Metanoia - über das denken hinaus -
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Sun | 03.10.10 | 19.00 h World premiere Opera by Jens Joneleit
Staatsoper im Schiller Theater
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 Ticket: 55-160 €
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Storyline
“Metanoia” does not tell a story that is predetermined by the work; there are no strictly defined characters. Instead, ideas and arguments are negotiated, and the standpoints and structures of dialog only gradually become more concrete in the act of performance, and with them the figures on the stage. The music is through-composed, and stipulates five different states. Beyond this, there are “open windows” available at fixed points in the score that can be freely filled using the live electronics. Along this scaffolding, stories are developed, themes are accentuated in the process of performance. What is told and what is not told: the score for “Metanoia” is as neutral as possible about this. One thing alone is sure: the paradoxes of life and art are challenged. Friedrich Nietzsche’s The Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of Music forms the foundation for the libretto, for here the opposition between the Apollonian dream and the Dionysian delirium is most incisively formulated, two fundamental aspirations of human existence that counteract and mutually determine one another. Without the power of formation, there is no order in the world and no social cohesion, without the power of becoming there is no multiplicity and liveliness. “Metanoia” seeks to explore to what extent our lives are defined by this contradiction. Since the work is definitively shaped by the artistic engagement of the production team —and not only during the rehearsals, but also during the performance itself—it is impossible to fix the course of the plot beforehand. Instead, the following describes the states that formed the starting point for the staging (as of September 5, 2010). How this working basis is ultimately carried out in the staging itself can only be seen at the performance itself.
STATE 1
A brutal, furious wall of sound culminates in scraps of everyday conversation. Only slowly does the chaos become ordered in chains of association, and the soloists emerge. A disagreement breaks out about the reality of the individual vis-à-vis the powerful abstraction of the Apollonian dream, but the arguments brought forward are only loosely linked, the participants are constantly interrupting one another. The soprano responds by referring to the uniqueness of each individual being and declares all similarities between people to be ideology: “The first thing that works on us is the non-identical, the infection, and then we can perhaps tell stories after that.” But none of the participants will have anything of that, instead they ponder the possibility of having experiences in a dream state. Can the dream be a mediator between man and reality? They turn to pop song texts in which universal truth is supposed to lurk, but without success. The discussion is interrupted by a chorale that honors Apollo as the god of dreams and creative power. Phantasms, too, are real, and not some kind of “diminished reality.” The soloists remain ambivalent in that they speak out against a normative formation of the living: “Do we love ourselves when we touch ourselves with ideas that are not our own.”
STATE 2
Is not dream a blatant swindle in light of death and unavoidable pain? The soprano sums up her concerns in a metaphor: “As on the stormy sea which extends without limit on all sides, howling mountainous waves rise up and sink and a sailor sits in a row boat, trusting the weak craft.” Would it not be even better to lose ourselves in delirium, to welcome total self-oblivion? The chorus introduces Dionysus riding his cart decorated with flowers, drawn by a panther and a tiger. But the soloists have long since been caught by the horror that accompanied by the unconsciousness and asociality of Dionysian aspirations. An alienated quotation of the final chorus from Beethoven’s Ninth concludes the scene. “Joy, when millions sink horrifically into dust.”
STATE 3
The baritone and the bass have an enthusiastic exchange about the Ode to Joy, they refuse to let themselves be disturbed by the sarcastic calls of the character tenor. Thoughts of God the Creator and man as artwork suggest the return of the Apollonian. The chorus then promptly quotes the text: “You bow down, millions? Can you sense the Creator, world?” The soprano alone maintains her original doubt: “First comes the infection, then the text.”
STATE 4
A sense of sympathy begins to grow in the soprano: she would like to encounter the baritone as a singular individual being: “Nothing about us is similar.” The uniqueness of man should be defended against abstract thoughts that lead to quick generalizations. But the baritone refers to the danger of sympathy, for it entails a belief in commonalities that do not exist—pseudo-harmony, or the so-called “Schmusium.” He also points to the chorus, which embodies pseudo-commonality as a collective formation that forms along abstract paths. The character tenor makes fun of this with the sentence, “I could cry with all this imitation of life.” Since this is also the title of a film, this leads to a misunderstanding with the baritone. The term, coded several times over, cannot be overcome. The soprano excessively declares that she distances herself from the “syrup of positive feelings of consolation.” The coloratura soprano bursts onto the scene, and demands a “generally valid statement” in the face of the revaluation of all values. Formerly valid philosophical wisdoms are quoted ironically. The character tenor tries one out, “I think therefore I am,” and is shot down with the response, “But who thinks all the time?” The Fichtean “I” is trashed, just as the Kantian imperative, “You can, because you should.” There’s not true statement anywhere to be found: the best on offer is unfounded normality.
