Games to pass the time while the war rages outside: Elena Stikhina as Aida is the center of the performance. © Wilfried Hösl
Outside, war is raging, inside, everyone is brooding towards an uncertain future. Damiano Michieletto brings "Aida" into an undefined today. The Munich premiere leaves you strangely cold.
The first suspicion: You are too jaded. Through daily reports on the course of the front, on intercepted missiles, hits and death tolls. But perhaps war is really not only panic, but also attrition, silent despair, hopelessness. Just like in this Egypt on the stage of the Bavarian State Opera, which has not known pyramids, splendour and glory for a long time. Instead, there is a stadium that has been shot up and, after the break, a mountain of ashes on which everyone is brooding towards the uncertain future. What do winners look like? The Parade of Invalids in the "Triumphal Image", here a leg amputee, there a wheelchair user, but many medals of gray uniforms, says otherwise.
With his "Aida" without representational magic, Damiano Michieletto is very much in line with the general directorial line. What others use as a bloody, pacifist beacon becomes permanent nihilism for him, as if it were from Beckett. Above all, however, after five or six minutes, the performance begins to revolve more and more around itself. You can guess what the three hours are leading to. To see itself confirmed after the last pianissimo note: Except for the final image, where in a utopian vision a small village society dances in with balloons and in slow motion to celebrate the wedding of Aida and Radamès, there is not much left.
Clear directorial narrative with a modernist mix
Michieletto is a clear narrator. Not one who puzzles heavily. You understand, stay tuned – and yet leave you cold. Michieletto would like to be critical, as the evening also says, but gets caught up in a modernist mix. Actualization, relaxation to us, this is expressed above all in the monumental uniform scenery of Paolo Fantin and the everyday clothes of Carla Teti. And yet this hardly goes beyond the disguise of convention. A few hectolitres of gold paint plus corresponding magnificent robes, and we would be at Zeffirelli.
What you see: children playing, hope and victims of war at the same time, once a small coffin is carried out. The women cook soup, some men tear the tin award from their chests. And again and again games with which you pass the time. A bit of peace while an unspecified war is raging outside. But in Michieletto's case, these are ingredients, just "made", undeveloped ideas. Also because he delegates his concept to secondary characters and extras. What this leaching war does to the protagonists, you hardly know.
Even Daniele Rustioni, who as Principal Guest Conductor of the House is otherwise Principal Conductor of the Hearts, has no real idea of the score. Much of it is swift and pointed. A late Verdi, which Rustioni imagines from his early work. But the excess pressure with which the Italian usually packs largely fizzles out. Apparently he wants more sharpness, and the Bavarian State Orchestra counters this with its good sound education. Much of it is just momentary art, expertly recalled by Kapellmeister and generated in passages as if spontaneously. A few moments even start to falter.
Elena Stikhina as Aida with soul tones
With Elena Stikhina, Rustioni has an Aida in front of him, with whom so much more would be possible in a partnership-based exchange. The Russian has a genuinely lyrical, delicately harsh voice. This can expand and still produce those soul tones that Aida so desperately needs. A filigree mechanic who sometimes fights against the orchestra – and gives in as a smarter one.
Brian Jadge doesn't have to. As Radamès, he brings a large-caliber into the field. That sounds quite attractive. And no one has to dim the high B at the end of "Celeste Aida" into the piano as prescribed. But a little more differentiation, and the American would be more than just an impressive voteholder.
For Anita Rachvelishvili, parts of the Amneris part (an indisposition?) are now outside her mezzo opulence. Alexandros Stavrakakis sings a reserved king, George Petean an unusually nuanced Amonasro. The State Opera Choir, often condemned to a phalanx, is in good shape and flexible. This time, Johannes Knecht took care of the rehearsal as a guest, and the new boss should be determined at the end of the season.
Only Alexander Köpeczi can catch up with Elena Stikhina. A Ramfis of night-black sonority, also with erotic sound admixture. 50 years ago, unoffended by historical performance practice, such a voice would have been cast as Don Giovanni.
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Michieletto thinks of Ramfis as a puppet master and villain. This is not new, but the relationship with Amneris is. In the end, in an act of violence, this high priest presses a ring on the king's daughter's finger. This lust is hardly prepared by the director and is therefore an assertion. Just as the staging only updates the foil remains behind main characters who coagulate into stereotypes. A few pained looks, powerless crouching, in between posing for arias and duets: this production is easily suitable for the passing star people. And that's something, isn't it?