“Delicate” is the word, after the appearance of Claudius Körber in “The dead” demands. Particularly, as the 37-Year-old, the rotary stage, which is in high chambers fanned, gets quite alone, with measured steps from room to room, from Empty to Empty, and with a fine head voice from Bach’s “Actus Tragicus” sings: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” What a spine-tingling Moment!
So much Hurt and even a touch of consolation has imagined, James Joyce, 1914, in the lonely Dublin Gabriel in his great story “The dead” – and the musician Barbara Frey pushed the Director Barbara Frey, the appropriate notes for it.
the Feast of the old aunts
Frey’s Joyce-project that had the peacocks Premiere, is a kind of Spiritual concert is a neat contrast to the shades – velvet Intermezzi from “Ulysses” and “Finnegans Wake”; from the Irish songs of Thomas Moore (1779-1852) on the now-inactive Folk Band The Dubliners to Loreena McKennitts latest versions. From compositions by Bach and Leonard Cohen to Jürg Kienberger, one of the six actors on the stage. This, the hairs will lift even the dead.
In Frey’s farewell from Zurich in the summer, the management of the theatre after ten years, the Joyce project is their last production here – resonates with the “à Dieu” of the Wortsinns. Your flair for Subtle, Yes, Immaterial has the Director in the past decade, always playing. And what is a better template than the final story of the volume “Dubliners” would be?
Joyce’s Protagonist goes with his wife Gretta always on 6. January to the sumptuous Feast of his two old aunts and his cousin. To dance and sing, eat and drink, remember the dead and watching each other grow Older; the Professor of literature holds a literarily polished speech of thanks to the ladies of the house. The wars. The same procedure as every year, James; Pardon, Gabriel. And yet it is different this time.
A true, dead love
At once the man senses in the best years, that he feels nothing. The familiar rituals of the strangeness only whitewash that exists between all of you, and you to feel even yourself, if you hinfühlt exactly.
So it breaks in the course of the Evening, unexpectedly, of Michael Maertens’ Gabriel: “The Irish is not my language! “Don’t you want to stay with their own language in contact?” No, I don’t want to stay with my own language in contact. I have my own country, sick of it!” In a different language, a different world, we would have, perhaps, a sense of security and openness – in a musical, unspent.
you could Plüss sound like Kienberger, Maertens, Körber, Benito, Bause, Lisa-Katrina Mayer and Elisa, when you sit down at the long, empty table and in the choir to recite: “He rests. He’s traveled. With? Sinbad the sailor and Tindbad the Teefahrer and Findbad the Feefahrer and Rindbad the Rehfahrer and Windbad the Wehfahrer.” Or how Plüss, the Irish red-colored hair to the girls braid was braided and with such a sweet, fragile soprano one of these harmonically oblique Celtic Ways of singing, that one shivers.
It is a Song about a true, a dead love, the registers in the dream and missed opportunity reminds. Later, Gabriel’s wife, in turn, initiated by an Irish song will remember its own dead youth swarm: Lisa Mayers Gretta looks into Nothing and sees the brown eyes of the deceased more clearly than her husband. Which is, in turn, its own distance awareness. When it came time for him the Love lost? He knew it ever?
Anyway, they belong to the realm of the dead, these six each of the people in the black Fräcken, with the mourning flowers on the lapel. Also the evening gown that attracts Gretta later, is moved by the mourning color of Purple by. The shapes move in step and in slow waltzes through the chambers, the thickness, faded gray walls, and just with a couple of chairs, a table and instruments are fitted.
A maiden reconciliation
The open-top Shell is made of concrete that has heaved Martin Zehetgruber in the peacocks: It is a Mausoleum. Rainer Küng illuminates it according to dramatically hardly. Anyway: In the dark it sounds better. Only occasionally a hard, strong light falls on a rigid face.
But the Irish author did not want to dismiss his estranged anti-hero without a maiden reconciliation. A snow maiden, “Slowly his soul faded, as he heard the snow silently through space to fall; still the coming of the last hour to fall the same on all the Living and the dead,” is the famous circuit. And according to let the audience rain the well-deserved applause to Barbara Frey’s silent farewell to work.
(editing Tamedia)
Created: 17.05.2019, 19:41 PM
