The Oresteia

A hardcore “Oresteia”. Wallowing in the filth of myth. Merciless, drastic, radical. Blood is the great, all defining metaphor in which Michael Thalheimer wraps Aeschylus’ tragedy. Blood flows in rivers. Blood covers hands and bodies, drips into the stalls and leaves stains all over Olaf Altmann’s wooden wall. The stage has been nailed up; it is a paradise from which we are excluded. In front of it the cast sacrifice their hatred as if on a high altar, right in front of the audience. 100 unflinching minutes. In his imposing edited version of the play Thalheimer shows how the blood line of human history flows on an on, an endless chain reaction of revenge and violence. “Act – suffer – learn” is the refrain of the 40-strong chorus which thunderously energises and comments on the events of the play from the upper circle. However, there is no learning to be seen: Thalheimer cuts the third part of the Oresteia (“The Libation Bearers”) – and with it any faith in democracy as a model solution. There is no mercy from above. Heaven is empty. On earth, Orestes cringes on the floor, all alone, with no reprieve. An image of modern man.