“For me, at the beginning of the play, there are two people who are very much in love. I start with realism: a man and a woman are in a room, drinking wine, talking, caressing and kissing. Little by little, their lives seem to be invaded by abnormal elements, until gradually the idea of ​​reality is absolutely catalyzed, and they move into a second place, into space-no-space, into a universe of multiple realities, psychic traumas, hidden memories.

Temelis Glinatsis is the director of the new production of the National Opera. On March 9, performances of the Hungarian composer Béla Bartók’s opera Cyanopohon’s Tower begin. As we speak, an impressive set from the eminent and experienced set designer and costume designer Leslie Travers – a gray volume almost 10 meters high, reminiscent of a sculpture, now a sculpted rock, now the waves of a raging sea – seems to swallow the room. of two lovers. Charles Perrault’s French tale “Cyanopogon” is one of the bloodiest tales in the Western tradition: it tells the story of an aristocrat who marries young women only to then kill them when they defy his prohibition to explore his castle.

A bloody story, a “parable” about social conformity to women: “Do not ask the secrets of your husband, otherwise you will eat your head.”

“However, this myth does not start with Perot,” says the director. “He first wrote it, and it was published at the end of the 17th century. But there are many folklorists who believe that this tale is older and comes from the legends of Brittany. In essence, this blood-soaked story, like all of Perot’s tales, was a “parable” about social conformity predominantly towards women. Specifically, he says, “Don’t ask your husband’s secrets, because you will eat your head.” Of course, the motive of a woman who violates the laws of power is archetypal: Pandora, Psyche in the myth of Love and Psyche, Eve. The order is always broken by a woman, and so the story unfolds. If that doesn’t happen, we won’t have history.”

In The Tower of Cyanopogon, a rich and powerful nobleman marries the young Judith and, on the pretext of a trip, leaves her the keys to the castle. Because she wants to know about her husband’s past, she opens the seven doors of the castle one by one. Behind each, she discovers a different world, untold riches, the heroism and glory of her husband, as well as pain, tears, blood and cruelty. Béla Balász’s symbolist libretto gave Bartók the opportunity to compose one of his most impressive scores, using the instrumental tones of an extremely large orchestra – it consists of 110 instruments and even includes the impressive sound of a church organ.

“Cyanopogon” became a favorite plot of symbolists in France in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Instead of this great gynol of the past, symbolism lays the foundation for a careful study of the relationship between man and woman and its constituent elements: mystery, eroticism, violence. In Bartók, the concept of the past is especially strong,” comments Mr. Glinatsis. Bartók’s Cyanopogon is one of the clearest and most insightful depictions of the male psyche. While, if we look at the score and libretto, Judith’s role is much more adventurous than that of her husband, the play ultimately speaks to the horrifying melancholy and loneliness that this man experiences. Judging by the text and music, we have no doubt that this is not about a psychopathic personality, but about a simple person who watches his happiness elude him. And therein lies the strong emotion and heavy sadness of the play.”

“You represent sensations and atmospheres, not meanings”

The collaboration of Temelis Glinatsis with Leslie Travers lasted over a year, gathering images and ideas that could express the director’s point of view on the show, as well as what was intuitively born through music and text. The human soul is a labyrinth with many hidden places, and it was necessary to somehow draw its topography. “From the very beginning, we agreed that we wanted the stage to look very full and very empty at the same time. The space that primarily defines human coexistence, the room, suddenly disappears, and the couple finds themselves in the abyss. But even there they remain very in love, ”explains the director. Thus, if in the first part the action takes place inside the room and the narrative is an exploration of spaces, then in the second part a black, high wave captures and scatters the “insides” of the room into chaos, like a crashing ship. on the rock. “Bartók’s music is very helpful in terms of character movement on stage. Sometimes I tell singers, “Don’t listen to me, listen to the music. It will tell you all about the pace at which you should move.” There is a pulse that accelerates, slows down or explodes with great intensity, but at the same time it has exceptional clarity,” emphasizes Mr. Glinatsis. “Music is the second text, and many times more important than the libretto. But because it is a text without meanings, you work in a completely different way, that is, it forces you to depict sensations and atmospheres, and not so much meanings.

Having studied comparative literature, ancient and modern theater in England, he staged plays by Heiner Müller, Stéphane Mallarmé, Sophocles, Bernard-Marie Coltes and others, as well as lyric theater. So far, he has signed two contemporary opera productions on the Alternative Stage. What draws him to the opera? “Exploring the ‘theatrical’ direction with singers who have some restrictions on their bodies because the sound has to come out. Because I like to use quite extreme physicality in singers, it’s interesting to find with them how to achieve the image that the direction needs, but without violating the basic needs of the performer. It’s very interesting, creative and unexpected.”

“The Tower of Cyanopogon” is presented in a modular performance, along with Puccini’s comic one-act play “Gianni Schicchi”, directed by John Fuljames. The ELLS Orchestra is directed by the outstanding principal musician Vassilis Christopoulos.