Iphigénie in Mariupol

Rafael R. Villalobos' interpretation of Gluck's “Iphigénie enTauride” unfolds against the haunting remains of the bombed-out theatre of Mariupol in Ukraine. There, the audience is immersed in a grim scene where ancient myths meet contemporary horror. This production, created by Villalobos in 2022, is a co-production between Opera Ballet Vlaanderen and Montpellier, where the work premiered in 2023. This season it has its premier in Belgium.

© Annemie Augustijns / Opera Ballet Vlaanderen

Director Rafael R. Villalobos presents Iphigénie en Tauride against the devastated backdrop of the theater in Mariupol, which was destroyed by bombings during the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022. This is the setting where ancient myths intertwine with the harsh realities of our time. Once a beacon of culture and civilization, the theater now stands as a symbol of wartime destruction, a grave for hundreds of civilians who lost their lives there due to Russian aggression (the word "Children," chalked into the ground at the main entrance in Russian, was mainly an incitement to throw another bomb on it for the invaders).

The production begins with a piece of “traditional” theater by Euripides. Agamemnon attempts to console his wife, Clytemnestra, reminding her that their daughter, Iphigenia, now dwells among the gods. Yet Clytemnestra is inconsolable—furious and vengeful, as will become evident. This is the final scene from Iphigénie en Aulide. The opera cast looks on, they are the audience of a performance whose sequel, Iphigénie en Tauride, they themselves will perform. In this meta-theatrical setting, the orchestral storm Gluck evokes in the overture is interrupted by a bombardment, we see smoke and the roof collapses. Survivors seek refuge. Iphigénie appeals to the gods for help against the avenging lightning, to spare the innocent and stop the violence. These are lyrics that fit well with an opening that is set against the backdrop of war crimes. Placing ancient operatic repertoire in the modern era often has an alienating effect, with certainly not always satisfying results but here, coupled with a present whose future we do not yet know, it deprives us of the comfort of hindsight. And that gives Gluck's 18th-century opera a heartbreaking and uncomfortable immediacy. 

© Annemie Augustijns / Opera Ballet Vlaanderen

The opera's story, rooted in the aftermath of the Trojan War, is itself a tale of survival and suffering. Iphigénie, long thought to be dead, is rescued from the sacrificial block by the goddess Diana and now finds herself stranded in Tauride (located in the Crimea, the linkage of war-then with war-now is not far-fetched) where she serves as a priestess. King Thoas, who has been told by an oracle that it is a foreigner who will endanger his life, has decreed that all foreigners who set foot on Tauride should be executed. And it is Iphigénie who is entrusted with that task. Fate brings her brother, Orestes, to these shores, though neither recognises the other at first. The drama that unfolds between them -confusion, grief and eventual reunion- culminates in the intervention of, again, the goddess Diana who will eventually grant them both safety and a return to Greece.

The ancient story of Iphigénie, who narrowly escapes death and to find herself in exile in a world of endless violence, feels terrifyingly contemporary. Here the myth becomes a mirror for a world still in a state of conflict. At the beginning of the third act, just after the interval, there is another piece of theatre (this time to Sophocles' text) in which Clytemnestra lashes out against Elektra and explains why she killed her husband, Agememnon (Richard Strauss would later go all out on the house of Atreus in his own Screaming for vengeance-opera Elektra). The idea behind those inserted bits of stage play is better than the execution. The acting is stiff and awkward, the stage acting contrasting in a blunt way with the sophistication of the opera - that sublime interplay of text, song and music. 

© Annemie Augustijns / Opera Ballet Vlaanderen

Iphigénie en Tauride is Gluck's last so-called ‘reform opera’. In it, he says farewell to the Da-Capo-Aria, sacrifices (baroque) form to dramatic progress, and provides a mature accompaniment of the recitatives by the orchestra. In these ways, he makes the dividing line between aria and recitative more diffuse (Wagner would willingly be inspired by it). With his reforms, Gluck thus presents himself as the best of both worlds: the delicacy and melodiousness of 18th-century opera with the pulsating progress of a through-composed 19th-century musical drama.
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In Michèle Losier 's performance as Iphigénie, we see and hear a mezzo-soprano who embodies drama and artistry in a role often sung by a soprano. With emotional power and exquisite technical subtlety, she navigates the turbulent waters of her character's inner world. In doing so, she is both musically astute and heartbreakingly sensitive.

Reinoud of Mechelen is a Pyladus of ardent, passionate loyalty. A friend -a lover- who is willing to sacrifice his life for Orestes, his cousin. His tenor is warm and bright, conveying the fervour of his character with verve. Kartal Karagedik is Orestes, a brave and raw character whose baritone is richly and aptly matched to Van Mechelen's lyric tenor. Their singing together is the voicing of a deep entanglement, as harmonious as it is tragic and fateful.

