10 Questions for Milton Granger

Posted on November 20, 2012 by barczablog

Milton Granger is composer/librettist/lyricist of six chamber operas, all of which have been produced multiple times throughout the U.S. by college opera workshops and regional companies.  Two (Uncharted Waters and Talk Opera) are first-place National Opera Association prizewinners.

Granger’s musical play Bronze Mirror was selected for the Manhattan Theatre Mission’s 2012 Festival, and Peter Rabbit and the Garden of Doom won the 2012 Actors Playhouse annual competition for children’s theater. Several of his musicals have been produced by Seaside Music Theater and Mill Mountain Theater, among others.

Currently assistant conductor of Mary Poppins on Broadway, Granger has worked as keyboardist/conductor on three previous Broadway shows, four national tours, three off-Broadway shows, and over ninety productions at regional houses. Married to stage director Mary Meikleham, he is the father of two children and an alumnus of Northwestern University.  www.miltongranger.com

Opera Five will be giving Talk Opera its Canadian premiere as part of a programme of three modern one-act operas December 4-6.

I ask Granger 10 questions: five about himself and five about Talk Opera.

1) Which of your parents do you resemble (what’s your nationality / ethnic background)?

Composer & musician Milton Granger

I’m a totally white bread Midwestern boy, born and raised just outside Kansas City. I like to think I inherited my mother’s rationality and my father’s sense of humor. (My unattractive qualities are mine alone.) I know very little about my ethnic heritage.

My mother once tried to trace our family tree, but only got as far as the middle of Indiana sometime in the 19th century.

2)  What is the BEST thing / worst thing about being a composer?

Many people my age have a foggy notion of how they felt and thought at age 15, but I have a clearer idea, because I still have the music I wrote then.

In normal conversation, I don’t always make the best joke, or say the smartest thing. But if I write a song or an opera scene in just the right way, I can make people laugh and/or understand exactly what I mean.

There’s always a better way to bring a character to life, make a statement, shape a phrase, or capture a musical concept. I’ll do that in the next piece….

3) Who do you like to watch or read?

I read history and science (for general readers only, no professional journals). Brian Greene, James Gleick, Dava Sobel, Barbara Tuchman, Dexter Filkins, and David Remnick, are among many favorites. I subscribe to “Scientific American”, “The Atlantic”, “The Sun”, and “Funny Times”.

I see maybe half a dozen movies a year, and my reaction usually ranges from mild disappointment to mild enthusiasm. I find books and magazines much more interesting.

I listen to music infrequently, but I practice every day, as though I were still a piano major at college. I review familiar literature and keep learning new pieces, usually standard repertory that I never got around to when I was younger. I no longer give recitals; maybe that’s why I enjoy practicing so much.

4) What ability or skill do you wish you had, that you don’t have?

Fluency in one or more foreign languages.

5) When you’re just relaxing (and not working) what is your favourite thing to do?

Mary and I like to visit museums and historical places, both near where we live in New Jersey and when we go on vacation. We keep an audio diary of our reactions to the art, scenery, and other sites.

I also play Ken-Ken online, usually 9X9 puzzles.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Five more about Talk Opera.

1) How did creating Talk Opera challenge you?

I wanted to make sure the lines landed properly, so the musical language had to be accessible but carefully timed and inflected, and the transitions to Verdi’s music had to be set up for best effect. Having said that, I found the idea fertile enough that the writing came quickly. My theory: if ideas come easily, that means I’m on the right track. If it’s difficult to musically realize a character/moment/scene, then I probably have the wrong idea.

Opera (to me) is well-sung theatre. I’m fond neither of belting nor over-cultivated vocal production which obscures character and text.

2)  What do you love about Talk Opera and this type of composition?

It usually gets laughs, and that’s very gratifying. Most audiences understand the context immediately, even if they don’t know much about Rigoletto.  The catchphrases of pop psychology and the extremes of romantic melodrama make a fun combination.

3) Do you have a favourite moment in the opera?
—and—
4) how do you relate to Talk Opera as a modern adult?  

There’s one line that continues to resonate with me: “A passion isn’t good just because it’s passionate.” Too often I’ve heard statements on the order of, “Well, it doesn’t matter what you feel, as you long as you feel something,” or, “We might not agree with what you say, but at least we know where you stand.” I believe that WHAT you think or feel makes all the difference, and if it’s based on lies, ignorance, or a twisted “gut instinct”, it’s better not to feel so strongly.

That makes it sound as though I sympathize with the talk show host, Cookie, rather than the Rigoletto characters, but the piece in general seems more on Rigoletto’s side. We’re drawn to outsized emotions and tragic storylines, especially when expressed in beautiful music. But would we want to suffer cruelly ironic fates ourselves, even to a score by Verdi?

The Rigoletto characters don’t understand a world where lovers “negotiate a relationship” or enemies learn to “accept their differences”. It makes you wonder what people two hundred years from now will think about how we lived our lives in the 21st century.

