The Man of Sorrows — Explanation
— Cornelis de Bondt
Introduction
The first idea for the opera The Man of Sorrows came to me in the late 1980s. It was to be a ‘double-opera’: an opera consisting of two layers. An Upper Layer, in the form of a cross between a performance and an installation — a ritual with a clearly defined beginning and end, unfolding with relentless inevitability. Alongside that, a Lower Layer, a classic 18th/19th-century opera in which “the tenor wants to sleep with the soprano, and the bass tries to prevent it” — a layer of drama, intrigue, and depth. The Upper Layer would then intervene in the Lower Layer, like a deus ex machina.
During a broadcast of the NOS news — in the early 1990s — I saw a segment about the discovery of one of the oldest ‘Men of Sorrows’ by Dr. Henk van Os, then director of the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. What made this discovery remarkable was that the Man of Sorrows had been hidden beneath another painting. Van Os had suspected as much and succeeded in revealing the original image using infrared technology.
This idea — a picture concealed beneath another — fit seamlessly with my concept for the double-opera. The idea for The Man of Sorrows was born. My colleague and good friend Jan Rispens — then director of the Royal Conservatory in Ghent — pointed me to three books by the French writer and gnostic Robert Ambelain, in which he laid out an intriguing theory about the historical figure of Jesus. This theory turned out to provide a highly usable plot for the opera.
Principles
- The figure of Jesus does not appear in the opera — at most as a point of reference, but not as a character. However, his twin brother Toama does. There are apocryphal texts in which he is mentioned, and even in the Gospel of John there is a parenthetical remark that refers to him:
[John 20:24]: “But Thomas [Toama], one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came.” ‘Didymus’ means ‘twin’, just like the Hebrew ‘Toama’.
- Also of importance is the Roman historian Tacitus, who is said to have written about the historical Jesus — but the problem is that the manuscripts of the books in which this would have appeared have vanished. From the Annals, the sections covering the years 28–34 are missing, and from the Histories, the parts concerning the province of Judea. In other words, precisely the texts that would address the figure of Jesus.
- The Council of Nicaea (325 AD) is the central moment — here, the Church of Christianity was born. There was major dispute over whether the Son of God was of the same substance as the Father (homoousios), or merely similar, and therefore not the same (heteroousios). In other words: had the Father created the Son, or not? The principal voices in this dispute were Alexander of Alexandria (Son equals Father) and Arius (Son is human, thus similar, but not equal). In the end, Alexander’s faction prevailed. Arius and his movement eventually aligned with a strand of Gnosticism.
- A pupil of Alexander was Athanasius. In my version, this figure becomes the central character, the protagonist. For he is none other than Athanasius Kircher, who, besides inventing all the machines we have records of (including an encryption device, a composing machine, a magic lantern with speaking tubes, a magnetic clock, and a design for a perpetual motion machine), also invented a device he kept carefully hidden: a time machine. He is the one who introduces the world of machines and devices, but he is at the same time a fantasist. The tension of the opera as a whole resides in this man.
Plot Layers
- Nicaea, 325 AD — Athanasius, Alexander, Arius
A dispute between Alexander (with Athanasius in his wake) and Arius. Here, I use texts from the historical figures themselves, as well as passages from Plato’s Protagoras, on Virtue (aretē, excellence). In the end, it turns out that the texts of Tacitus could serve as decisive evidence for Arius’ position — that Jesus was merely human. Therefore, according to Alexander, the texts must be destroyed at the root — no copies may exist. Athanasius can arrange this via his time machine. He keeps this secret from Alexander, however, as he has his own agenda. - Rome, 117 AD (year of Tacitus’ death) — Athanasius, Tacitus, Eva (a courtesan)
Athanasius hires a courtesan to seduce Tacitus and gain his trust. In doing so, she can access the manuscripts in question and remove them. The problem is, as is often the case in opera: not only does Tacitus fall in love with Eva, but Eva with Tacitus as well. Together, they attempt to deceive Athanasius by giving him copies rather than the originals. When Athanasius finds out, he kills them both. (This becomes the true cause of Tacitus’ death, which is otherwise undocumented.) For this part, I use texts from Le livre dou voir dit, a romance by Guillaume de Machaut, chronicling his relationship with the young Péronelle d’Armentières. The work is full of letters, songs, and poems by both Machaut (L’amant) and Péronelle (La dame). - Jerusalem, 33 AD — Athanasius, Toama, Mary
Athanasius infiltrates the circle of Jesus’ followers, primarily to gain the trust of his twin brother Toama and Mary Magdalene. Contrary to what some texts suggest, Mary is not Jesus’ beloved, but Toama’s. Athanasius devises a trick of illusion to simulate Jesus’ resurrection. Three days after Jesus is buried, he opens the tomb and Toama takes Jesus’ place. Thus the Christian myth could be born. - Rome, 1656, Pantheon — Athanasius
This is the “home base” of Athanasius Kircher. He uses the Pantheon as his portal for travel. One of the oldest buildings in the world, he operates from a hidden chamber and makes use of the structure’s unique design: the dome has an oculus, and at noon on April 21, the sun shines directly through this eye. He eventually learns to travel also on the day of the solstice, giving him two time points he can use in a loop. He has thus invented eternal life. He also uses the building for the Ascension of Jesus/Toama: through his devices (magic lanterns, smoke machines, speaking tubes), he simulates the Ascension via a projection of Toama into the white smoke. By then, Toama has already been killed by Athanasius — he must disappear as a “loose end.” The descent of the Holy Spirit also takes place in the dome of the Pantheon, at the moment he returns to 1656, accompanied by fireworks and the light of the time machine. - Turin, Sils Maria 1888/1889 — Athanasius, Nietzsche
Following the first phase [117, Tacitus], and the second phase [33, Toama], comes the third: Athanasius’ ultimate goal — to become a synthesis of Christ and Antichrist. For this he needs Nietzsche, especially because of the figures of Zarathustra and the Antichrist. Nietzsche intended to write one final text after ‘The Antichrist’: The Transvaluation of All Values. Athanasius must prevent this — for he wants to compose that work himself, not in the form of words, but of an action. According to Aristotle, action is the true seat of virtue: virtue is realized in the deed. Athanasius forces himself into Nietzsche’s life, in order to ultimately administer an elixir that causes Nietzsche to collapse. This happens on January 3, 1889. Now Athanasius has free rein, and begins working on his project to contract time into itself — something Paul foresaw in his First Letter to the Corinthians.
Paul, I Cor. 7:29-32: “But this I say, brethern, time contracted itself, the rest is, that even those having wives may be as not [hōs mē] having, and those weeping as not weeping, and those rejoicing as not rejoicing, and those buying as not possessing, and those using the world as not using it up. For passing away is the figure of this world. But I wish you to be without concern.”
Story, Opera, Film
Although the original idea was for an opera, when I developed the plot into a detailed long-form narrative (40,000 words), I also began to see the possibilities for a film. Many of the scenes lend themselves exceptionally well to the cinematic form. This story is explicitly not a libretto or a screenplay, but since it is worked out in such detail, both libretto and script can be distilled from it — with the necessary freedom, of course, since an opera or a film is a different medium than narrative prose.
There is some music though: an aria, “La Dame Complainte”, which is already performed by Kristia Michael and Anita Tomasevich; the “Lamento di Maria” written for the Kali Ensemble, to be performed next year; and some chorals.
