Masterful Rituaels film-concert from collectif9

After seeing a preview, I recommend Rituaels, a new film-concert from collectif9 especially to anyone who is missing live performance, wanting the experience of live music in their home setting, and especially to any artists intrigued by the challenges and contradictions in bringing something live to life, via a lifeless electronic device.

For artists curious about what is possible? Have a look.

Rituæls premiere broadcast (via http://www.collectif9.ca) will be on Friday, December 11, 2020 at 8pm for free, and will be accompanied by a discussion with the members of the group. The film-concert will be accessible free of charge for a period of 48 hours, after which it will be available for rental on their website until January 11, 2021.

As you can probably tell from that little teaser-video, a great deal of thought seems to have gone into this project, projected to be the first “film-concert” of a series. I remember Marshall McLuhan and his identification of media as “hot” or “cold” or even “cool”. A film seen in a theatre or a concert presented in a concert hall or church is a hotter medium event than when it’s seen as a video on your personal device. For better or worse, the creators of Rituaels seem to understand that this film needs to be constructed in such a way so as not to overwhelm us with its intensity. The choice of repertoire, the presentation of each musical piece by the players of collectif9, the visuals and the montage all contribute to the effect. The word “cool” is one I want to use, not just in the McLuhan sense but in the sense of something hip and attractive to those in the music world who are not—like myself—over the age of 60.

There can be an awkwardness to Zoom and other attempts to simulate liveness in the virtual realm. I recall the weird first attempts at a Saturday Night Live, the unevenness of interviews on CBC or CNN even between professionals. Facetime or whatsapp or Messenger may give you a close-up look at friends and loved ones, but we are still learning the vocabulary, still getting adjusted to pandemic life. And even so, how then does one possibly preserve a sense of liveness? especially without anything awkward or odd..? Do we get a sense of a real live concert when there’s something still & orderly, if the chaos of people in between movements with their coughs or chair noises are in some sense how we know that something is not recorded but live…?

As I think about what I saw in my preview of Rituaels I am reminded of Bertolt Brecht who would have something to say –recalling his Verfremdungseffekt –about the process from the audience’s viewpoint. Do we gain something when the performers turn their pages, tune up or move their chairs, before playing? I think so. That bit of mechanical movement is a gesture to us, reminding us that the music is not just something artificially recorded on a soundtrack, but being made for us in the moment by the living musicians, calling attention to the mechanics of playing music. It puts our focus on the music and the music-making rather than the images.

Can one make something that has the freshness of a live performance while also relaxing us & putting us at ease? At times it’s very laid back, but when I played Rituaels last night there were moments when my wife thought I was listening to rock music, probably during Aheym by Bryce Dessner, the most intense moments of the film-concert. This version by Kronos quartet is different from what collectif9 did, but gives you both a sense of Dessner’s piece does as well as some visuals that may have influenced the team working with collectif9. I’m reminded of Reggio’s Koyaanisqatsi, that seminal film with timelapse & the music of Philip Glass.

Excuse me for repeating myself, but I would recommend that anyone wondering about bringing live performance into the virtual world should have a look at this film-concert. I was intrigued when I saw the press release for Rituaels, indeed, when I saw that they were calling it a “film-concert”. Whenever we make something, especially something new, we may not always know what we’ve made. It’s therefore quite marvelous to discover something displaying genuine mastery, created with a deep understanding of the issues facing the audience.

It works, and it’s a pleasure.

Collectif9 are an ensemble of four violins, two cellos, two violas and a bass. Their nine string players have been performing for almost a decade. Rituaels includes ten live performers, namely the nine of collectif9 plus dancer Stacey Désilier.

Stacey Désilier (photo: Clément Dietz)

I chose to watch Rituaels on a big screen, to allow the visuals to move me, and wasn’t disappointed. Even enlarged there’s a great deal of detail & complexity to reward the viewer. We find ourselves in a church space where the bodies of some musicians are already discovered in place, and others process in slowly using the church aisles while playing. It suggests a ritual quality because of the space, because of the way they process slowly, and perhaps also because I’m mindful of the title. I wonder, not for the first time, what does that word mean?