5) is there anyone out there whose approach you particularly admire, or who has influenced you?

Virtually all the greats of classic opera and musical theatre have influenced me, from Mozart and Puccini to Cole Porter and Stephen Sondheim, and dozens of others.

Re: current writers, that’s always trickier. I frequently serve as musical director for readings and workshops by new writers, many of them NYU students in the Graduate Writing Program there. So I try to keep current, get in on the ground floor, etc.

I don’t see a lot of new shows (since, luckily, I work most evenings), but I have seen well-known pieces by LaChiusa, Guettel, Yazbek, and others. I don’t listen to these works the way I used to, by playing recordings over and over again until I memorize the scores. (I can still sing a lot of the Ping Pang Pong trio from “Turandot”!) So they haven’t had a chance to influence me as much.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Talk Opera is part of Opera five’s program of one-act operas opening at Gallery 345 (345 Sorauren Ave), December 4th-6th at 7:30PM.  Tickets are $25/$30 and can be purchased online at operafive.brownpapertickets.com or at the door.

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Classical Quartets from a trio of teenagers

Posted on November 19, 2012 by barczablog
Windermere String Quartet

Windermere String Quartet: Rona Goldensher, Elizabeth Loewen Andrews, Anthony Rapoport, Laura Jones, (photos: cloud4studios)

Windermere String Quartet (“WSQ”), an ensemble playing classical repertoire on period instruments, offered a remarkable concert this afternoon.   WSQ are comprised of Rona Goldensher– violin, Elizabeth Loewen Andrews– violin, Anthony Rapoport– viola, and Laura Jones– cello.

It’s such a simple idea, but one I am fairly certain has never been done before: assembling a trio of string quartets composed by seventeen year olds.  You may wonder whether this would even be worth hearing, let alone why this would be interesting.  Have no fear, all three were masterworks.

Start with Juan Crisóstomo Arriaga (1806-1826), who composed three string quartets in his short life, including his excellent Quartet #2 in A (1823), written at the age of 17.  It turns out Mozart and Schubert also wrote quartets at the age of 17: which bracket Arriaga on the programme.  No wonder the concert has the title “Young Blood.”

In passing, I was thoroughly bemused by the parallels.

  • As I left the concert I watched twilight, the transition from day to night
  • I pondered maturation, when a child becomes adult (whatever that means).
  • The division of rep between modern and period instruments is just as sketchy. While orchestras comprised of modern instruments lay claim to everything, and early music is regularly played on period instruments, we’re seeing incursions of historically informed performance into later periods than ever (e.g. Opera Atelier’s presentation of Der Freischütz using Tafelmusik orchestra last month).

Anthony Rapoport, viola in WSQ, introduced each item.  In passing Rapoport mused upon the Toronto Transit Commission’s practice of using classical music to stop teens from loitering in their stations.  What he whimsically called “weaponizing Mozart” was a terrific segue into a discussion of three young composers.

But these young men were highly accomplished.  While none of the trio would live very long, Arriaga’s passing was especially poignant, considering the excellence of what we heard.  While it’s a bit simplistic to compare them to one another, Arriaga is not out of his depth between these two giants.

We began with Mozart’s K173 from 1773.  This was the first time I’d heard Windermere in person, although I did review their debut CD earlier this year.  At that time I remarked that I was surprised at how simplistic the works seem when ironed out through the use of modern instruments, how much personality original instruments bring to the table, and how much more complex these works sound as a result.  Yes it’s true that they need to tune up between movements, that on occasion a note may be off pitch, just as we’d encounter from an opera singer.  I think the comparison is apt, because these instruments are larger than life.

Arriaga was for me the highlight, because he’s new to me.  The poignant subtext –that he died of TB at the age of 20, leaving only a few works such as this quartet—only magnifies his achievement.    All four movements are wonderful, although the second movement theme and variations is like a jewel.  Among the variations, one puts the viola (Rapoport) in the spotlight, while another presages the pizzicato third movement of Tchaikowsky’s Fourth Symphony.  This doesn’t sound like the work of an apprentice.

We closed with Schubert’s D112 B-flat quarter from 1814.  By this time I was so accustomed to the WSQ sound that I no longer noticed anything jarring, but only euphony.  I wondered if that was possibly because they were playing this piece a different way, with less evident edginess, and more native sweetness; or possibly because the work sits more comfortably on the violin / viola /cello?

It’s only in retrospect –aka writing a review—that I recall that the three composers were teenagers.  No one shows immaturity, all three compositions satisfy.

I am looking forward to seeing what WSQ do next, both in the recording studio and in concert.   They return March 3rd 2013 with a program of quintets.    Further information

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Adès, Oakes, Lepage

Posted on November 16, 2012 by barczablog

Watching and hearing the Metropolitan Opera high definition broadcast of The Tempest, I wonder “whose” Tempest to call it.

