Now, in her early twenties, Nastasya is to be generously compensated. Because of this money, she is considered a good match - though morally, she remains unacceptable in polite society. This gives rise to a destructive mix of self-loathing and rage that rages within her, along with the question: should one continue to play by the same rules?

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Then there is Aglaya Yepanchina, the young daughter of a general, who places her hopes and affections in Prince Myshkin. More and more, the prince becomes entangled in the lives of those around him. In the midst of their fates and surging emotions, he gradually loses his sense of direction.

To the outside world, Myshkin’s perspective—his goodness and unconventional way of thinking—is intriguing, yet also strangely unsettling. This “Russian Don Quixote” is a good listener, a mirror for those who face him. Like a messianic figure, he seems intent on making the world a better place. But can the impending catastrophe - already looming over society - still be averted?

 

Two Questions for Andreas Merz-Raykov:

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Why The Idiot in 2020?
When the theatre offered me Dostoevsky’s The Idiot to stage, I was, of course, immediately thrilled by the challenge - but also somewhat awed. After all, we are dealing with nearly 900 pages of world literature that need to be distilled into a three-hour performance. Dostoevsky is known for his meticulous and almost shamelessly detailed character portrayals. These figures come from the Russia of the late 19th century, and yet they resonate with us today - perhaps because, like us, they constantly try to justify their own weaknesses and failings. They even seem to recognize when they are acting out of anger, fear, or selfishness - and yet they keep going, heading toward disaster with open eyes. All because the web of power and economic interests that confines them appears to be the only possible way to live. That, of course, strongly recalls our own crises and inaction - whether in dealing with refugees or climate change. And then comes a figure whose very presence poses the question of whether we might, in fact, live differently with one another. Although everyone is fascinated or even moved by him, he is ultimately dismissed as ridiculous, as weak - as an idiot.

 

Does it help to have worked so much in Russia?
I spent about seven years working as a director in Russia - not only in Moscow and St. Petersburg, but also deep in Siberia and even near the Arctic Circle. Dostoevsky accompanied us frequently along the way. For example, behind the drama theatre in Omsk there is now a small park and a parking lot - built on the very grounds where, 150 years ago, the forced labor camp once stood in which Dostoevsky himself was imprisoned. I believe that our culture has long felt a deep fascination with Russian literature, a sense of closeness to it. Yet Dostoevsky’s characters follow a very different logic - they are not like the Princes of Homburg or Emilia Galottis of German drama. That’s something often forgotten in German theatre productions, where one might, for instance, see a Lopakhin from Chekhov’s Cherry Orchard portrayed as a typical modern businessman with a mobile phone - stripping the character of a whole dimension, of the dilemma and emotional depth that define him. In that sense, my years in Russia allowed me to sense a bit of the underlying rhythm in which Dostoevsky’s characters move. To question one’s own culture, it certainly doesn’t hurt to know more than one’s own.

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starring: Jessica Higgins, Daniel Scholz, Marielle Layher, Ulrich Hoppe, Karin Klein, Edda Wirsch, Jörg Zirnstein, Hans-Christian Hegewald, Robert Lang-Vogel, Stefan Schuster, Ani Aghajanyan, Dalila Djenic, Karyna Derr, Andrzej Marciniak

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director: Andreas Merz Raykov

stage and costume design: Jan-Hendrik Neidert and Lorena Díaz Stephens
dramaturgy: Karoline Hoefer

sound design: Timo Willecke

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photos: Nils Heck