Philipp Boesman’s opera “Reigen” after Schnitzler in Stuttgart
Arthur Schnitzler's comedy "Reigen," which premiered in Berlin in 1920 and describes ten sexual encounters between a man and a woman, has long ceased to be a scandalous play. Sex outside of marriage has long since ceased to be an outrage in Germany; it is now socially normal. Nevertheless, Schnitzler's sobering view of love has lost none of its relevance in the age of online dating. This can be experienced at the Stuttgart Opera House, where now 23 years after its Brussels premiere Philippe Boesman's opera of the same name (libretto: Luc Bondy) had its premiere on the occasion of the Belgian composer's 80th birthday. On the podium of the Stuttgart State Orchestra, as at the premiere, is Sylvain Cambreling. The Frenchman has a good hand for his accessible, light, always ironic music, which switches between pathos and laconism at lightning speed. And it develops a delightful sense of humor, for example, when the ex-lover calls during the meeting of the count and the singer in the ninth scene, and his distorted telephone voice is imitated by a muffled trombone. Director Nicola Hümpel of the Berlin musical theater ensemble "Nico and the Navigators" also picks up on this musical irony scenically, which lends a lightness to the acclaimed premiere evening and provokes loud laughter in the audience on several occasions. The fact that, in addition to the revolving stage, some things go round in circles musically and that one or the other scene has lengths is due to the original. This musical theater production is perfectly crafted. And there is also precision in the orchestra pit. Oliver Proske has designed an initially empty stage space for the "Reigen", which is gradually filled with props and walls. The revolving stage creates flowing transitions. The individual scenes leave traces. A pink string appears again and again like a memory. In the last scene, when the count meets the strumpet who had opened the love round with the soldier, there are also a sock, cans and shoes from earlier encounters (costumes: Teresa Vergho). And correspond with past musical motifs, which are also heard again here. In addition to the ten protagonists, who are all on stage at the beginning and are already sniffing each other, an additional dance couple, Julla von Landsberg and Michael Shapira, can be seen again and again via video; they translate the different variations of the encounter into touching choreographies. In addition, there are two live cameras that capture the couples' facial expressions (video: Judith Konnerth/Nicola Hümpel). This idea is brilliantly realized during the cybersex on the laptop between the vain poet (Matthias Klink) and the sweet girl (Kora Pavelic), when the excited, post climax moronic facial features of one are juxtaposed on the screen with the skeptical, completely uninvolved gaze of the other. After the sex dates, one more selfie is taken before it is wiped away as if on a smartphone. The next partner can come. The Stuttgart production is grandiose ensemble theater. Eight of the ten musically and dramatically present actors are members of the house. Guests Melanie Diener as a diva-like, highly dramatic singer and mezzo-soprano Kora Pavelic fit seamlessly into this round dance. Arthur Schnitzler only hinted at the actual sexual act in the text with three dots. Boesman's three-hour opera fills this void with often quite lyrical, floating music that nevertheless leaves the characters with emotions. One can almost believe in the love between the young wife (Rebecca von Lipinski) and the husband (Shigeo Ishino), before the wife makes herself suspicious when she addresses him with the wrong first name after the marriage has been consummated. The meeting between the young man in safari shirt and shorts (Sebastian Kohlhepp) and the parlor maid (Stine Marie Fischer) also has pitfalls, in which the buzzing mosquitoes, represented by string tremolos played on the bridge, develop more energy than the limp lovers. In the next scene, Kohlhepp finds himself in a loriotesque seating arrangement, struggling with foam cushions to find the right position and an adequate erection. When the knotted cushion finally rises and the trumpets blare the chorale "Was Gott tut, das ist wohlgetan" to it, the brief happiness is perfect before the next love disaster looms.
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