  • If you listen to Joseph Kerman—who says the composer is the dramatist–you’d say it belongs to Thomas Adès: the composer
  • A big part of his adaptation is its approach to language, in which case you’d turn to Meredith Oakes: the librettist.
  • And of course this powerful presentation is another masterwork from Robert Lepage, the director.

Acrobat Jaime Verazin performs as Ariel. Photograph: Ken Howard/AP (note, this is from an earlier production in Britain, not the one in NYC)

Each of them has a great deal to say about this spectacular production of a fascinating work.  As you can probably tell I am very impressed, moved, delighted.  Having read a few reviews in anticipation of going to the theatre Saturday, I wasn’t expecting much.  Reviews were conflicted, and no one seemed terribly impressed either by the music or the text.  I heard mutterings about Ariel’s high tessitura, the difficult music, the short couplets.  Some noticed a circus element perhaps because they know of Lepage’s history; but nobody really seemed very excited by the work of any of these three.  And that’s a shame, considering what I believe: that the opera is quite a spectacular success, and its Met Production that I saw broadcast, a triumph.

If you’re the sort of person who when confronted with something ambiguous that might confuse you or something difficult that challenges you, frown and close your mind, then don’t see this.  It’s not precisely Shakespeare.  But compared to such operas as Verdi’s Macbeth or Otello, Gounod’s Roméo et Juliette, or Britten’s A Midsummernight’s Dream, I would venture to say that it’s the finest operatic adaptation of Shakespeare yet written.

I like the short couplets.  No, they’re not Shakespeare.  Oakes has changed the text, and that’s a good thing.  As written, the longer lines are simply not singable.  I am flabbergasted at how singable this libretto is, and unsure whom to credit –between composer Adès and librettist Oakes—for the magnificent arioso.  I was often reminded of Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande: not because the music sounds like Debussy, but because the pace and the texture are so spare, fast moving, hewing close to the text.  Every other adapter veers into purely musical effects, giving singers their moments, their high notes, and in the process slowing everything down.

I am very fond of Lepage’s work on The Tempest.  We’re inside a replica of La Scala.  Why?  I’ve read commentators connecting it to the characters from Milan, missing the more fundamental subject of this play and its adaptation.  Prospero is often seen as an analogue for Shakespeare himself, his references to magic actually encompassing the illusions of the theatre:

You do look, my son, in a moved sort,
As if you were dismay’d: be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex’d;
Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled:
Be not disturb’d with my infirmity:
If you be pleased, retire into my cell
And there repose: a turn or two I’ll walk,
To still my beating mind. 

“The great globe itself” could be “the great Globe itself:” one of the theatres where Shakespeare’s works were presented.  Theatre is always a microcosm, but in this case it’s extra-special, so that Lepage’s choice is profound and particularly stunning in its execution.  This play is about illusion and magic, particularly theatrical magic, as Shakespeare retrospectively (this being his last play) contemplates his art and saying farewell to his art.  Lepage gave us magic, tender emotion, nostalgia, and sentiment appropriate to such big subjects.

As I said, I don’t know which of those three to put on the highest pedestal, to whom to attribute my joy.   And so I shall see it as a collaboration between Oake & Adès, brilliantly fulfilled in the interpretation of Lepage.

I find it hard to believe that I’ve never seen such a skilful operatic setting from a play I knew and loved: so faithfully do Adès and Oakes bring us something resembling and celebrating Shakespeare’s play.  Otello is a travesty in comparison, while the other operas I listed above are like clown-shows masquerading as tragedies.  You may have noticed that I omitted Falstaff, an opera that I would call the most successful adaptation until this one came along.  I don’t think one should have to choose between them, of course, so I’ll stop there.

I think Oakes / Adès fixed one of my chief problems with Shakespeare’s play, namely where he leaves Taliban.  We lose Prospero’s big epilogue (which isn’t singable, so I shouldn’t have been surprised), and indeed Prospero surrenders the stage.  How curious.

Caliban, upon whose island Prospero had staged his elaborate lesson to the royal court, inherits his rightful reward, namely the empty island.  The voice of Ariel, newly freed, echoes in the distance.  While I can’t pretend I remember exactly what it sounded like, those last notes of hers (Ariel is played by a coloratura soprano) stayed in my head for quite awhile.  I’d heard people perplexed by the ending: people who couldn’t have known the play too well.  No it’s not what Shakespeare wrote.  But I think I prefer it.

There’s much beauty in the music, yet it’s spare, never taking an extra ten seconds simply for a musical effect. We’re always building the drama.  Adès makes Debussy seem self-indulgent in his economical design.

Simon Keenlyside’s Prospero commands the stage for most of the opera.  This is a stout presence, larger-than-life, the way a magician should be, as awe-inspiring as a Gandalf or a Merlin.

Prospero

Simon Keenlyside as Prospero. Photograph: Ken Howard/AP

Two unearthly voices were for me the chief joys of this production.  Audrey Luna’s Ariel, she of the unbelievably high tessitura, made for a remarkable kind of music such as I’ve never heard.  I need to see the score, to know just how high, and I’d like to know how she approached it, as it wasn’t always full-voiced, but sometimes done in a lighter sound.  But Luna was unforgettable.