We’re put in a funny hybrid space. The music emerges from live players who don’t seem overly coached or stagey, just doing what musicians do. They play, their focus is their music or their instrument not a fake performance or anything stagey or ostentatious. Yet there are artificial visuals too, some from CGI, some from the dancer shown in close-ups, some from cinematography of the natural world. While Stacey Désilier may be a dancer, there is very little that one might identify as “dance” in the usual sense of the word. We are mostly presented with Désilier in a variety of postures & attitudes, mostly static & at times very contemplative. That bold choice to be understated gives the film-concert additional intensity & power.

After the very first item on the program we’re listening to relatively recent compositions.

Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179): O vis æternitatis
Arvo Pärt (né en 1935): Psalom et Summa
Nicole Lizée (née en 1973): Another Living Soul
Bryce Dessner (né en 1976): Aheym et Tenebre
Michael Tippett (1905-1998): Lament
Jocelyn Morlock (née en 1969): Exaudi (arrangement pour violoncelle solo et cordes)

Collectif9 includes nine string players:

– Chloé Chabanole, John Corban, Robert Margaryan, Elizabeth Skinner, violin
– Scott Chancey, Xavier Lepage-Brault, viola
– Jérémie Cloutier, Andrea Stewart, cello
– Thibault Bertin-Maghit, bass

The team behind the film—concert is led by their bass player.
– Conception et direction artistique: Thibault Bertin-Maghit
– Réalisation vidéo: Benoit Fry & Lucas Harrison Rupnik
– Réalisation musicale: Carl Talbot
– Éclairage: Alexandre Péloquin
– Scénographie: Joëlle Harbec

Rituæls will be broadcast for free for the first time on Friday, December 11, 2020 at 8pm, and will be accompanied by a discussion with the members of the group. The film-concert will be accessible free of charge for a period of 48 hours, after which it will be available for rental on their website until January 11, 2021.

RITUÆLS
Friday, December 11, 2020 at 8pm
available at http://www.collectif9.ca
Free until Dec. 13 | $10 after Dec. 13
Facebook event: fb.me/e/1QuYLbzJD
Donations accepted: http://www.gofundme.com/collectif9

collectif9
Posted in Animals, domestic & wild, Cinema, video & DVDs, Dance, theatre & musicals, Music and musicology, Personal ruminations & essays, Popular music & culture, Reviews, Spirituality & Religion | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Beethoven 250: recalling Brian Macdonald’s Diabelli Variations

As I reminisce about a piece choreographed by Brian Macdonald I hope I can be forgiven for seguing into remembrance of the man, who is known for many things. You probably saw one of the musicals he directed at Stratford, perhaps on film or TV if not in person.

Back in 2005 I brought him in as a keynote speaker for the FOOT Festival at University of Toronto’s Drama Centre. It was an honour and a huge thrill.

The obituary I pulled up mentions opera.
“In October, Macdonald returned to the Canadian Opera Company in Toronto and from his wheelchair supervised yet another revival of his critically acclaimed 1990 production of Madama Butterfly. His curtain call was his last public appearance.”

I raved about one of the casts, the best Butterfly I’ve ever seen.

His career was long. I see in that obit I shared above, that he was also “artistic director of Montreal’s Les Grands Ballets Canadiens (1974-77).” During one of their visits to Toronto at the O’Keefe Centre I saw Macdonald’s Diabelli Variations.

I see in that obit that Macdonald “aspired to be a concert pianist.” I wonder if Macdonald ever played the Diabelli Variations himself? Surely.

The tickets for that show back in the 1970s were available among my acquaintances at Trinity College, University of Toronto when I was an undergrad. A red-haired fellow in our group named Barry sounded off to me during the intermission that there was simply no way to make a ballet out of the Beethoven piece, “Diabelli Variations”. He said “you can’t do this” and of course I disagreed then, and recalling the conversation now am thankful for the boldness of Macdonald’s ideas. I had wanted desperately to come see it again before they left town, but didn’t manage it.

