“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.”
Slipped Disc