And then there was Alan Oke’s Caliban, a familiar voice from the COC’s Death in Venice.  He looked like a Mohawk Papageno, sympathetic with a great deal of edge.  The singing was lovely, not quite as stratospheric as Luna’s; but Oke’s acting was impossible to resist, certainly my favourite.

I had to read the names when I heard another familiar voice, namely William Burden, who had been Jupiter in Semele in Toronto earlier this year.  I found Burden to be extraordinarily moving, with a wonderfully plaintive shape to his phrasing. His grief—for his missing son—is mostly underplayed even in close-up, but he used his voice to great advantage.

While I’m sorry I can’t see this in person, inside the theatre, that miniscule concern is washed away in the joyful discovery of a new work and a new voice, namely Thomas Adès.

There’s an encore showing of the broadcast if you’re interested, different dates depending on what country you’re in.

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TSO November 14th

Posted on November 15, 2012 by barczablog

I was fortunate to attend the Toronto Symphony Orchestra concert tonight, thanks to the kindness of my friend Bill Denning.  It was the first time I’ve seen them in a few years, and my first encounter with Peter Oundjian, their Conductor & Music Director.

Oundjian

Artistic Director & Conductor Peter Oundjian

I’ve never liked Roy Thompson Hall, although I confess it sounded better tonight than I remembered from my last visit.  We sat in the 2nd balcony, looking across at the acoustical baffling and hardware that resemble the Mother Ship that arrives at the end of Close Encounters of the Third Kind.  I wonder if they were to play Williams music if the hanging baffles would come to life and flip over like the one in Spielberg’s movie…?

No maybe they better not risk it…

I’ve been hanging back for awhile, reading the programmes each year, looking for concerts that appeal to me.  Tonight, through the serendipity of a friend I discover that maybe I’m ready to come back to the TSO.

Oundjian is a smooth talker onstage, giving a little speech before the concert, MC-ing a post-concert talk-back session, and ably manoeuvring his soloists around the stage throughout.  I heard one of his commercials on 96.3 this morning, and for once thought, aha I am hearing that tonight.  The campaign makes sense to me, that Oundjian is part showman, part musician, part teacher, and as far as I can tell, enjoying it all immensely.

“I am a lucky guy.”  It’s a mantra I employ that, if you say it often enough, is self-fulfilling.  Tonight it was certainly true.

The program is filled with threes.  We heard three different works. Two works were in three movements (plus a final one with a more usual four movements).  And without question for the first two compositions the number “3” is especially important:

  • Triptyque by Pierre Mercure
  • Beethoven’s “triple concerto” op 56
  • …and Shostakovich’s 12th Symphony

Setting aside our triple fantasy for the moment, let’s talk about the one piece I could only hear from the TSO; which was every bit as marvellous as I’d hoped.  Yes I could get Beethoven from Tafelmusik –and would rely upon them if I could (but they don’t program it nearly enough in my opinion)—and could perhaps turn to an ensemble such as Esprit Orchestra for Mercure.

But the big massive works for big massive ensembles (ie the Shostakovich symphony)?  That’s supposed to be what we come to the TSO for, to hear important works for large ensemble.  I want Mahler, Richard Strauss or Stravinsky, and Berlioz, and the TSO needs to deliver such works.

Now of course they may not agree, as they seek to build an audience.  Their idea of what they must do is very different than mine, and I don’t presume to lecture; I merely know what I like.  In my annual glance through their brochure I haven’t seen enough of this kind of music, scores that no one else will perform.

Tonight?  I am a happy camper.

Oundjian leads the Shostakovich with conviction, the players clearly energized much more than they’d appeared for either of the other pieces.  In the talk-back Oundjian had said that he wanted an orchestra that was mindful in every moment they were playing (not his words, but my rough paraphrase): a wonderful ambition, but unfortunately, not one that was met tonight, considering how much more energy I felt in the concluding work.  But maybe that’s not fair, when the ensemble seizes the moment and makes the music their own, as they did on this occasion.

In such a big work –where the stage was almost filled and many players had solo work—everyone seemed energized, committed throughout.  No wonder it sounded so good, a brisk reading of great clarity and simplicity.

The Mercure work is a classic illustration of something R Murray Schafer spoke of in his book My Life on Earth and Elsewhere:

…the work was to be what Canadian composers call a ‘piece de garage’, intended for performance while the patrons were parking their cars.

So there we were, listening to a ten minute piece to cover the late arrivals.  Yet it was quite wonderful, in places darkly mysterious, full of distant drums & rumours of war.  As a roughly contemporary piece with a tonal vocabulary that could be understood as a kind of modernism, it’s certainly relevant as context for the Shostakovich.

