We are indoors and outdoors at the same time, the border between the room and the garden is blurred - a grassy carpet covered hill, potted plants the size of trees, in the distance a window - are we looking out of it or into it? Pieces of mirror glass covering the sidewalls, making us doubt what is reality and where it ends. The action seems to take place everywhere at the same time.
Menacing, wicked, intimidating creatures inhabit this world, closing in on us, lurking around in the shadows and amongst the vegetation. Their legs are free from restraint, making them able to climb and crawl around freely on the ground. Masks are covering their faces, making us unable to read their expressions, further estranging these creatures from us living humans. It’s a cacophony. In the middle of it all – a child, petulant and mischievous, and their mother, appearing as a god-like figure, severe, and having the power to punish but also to give salvation. She is an old-fashioned character completely dressed in stark white to contrast with the menagerie happening on stage.
With aesthetics referencing back to the time when the opera was written, it still doesn’t feel like an historical drama, but rather a fantastical, dark fairy tale, created by the imagination.
Incorporating projections against a white cloth at the back of the scene, that doubles as a window curtain, makes the set versatile, allowing for quick changes of the scenery as well as visual and light centred effects to add to the general mood of uneasiness.
What is reality? As seen through a kaleidoscope, everything is slightly off - the proportions are skewed and distorted. A scattered landscape, falling apart piece by piece as the story progress.