Queen Christine of Sweden (also known as Queen Christina) was not your average monarch. Born in 1626 and raised as a boy by her father, King Gustav II, she loved art and philosophy—and her lady-in-waiting, Ebba Sparre. Torn between her desires, her duties to the state and a never-ending stream of suitors, the queen and her reign are the focus of La Reine-garçon, a new production from the Opéra de Montréal. The show comes to Toronto in partnership with the Canadian Opera Company, and soprano Kirsten LeBlanc steps into the spotlight as Queen Christine on February 7. Here, she talks about how she prepares to belt it out onstage.
Last year’s Fidelio was your first show with the Canadian Opera Company. Have you settled in? Definitely. I got to know the team pretty well over the past year. I was an understudy, so I didn’t have a chance to sing onstage. That will be different this time around, but I’m feeling comfortable overall. One of my best friends from high school, Owen McCausland, is singing in this production too, as René Descartes.
How did you land the part of Queen Christine? The casting director, Roberto Mauro, had been interested in getting me on board since last year, when I was an understudy in the play’s Montreal premiere. I sang for Roberto and the conductor to see if the part suited my voice, and it did. It’s been so cool getting to work with a living composer—that’s rare in opera. It means that he’s able to adapt vocal lines to different singers, which he did for the lead singer in the opening production. Now that I’m in the role, he’s given me the freedom to ignore some of those changes and keep others that I like.
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This show is loosely based on history. Did you do any research to prepare? I read biographies of Queen Christine and tried to find out as much as I could about her life. Then I filled in the gaps with facts from the letters she wrote to her mother and her cousin, the man who eventually replaced her as monarch. From there, I added my own layers of interpretation. It’s neat having other historical figures involved—Christine was tutored by Descartes, and every time he says a line like, “I think, therefore I am,” I’m like, Aha!
What speaks to you about Queen Christine? The biggest thing is her curiosity. She wants to understand the inner workings of every little thing, even if it means getting answers she doesn’t want to hear. At one point, she asks Descartes to explain why we fall in love with a given person and not someone else, and to answer the question, he dissects a brain in front of her. She was a seeker of truth in arts, science and philosophy, and that’s something I admire and share with her. There’s this great dichotomy between her strength, power and duty as a ruler and being a woman who is falling in love and trying to understand her feelings. I love being able to portray that.
What’s new for you in this production? The coolest thing about it, which I’d never heard in any opera before, is the kulning sound. It’s this wild vocal cry that’s meant to represent the spirit of Sweden and the spirit of Queen Christine herself. It’s sung over my vocal line, and it’s so visceral and haunting. We only added it at the last minute, and it completely changed the feeling. It’s this guttural, floating, high singing that sounds almost savage. It gives me goosebumps.
How do you get ready for a performance like this? My goal is to keep stress down. I try not to make a big deal of the day. I’ll get up and have some yogurt, fruit and granola, then I’ll go to the gym for a run and some weights. That gives me energy and helps with my endurance, which I really need for this role—I’m onstage for almost every scene, and they’re all physically and emotionally draining. I also have a massive solo at the end, so stamina is key.
Then what? I’ll head back to my apartment in Montreal—or an Airbnb while I’m in Toronto—to get ready. I’ll do my first of several warm-ups. I’ve made it a rule not to sing before 10 a.m. or after 9 p.m. In an Airbnb, I’ll usually restrict myself to humming before making my way to the rehearsal space to really belt it out. I once had a neighbour living upstairs from me in Montreal, and I apologized to her after moving in. When I explained I was an opera singer, she said, “It’s you! It’s like having my own private concert!” I don’t know how practising the same line over and over again makes for a good concert, but I’ll take it.
When do you head to the theatre? I’ll mentally review any musically tricky spots over the afternoon, then head over to the theatre early. If my call time is 7:30 p.m., I try to be there around 4:30. I’ll bring a yoga mat so I can stretch out any tension in my dressing room. I also have tea and bananas. I heard bananas lower stress, so they’ve become a staple for me.
Opera is known for having elaborate costumes. When does that process start? Our costumes come in several layers, so I’ll put the base on first, then get into hair and makeup. The rest of the costume only comes on 20 minutes before I go onstage. It’s usually formal, stiff and heavy, so it’s not exactly comfortable. In May of 2022, I sang as one of the three ladies in Mozart’s The Magic Flute, in a wool coat and sweaty face makeup. It was unseasonably warm, and I was melting. People think opera is glamorous, but I’ve got news for them.
What’s your costume for Queen Christine? The show plays on the idea that Christine exists somewhere between feminine and masculine. She wears pants, which is unusual for a soprano like me—we call these “pants roles,” and they’re usually reserved for mezzo-sopranos and lower.
Do you have any rituals before you go onstage? I do squats right before I go on. They help me feel anchored to the ground. But it does look pretty funny when you’re doing them in a big ball gown.
What are you most looking forward to for this show? I was an understudy for this role when the show premiered in Montreal, so I’ve been practising for this moment ever since. It’s a culmination of all that hard work. Every time you come back to a character, they change a little bit: there’s always something to add. I’m finally getting a chance to share my version of Christine.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
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Anthony Milton is a freelance journalist based in Toronto. He is the regular writer of Toronto Life’s culture section and also contributes Q&As, as-told-tos and other stories for both print and web. He lives in Little Portugal.