Do you know this piece? The Diabelli Variations are among my most favorite of all Beethoven’s works, piano or otherwise. Someone had the idea of giving a tune to several composers, and then assembling all their variations into one piece. When I think about it, especially when remembering what Beethoven came up with: it’s not really such a good idea. Yes I suppose one might be intrigued at the comparison, between a variation by Schubert (who actually wrote one), and one by Beethoven. But you wouldn’t get the satisfaction of a unified composition such as what Beethoven gave us.

You start with a dinky little tune in 3, a dance tune in C Major. And then Beethoven proceeds to create one of his most remarkable compositions.

Theme and the first of 33 variations

First he does a kind of march which is of course in 4: as if to smash the tune into little pieces, someone said. (was it Anton Kuerti? I can’t recall….but it would match his interpretation). Then the next variation starts with something meek and mild, building over the next few variations, bigger & faster, until we get a climax at variation #7. Variation #8 is a chance to chill out, relax a bit, almost like a lullaby or even an elegy for the massacre of the tune that has been happening. #9 is angular & in chunks in C minor then #10 is a breath-taking release of tension, Presto. 11 and 12 are waltzy with very little movement, gently exploring the melody. #13 is another explosive release of tension before we come again to something elegiac and maestoso, namely #14. But 15, 16 and 17 are fast & playful. 18 is a slower dance melody, then 19 is a vivid presto again, leading us to the slow-motion of 20. 21 is faster, then 22 is a light parodic interlude mocking the opening of Don Giovanni in its variation. 23 is fast & intense,, then 24 is a thoughtful fughetta based on the melody of course. 25 is as fluid as a skater’s waltz, building to a climax through 26 & the Vivace of 27. For 28 Beethoven is again grinding things into small pieces, before the shit hits in the fan in 29, 30 & 31, successively more pathos & drama in each variation. 32 is a stunning allegro Fuga in E flat major, that leads us back after cadenzas & an introspective adagio like a recitative, to the 33rd variation in C major, tempo di menuetto.

Yes it’s a series of variations, but it’s like a commentary on music & the possibilities of composition. I don’t know that I would have had such a clear understanding of the piece without Macdonald. The piece makes me especially sad today as I think about what we’re unable to do during the pandemic, missing the usual sorts of human society to which we were accustomed. I desperately wish I could talk to Macdonald about the piece.

And I’m sure Beethoven would have loved what Macdonald created. I cherish that conversation with Barry –the one who said “you can’t do this” – that makes the poignancy of the memory so much deeper, even if it’s as far beyond recall as the prospect of getting Ludwig and Brian together for a beer after the show.

Macdonald puts his piano onstage, the ballet dramatizing as the piece gets played. I couldn’t help feeling that this piece was conceived as Macdonald the choreographer played the piece once upon a time. At first it’s just one man dancing while the pianist plays. In due course we see the various actions of the piece, the roughness of the passages such as the first variation where the music seems to be destructive. The piece is ultimately social, the dance element in the music understood as two or more people dancing onstage with the piano, the dance as a kind of response to the music of the piano. It feels like a conversation, that the pianist makes the dance happen in response to what the music is doing. The drama is especially moving at the end, as the erupting energies of the fugue in variation #32 lead to the noble tranquility of the last variation, as though it were about reconciliation, world peace. That’s what it feels like.

The final image that haunts me, as I picture the music of the last bars, is that the dancer is coming back to the piano, where he started, the big open space on the page that parallels the big space on the stage, that would imply lots of people and lots of energy, closing up into something smaller, tighter, intimate, reconciled.

The end

Am I a fool to wish someone would try to choreograph this music again? It’s a fond beautiful image I dimly recollect from another century from an artist who is no longer with us. But the piece is about dance, about human society, about conflict & resolution.
I like it.

Posted in Books & Literature, Dance, theatre & musicals, Music and musicology, Opera, University life | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Rapt and unwrapped

There are days when I’m sure the powers that be are trying to tell me something. Anything can be an omen, but some creatures are especially portentous.

I didn’t take Sam the dog outside right away, when I got home from my visit to my mom’s house.  Erika called me to the window, excited.

the busy bird

Some sort of raptor was exploring the insides of a smaller creature.  It’s head was down, busy busy.  I suppose that’s where the “unwrapped” part comes in.