Lucy Gibbs appears briefly as Diana, yet leaves a lasting impression. Her portrayal of the goddess emerges with ethereal beauty and deliberate authority, supported by a voice that resounds like an unyielding celestial decree.

In his portrayal of Thoas, Wolfgang Stefan Schwaiger brings to life a man whose gestures and vocal expressions exude a ruthless menace. In him, the disturbances of war and lust for power find an impressive theatrical representation. He violates women, an illustration of a king's brutality that echoes an extremely bleak, harsh reality (Tens of thousands women and children are reported to have been victims of (sexual) violence since the Russian invasion of Ukraine). As Thoas, Schwaiger is a sinister stage personality (that's a recommendation) who embodies the devastating power of human cruelty.

© Annemie Augustijns / Opera Ballet Vlaanderen

The choir conducted by Jori Klomp is of an almost unearthly beauty. Witnessing tragic fate, the choir carries a timeless wisdom. Its words - poetic, rhythmic, often solemn - express what individuals cannot: the universal and eternal suffering of humanity, our shared fears, doubts, and questions. Very beautiful is the resurrection of the Furiae who throw themselves at Orestes like tormentors, hauntingly imposing themselves on his conscience (after all, he killed his mother).

The orchestra led by Benjamin Bayl plays with a fiery intensity that feels both dramatic and nuanced, in which each musical phrase is carefully constructed as a story in itself. The strength and depth of the orchestral sound evokes emotions ranging from passion to stillness, while remaining surprisingly transparent throughout. Every detail, from the velvety strings to the fiery brass, is heard crystal clear, like a web of sounds in which everything falls harmoniously into place.

​When the final notes of the opera die away in the silence of the ruined theatre, we are left, not with the catharsis of a myth, but with the uneasy realisation that, unlike Iphigénie and Orestes, we cannot count on gods to come to our rescue. It is impossible to watch this production, the world of Tauride set in a theatre violated by war, without reflecting on the state of the world and the fragility of the European project - the dream of a continent united by shared values of peace, democracy and human rights. The more a drama we witness in a theatre is palpable, the better, overall, the theatre experience. I spoke to a few people from Mariupol who attended the premiere. From them, I wanted to know whether a theatrical representation of a drama so close to home, a drama that is still ongoing, can still be experienced as theatre, whether there is anything left to ‘enjoy’. More important than any objections from the (sensitive) audience was the urgency and importance that the story was told and re-told. And that theatre, with the resources at its disposal, had to be used above all to tell (also) stories that were not mere entertainment.

© Annemie Augustijns / Opera Ballet Vlaanderen

At that reception afterwards, I stood among people from different parts of Europe; besides Belgians and Dutch, people from Italy, France, Poland and Ukraine. People from different backgrounds, with shared interests, coming from different places. It was a look at the present with a promise of a future in which we live together peacefully, want to solve problems and not use them as an excuse to play scapegoat politics. I could hardly shake off the feeling that we might later look back on this time as ‘The World of Yesterday’. Stefan Zweig's 1942 requiem for a Europe that had been crushed by turbo-nationalism and fascism. It was like looking back from the past to the present in which the cold reality of Russian imperialism and the imminent rise of fascism (on the eve of the US presidential election!), was too pregnant to be considered comfortable. Perhaps therein lay the real drama of the evening. That this poignant production of Iphigénie en Tauride from Christoph Willibald Ritter von Gluck, the man who loved to look across borders, who thought the national differences between Italian, French and German opera were just nonsense, was a catalyst for the realisation that the Europe looked to from Ukraine (but also from Georgia) as a promise of freedom may soon no longer exist.

It is a final note in which melancholic wistfulness extends like a silent, compelling recommendation to experience this opera in the theatre. For that is preferably the place to enjoy art, and it is desirable, necessary even perhaps, that there the stories that most deeply confront us with our own fragility and the raw reality of things also find their voice. And you get beautiful music to go with it. 

Iphigénie en Tauride, Christoph Willibald von Gluck / 
Opera Ballet Vlaanderen, Antwerp, 25 October 2024 (Belgian premiere)
                          
Benjamin Bayl Conductor
Symfonisch Orkest Opera Ballet Vlaanderen ​        
Rafael R. Villalobos Director, Costume Designer
Jori Klomp Conductor choir                 
Koor Opera Vlaanderen                             

Michèle Losier Iphigénie
Kartal Karagedik Oreste
Reinoud van Mechelen Pyladus
Wolfgang Stefan Schwaiger Thoas, King of Scythia
Lucy Gibbs Diana
Hugo Kampschreur Scythian
Dagmara Dobrowolska First priestess
Bea Desmet Second priestess

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- Wouter de Moor