This will nuture the fears some have of the Gelb regime's risking artistic integrity in a search for crossover success ... Please let's hope it's only a rumor.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Donizetti via Liszt
Naxos's worthy complete Liszt piano music project is now in its 27th volume, which is dedicated to transcriptions of melodies from Donizetti's operas. Donizetti's punctuated lyricism--not so far from Liszt's own (think of the Consolations)--is the perfect mechanism for Liszt's dazzling shifts in mood and color; it's as though Donizetti's music were refracted through a sonic prism.
Pianist William Wolfram commands every aspect of this mercurial music--its ferocity, playfulness, soulfulness, and drama--and plays it for everything it's worth. In his hands the transcriptions sound like much more than showpieces: they attain a quality all their own, a kind of semi-improvisatory meeting of musical minds that discovers new depths in both.
Commentary's Arts Blog
Commentary magazine has a new arts blog, The Horizon, which is actually quite good--it's meaty and well written. Best of all, you don't have to be a Neocon to enjoy it!
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Blogging in All Twelve Tones
Musicareaction is the name of the new blog by the Ensemble Intercontemporain (Pierre Boulez's outfit) in Paris. It highlights the Ensemble's activities and contermporary music in general. Looks like there was an interesting program of contemporary music inspired by, evocative of, or in some numinous way under the influence of Wagner that included early Stockhausen. Be aware the site is in French. (Via Le Journal de Papageno.)
Support the Writers
The issue at the heart of the strike by members of the WGA is simple: will writers benefit from revenues that derive from the presentation of their work online? Considering the fact that just about every form of filmed entertaintment is migrating to the internet, this is clearly more than just an ancillary revenue stream. I hope that the studios see the sense in treating writers as creative partners and finding ways to share revenues fairly.
End for the Donnell?
The Times reports that the Donnell Library on W. 53rd Street, where the original Winnie-the-Pooh is housed, is going to be torn down. In return from $59 million from Orient-Express Hotels, the library will return as part of two floors of an eleven-story hotel on that space.
I was very saddened to read this news. I am a library hound, and the Donnell is one of my favorites. It has a decent general-circulation section, extensive research and children's sections, and an auditorium that features a variety of performances. It is also a great place to stop into if you're in midtown and you need to use the bathroom.
It sounds as though the new Donnell is going to be much smaller. I realize the New York Public Library needs that $59 million, but do they have to downsize a library to get it?
Monday, November 5, 2007
Get Ready to Start Explaining What Makes for Good Singing
First there was Charlotte Church, then there was Andrea Bocelli, now we're all going to have to brace for Paul Potts--and once more try to explain to people why this latest sensation isn't a very convincing opera singer. (Via ArtsJournal)
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Why Callas Turned Down "Vanessa"
Peter G. Davis explains it all in his revealing article on Vanessa, Barber, Menotti, the rise and fall of the opera's fortunes in the last fifty years, and who else besides Callas turned down a juicy role that Eleanor Steber pounced on.
Cendrillon at City
Most of the critics disliked City Opera's new "Fabulous 50s" production of Massenet's Cendrillon. My wife would have agreed with them. At intermission last Thursday night (November 1st), she told me that it reminded her of Pump Boys and Dinettes. Which is quite a slam, when you think about it: she was basically saying that it didn't rise to the level of Grease.
I am going to be the dissenter here, and take the risk of holding myself up to mockery--and my wife's continued bafflement. But I will try to defend a production I found entertaining, clever, and often quite touching.
By setting the action in the 1950s, the production team, Renaud Doucet and Andre Barbe (who received a lusty boo from someone in the half-filled auditorium), found a smart way to realize Cendrillon's and the Prince's alienation. All around the two lovers were those hallmarks of what we associate with the 1950s: empty consumerism (personified by a troupe of marching Mr. Cleans, a touch that was perhaps a bit de trop); relentless conformity; and gender-role stereotyping. These last two were beautifully illustrated by the second act's ballet, choreographed by Doucet, in which the five princesses vying for the Prince's attention variously cooked, cleaned, sewed, ironed, and tended to the needs of a baby, in a tour-de-force sequence that included such Ed Sullivan Show-esque acrobatics as headstands and plate-spinning.
Is it any wonder that Cendrillon, for whom all of this is endless drudgery, and the Prince, who is bored by the hollowness of it all, fell in love with each other? Their scene in the forest--here transformed to a drive-in movie theater (one of the cars memorialized the opera's creator and year of creation with the license plate "JM 1899")--was prefaced by documentary footage of royal weddings from the period, most notably Grace Kelly's, that are romantic only in their pageantry. But then, as an appropriate counterpoint, the entr'acte to the fourth act was accompanied by a home movie of a 1950s wedding--real people, really in love, a beautiful objet trouvee that brought it all down to earth. While these newlyweds were also caught up in the gestures of the period--they're seen driving off in an enormous new car at the end--they also seemed so innocent that you couldn't help but feel charmed. It captured why all but the most heartless of us indentify with the Cinderella story: Cendrillon and the Prince are all of us on our wedding day.
It's true that by updating the setting, the production eliminated the dichotomy the libretto sets up between the pure world of nature for which the lovers long, exemplified by Pandolfe (who regrets giving up his farm in the country), the fairies, the scene in the forest; and the corruptions of the court, as seen in the ambition of Madame de la Haltiere. However, Doucet and Barbe were able to supply a metaphor which presented its own dichotomy, and, in the end, the longing for true love and freedom that is at the libretto's heart was here as well.
