Moses und Aron is a unique title in the repertoire, a rare musical treatise on theology that transcends its Jewish coordinates, crucial as they are to understand the piece, to become a universal tragedy about faith, communication and community. Schoenberg conceived it as an intellectual device to re-enact the dogma of the chosen people and, with this ambitious programme, aimed right at the core of the distinctive artistic mission of opera as a genre: shed light into the shadows of the unspoken and explore in a collective theatrical rite the mysteries of existence. This new co-production between Opéra de Paris and Teatro Real is a major success, a bold affirmation of the boundless power of opera, especially thanks to Romeo Castellucci's work, that takes Moses' symbolic power to a whole new level.
Castellucci's production is an amazing technical feat, visually enticing and full of jaw-dropping effects that leave the audience in awe and constantly wondering how on earth he does it (Castellucci is not only responsible for the stage direction but has also designed the set, costumes and lighting). Conceptually, the production combines a wealth of symbolic elements and lets them develop organically throughout the performance, creating a distinct visual identity that enhances every single word of this complex libretto. It is hard to think of recent opera productions that have reached this level of perfection.
Act I develops under a blinding white light and behind a translucent curtain that blurs the action, the characters being little more than faltering shades in an impossible two-dimensional space. Symbols start to appear creating threads of meaning that develop across the performance: an old sound recorder wasting mute tape, a technological device resembling a space telescope and symbolising Moses' staff, the black matter that blights everything in Act II. After the background wall cracks at the end of the act, revealing a bundle of nude bodies, Act II gives way to a radically different space. The immense stage is left bare and black and the stark lighting underlines contrast and creates a sense of void and vertigo that builds up towards the existential battleground that is to follow.
The whole act is constructed upon a powerful paradox. When the Israelites are forsaken by Moses, or so it seems, they quickly forget the inscrutable theological revolution of Act I and desperately resort to fleshy traditional gods. But what should be a sensual explosion turns out to be a dismal descent into darkness. Pitch black paint tarnishes everything, including Aron and the Golden Calf (a 1.5 ton living bull), and threatens to consume the stage itself. Every image is corrupted and every word is meaningless, until Moses comes back from the collapsing mountain and attempts an impossible return to the abstract world of the first act.