Review: I Went to the House But Did Not Enter

****

"I try to deceive expectations and also to surprise. I don't think my work needs an introduction. Either it works or it doesn't." During an interview for this newspaper in March 2013, German composer Heiner Goebbels laid the ground for this all-too-brief glimpse into his individualistic vision at the Happy Days Enniskillen International Beckett Festival.

His searching imagination has spanned theatre, film, ballet, radio drama and sound installations, endlessly seeking out new collaborations and new adventures. In 2008, he joined forces with early-music specialists the Hilliard Ensemble in the creation of a literary-based music-theatre triptych, with the suitably enigmatic title I Went to the House But Did Not Enter.

Described by its producers, Théâtre Vidy-Lausanne, as a staged concert in three tableaux, it comprises interpretations of texts by TS Eliot, Maurice Blanchot, Franz Kafka and Samuel Beckett.

The final segment is inspired by Beckett's penultimate novella, Worstward Ho, which contains the famous lines, "Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better." Presented in isolation, this atmospheric, exquisitely crafted half-hour piece – here receiving its Irish premiere – feels scant and a little inconclusive. Goebbels's powerful response to the restless introspection of the original leaves uncertainty hanging heavy in the air.

One senses the spirit of American director and theatre-maker Robert Wilson in the sheeny visuals of designers Klaus Grünberg and Florence von Gerkan’s set and costumes – a luxurious hotel suite occupied by four men in shirt sleeves and business suits. Who are they? Where are they? Why are they here? Whose family photographs are they viewing? And who is being observed in the world outside the billowing curtains of their darkened room?

Through the ticking rhythms of Goebbels’s tight, disciplined score, four glorious unaccompanied voices swell into an incantation, infusing Beckett’s swirling contradictions and denials with a compelling sense of liturgical chant and ritual. It’s a shimmering little gem of a performance, which only leaves one wanting more.