We have a couple of intriguing places for birds to perch, because trees have been damaged in the worst of recent winters.  The cherry is a funny abstraction.  While the neighbours still enjoy a great deal of shade and even fruit from the northern remnant, the southern branch –which used to shade our yard—had to come off a couple of years ago, as the tree began to split down the middle.  And so while the northern half prospers the southern half comes to a sort of stump up in the air: where birds and animals sometimes enjoy the view.

That’s where the raptor decided to improvise his/her butcher’s block, on the flat wooden surface, unafraid of me when I came outside to take a few pictures: but also so unimpressed that I couldn’t get a really good picture.

When Sam & I finally went outside the bird was long gone. So Sam made a point of sniffing a lot, and pointedly marking her territory at the base of the tree.  I thought to myself “well you certainly showed him (or her).” 

But of the course the big bird was long gone, not noticing either of us (neither Sam nor me).  I wonder if Sam could smell the remnants of whatever the raptor was rapt for. 

“Rapt” means attentive, right?   

Earlier at my mom’s? My mom was lost in thought, asking me about an author.

She asked me if she was nuts to be thinking of an author, whose name she remembered as “Kurtz Mahler”. Was there such an author, she mused to herself. That was how she spelled it out, while wondering if maybe there was such a person. And why did it come back to her.  The name would be the author of romances, not a great writer. 

Then I googled and found Hedwig Courths-Mahler who had indeed written popular romances back in the 1920s in Europe.

My mother recalled that her own grand-mother read the romances of Courths-Mahler, that back in the 1930s when she was just a child, she had seen the books.  This was reported to me without any sense that the author is great or talented.  It was a dim memory of books that my mom never read. She had seen more than one book by this author. My mother didn’t want me to mistake Courths-Mahler for serious literature. She was a bit apologetic, that her grandmother wasn’t educated.

I was impressed that the name had suddenly come to her, that she remembered her grandmother and recalled moments when she would help her, bring her comfort when she was in pain, late in her life.  

At one time, so my mother tells it, her father lived with three women, namely his wife, his mother in law and her mother as well (aka the grandmother).  And at one point she was no longer there, but no one made a big fuss, so as not to upset anyone.  I think the memory was as much about what wasn’t said as anything else. 

The episodes I experienced today are full of unknowns and ellipsis….

-Courths-Mahler herself

-the books by Courths-Mahler

-the mysterious reader of Courths-Mahler aka my mom’s grandmother. I’ve never seen a picture of her, nor do I know her name.

-the creature that ended up on the bird’s improvised butcher block

-the bird itself.

-the split cherry tree

A raptor is a portent of vision. While they soar high in the sky on this occasion we were visited close to the Earth. Am I being alerted to something, I wonder?

Sam in her yard

I wish I could be as calm about it as Sam.

Posted in Animals, domestic & wild, Books & Literature, Personal ruminations & essays, Spirituality & Religion | Leave a comment

Beethoven 250: ethnic music

This blog expands on something I proposed November 20th when I talked about Beethoven’s multiple incarnations.

Everyone has dimensions or facets to their personality. I hope that’s not a radical idea. There are things we proudly show off, other things to make us blush at the recollection. There is the person we bring to business meetings, where we wear the appropriate armour and joust according to the rules of our chosen discipline: and the person who falls into bed at the end of the day, hopefully removing all our masks, willing to drop our defenses in sleep. Our aspirations may bring out some qualities, just as our background and upbringing likely influence us in other ways. We are perhaps the sum of our influences even if we are also sometimes searching and dreaming, sometimes dissembling and playing, often ignoring the instructions we’ve been given, not always remembering who we are or what we want. That’s as true of the average person as for the great ones we admire.

