…, a collaboration between the Greek ODC Ensemble and the Ukrainian Nova Opera under the direction of Elli Papakonstantinou, produced especially for the O. Festival in Rotterdam. The joint rehearsals would take place in Kyiv. And behold: the members of Nova Opera had to flee. A week before the start of rehearsals, the Russian army launched its invasion of Ukraine. Current events had torpedoed the original plan and the members of both ensembles came together in Rotterdam – if they succeeded – to consider the new situation.
Under the title Eros, the ensembles show the results of this frustrated collaboration. The material on display comes fresh from the oven and is served steaming. The idea of ​​a symposium of the originally planned opera has been maintained: the audience is received at long white-covered tables and welcomed by a committee that takes place at red-covered tables. Behind the committee hangs a full-screen projection screen.
A camera on a tripod and a second camera that is operated live provide the images that are projected onto it. Four vocalists, completed by guitar, cello, keyboard and a percussionist, urge us to make a choice from the menu in an energetic atmosphere. We are addressed as ‘soldiers of love’. The public turns out to be guests at a feast dedicated to Eros. Love will be the topic of conversation. But then the air raid siren goes off and the expectant excitement is cruelly cut short.
The actuality of the war in Ukraine is shown in foggy, distorted images. It seems that 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, creating the image of what appears to be secure armour, but is in reality an extremely fragile bubble.
The mobile camera registers, but also manipulates the images. The camera drives across the table, showing the plates that remain empty. At one point, we are given a glimpse into what looks like a planter, but as the camera gets closer, we see a miniature soldier half-buried in the earth: the battlefield is never far away.
A calm female voice regularly refers to Plato’s symposium. There are direct references to that classic dialogue: the names of the participants in that symposium are mentioned, and a single anecdote is repeated. Underneath the acts, there is always a musical fabric that sometimes receives more independent attention.
The last part of the performance focuses on the soprano Anna Kirsh. Perhaps the antique black telephone is a reference to Poulenc/Cocteau’s Voix Humaine: Kirsh is also processing the absence of a loved one. But she criticizes one of the better-known passages from the Symposium and contradicts Aristophanes’ account in which he claims that since Zeus split man into two halves, man will always look for the other half to become complete again.
From the moment the air raid sirens and the bombing are recalled, the performance follows an erratic path as if the performance itself had to process 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 uncertainty.