Sandwiched between as contrast was the Beethoven work with soloists Shauna Rolston, cello, Jonathan Crow, violin, and André Laplante, piano.  Laplante was particularly delicate throughout, careful to never cover the other soloists. I was pleased by the all-Canadian contingent, including Crow conscripted from the ranks of the orchestra, where he’s usually concertmaster.   It’s a work that isn’t perhaps as well known as it could be, tuneful and upbeat.

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Opera Five Press Release: Nov 6, 2012

Posted on November 14, 2012 by barczablog

“Press releases and announcements” are presented verbatim without comment.

For Immediate Release                                          November 6, 2012

WAKING UP THE SENSES
Young Company Combines Music With Food for a
Refreshing Take on Opera

 (Toronto, ON) – Opera Five launches its second season with a triple bill of rarely performed one-act operas, including one Canadian premier. Following on their company mandate of engaging the senses, the first production includes a 3-course tasting menu and stage directed settings of avant garde operas by Hindemith, Rachmaninov and Milton Granger. Performances will take place at Gallery 345 in Roncesvalles on December 4, 5, and 6 at 7:30 PM.

After a sold-out first season, Opera Five presents a 3-show second season with their Winter show at Gallery 345, a Spring show which includes a new commission from Canadian composer, Darren Russo, and a Summer show with the tango-themed opera, Maria de Buenos Aires by Argentinean composer, Piazzolla.

Canadian directors, Aria Umezawa and Erik Thor combine their skills to help create Opera Five’s Winter production at the popular Gallery 345 venue. Alongside the senses of hearing and sight, the company is presenting a 3-course tasting menu thematically tied to each opera with food being prepared by local restaurants. The show features a cast of ten Toronto-based singers and the operas, Hin und Zurück (Hindemith), Aleko (Rachmaninov) and Talk Opera (Granger) a new American opera making its premiere in Canada. Milton Granger, the opera’s composer will be in attendance throughout the run. Musical direction is provided by Maika’i Nash and Kimberly Bartczak.

“We believe that opera is for everyone,” says Rachel Krehm, General Director of Opera Five. “The music and stories have stood the test of time. It’s the packaging that can be viewed as unappealing, and that is what we’re trying to change.”

Opera Five was founded in 2011 by four GTA musicians with a goal to find new audiences through the engagement of the five senses and by presenting operatic stories in both traditional and non-traditional venues. The company is also known for its popular comic web-series titled, Opera Cheats which describe opera plot synopses and opera-going rules with a humorous twist.

Opera Five’s Winter show opens at Gallery 345 (345 Sorauren Ave), December 4th-6th at 7:30PM.

Tickets are $25/$30 and can be purchased online at operafive.brownpapertickets.com or at the door.

For more information, contact:

Aria Umezawa
Press Relations Contact
31 Sherbourne Street, Suite 3
Toronto, ON M4W 2T3
aria@operafive.com

Rachel Krehm
General Director
31 Sherbourne Street Suite 3
Toronto, ON M4W 2T3
rachel@operafive.com

tellmemore@operafive.com

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Wham bam thank you SNAM

Posted on November 14, 2012 by barczablog

How important is Saturday Night at the Movies?  TV Ontario –the Ontario equivalent to PBS—has many sorts of educational programming.  SNAM is the furthest thing from a genuine curriculum, and precisely for that reason, likely one of our farthest reaching examples of educational programming.

Think of fluoride in the water supply, working on your dental hygiene whether you care or not.  Think of vitamins in the air, nourishment in your recreation.  That is what SNAM means, programming that teaches without any awareness of the learning.

Why does it matter?

SNAMI submit that Toronto is a special case.  Since this 40 year experiment began –at one time curated by Elwy Yost, now by Thom Ernst– Toronto has quietly become one of the most important film cities in the world.  Our festival –TIFF—is different from any other. How? Our audience is knowledgeable like no other.

I submit that Elwy & Thom had something to do with it.  I wrote about it awhile ago. We have been watching film as though it were art –as opposed to entertainment for decades, something programs such as Inside the Actors Studio only started to do in the past 20 years or less.  An entire culture has been created by this show.

SNAM is apparently going to end due to cut-backs.  I hope this unfortunate proposal will be stopped.  As I was trying to imply, SNAM is important precisely because it’s not like educational TV. That’s why it’s vital.

Don’t take the fluoride out of our water…!

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Hannigan as Lulu

Posted on November 13, 2012 by barczablog

I have been watching Barbara Hannigan’s one-of-a-kind interpretation of Lulu in Berg’s opera from a production at La Monnaie, streamed online.  As far as I can tell it will be available until the 28th of this month.  Enjoy it while you can.

Barbara Hannigan

Multi-talented Barbara Hannigan, shown here conducting (click for more)

Start with the role, one of the most challenging in the repertoire.  It’s harder to learn than a tonal role such as Gilda or Violetta.  Yet after mastering its quirky tonalities, one is rewarded by the knowledge that one can’t expect to do it nearly as often as of the Verdi heroines.

Hannigan does much more than merely sing the part.  I had to check her bio, wondering if she studied ballet at one time: because she spends a good portion of the role impersonating a dancer.