Yes I’m on a fishing expedition. When we talk about famous composers, there is naturally a body of work that may become canonical, the core works that are played by famous artists, big orchestras or important opera houses. The creations understood to be most popular or most admired should not be mistaken for the sum total, as they represent aspects of a composer. If the artist is especially lucid and notices what’s working, what’s selling, what’s exciting to audiences, then they will have a chance to replicate their success. But this part of the composer’s creative life –and the personality that might be associated with their greatest work— is not the sort of fish I’m looking for. I’m not looking in an obvious place, but rather am going off the beaten track, into the backwoods of obscurity. I’m not sure we can learn anything from digging into the underbrush. I came up with the title before I really knew what I was going to say, only sure that a few examples I found might lead me to something meaningful.

It’s impossible to know with certainty what a composer was listening to in childhood, what music influenced them as they grew up. But among their own works one can sometimes find traces of their actual background, their history. Dvorak wrote symphonies and operas, but also Slavonic Dances, that admittedly might have been what put him on the map & made him famous outside his native land. Chopin composed Etudes and Preludes but also Polonaises and Mazurkas. I am not saying that the compositions that have an ethnic flavor are better or worse, whatever that might mean, only that they represent an aspect of a composer’s identity that likely offers a key to understanding their appeal.

When we come to the music of Beethoven, you might well ask “what could that even mean” to speak of his ethnic music. Perhaps you see now why I said I’m fishing. But let me offer some examples first of the pieces I’m thinking of, and then the later compositions that show traces, suggesting that this is at least an aspect of LvanB that hasn’t fully been explored.

I tried googling without any success. If you try, you’ll see pieces discussing the possibility of Beethoven’s Moorish heritage. That isn’t what I’m exploring, and please excuse me for mentioning something I will not explore. Yes there are some amazing passages in Beethoven. I even saw someone extol a remarkable passage in a sonata as evidence, thinking of the earliest example of boogie woogie in the syncopated variation of the finale to piano sonata #32 (and for what it’s worth, Andras Schiff does not agree, as you can hear him say explicitly on this video.) But a style that only appeared in the 1940s can hardly be relevant for a composer in the early part of the 19th century.

I’m going to share a series of Beethoven compositions that are mostly under the radar, even if they have been published & even recorded. There are over 200 pieces without an opus number, catalogued as “WoO”, which is short for “werke ohne Opuszahl”, (German for “works without opus number”). While the important pieces like the sonatas & symphonies were given opus numbers, anything that’s given a WoO number is usually considered less important. And please note that Beethoven isn’t the only composer who has works that are identified as “WoO”.

I’m fishing, remember? I figured that there could be early pieces of this sort that might signify something as indications of Beethoven’s early tendencies. And then wow wouldn’t it be cool to see if anything survives as a remnant or a vestige in the pieces that do have opus numbers..!?

I have several examples. These are Ländlers WoO 11.

They employ a very simple meter & are wonderfully easy to play. In #s 4, 6 and 7, Beethoven is complicating things with his use of chromaticism, the accidentals that make the piece a bit more edgy, surprising to hear.

Here are the Ländlers WoO 15

These Dances are simple, direct, and perhaps do not suggest the word “ethnic” to you.

Listen to this German Dance.

It’s not a huge step from dances like these that I’ve shared, to the Scherzo movements we hear in Beethoven’s second or third piano sonatas offering us in passing a kind of snapshot of the evolution of dance music.

First let’s listen to the Scherzo from Op 2 #2. It’s like a German dance.

When we come to the scherzo from the third sonata Beethoven raises the stakes, adding chromatic complexity, tricky rhythms & even a bit of counterpoint.

A piece we’d call “scherzo” is often the most complex & challenging piece, thinking for instance of Chopin and especially of what Mahler would do.

Let me play something very well-known, but framing it alongside the simple construction of the German dances.

Let me put another piece out there for your edification, one that puzzles me frankly. Beethoven at this moment–the rondo finale to the 3rd Piano Concerto– reminds me of Liszt for his remarkable melody in this movement. Where did it come from? It reminds me of something non-German, although I’m unable to say what nationality is suggested by this dance.

I don’t know.

This is of course art music, not folk music yet the chromaticism & rhythmic vitality suggest something far from the concert realm. Music criticism in the 21st century shies away from making wild speculation without evidence. As I recall the scenes in Immortal Beloved between Beethoven and Maria Erdödy (which include Hungarians speaking Magyar) I wonder if the composer had been influenced by something he had heard? As far as I can tell the composer’s relationship with Maria came almost a decade after this concerto. But we don’t know what or who else he heard, music that might have influenced him.

