Rumpelstilzchen

Elmar Gunsch nails the paradox at the heart of *Rumpelstilzchen*: delivering a performance that’s simultaneously cozy and unnerving. His voice dips into a gravelly register for the goblin’s manic bargaining, then switches to a breathy, almost conspiratorial tone when the queen’s desperation peaks—think a stage actor who’s forgotten he’s not alone in the room. The pacing is relentless; Gunsch doesn’t linger on descriptions, opting instead to let the story’s urgency pull you forward, as if you’re eavesdropping on a secret too urgent to interrupt. That said, his German diction occasionally blurs homophones like “Müller” and “Millionen” in the early scenes, forcing me to rewind once to catch a name I’d otherwise missed. The production is otherwise crisp, with subtle ambient touches—like the faint echo in the queen’s bedchamber—that ground the supernatural moments without overdoing it. My biggest critique? The audiobook ends abruptly, cutting off the goblin’s final outburst mid-sentence, as if the editor feared we’d linger too long in the dark. It’s a jarring choice that undercuts the story’s satisfying punch. Still, Gunsch’s performance sells the moral: some deals are too clever by half, and some gifts should stay unopened.