There are oddities to the production, directed by Krzysztof Warlikowski, sets & costumes designed by Malgorzata Szczesniak, video by Denis Guéguin and conducting by Paul Daniel.  The best analogy I can think of will sound curious, to be sure; but this Lulu reminds me of a modernist Opera Atelier: because of course OA put ballet into all sorts of places where we don’t expect it.

Warlikowski brings ballet into Berg’s dark tale, with mixed results.  The black swan that already hit us over the head in Darren Aronofsky’s film of the same name is back, pretentious as ever in this opera.  But the swan doesn’t really get in the way.

Hannigan in the title role assumes a physicality I’ve never seen in an opera before.  Have you ever tried to sing & move at the same time?  As a participant in a workshop a few years ago, where we tried to roll around, even tumble, while singing, I recognize how hard it is, even if you’re not also singing a really difficult role.  Barbara Hannigan seems to have such techniques at her disposal.  At times she’s rolling around the stage as if it were a porn movie, not an opera, all the while singing Berg’s torturous lines.  At other times she walks or struts or slouches or stumbles, her physicality sufficiently eloquent for a mime role.

You might be discouraged if you don’t know Berg’s opera, based on two plays by Frank Wedekind.  You can read more about the opera here.  The production updates aspects of the opera.  For example, the painter is now a photographer, Lulu’s portrait now a photograph.  The “dear John” letter Dr Schön writes to his fiancée, dictated by Lulu, is now an email through an iphone, dictated while Lulu has Dr Schön’s head firmly locked between her legs.  At no time was there any indication that all this physicality prevented Hannigan from sounding –and looking—amazing.

I know I am Mr Positive, who never reports a bad performance.  But I have to say that Barbara Hannigan’s performance is the single most impressive portrayal I’ve ever seen, when you include the point shoes, the several different stages she takes Lulu through, the vocalism, the physicality.  You really should have a look.

I came to this production with a question in my head, one that pales beside Hannigan’s heroics.  I was thinking about modernism, and whether it’s a style that can now be pronounced dead, with the passing of Hans Werne Henze and Elliot Carter in the same month.  I always found dissonance challenging, having a strong personal bias towards tonal music.  I am not saying I don’t like new music –far from it—but felt that the extreme exponents of the modernist style such as Henze were a bit too brave for me, taking the music beyond beauty into something else.  I find Berg stunningly beautiful.

It occurs to me that in every century with every style, that there are –pardon my choice of words—winners & losers.  Some composers fall by the wayside in each century while a few manage to keep our attention.  Perhaps we can say the same about modernist music, where the operas of Berg have been the strongest advocates for a style that at one time was the pre-eminent voice of serious music, the epitome of what one would learn in the conservatory & play in the concert halls & opera houses.

Wozzeck is regularly performed, and deserving of revival, currently newsworthy for a concert version, and one of the three operas James Levine wants to conduct next season when he’s back with the Metropolitan Opera.

Cerha

Thank you to composer Friedrich Cerha, perhaps best known for completing Alban Berg’s Lulu.

Lulu is also worth the effort, the music immortal, the subject matter so primal as to invite probing interpretations such as Warlikowski’s quirky reading.

There are several standout performances alongside Hannigan.  Pavlo Hunka, familiar to Toronto audiences, is solid as Schigolch, Natascha Petrinsky an especially vulnerable Countess Geschwitz, and Dietrich Henschel echoing Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau with his beautiful baritone.

See it while you can. 

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TOC Fidelio

Posted on November 11, 2012 by barczablog

Toronto Opera Collaborative is an ensemble comprised of emerging artists.  As the pool of Canadian talent continues to grow, singers must either compete for the few available roles, or in groups such as TOC create their own opportunities to show us what they can do.  That they chose to present a concert performance of Beethoven’s Fidelio—a work that can be daunting to cast— was a rewarding choice for the audience at Bloor St United Church last night.

As an accompanist with a singer in the family, I’ve always had a strong sense that opera is both a dramatic vehicle to be presented in the theatre, and a series of opportunities to display your skills.  When one has the specialized instrument that is the dramatic voice, it is particularly frustrating, when such works are presented so rarely.

Kristine Dandavino & Jason Lamont, who undertook the leads, are the two founders of TOC.  I can’t help thinking that in an opera world overflowing with Verdi & Puccini, their partnership begins with the mutual awareness of their special voices & the need to find special vehicles for them.

Kristine Dandavino

Soprano, and Toronto Opera Collaborative co-founder, Kristine Dandavino

While I understand that Dandavino assumed the role of Leonore on behalf of another singer, there was no sense of an understudy, considering the star power she brought to her portrayal.  Dandavino has a generous voice that she employed with a restrained subtlety to match her portrayal.  Taking us through a broad range of emotions, from the awkward comic love triangle, through her fears for her husband, the suspenseful rescue & their loving reconciliation, Dandavino gave one of the most convincing and accomplished realizations of a character I’ve ever seen in a concert performance.