In addition, the production was in keeping with the spirit of the libretto's and music's mix of irony and poignancy. Massenet's score commands a whole range of mood and affect--he takes us from the deliberate archaicisms of Madame de la Haltiere and the retinue of the court to the lilting melodies of Cendrillon and the Prince with such ease and grace that you hardly register the change in style. Not to mention his mastery of the orchestra, which goes from chamber-music-like intimacy to a lush neo-romantic Niagara of sound and back throughout the course of the evening. The New York City Opera Orchestra played well under George Manahan's baton--it was a lucid, clean and clear account. I wish, though, that Manahan had infused his reading with more drama and bite.
As for the singers, they all should be praised for being so game, either for wearing oddball costumes or for the complicated movements that were required of them--the step-sisters, Lielle Berman and Rebecca Ringle, who danced as much as they sang, need to be singled out in particular. Cassandre Berthon's Cendrillon and Frederic Antoun's Prince were sincere and impassioned. Unfortunately, I cannot really comment on the quality of anyone's voice, because I couldn't really hear them. This might have been on account of where I was sitting--second-tier, left side, above the pit; the orchestra may have drowned them out from that vantage. It might also have been the fault of the set, which placed a scenic procenium behind the actual stage procenium. Quite often the singers were positioned well back on the stage, behind those two proceniums, which did not help them get heard. It could also be the case that none of the singers had a particularly large voice.
The production team might have been able to make their points about rebellion against conformity with even more emphasis had they insisted on the original vocal distribution of roles and had the Prince played by a soprano. (Which leads to an interesting thought: why not a countertenor in the role?)
There are five performances left of this too-infrequently performed opera, and tickets are available. It's definitely worth a trip.
I am going to be the dissenter here, and take the risk of holding myself up to mockery--and my wife's continued bafflement. But I will try to defend a production I found entertaining, clever, and often quite touching.
By setting the action in the 1950s, the production team, Renaud Doucet and Andre Barbe (who received a lusty boo from someone in the half-filled auditorium), found a smart way to realize Cendrillon's and the Prince's alienation. All around the two lovers were those hallmarks of what we associate with the 1950s: empty consumerism (personified by a troupe of marching Mr. Cleans, a touch that was perhaps a bit de trop); relentless conformity; and gender-role stereotyping. These last two were beautifully illustrated by the second act's ballet, choreographed by Doucet, in which the five princesses vying for the Prince's attention variously cooked, cleaned, sewed, ironed, and tended to the needs of a baby, in a tour-de-force sequence that included such Ed Sullivan Show-esque acrobatics as headstands and plate-spinning.
Is it any wonder that Cendrillon, for whom all of this is endless drudgery, and the Prince, who is bored by the hollowness of it all, fell in love with each other? Their scene in the forest--here transformed to a drive-in movie theater (one of the cars memorialized the opera's creator and year of creation with the license plate "JM 1899")--was prefaced by documentary footage of royal weddings from the period, most notably Grace Kelly's, that are romantic only in their pageantry. But then, as an appropriate counterpoint, the entr'acte to the fourth act was accompanied by a home movie of a 1950s wedding--real people, really in love, a beautiful objet trouvee that brought it all down to earth. While these newlyweds were also caught up in the gestures of the period--they're seen driving off in an enormous new car at the end--they also seemed so innocent that you couldn't help but feel charmed. It captured why all but the most heartless of us indentify with the Cinderella story: Cendrillon and the Prince are all of us on our wedding day.
It's true that by updating the setting, the production eliminated the dichotomy the libretto sets up between the pure world of nature for which the lovers long, exemplified by Pandolfe (who regrets giving up his farm in the country), the fairies, the scene in the forest; and the corruptions of the court, as seen in the ambition of Madame de la Haltiere. However, Doucet and Barbe were able to supply a metaphor which presented its own dichotomy, and, in the end, the longing for true love and freedom that is at the libretto's heart was here as well.
In addition, the production was in keeping with the spirit of the libretto's and music's mix of irony and poignancy. Massenet's score commands a whole range of mood and affect--he takes us from the deliberate archaicisms of Madame de la Haltiere and the retinue of the court to the lilting melodies of Cendrillon and the Prince with such ease and grace that you hardly register the change in style. Not to mention his mastery of the orchestra, which goes from chamber-music-like intimacy to a lush neo-romantic Niagara of sound and back throughout the course of the evening. The New York City Opera Orchestra played well under George Manahan's baton--it was a lucid, clean and clear account. I wish, though, that Manahan had infused his reading with more drama and bite.
As for the singers, they all should be praised for being so game, either for wearing oddball costumes or for the complicated movements that were required of them--the step-sisters, Lielle Berman and Rebecca Ringle, who danced as much as they sang, need to be singled out in particular. Cassandre Berthon's Cendrillon and Frederic Antoun's Prince were sincere and impassioned. Unfortunately, I cannot really comment on the quality of anyone's voice, because I couldn't really hear them. This might have been on account of where I was sitting--second-tier, left side, above the pit; the orchestra may have drowned them out from that vantage. It might also have been the fault of the set, which placed a scenic procenium behind the actual stage procenium. Quite often the singers were positioned well back on the stage, behind those two proceniums, which did not help them get heard. It could also be the case that none of the singers had a particularly large voice.
The production team might have been able to make their points about rebellion against conformity with even more emphasis had they insisted on the original vocal distribution of roles and had the Prince played by a soprano. (Which leads to an interesting thought: why not a countertenor in the role?)
There are five performances left of this too-infrequently performed opera, and tickets are available. It's definitely worth a trip.
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