The opening of the Piano Concerto #3 finale

There are a great many recordings of WoO music, available on youtube and elsewhere. They’re a glimpse of another side of Beethoven, as though we were watching out-takes or casual recording sessions from his early days before he became famous. They may jar in their simplicity, their lack of pretense or guile. And they illuminate what came later, suggesting how Beethoven built magnificent structures from the simplest & most basic component parts.

Posted in Books & Literature, Cinema, video & DVDs, Music and musicology, Personal ruminations & essays | Tagged , | Leave a comment

RITUÆLS (film-concert)

collectif9 announce the online release of the film-concert Rituæls on December 11, 2020 at 8pm. A 60-minute feature-length film, this production brings together works dating from the Middle Ages to the 21st century, launching a series of films that create various multidisciplinary universes.

FILM-CONCERTS

With the desire to nurture our connection with audiences, collectif9 has reimagined our 2020-21 season as a series of film-concerts; complete concert programs combining live performance footage and cinematographic footage, recorded in the highest quality – the equivalent of a visual album. In the same way that a concert is designed to be presented on stage, the film-concert is specifically conceived for viewing on the screen, creating a musical experience enriched by visual and artistic elements.

RITUÆLS

The first film-concert in the series, Rituæls slowly and meticulously offers moments of beauty and calm during a time of mental and emotional turbulence. Rituæls is a mystical artistic experience confronting the infinitely large to the infinitely small, the cosmic with the macroscopic, delicately questioning our place in the universe and in relation to our environment. The performance of the charismatic dancer Stacey Désilier accompanies us through the concert like a supreme presence, complementing this imagery.

The musical performance itself can be seen as an grand artistic ceremony during which the musicians occupy several spaces throughout the Church of Saint-Pierre-Apôtre in Montréal in a way that echoes the grandeur and depth of the pieces on the program and becomes our own ritual. The lighting, scenography, and staging contribute to the creation of a succession of moments that transport us and invite contemplation, creating a moment of connection despite what separates us.

MUSICAL PROGRAMME

Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179): O vis aeternitatis
Arvo Pärt (born 1935): Psalom and Summa
Nicole Lizée (born 1973): Another Living Soul
Bryce Dessner (born 1976): Aheym and Tenebre
Michael Tippett (1905-1998): Lament
Jocelyn Morlock (born 1969): Exaudi (in an arrangement for solo cello and strings)

AVAILABILITY

Rituæls will be broadcast for free for the first time on Friday, December 11, 2020 at 8pm, and will be accompanied by a discussion with the members of the group. The film-concert will be accessible free of charge for a period of 48 hours, after which it will be available for rental on our website until January 11, 2021.

RITUÆLS
Friday, December 11, 2020 at 8pm
available at http://www.collectif9.ca
Free until Dec. 13 | $10 after Dec. 13
Facebook event: fb.me/e/1QuYLbzJD
Donations accepted: http://www.gofundme.com/collectif9

ON SCREEN

Chloé Chabanole, John Corban, Robert Margaryan, Elizabeth Skinner, violin
Scott Chancey, Xavier Lepage-Brault, viola
Jérémie Cloutier, Andrea Stewart, cello
Thibault Bertin-Maghit, double bass

Stacey Désilier, dancer

Stacey Désilier photo: Clément Dietz

CREATIVE TEAM

Conception & artistic direction: Thibault Bertin-Maghit
Video production: Benoit Fry & Lucas Harrison Rupnik
Audio production: Carl Talbot
Lighting: Alexandre Péloquin
Scenography: Joëlle Harbec

COLLECTIF9

Montréal’s classical string band collectif9 has been attracting varied audiences since their 2011 debut. Known for their innovative programming and unique arrangements of classical repertoire, the group performs “with an infectious energy and vigour that grabs an audience’s attention” (The WholeNote). collectif9 has performed across North America, Europe, and Asia. The group operates on the premise that a change of context can influence communication and experience.collectif9  presents several new programmes every season in Montréal, Canada, and their national and international touring schedule includes performances in chamber music series, festivals, universities, and more. Recent highlights include concerts in the Festival de Música de Morelia (Mexico), La Folle journée de Nantes (France), and Sound Unbound (Barbican Centre, London). Inspired by the processes of other artistic movements, collectif9 continually searches for new ways of expression within the classical medium, fostering communication and collaboration between artists of all kinds and members of society.

