Daemoni, etiam vera dicenti, non est credendum
Simon Stone directs Die Teufel von Loudun in Munich (****)
Author : Jos Hermans
In 17th century Loudun we encounter intolerance, cruelty and the constant threat of an individual and scapegoat, victim of intolerance, fanaticism and organized hatred. For priest-womanizer Urbain Grandier, all this ends with burning at the stake. If "Die Teufel von Loudun" shows us anything, it is the incredible ease with which lies and propaganda can degenerate into a witch hunt. The timelessness of this theme was once again demonstrated last year: unvaccinated people and cancelled Russian artists were able to get a taste of it. The piece can also be summarized by a quote from Saint Chrysostomus, which Penderecki had written at the top of his score: "You must not believe the devil, even if he speaks the truth. In other words, once you have maneuvered your opponent into the role of the devil, you no longer have to listen to him, which in itself is a striking metaphor for our current debate culture. For composer Krzysztof Penderecki, the portrait of Catholic tyranny in Die Teufel was of course a metaphor for the Communist dictatorship in his native Poland, where he had witnessed Stalin's show trials as a boy.
The action in a nutshell: Jeanne, prioress of a monastery, falls in love with the priest Grandier. Grandier has already had several affairs. He is also considered a liberal and an opponent of the powerful Cardinal Richelieu. Jeanne wants to appoint Grandier confessor of the convent, which he refuses. She then accuses him of seducing her and her fellow sisters with demons. Richelieu's followers see their chance. Exorcisms are performed on the nuns and Grandier is burned.
Grouped around the elegant world of Urbain Grandier are a number of characters who follow him on the path that leads to his martyrdom and heroism. These are the zealous and sadistic exorcist Father Barré, the good, honest Father Ambroise, the materialistic surgeon Mannoury, the simple pharmacist Adam, and finally the psychotic nuns led by the passionate and hysterical Jeanne.
Half of the play is sung, the other half declaimed. Penderecki makes use of both free and rhythmically measured dialogues or monologues; declamatory recitatives; solo or ensemble singing (including a quintet for men and a quartet for nuns); the chorus is used for shouts, roars, laughter, as well as the Gregorian prayer chant of the monks.
Penderecki demands a large orchestra (42 strings, 32 wind instruments including saxophones, a large percussion group, organ, harmonium, piano, harp, electric bass guitar) but rarely makes it sound in tutti. He works much more intensely with combinations of individual instrumental groups in sometimes almost minimalist soundscapes. The orchestral lava is poured over the listener in the form of tone clusters. Highlights of the score are the monastic and church scenes. The organized chaos within the choir is especially fascinating.
Each of the thirty short scenes has its own special musical aspect. From the magical, very soft orchestral opening, with further development in the prioress's dream of Grandier's execution (mezzo-soprano declaims against the background of choir and orchestra), through the buffoonish scenes of the apothecary and the surgeon the tumultuous sound-painting of the scenes of the nuns, the debilitating cruelty of Grandier's torture, which contrasts so strongly with the incense-scented prayer scenes, to the last great choral scene of the burning - each situation is well and clearly defined.
Expert at creating an uneasy atmosphere, even a sense of growing madness, Penderecki is one of the composers who have invented music that functions as a mirror of man's darkest sides. In Die Teufel, he never lets it become beautiful or heartwarming. "That can put some people off," Stone says, "because you don't get relief. There is no catharsis in this opera. Even a mighty work like Aribert Reimann's Lear, in a sense a more recent descendant of a development to which Penderecki also belongs, culminates in sheer beauty in the final scene, an uplifting redemption after the sonic shocks before. This opera offers none of that; it remains uncompromising in its examination of what happens when our selfish, jealous, destructive, evil side takes over. This is the descent into a nihilistic black hole, into the hopeless despair that humanity could do such a thing to one of its own."
Needless to say, director Simon Stone has again chosen a rotating stage. Bob Cousins' concrete magic cube allows the sometimes very short scenes to be completed in an almost cinematic manner. It accommodates a stairwell, small claustrophobic rooms, a confessional, a prison cell, a crematorium, a chapel and a church.
Ausrine Stundyte as the hysterical nun Jeanne is able to pull off a whole range of expressions that Stone borrows in part from William Friedkin's "The Exorcist," including the heavy, electronically distorted voice of the devil. She is spared a hunchback; Stone conceives her with a skin disease. Martin Winkler, as Vater Barré who likes to push his exorcism under the skirts of the nuns, is a slimy obscurantist. Very good is the "buffo" duo, Kevin Conners as Adam the pharmacist and Jochen Kupfer as Mannoury the surgeon. Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke makes Baron De Laubardemont an icy character role. Jordan Shanahan (singing from the orchestra pit) and Robert Dölle (speaking role) divide the role of Grandier between them after the sick Wolfgang Koch dropped out. This works quite well. The chorus makes a crucial contribution. The scene with the laughing nuns is excellent. Being possessed the nuns mutate into women's rights activists during the exorcism.
Vladimir Jurowski, who conducted the piece as recently as 2002 in Dresden (directed by Harry Kupfer), is the right man for this complex work, even if the sensuousness of this score (chorus and orchestra) cannot fully be appreciated during a relay like this. Next season he will sink his teeth into "War and Peace," a piece that should be part of the regular repertoire.
Twice I watched the live stream. Twice I didn't get to the end in one sitting. Reportedly, a number of people became unwell during the premiere. Why is Die Teufel so exhausting? I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it is not the masterpiece I suspected without ever having heard it in its entirety? Is it he uniformity of the complex tonal language throughout the duration of the piece? The lack of development of the characters? The debilitating sadism? The lack of humor? The lack of catharsis? One thing is extremely problematic : Grandier is a selfish womanizer but he is not free of guilt. He accepts his guilt towards young women but refuses the lie. Thus he becomes a martyr and hero, even one who forgives his torturers. Yet it is not a character with whom you develop an empathic bond as a spectator. For the opera, this is a serious shortcoming. In the introductory interview, Simon Stone talks about how difficult it was to find an intendant who wanted to stage the work. It doesn't look like this is going to change any time soon. Die Teufel is not, in my opinion, going to experience a renaissance as Die Soldaten, The Fiery Angel or Lear did.
Still available on Staatsoper TV