Anglophones are spoilt, we really are.
Imagine how at a loss we would collectively be if a production lapsed
as often into a foreign tongue – any foreign tongue – as often as
Stefan Pucher’s production uses English. Pucher stages the choric
sections of Sophocles’ drama as they would have been presented 2400
years ago, musically, but in contemporary musical idioms: broadly
speaking, Christopher Uhe’s score is a kind of post-blues, with two
onstage musicians providing guitar, keyboards and programmed beats.
And, as music is a universal language, English is the universal
language of lyrics, one might even say the classical language of rock,
so the performers switch more or less interchangeably between it and
German.
A number of tweaks have been made for the sake of clarity. The main
(indeed, the only) event of the play may be Orestes’ return home to
kill his mother and her lover in revenge for
their murder of his father
Agamemnon, but the piece is more about Elektra’s lust for that revenge
than her brother’s performance of it; thus, the opening scene of
Orestes’ arrival is relegated to video projection so that Katharina
Marie Schubert’s Elektra may take the stage herself. Orestes’ friend
Pylades – always by his side, never saying a word – is cut because
no-one today understands why he’s there anyway. And the performances
conform strongly to the respective character types: Schubert’s Elektra
unyielding and declamatory in her grief and accusation, Tabea Bettin as
her sister Chrysothemis vainly advocating acquiescence as a realist
position, their mother Klytaimnestra cold and unrepentant in Susanne
Wolff’s rendition.
Other touches suggest classical allusions writ large, perhaps too
large. If the palace is to be atop a flight of steps, then the entire
rear of the stage consists of a vertiginous multi-level arrangement,
leaving Elektra alone on the base-level forestage for most of the 90
minutes. Those may be versions of the classical chiton that the men are
wearing rather than ballgowns, but why fringe them with ostrich
feathers? (It cannot be a comment on machismo, even though Elektra
changes from a tailcoat to a dress when she seems to abandon hope,
since Orestes is still “frocked” when he carries out the murders.) But
none of this significantly fogs Pucher’s strong, dynamic, contemporary
reading.
Written for the Financial
Times.