Although Jason Lamont has a name that sounds more like that of an old-time Hollywood matinee idol than a heldentenor, he has the potential to be a genuine star.  Nothing exemplifies the duality between the vocal showcase & drama better than the aria with which Florestan opens Act II, namely “Gott! Welch dunkel hier!”  The moment is suspenseful as we wonder whether Florestan will be murdered either by his captors or by the musical demands.  Some singers duck the challenge by singing with such a light voice that they’re crooning their way through portions, to save their voice for the big moments.

Lamont

Tenor & TOC co-founder Jason Lamont

Lamont bravely brought so much voice that I was astonished that he had so much left, a dark & muscular sound.  Given the worldwide shortage of genuine heroic tenors in the world, I will be watching closely to see what roles he takes on next, whether through TOC or elsewhere.

The vocal excellence doesn’t end there.

Michael Robert-Broder continues to surprise with his remarkable voice & choices of repertoire.  In late September I raved about his stunning Hunding in Die Walküre yet – believe it or not not—he sang a very stylish  Pelléas in February 2011. Pizarro is a role that I’ve long wondered about,  that is, if it really is to be understood as a well-written creation.  In most productions Pizarro is a nasty blustering bully without subtlety or rationale, often loud & strident, and usually unpleasant to listen to.  Imagine my surprise, listening to Robert-Broder finding music in this role, singing phrases that I usually hear snarled or barked.  Robert-Broder has the smooth mellifluous baritone of a Gerald Finley or a Hermann Prey, used to great advantage last night.  At times I was reminded of such smiling tyrants we’ve seen in the world, such as Putin or Ahmadinejad.  It’s the most musical Pizarro I’ve ever heard, and revises my previous assessment (that the role is two-dimensional and melodramatic) and finds new depths in Beethoven’s creation.

The other standout portrayal was Marion Samuel-Steven as Marzelline.  Hers is a nuanced soubrette capable of power and gravitas.  Every phrase she sung, every moment on stage was in the moment, well thought out, and a significant contribution to the success of the evening.

Stephen Bell sang an attractive Jaquino, frustrated by Marzelline’s preferences. Grant Allert was a salt of the earth Rocco, contrasting Robert-Broder’s tyranny, and Kenneth Baker was a suitably stern Don Fernando, arriving in the nick of time.

There was an additional air of drama to the proceedings because the music director was unavailable at the last moment, requiring the capable Bill Shookhoff to step in as a substitute pianist.  His was a Mozartean reading that always respected the singers.

Although this production of Fidelio used no chorus, and summarized the action rather than included dialogue, we were propelled along through the magic of Beethoven.

I will be interested to see what TOC’s next offering will be.

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Campaign Catharsis

Posted on November 10, 2012 by barczablog

For months & months we’ve been inundated with American electoral discourse.

  • Conventions & nominations
  • Debates & speeches
  • Polls & statistics
  • Ads (sigh)
  • The ironic dissection of the GOP in social media (ah yes, this has been fun…!)

ObamacareThe drama of the Presidential election isn’t really over.  Not when the stalemate of the past four years looks to be repeated.  While the Democratic nominees—Barack Obama & Joe Biden—defeated the Republican nominees—Mitt Romney & Paul Ryan—there is every reason to believe that the Republican controlled House of Representatives will continue to be a place where Democrat initiatives go to die.

There is no longer a single conversation, but two separate monologues, each unable to connect with the other.  The Democrats speak of what needs to be done, the objectives and criteria of success entirely at odds with the counter-discourse, the Republican understanding of what’s wrong and how it needs to be fixed.

I had hoped for some release, after months of suspense, but the election failed to deliver.  I am worried we’re in the same bad place for another four years.

The CampaignTonight, I was ready for political therapy, and I found exactly what I needed.  It’s called The Campaign, a 2012 film starring Will Ferrell and Zach Galifianakis.   I’d seen the trailer before and to be honest, shivered at the thought.  The film shows a pair of candidates who seem to wage a really nasty negative fight for Congressman in North Carolina.  For someone suffering election overload it was the last thing I would want.

It’s a few days later.  I’d seen so many post-electoral gags and pictures, but honestly, something was missing.  I say that as someone who devoured everything out there, including that sentimental moment when Obama breaks down with his support staff.

Yet now, a few days after the election, what exactly happened to me?  I wonder, was I suffering withdrawal?

The film suddenly called to me the way second-hand tobacco smoke seduces the nose of someone trying –and failing –to quit smoking.

The Campaign gave me precisely what I had wanted from Obama & Biden, Romney & Ryan.  In this film I became engaged in another –fictitious—electoral battle, got involved with all the passions of a partisan, with a heavy layer of comedy.  Where the jokes in the trailer scared me off, tonight I was laughing uncontrollably, shell-shocked with electoral fatigue, my resistance broken.

