The Raft of the Medusa

A French frigate is shipwrecked. With only enough room on the lifeboats for the captain and the officers, the crew and other passengers are left to their fates on a hastily assembled raft. They drift on the sea in a state of total vulnerability and hopelessness. As drinking water and food rapidly run out, the number of survivors left alive quickly dwindles. Days go by without rescue, and hope evaporates. For how long can one remain human under these circumstances?

Directed by Kornél Mundruczó, this installation of the Proton Theatre aims to tell the story of The Raft of the Medusa – one that is universally valid and spans different eras – from a unique perspective.

"Je suis médusé." - "I am petrified."

While bound for Senegal in 1816, the French ship Méduse struck a reef off the coast of Mauritania through the incompetence of her captain. With only enough space on the lifeboats for the European merchants and officers, everyone else – 150 sailors, soldiers, workers, women and children – were left to their fates on a raft. Two weeks later, rescuers found only 15 survivors. Four years later, the painter Théodore Géricault commemorated this national scandal in a painting that has since become famous around the world. In Hanz Werner Henze's 1968 oratorio The Raft of the Medusa, the victims are honoured by the 150 people present on stage.

The unique feature of the oratorio as a genre is the way in which it relates dramatic events simply through music and singing. The narrative of what transpires on The Raft of the Medusa is told in the past tense, and therefore irrevocably suggesting the state of finality and thus completely precluding any possibility of hope. Rather than thrilling scenes, the stage reveals a still picture. As if the winds had died. However, it is precisely this absence of wind that entails the tragedy.

The work models the usual progression of catastrophes. Ignorance, incompetence, neglectfulness, wilfully disregarding an approaching emergency, the lack of coordination – these all lead to human and social collapse. The familiar cry in emergency situations comes into effect: “Every man for himself!” With all the rules of civilization and law upturned, the degraded and brutal situation turns into a ruthless Darwinian battle for survival. There is no better proof that man requires favourable conditions in order to remain humane.

The story of The Raft of the Medusa seems prophetic today. The capsized vessel is symbolic of the disintegration of human unity and the loss of our universally shared story. Just as those on the raft were adrift on the sea – naked, defenceless against an as yet still invisible enemy whose power has thus grown to immeasurable dimensions – the same way that the Third World is heading to Europe. And Europe will have no choice but to open her doors.

The castaways are drifting in a state of total vulnerability into the void, into complete uncertainty. “When will salvation arrive?” asks Henze's choir. And will this actually mean salvation? Does salvation exist at all? Or do we have to accept the fact that we are all sentenced to death? Is it possible it is precisely in death that we become equal again?

"Fifty years later on, the scandal of the Medusa has faded into the background. Today, almost every day, we witness battles for survival on the sea ‒ Henze's work has gained a depressing relevance. In fact, director Kornél Mundruczó has little to add to the story of this oratorio to make it topical. (...) He interprets the piece very precisely." (noz.de - Germany)

"Kornél Mundruczó and set designer Márton Ágh carefully and subtly staged Henze's music under the musical direction of Steven Sloane, who combined the Bochumer Symphoniker and the singers from the ChorWerk Ruhr, the Zürcher Sing-Akademie and the Dortmund Boys Choir to create a gripping emotional interaction." (revierpassagen.de - Germany)

"An evening of impressive musical performance and strong scenic images." (die-deutsche-bühne.de - Germany)

"Mudruczó's sensitive images, emphasized by stage lighting, counterbalance the reoccurring musical motifs, as well as the calm waves of the sea. The stage design and direction have their own dramaturgy. The sea sand trickles at first imperceptibly then pours down audibly, exposing human bones and skeletons. While the narrator reports on human rescues, pictures of survivors from our own time are projected one by one, then multiply after the music has faded out. A moving, thought-provoking evening." (klassik.com - Germany)

"Director Kornél Mundruczó and set designer Márton Ágh do not stage the events on the raft. Instead, they show the underwater landscape, in which soap and air bubbles gently rise among the sea weeds. The sight of the shining aquarium awakens cozy South Sea fantasies, but suddenly the scene changes. The previously intensely playing musicians grow silent, conductor Steven Sloane steps down from the stage, and the singer sits on the ramp. The Bochumer Symphoniker, the Ruhr Choir, the Zurich Sing Academy and Boys Choir Dortmund all turn deathly pale in the cold stage light. The lights are literally switched off, and for minutes the members of the audience are left alone with their thoughts. (...) This is the strongest moment, leading the spectators to focus on themselves and the ultimate questions: What message is this parable The Raft of the Medusa sending to me? What are human beings capable of when they need to fight for their own survival? Who will be saved or not, and why? Where is someone driving helplessly over the sea right now?" (Kölner Stadt-Anzeiger - Germany)

"Huge applause for all the contributors and a work that unfortunately has lost none of its relevance in the last 50 years. On the contrary." (Westfälische Rundschau - Germany)