A bold new staging is often more muddled than mystic
Hildegard of Bingen’s Ordo Virtutum is nothing short of extraordinary. Written in the 12th century by the German nun and polymath, it is one of the earliest surviving morality plays: the story of a Soul seeking salvation, tempted by the Devil and protected by a chorus of personified Virtues.
What is perhaps most surprising, before any mention of musical virtuosity, is that a work of such scale and devotional intensity has survived at all. This is testament to the extraordinary respect Hildegard commanded during her lifetime, particularly when we consider how much of the work of brilliant medieval women was lost to history.
For composer and librettist Nwando Ebizie, it is Hildegard’s mystical visions that provide the key focus. Drawing on Ebizie’s own experience of visual snow syndrome, The Ecstasy of the Virtues approaches Hildegard through an Afrofuturist lens, incorporating influences from West African and Caribbean ceremonial music alongside New York minimalism. Musically, the results can be thrilling. Overlapping sirens, heavy drones, hypnotic percussion and a dense soundscape create something of the sensory overload of a visionary experience.
Ebizie also makes a radical departure from the theological world of the original, transporting the action to a hammam: an all-female space of self-reflection and ritual purification. Washing becomes a recurring motif through which the Soul, played by Sara Amini, progresses. Some Virtues survive from Hildegard’s original, including Mercy and Humility, while others are newly introduced. The Devil becomes Self Loathing, performed by Chisato Minamimura. In this version, the Soul’s quest is for self-love rather than divine salvation.
The production is immersive, inviting audiences to bring offerings to the altar, receive blessings with perfumed water and participate in the breaking of bread. There are plenty of strong performances: Cevanne Horrocks-Hopayian is a particular standout, bringing a husky vocal quality while accompanying the score on harp. Meanwhile, Grace Nyandoro’s crystalline soprano is deeply stirring. They are supported by a six-strong team of dancers representing an Oracle, crowned in gold.
It is a labour of devotion from a design perspective too. Ben Moon projects Hildegard’s illuminated manuscripts onto the walls of Stone Nest, bringing them to vivid new life. The same technicolour palette can be found in Polly Simon’s joyous costumes. Most impressive is Ryan Watson’s atmospheric lighting, shifting from celebratory to sombre and making excellent use of the sepulchral space.
For all its ambition, however, there is simply too much going on. The stage quickly becomes crowded and the action muddled. The Oracle’s movement sequences sometimes feel under-rehearsed or disconnected, while the volume and amplification can muddy the sound. I found myself wishing for moments of unamplified singing, which might have allowed the acoustics of this converted church to shine.
The production’s final message, praising body acceptance and self-love, can feel at odds with Hildegard’s vision, which is so concerned with the spirit’s journey beyond the human body and the corporeal world.
And yet, The Ecstasy of the Virtues reaches moments of genuine transcendence when the chaos finally gives way to silence. In its most affecting sequence, the Soul is taken into the bath to be purified and emerges transformed. After so much sensory excess, the simplicity is remarkably moving. Perhaps, it should have ended there.
The Ecstasy of the Virtues is playing until 27 September at Stone Nest, London, and 3 October at Howard Assembly Room, Leeds.