The story reminds me somewhat of Trading Places, a film from the 80s that starred Dan Aykroyd and Eddie Murphy as a kind of anthropological test.  Two old millionaires –Ralph Bellamy & Don Ameche—make a bet to investigate whether the privileged son of the upper class (Aykroyd) deserves his advantages, or if a random derelict selected off of the street (Murphy) can do just as well.

This time Aykroyd–with John Lithgow—plays one of the rich guys.  The experiment isn’t quite so transparent, only evident in the moral choices made by the two candidates –Ferrell & Galifianakis—in the heat of their campaign.

Both of the comedians are alternatively ugly and silly, but fearless in their quest for comedic truth.  I came away from this film feeling finally free of the madness of the election year.  Next time I see it (probably tomorrow) I will likely have a totally different experience, knowing where the story is going.  Even so, it’s a healthy cure for the twin insanities, believing and doubting our electoral candidates.

I feel cleansed.

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Mish mash season

Posted on November 8, 2012 by barczablog

Maybe you can tell i am hungry.  I am thinking about comfort food as I write this.  Comfort food? Nothing effete or fancy, but food meant to satisfy:

  • Goulash or stew
  • Shepherd’s pie
  • All-day breakfasts
  • What farmers eat to keep up their energy
  • Unpretentious feasting, as in Oktoberfest

While I am thinking about opera, food is in my thoughts.  The notion of a mish mash is a metaphor I suppose, one that I saw recently in a review by John Terauds, writing about the recent Opera Atelier production of Der Freischütz.

Music theatre is often a strange brew, a bizarre mixture of elements.  It may sometimes be pretentious while at other times blatantly pragmatic in its appeal to simple tastes.  Some music theatre is a pastiche of music drawn from several sources, displaying the flamboyance of a smorgasbord.  Sometimes a single composer may emulate that flamboyance, seeking variety as though it were an end in itself.

I said “Mish mash season” after noticing how much variety can be found in the works being presented in Toronto his season:

  • Both Opera Atelier offerings this season are full of variety, namely
    • Der Freischütz—1821, which just concluded and
    • Die Zauberflöte aka The Magic Flute—(1791) coming in April 2013.
  • Wagner’s first masterpiece is being presented this month by Opéra du Montréal, a work that seems to be on a direct line from the two OA works, namely Der Fliegende Holländer aka Le Vaisseau fantöme (1843).
  • And this week, Toronto Opera Collaborative present Beethoven’s Fidelio, an opera that seems to belong in this group.

Perhaps I sound simplistic, as though the works constitute a genre.  I think there are some good reasons to think of them together.

The first three have dialogue and even melodrama.  In the third of these we see characteristics that could be called Wagnerian if we were speaking of animal evolution, and not the independent creations of different composers, writing decades apart.  All four employ a wide range of musical materials, taking their stories through surprising extremes, from sublime to the ridiculous.  What’s more, productions have sometimes missed or even suppressed the comic elements in the interest of honouring the sublime:

In The Magic Flute it’s done by underplaying Papageno & his comical plotline, while emphasizing Sarastro, Tamino & Pamina.  Ingmar Bergman’s film tinkers with the sequence of scenes.  In the original Papageno’s mock suicide follows the drama of Pamina (who almost does herself in), thereby undercutting and even mocking her serious story, but Bergman doesn’t allow that effect to undermine his serious purpose.

The opening numbers of Fidelio can be played for comic effect, although the story quickly becomes very serious when we discover Leonore’s intention of freeing her imprisoned husband.  I don’t claim to know what the right balance is, only that I wonder if we’ve yet seen this opera played right, given the distortions marring other operas of the 18th & 19th centuries.  An emphasis on gravitas and sublimity, and a quest for a wagnerian unity mars the delicacy of the work as written.

Der Freischütz too is a mix of high & low, comic & serious.  The balance in the Opera Atelier production pushed the comic side, while bringing an almost agnostic sensibility to bear on anything sublime or deep.  In fact I believe their staging of the Wolf’s Glen Scene was overly literal; there is no reason to show Samiel at all, let alone so early in the scene (and fully illuminated), unless one has no interest in creating suspense.  But even so I feel so completely invigorated by the freshness of their approach –particularly the subtleties of the musical performance — that i still welcome their explorations.

The Flying Dutchman is perhaps the most distorted of all, an opera that after all is seen with the benefit of hindsight, and therefore shoe-horned into the template of Gesamtkunstwerk.  I do not like the COC production that’s being presented in Montréal, one that I reviewed a few years ago, wishing someone (Opera Atelier?) might try to take us back to the original, where Daland, Senta’s father, is played for full comic effect, and where the chorus can be funny again.

Someday perhaps Opera Atelier will undertake both Fidelio and Fliegende Holländer.  In the meantime, this month you can find Alden’s production in Montreal’s Place des Arts (remounted by Marilyn Gronsdal) , or see/hear Toronto Opera Collaborative’s Fidelio this weekend, at Bloor St United Church.

vaisseau fantome

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