teure Halle,” as she sang of Elizabeth’s joy upon Tannhäuser’s return.”