At the Grand Théâtre de Genève, “Salomé” is still repulsive

“Salomé” is a torture in the form of an opera, or the opposite, or both. The production of Richard Strauss’s masterpiece on display at the Grand Théâtre de Genève since Wednesday is no exception to the rule and even achieves the feat of adding yet another layer of abjection. We must admit that we inflict on ourselves, in an hour and forty-five hours of apnea, a surge of sound waves saturated to the point of appearing viscous and suffocating, all this to retrace one of the most troubled stories of Western Art.

So why impose it on yourself? Because each representation of the work does not exhaust this fascination with plunging into the worst darkness of the human soul, associated with a quest for purity and ecstasy. There is undoubtedly also some perversion in enjoying this concentrate of perversity, incestuous eroticism, sexual abuse, sensual debauchery, and even, in this new vision, a hybrid of cannibalism and necrophagy… On this point , Kornél Mundruczó’s direction leaves no stone unturned, without compromising on the quality of a vocally and scenically very accomplished show, split between hyperrealism and symbolism.

The Hungarian filmmaker has become a regular on the Geneva stages, with significant shows exploring the lugubrious corners of modernity, whether it be the quest for immortality (“The Makropoulos affair“), hospitality (“Sleepless“), migrant security (“The journey to hope“), identity (“Parallax» at the Comédie). All quests in vain, of course. That of recognition and transgression of Salomé being perhaps the most desperate.

Luxury, rage and ecstasy

In the transposition carried out by Kornél Mundruczó, the palace of Herod from the Gospels gives way to a luxurious bar of the skyline of New York, where the oligarchy of the hyperrich expresses its decadence. Alcohol, drugs and sex coldly animate the party night, regularly interrupted by the clamors of an urban revolt rising from the streets.

The tetrarch (John Daszak, chilling), as full of himself as a powerful real estate tycoon, unabashedly harasses young Salomé (Olesya Golovneva, incandescent), rebellious daughter of his wife, the unfaithful Hérodiade (Tanja Ariane Baumgartner). No moon here, nor cistern where Jochanaan (Gábor Bretz, intimidating and grotesque) languishes. The prophet appears as an enlightened and anti-capitalist marginal, an improbable prisoner held in the elevator (!) and who pours out his imprecations on the sins of this caste. Salomé falls head over heels in love.

The inconsistencies of a jump of two millennia matter little. It offers Kornél Mundruczó the fierce jubilation of alluding to the burning news (quarrelsome Jewish doctors wear red caps) or to the cinema. With her black hair and bob cut, the skinny Salomé evokes Natalie Portman’s Mathilda in “Léon”.

By her morphology, Olesya Golovneva does not have the bass of a voluptuous Valkyrie and sometimes tense treble; she also struggles to make the German language sound. But her presence and her magnetism fascinate, even in the lascivious dance of the seven veils, which materialize in seven naked avatars.

Dramatic twist

And this is where the hitherto manic realism of the scenography explodes in favor of an empty stage, progressively invaded by the decapitated and gigantic head of Jochanaan, a pretext for the final and extreme transgressions.

The daring device would probably not pass the ramp if there was not in the pit an orgiastic and gleaming OSR who also does the splits, and at its head Jukka-Pekka Saraste, expert in symphonic spells. The Finnish conductor is rare in opera, and here marks his first dive into Strauss’ frightening score. With a striking sense of contrasts, from silence to cry, from palm to fist.

Matthew Chenal has been a journalist in the cultural section since 1996. He particularly chronicles the abundant news of classical music in the canton of Vaud and French-speaking Switzerland.More info

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