The mythical figure of Medea She has an extensive history of damage, with titles such as revolutionary, thief and fratricidal that are supported with solid energy by a woman of flesh and blood with a sensitive character, even susceptible one would say, since she does not tolerate that whoever was her lover and accomplice in the stealing the golden fleece put some petty bourgeois horns on it. Her soul, or whatever the magician hides in her place, needs to manifest the quality of her horror with the worst gesture, the claw par excellence, the destruction of her own offspring. The betrayed traitor, the stolen thief, assures that her motive is revenge, but she does not deceive us, she is not disturbed, spite is a poor explanation for such a refined agent of Evil with a capital letter that must cause, and so she does. with his well-known expertise. She eliminates her rival, and inflicts a lacerating wound on herself. murdering their beloved children. The fatality of the femme fatale lies in the ineluctable submission to her condition as executor and agent of Evil. Evil whose origin seems to be amorous passion, capable of festering into pure horror.
The opera of Cherubs It focuses on the debate of the mythical figure with the voice of a suffering woman who moves and scares at the same time, surrounded by the brief circle of her enemies, who are also her victims. The myth has nothing to do with tragedy and extends Medea’s existence into new areas and adventures. Music does not judge its creature, but it requires catharsis, and the beast must die. Paco Azorin She tells the story with powerful plasticity, immediately revealing the outcome and multiplying the executioner arm of the murderess; some incongruity also slips in (popes who invoke Spleen), and the recurrent obsession with converting children from Jason and Medea, before being murdered, in a pair of confusing teenage thugs.
Ivor Bolton communicates the beauties of the score with equivalent plasticity; refined in moments of poetic backwater (Medea and Neris) and somewhat abrupt in the preludes and ensemble scenes, which require, in their dramatic fury, greater transparency.
Maria Agesta (Medea), more painful than threatening, is generally convincing, although in the end we do not believe that such a sensitive lady would have killed her children. Jason (Enea Scala) He is, perhaps, the weakest of the cast, unable to vigorously defend his selfishness. Neris (Nancy Fabiola Herrera) She is a splendid servant of a mistress whom she adores, always refusing to be her accomplice. Jongmin Park’s Creon, well sung, perhaps lacks some regal poise. Sara Blanch (Dircé) makes us regret her death from the poisoned shawl from the start. The Choir, impeccable.
The function, chaired by its Majesties the Kings, was received with an appreciation that could perhaps be described as prior, confirmed at the end. This is a very under-represented first-class work that, perhaps more than any other title, needs a particular interpreter, capable of communicating the greatness and terror of a figure that hides a darkness that its multiple versions do not fully reveal. To the myth of the magician Medea has been added the myth of another magician, Maria Callas. The supreme diva is remembered by the Teatro Real, in a highly recommended performance (there are no comparisons). A very attractive start to the season.