Desdemona in black and white

Holland Festival

Is the kingdom of the dead in the opera Sunken Garden by Michel van der Aa a 3D garden full of brilliant colour, director Peter Sellars chooses in Desdemona by Toni Morrison and Rokia Traoré for sober black and white. On the stage of a sold-out Muziekgebouw aan 't IJ are glass bottles and jars, sometimes lit from below, sometimes from above, with hanging light bulbs like flickering candles. On the left are a number of ngonis (Malian lute) and two koras (Malian harp lute), played by black musicians. Also moving here are the musicienne Traoré and her background singers; the right side is reserved for the white Desdemona. A powerful image.

By enveloping Desdemona (Tina Benko) and the three singers in identical white dresses, Sellars emphasises en passant how different they are. If the white on the velvet-black bodies takes on royal allure, it makes Desdemona pale and colourless - almost as transparent as her bottle habitats. 'Never the twain shall meet' Sellars seems to be shouting at us, however much Desdemona thinks she understands the world of her black lover Othello. The latter, incidentally, strangled her in a fit of jealousy. From the afterlife, she reminisces about him and her mother's black maid 'Barbary'.

Shakespeare portrays Desdemona in his tragedy Othello as a willing victim, Morrison instead sees her as a mature woman, claiming responsibility for her own choices. Her name means as much as 'damned' and symbolises her subordinate role as a girl. After all, she had to submit to the rules and vagaries of men: 'A step away was doom, indeed, and misery without relief.' But Desdemona refuses to conform to 'a name I did not choose'. Because of his suspicion, Othello is no longer the man she loves, so her raison d'être has been swept away and she does not seek to dissuade him from his act. Thus Desdemona 'chooses' her own death.

The performance has enormous poetic eloquence, but never becomes intimate. Everything takes place in the past and is narrated like a reporter by Desdemona - a brilliant Tina Benko, who portrays the various characters with subtle vocal inflections. The epic storytelling ties in with the African tradition of the griots, who, like troubadours, passed stories from tribe to tribe, accompanying themselves on plucked instruments. Benko's recitation is interspersed with songs by the Malian Traoré. With repeating patterns, a hoarse voice and plucked guitar playing, she creates a ritual atmosphere, full of melancholy and longing.

Just when it threatens to become too much talk-song, Traoré also gets a speaking part. On behalf of Barbary, she chastises Desdemona: 'I was not your friend, I was your slave.' Unfortunately, Traoré is a less gifted actress than Benko, so the tension slackens. Beautiful, however, is the moment when Desdemona and Barbary/Traoré lay their foreheads against each other with the words 'We will be judged by how well we loved.'

A brilliant ending, but unfortunately it continues for half an hour after this. The lyrics now also become rather pamphleteering, directed against women's oppression, slavery, war, machismo and whatnot. All colour disappears, the spell is broken. Not for the first time, Sellars lets a performance perish on the altar of his political correctness.