STATE 5
The chorus and character tenor conclude that the Dionysian is hardly bearable in its self-contradiction of life-giving power and fatal asociality, even if it is carried out in the protected realm of art and only as a construct of “excited enthusiasts.” The bass once more rallies himself to save the Dionysian, defending the bodies that are not ruled by consciousness. “The heart must beat, every muscle has to tremor, far from any governance, far from any governing soul.” The chorus reacts with indignantly to the continuing debate that is running in circles. “Why keep to the eternal plan, why?” The fear of death lies behind everything, the baritone and soprano announce from afar. Like the soprano in State 4, now the character tenor also emphasizes his sympathies for the singular individual that does not allow himself to be directed by any existing plan. The thought of death as the only truly singular event returns. The question, “How will one die?” is brusquely countered by the coloratura soprano, “Stop it!” The chorus proclaims the demolition of the artwork, “stone by stone,” they refuse to let themselves be confused by Apollo and Dionysus any longer. Under the spell of music, the participants begin to share the conviction that understanding is only possible if there are no shared convictions. The soprano sums up the finding: Words must not block the encounter between bodies. Those who cannot bear this fact should better quickly turn away.
STATE 1
A brutal, furious wall of sound culminates in scraps of everyday conversation. Only slowly does the chaos become ordered in chains of association, and the soloists emerge. A disagreement breaks out about the reality of the individual vis-à-vis the powerful abstraction of the Apollonian dream, but the arguments brought forward are only loosely linked, the participants are constantly interrupting one another. The soprano responds by referring to the uniqueness of each individual being and declares all similarities between people to be ideology: “The first thing that works on us is the non-identical, the infection, and then we can perhaps tell stories after that.” But none of the participants will have anything of that, instead they ponder the possibility of having experiences in a dream state. Can the dream be a mediator between man and reality? They turn to pop song texts in which universal truth is supposed to lurk, but without success. The discussion is interrupted by a chorale that honors Apollo as the god of dreams and creative power. Phantasms, too, are real, and not some kind of “diminished reality.” The soloists remain ambivalent in that they speak out against a normative formation of the living: “Do we love ourselves when we touch ourselves with ideas that are not our own.”
STATE 2
Is not dream a blatant swindle in light of death and unavoidable pain? The soprano sums up her concerns in a metaphor: “As on the stormy sea which extends without limit on all sides, howling mountainous waves rise up and sink and a sailor sits in a row boat, trusting the weak craft.” Would it not be even better to lose ourselves in delirium, to welcome total self-oblivion? The chorus introduces Dionysus riding his cart decorated with flowers, drawn by a panther and a tiger. But the soloists have long since been caught by the horror that accompanied by the unconsciousness and asociality of Dionysian aspirations. An alienated quotation of the final chorus from Beethoven’s Ninth concludes the scene. “Joy, when millions sink horrifically into dust.”
STATE 3
The baritone and the bass have an enthusiastic exchange about the Ode to Joy, they refuse to let themselves be disturbed by the sarcastic calls of the character tenor. Thoughts of God the Creator and man as artwork suggest the return of the Apollonian. The chorus then promptly quotes the text: “You bow down, millions? Can you sense the Creator, world?” The soprano alone maintains her original doubt: “First comes the infection, then the text.”
STATE 4
A sense of sympathy begins to grow in the soprano: she would like to encounter the baritone as a singular individual being: “Nothing about us is similar.” The uniqueness of man should be defended against abstract thoughts that lead to quick generalizations. But the baritone refers to the danger of sympathy, for it entails a belief in commonalities that do not exist—pseudo-harmony, or the so-called “Schmusium.” He also points to the chorus, which embodies pseudo-commonality as a collective formation that forms along abstract paths. The character tenor makes fun of this with the sentence, “I could cry with all this imitation of life.” Since this is also the title of a film, this leads to a misunderstanding with the baritone. The term, coded several times over, cannot be overcome. The soprano excessively declares that she distances herself from the “syrup of positive feelings of consolation.” The coloratura soprano bursts onto the scene, and demands a “generally valid statement” in the face of the revaluation of all values. Formerly valid philosophical wisdoms are quoted ironically. The character tenor tries one out, “I think therefore I am,” and is shot down with the response, “But who thinks all the time?” The Fichtean “I” is trashed, just as the Kantian imperative, “You can, because you should.” There’s not true statement anywhere to be found: the best on offer is unfounded normality.
STATE 5
The chorus and character tenor conclude that the Dionysian is hardly bearable in its self-contradiction of life-giving power and fatal asociality, even if it is carried out in the protected realm of art and only as a construct of “excited enthusiasts.” The bass once more rallies himself to save the Dionysian, defending the bodies that are not ruled by consciousness. “The heart must beat, every muscle has to tremor, far from any governance, far from any governing soul.” The chorus reacts with indignantly to the continuing debate that is running in circles. “Why keep to the eternal plan, why?” The fear of death lies behind everything, the baritone and soprano announce from afar. Like the soprano in State 4, now the character tenor also emphasizes his sympathies for the singular individual that does not allow himself to be directed by any existing plan. The thought of death as the only truly singular event returns. The question, “How will one die?” is brusquely countered by the coloratura soprano, “Stop it!” The chorus proclaims the demolition of the artwork, “stone by stone,” they refuse to let themselves be confused by Apollo and Dionysus any longer. Under the spell of music, the participants begin to share the conviction that understanding is only possible if there are no shared convictions. The soprano sums up the finding: Words must not block the encounter between bodies. Those who cannot bear this fact should better quickly turn away.
