Castellucci’s Amorous Bérénice

Antonia Tsamouris*

Bérénice, freely inspired by Jean Racine. Concept & Direction by Romeo Castellucci. Original Music: Scott Gibbons. Costumes: Iris Van Herpen. Cast: Isabelle Huppert. Participating: Alejandro Ioannidis, Harry Paps, Christos Christopoulos, Dimitris Sarantopoulos, Vangelis Malliaridis, Foivos Michos-Rammos, Giorgos Chatzitheodorou, Ioannis Sidiropoulos, Konstantinos Kounellas, Panagiotis Tzaferis, Pascal Genios, Stelios Kechriotis. Staged at Onassis Stegi, Athens, Greece, 26 to 30 March 2025.

Jean Racine’s Bérénice, written in 1670, is among his Oriental tragedies, along with Bajazet and Mithridate, although, according to Georges Forestier, Bérénice is not actually a tragedy, since it contains neither murders nor deaths nor bloodshed (Jean Racine, Gallimard, 1999). Racine depicted the seductiveness of the Orient, as imagined by seventeenth century Western Europe, but when the “love affair becomes an ‘affaire d’État’, the heroine turns from a representative of eroticism to an enemy of the State, as Mitchell Greenberg argues (Racine: From Ancient Myth to Tragic Modernity, University of Minnesota Press, 2010).

The play starts with Bérénice’s and Titus’ return from Egypt, where they lived happily for five years. They are now planning to get married. The Roman Senate, however, advises Titus not to go through with the marriage, if he wishes to become emperor. Bérénice, in the end, is deserted by her lover and scorned by the people of Rome.

Director Romeo Castellucci has envisioned Racine’s Bérénice in an innovative and intriguing way, turning the tragedy into a monologue for the heroine, stressing her feelings and thoughts since Titus’ betrayal.

Although Castellucci’s mise-en-scène focused on love, it discussed politics as well. In particular, the director underlined Titus’ split between being a lover and a future emperor, emphasizing the duality between private and public life, and largely criticizing the prohibitions and restrictions that laid the foundations for patriarchal societies. Titus, as an integral part of a male-constructed society, could not but abide by the rules of the Roman world and leave the ‘barbarian’ Bérénice.

Isabelle Huppert as Bérénice feeling desperate as she realizes that Titus will abandon her. Photo: Andreas Simopoulos

Romeo Castellucci emphasized the way Bérénice’s life changed from hope into misery. The heroine’s desperate and emotionally charged monologue was contrasted with various silent tableaux vivants involving the fourteen male actors only. Castellucci kept them all silent, allowing only the woman to speak, throughout the one-and-a half hour duration of the performance. What she had to say turned into a scream to which, nonetheless, no one will listen, making Bérénice’s monologue resemble an inner soliloquy.

Castellucci placed Bérénice in a cage-like transparent box. The heroine was neither allowed nor able to break free from this space, where she remained like a trapped animal, being gazed at. Later, a flashing wreath, descending from the sky and filling Bérénice’s vital space, highlighted how authority and politics overbear humanity. At the end, when the box’s fourth wall was lifted, Bérénice was apparently freed from her seclusion, but she had nowhere to go. Rejecting the male gaze and her imminent objectification, Bérénice yelled “Do not look at me” (“Ne me regardez pas”), directing her scream to each member of the Roman Senate, as well as to each member of the audience. Castellucci’s postmodern addition to the play brought the 17^th century heroine face to face with the 21^st century theatre audience, highlighting the objectification of the female body that still exists in contemporary societies.

Castellucci meticulously depicted men as totally responsible for the construction of western societies. In the beginning, all the male actors were shown at a meeting of the Roman Senate, but later they were brought to the front of the stage to play ball, fight with each other and act in a childish manner, while physically struggling for authority. The liberty with which the actors alternated in these scenes was also contrasted to Bérénice’s female body, secluded and confined within its glassy box. The images formed by the male actors’ bodies resembled well-known tropes of wars and sacrifices, such as Christ’s crucifixion or Eugene Délacroix’s Liberty Leading the People. Thus, Castellucci reminded the audience that history has, almost solely, been based on male decisions.

Isabelle Huppert as Bérénice in front, and the male actors as members of the Roman Senate at the back. Photo: Andreas Simopoulos

Isabelle Huppert’s Bérénice first appeared as a sensitive woman, a woman in love, hopeful both for her present and the future. She seemed calm and assured of Titus’ love. As the play proceeded, Huppert’s heroine began to look all the more anxious and insecure. Huppert progressed the feelings and reactions of her heroine, moving from serene love to disquiet and finally to misery. She managed to brilliantly depict the transformation of Bérénice, after her separation from Titus, as she headed towards non-existence, screaming against her objectification.

Isabelle Huppert’s Bérénice tries to break free from the hopeless situation in which she finds herself, but the wreath that descends from above reminds her of her isolation. Photo: Alex Majoli

The costumes by Iris van Herpen were both elegant and functional. Bérénice’s first dress, in white, signified not only her pure love for Titus, but also the heroine’s subordination to authority, with her body fully covered by the dress and a crown on her head. When Bérénice began to realize that she was losing Titus forever, she removed the gown that restricted her, literally and metaphorically, and appeared in a colourful, less restrictive dress, with her loosened hair underlining her disentanglement from societal restrictions.

The role of lighting was also important, as in any Castellucci performance; white in the beginning, unraveling the imminent separation of the two lovers, it became red later, signifying both the heroine’s passion and the blood shed by billions of people in the name of politics.

Isabelle Huppert as Bérénice, confronted with the realization that Titus has betrayed her. The washing machine stands for Titus’ change of mind. Photo: Alex Majoli

Romeo Castellucci’s production was innovative and stimulating, as it explored the mystery of the human soul in juxtaposition to society. It was a lyrical performance, which proposed that love can endure everything and everyone, except for politics. Underneath the cloak of authority, human beings are left naked and vulnerable, like Castellucci’s male actors in the end, proving, as in the fairy tale, that the “King is naked.”

*Antonia Tsamouris holds a PhD and a Post-doctoral thesis from the School of English (Aristotle University). Member of the Greek section of IATC, the Harold Pinter Society, as well as Secretary of Eastern Europe of the Board of Directors’ for the Edward Albee Society. She has contributed with articles and reviews in magazines, books and selected volumes, both in Greece and abroad. Her book on Harold Pinter’s phenomenological analysis of his theatre plays and screenplays was published in Greek in 2024.

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