It was supposed to be an opera inspired by Plato's Symposium, a collaboration between the Greek ODC Ensemble and the Ukrainian Nova Opera directed by Elli Papakonstantinou, specially produced for the O. Festival in Rotterdam. The joint rehearsals were to take place in Kyiv.And lo: the members of Nova Opera had to flee. A week before the start of rehearsals, the Russian army began the invasion of Ukraine. Current events had torpedoed the original plan, and the members of both ensembles came together in Rotterdam—insofar as they managed to—to deliberate on the new situation.
Under the title Eros, the ensembles present the results of this frustrated collaboration. The material on display is fresh out of the oven and served steaming hot. The idea of a symposium has been retained from the originally planned opera: the audience is received at long white-covered tables and welcomed by a committee that takes its seats at red-covered tables. Behind the committee hangs a full-screen projection screen.
A camera on a tripod and a second camera operated live provide the images projected onto them. Four vocalists, complemented by guitar, cello, keyboards, and a drummer, urge us in an energetic atmosphere to make a choice from the menu. We are addressed as 'soldiers of love'. The audience turns out to be guests at a feast dedicated to Eros. Love will be the topic of conversation. But then the air raid siren sounds, and the expectant excitement is brutally cut short.
The current reality of the war in Ukraine is depicted in misty, distorted images. It appears as though this symposium has moved to a bomb shelter. The committee behind the table plays with an old black-and-white photograph that ends up inside an inflated balloon, thus creating the image of a seemingly safe armor, but which is in reality an extremely fragile bubble.
The mobile camera records, but also manipulates the images. The camera rolls across the table, showing the plates that remain empty. At one point, we are granted a glimpse into something that looks like a planter, but as the camera gets closer, we see a miniature soldier stuck halfway in the earth: the battlefield is never far away.
A calm female voice frequently refers to Plato's Symposium. There are direct references to that classical dialogue: the names of the participants in that symposium are mentioned, and a single anecdote is repeated. Beneath the action lies a constant musical fabric that sometimes receives more independent attention.
The final part of the performance centers around the soprano Anna Kirsh. Perhaps the antique black telephone is a reference to Poulenc/Cocteau's *Voix Humaine*: Kirsh, too, is processing the absence of a loved one. But she criticizes one of the more famous passages from the *Symposium * and contradicts Aristophanes' account in which he claims that ever since Zeus split man into two halves, man will always remain in search of the other half to become whole again.
From the moment the air raid sirens and the bombings are recalled, the performance follows an erratic path, as if the performance itself has to absorb a fragmentation bomb. The performance consists of disparate ingredients that culminate in the crisis embodied by the soprano. Perhaps the soprano role can be identified with Ukraine itself. In any case, the performance itself is a metaphor for the uncertain situation at the border with Russia.