Author : Jos Hermans
The most fascinating thing about Prokofiev's ‘The Fiery Angel’ is the elusiveness of the female protagonist Renata, of whom we only know that she was possibly sexually abused as a child. As a teenager she has taken up an unbridled, erotic obsession with Madiel, the ‘Fiery Angel,’ of whom we will never know for sure if he existed for real or only in her imagination. Her search for the vanished Madiel (and for Heinrich in whom she thought to recognize Madiel) will ignite in her a destructive, irrational force that will bring her knight Ruprecht to the brink of ruin. Her drifting into the occult to exorcise this demon fails and the solace she tries to find in the spiritual haven of a convent drives the nuns present to such sexual ecstasy that the Inquisitor has little choice but to condemn her to the stake, the tried and true recipe for the elimination of dissenters within the patriarchal system of the medieval Catholic Church. Directed by Simon Stone, 'Die Teufel von Loudun' will highlight another aspect of this in Munich in June.
With its vocal expressionist-declamatory style, the music of The Fiery Angel (1927) is stylistically very much akin to that of Shostakovich's 'Lady Macbeth from Mtsensk' (1934). It is at least as violent and can just as easily have sarcastic undertones. Like Lady Macbeth, the work contains several orchestral interludes of which we remember especially the first, the grandiose introduction to the scene with philosopher and magician Agrippa von Nettesheim. The focus on morality, bold for its time, in the person of the female main character, brings both works even closer together. After Munich, Berlin, Lyon and Zurich, The Fiery Angel is currently experiencing a true renaissance, in the hands of the very best of directors, an observation that should make one happy.
Madrid revisits Calixto Bieito's production of Zurich from 2017. It starts from pitch black showing Renata as hypnotized, turning the spokes of the wheel of her bicycle. That bicycle, meant to symbolize the carefree freedom and autonomy of an adolescent, is not sufficiently compelling as a metaphor in itself. It only becomes comprehensible when you know that the director was largely inspired by Hans-Christian Schmid's film Requiem (2006) about a severely religious epileptic young woman who thought she was possessed by multiple demons and involves her bicycle in the escape route of her tormented soul. You should have seen the film before watching the opera.
Rebecca Ringsts metal structure design harbouring compartmentalized cubes, gives room to spaces where part of Renata's childhood is told. It is a house with many rooms, just like Renata's brain. In this rotating Wunderkammer of traumas reviving Renata's past, we see Heinrich as a graying older man, a childs room, Agrippa von Nettesheim's abortion clinic, and all sorts of men appropriating her in all sorts of ways. It is a slowly spinning labyrinth from which neither Renata nor Ruprecht can find the exit. Sarah Derendinger's introspective video projections in beautiful sepia tones further envelop the scene in an alienating atmosphere.
"I don't believe in angels or devils, witches or occultism. People are capable of imagining a lot of things. Today's world is dominated by mental illnesses like depression, hyperactivity, schizophrenia and multiple personality disorders," Bieito believes. By 1927, Symbolism may have passed its peak in Russia, but The Fiery Angel was still bathed in that climate of mysticism and religiosity that was so typical of this early 20th century art movement. Bieito allows the spiritual and, surprisingly, also the erotic to partly disappear from the performance. I consider this as a defect. The relationship between Renata and Ruprecht is purely sado-masochistic. She does not use her femininity to bind him to her. Her cruelty to him is rooted in her own experiences. Ruprecht easily succombs to Renata, being with her becomes his overriding obsession. For the crucial scene with Agrippa von Nettesheim, we are in the office of a gynecologist. The bloody abortion he performs on a lifeless woman is at odds with the text, the clinical atmosphere struggles with the spiritual nature of the encounter. The scene in the tavern (fourth act) with Faust and Mephistopheles, does not work, as in all the other stagings I have seen so far. The scene is completely pointless dramatically and I would delete it. The hysterical nun's chorus of the finale sends the convent into a maelstrom of confusion but there is little sign of the erotic contagion. ‘To me, the fiery angel is Renata herself. Everything happens in her head,’ Bieito says. And so, during the final bars, we see her as the Fiery Angel herself when her bicycle falls prey to the flames of the stake.
Ausrine Stundyte and Leigh Melrose were a match for each other, both vocally and in terms of the physical interpretation of their sado-masochistic relationship. Here are two real stage animals at work. I have written it before: Stundyte is in a class of its own. It should be obvious that she continues to inspire Bieito because of her total abandonment to all the roles she plays. The same is equally true of Leigh Melrose of whom we especially recall his excellent Alberich at the Ruhrtriennale. Here again he demonstrated his powerful baritone and a highly differentiated interpretation. Because he specializes in contemporary repertoire, we will undoubtedly see more of him still.
Dmitry Golovnin as Agrippa von Nettesheim and Mephistopheles seemed to project his razor-sharp tenor through space like a laser. His diction was also particularly clear. Mika Kares as the inquisitor couldn't really convince but that was also due to the a-religious handling of Renata's exorcism. Very good performances also in the smaller roles such as from Nino Surguladze as the innkeeper and Josep Fado as Jacob Glock. Under Gustavo Gimeno, the two orchestral highlights, the interlude of the second act and Renata's exorcism in the fifth act, failed to make an really overwhelming impression.
Stream availabe on Arte Concert until april 5, 2023