Charles Baudelaire wrote several forewords to his “Fleurs du Mal”, the most interesting being those that remained in the drafting stage. One begins like this: “France is going through a phase of vulgarity. Paris, the center from which general stupidity radiates.” The general stupidity that Baudelaire speaks of thanked him in that the public prosecutor’s office was extremely interested in his poetry, persecuted him for violating public morals and banned six of the 126 poems, depending on the edition.
Interesting the indignation, more than 150 years ago. Anne and David Bennent are now reading a selection of these poems in the Salzburger Landestheater, and of course not a single visitor to the Salzburg Festival is indignant, not even about those poems that were banned at the time Lust strikes, creep silently to the treasures of your body like a coward, to chastise your happy flesh … and, through these new lips, instill my poison in you, my sister. “
The judges sensed lust for murder and much obscene, syphilis and corruption, and overlooked the fact that the poison Baudelaire is talking about here could also mean a whimsy or melancholy, depending on the interpretation. Hence greed could also aim at a conspiracy, at a togetherness, escaped the cheap sadness of the world.
Of course, the Bennent siblings don’t just sit at their little tables
The Bennent siblings, both wonderful actors, and, as individually different as they are, brother and sister, have no intention of disturbing anyone here. She, with her never-ending, beguiling charm, has a bit of the aura of an unshakable teacher who explains life to you that is not in the school books the way she thinks it is. He has the dignity and dark luster of a fallen angel, with that luster in his voice that speaks of distant heights.
They are very nice to each other. Of course, they don’t just sit at the two small tables when they recite the selection of poems set up by Bettina Hering, the festival’s acting director. First he flutters away with the notes of the text in both hands, as “Albatross”, by which the poet himself is meant, “Prince of the clouds”, mocking the archer. So the bland human being. If he gets a little confused during his lecture, she waits in benevolent calm or sits down with him at the table when she is not dancing, a garland like a snake or hiding in an upholstered armchair with five candles next to her and the picture of one Madonna.
The entire lecture is a singing of two voices, sometimes dialogical, sometimes bilingual German-French, of that which confuses the citizen, longings, unstable love, dark seething. But the indignation about fear and procrastination is also very specific. You don’t have to understand every sentence at the moment, because the evening is itself a long poem that continues into the night.