She knew that whoever wants to live must forget,” wrote Hugo von Hofmannsthal to Richard Strauss in 1906 about the role of Chrysothemis, daughter of Agamemnon.
Not being able to forget is the curse of her sister Elektra, who, obsessed with love for her dead father and fantasies of revenge against his murderer, is being driven insane.
If the tragedy in Hofmannsthal's libretto is of a family and general human nature, it will be at the Münster Theater, which, after the remarkable start with Ernst Křenek's opera "The Life of Orest" (FAZ of October 6), begins with "Elektra", his preoccupation with ancient Orestes -Stoff continues, narrowed down to recent German history under the direction of Paul-Georg Dittrich.
The vengeful Elektra appears in SS uniform.
Diabolical and ready for a horror film, she mourns Agamemnon, who sacrificed her sister, the Weimar Democracy, in 1933 in order to consolidate his power.
In the further course of the story, Elektra presses Chrysothemis to implement the revenge plan against her mother and her lover Ägisth together with her.
After the recognition scene between Orestes and Elektra with a rocking horse and cleansing soap placed on the stage, a new era is heralded.
Orestes, a neo-Nazi with a Reich flag, is instigated by Elektra to murder his mother, which in Münster turns out to be the murder of the chancellor.
Elektra's fate is Germany's way
Klytämnestra and Ägisth are Angela Merkel and Gerhard Schröder, in the background you can see flames on a map of Germany - they mark places with refugee accommodation.
Elektra ends the piece as Beate Zschäpe and, unlike in Hofmannsthal, does not fall to the ground dead.
Revenge wins: the three of Orestes, Elektra and Chrysothemis triumph in the middle of the stage.
As dark as the message is, it remains one-dimensional.
The connections are confused.
The causes of National Socialism and the right-wing ideologies that have remained vital to this day, embodied by the Reichsbürger and the NSU, are searched for and found – almost mythically – in the essence of “the German”.
Elektra's fate also seems to be Germany's path and only allows for a future of war and civil war, triggered by a history of violence that cannot be overcome.
The stage design by Christoph Ernst declines this thesis based on contemporary historical events.
Much is lost for the viewer in the sheer number of impressions.
A focus is not visible.
In contrast to the visual excesses of the direction, the strength of the Münster production is the music.
The five maids, dressed like black cockroaches and thus reminiscent of Kafka's Metamorphosis, set a haunting opening accent.
Rachel Nicholls as Elektra exudes a diabolical power throughout the performance: the drama of her soprano gives shape to a dark soul.
Like the blows of the ax that killed her father Agamemnon, the high notes of her singing pierce the viewer.
Margarite Vilsone in the role of Chrysothemis seduces with lyrical tones to go on living and, as a future-oriented member of the Atriden family, symbolizes the need to be able to forget and forgive.
Helene Köhne as Klytämnestra unleashes all her vocal energy and uncanniness,
when she asks Elektra for advice, plagued by sleepless nights.
The male cast is solid against this female dominance with Johan Hyunbong Choi as Orestes and Aaron Cawley – standing in for Garrie Davislim – as Aegisth and knows how to extract intensity from the short moments Strauss allows her.
In addition, the symphony orchestra, with Golo Berg as general music director, lays an intangible veil over the historical all too clear on stage.
The music keeps everything in a timeless limbo and at the same time creates a dynamic downward spiral of evil that mirrors the fate of the revenge-obsessed Elektra.
Their madness becomes tone and song and even carries away listeners who are put off by what is happening on stage.
In the end, between deterrence and enthusiasm, what remains is the memory of an intoxicating opera and a production that wants to reduce the tragic to the concretely political.
You have to learn to deal with the past as something that cannot be changed.
How this handling should look like remains unanswered in Münster.
Must those who want to live forget?