For more information, please contact:
Thibault Bertin-Maghit
collectif9@gmail.com
438-939-2939 

A short video shot last year that features clips from the program.

Posted in Dance, theatre & musicals, Music and musicology, Press Releases and Announcements | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Canadian Opera Company announces new General Director

As a subscriber I received an email late this morning from Jonathan Morgan, Chair of the Canadian Opera Company Board of Directors, addressed to COC community members, announcing the new General Director Perryn Leech who we’re told “will step into the role on March 1, 2021”.

Perryn Leech, COC’s incoming General Director

Here is the rest of that email.

“Perryn is currently the Managing Director of Houston Grand Opera (HGO), one of the largest and most highly acclaimed opera companies in the United States. HGO has built a reputation for commissioning new opera, with 67 world premieres to date, and has received a Tony Award, two Grammy Awards, and three Emmy Awards — the only opera company in the world to win all three honours. It is also the COC’s most frequent artistic collaborator, having co-produced more operas with us than any other organization.

Perryn brings more than 35 years of performing arts experience to the role, having begun his career in technical directing roles and rising through the ranks with the Glyndebourne and Edinburgh touring festivals, English National Opera, and Welsh National Opera.

Perryn’s long list of accomplishments is greatly impressive. His creative thinking and tenacity, in addition to his talent for assembling teams that deliver, has resulted in award-winning programming and deep-rooted community engagement. In addition, he has demonstrated an extraordinary ability for transforming challenges into opportunities and I am confident that we will be well-served by his comprehensive background.

During his tenure with Houston, Perryn guided HGO through the devastating impact of Hurricane Harvey, which struck the region in 2017. Under his leadership, the company rallied not only its patrons and supporters, but the entire city in an uplifting, city-wide effort to connect with diverse communities and build grassroots interest in and support for HGO’s work. Due, in large part, to his collaborative approach, Perryn was able to secure an alternate performance venue almost immediately, enabling HGO to complete its season as planned; he later balanced the company’s financial losses in just three years.

Something about Perryn that I believe you will notice immediately is the warmth and welcome he shows to everyone that he encounters. He holds a firm belief that opera should feel familiar and accessible for all people and has put this belief to work through a number of community-access initiatives spearheaded over the course of his career, including a popular low-cost ticket program for students and new audiences at HGO. Forging more connections across diverse communities — and bringing more opera out of the opera house and into our neighbourhoods — is a top priority for the COC and I very much look forward to seeing this develop under Perryn’s leadership.

At this point, I want to congratulate Colleen Sexsmith, Chair of the COC Succession Committee and her entire team for their detailed work in finding our new company leader. The committee is comprised of:
• Myself, Chair of the COC Board of Directors
• Nora Aufreiter, Member of the COC Board of Directors
• Paul Bernards, Treasurer of the COC Board of Directors
• Marcia Lewis Brown, Member of the COC Board of Directors and Sistema Toronto Board of Directors
• Adrianne Pieczonka, Canadian soprano and Member of the COC Life Trustees Council
• Richard Phillips, Former Chair of the Toronto Symphony Orchestra Board of Directors

Before approaching a single candidate, the committee spent months in conversations and interviews with an extensive range of COC stakeholders. The goal was to hone in on where the company is in this exact moment — and how our team and community would like to see it move forward.

Perryn’s forward-thinking ideas and unique expertise immediately stood out from a long list of over 100 diverse candidates — and continued to impress us throughout our conversations.

In the immediate, Alexander Neef will remain in his leadership role as COC General Director. He will continue to oversee daily decision-making and planning, with COC Deputy General Director and Executive Director, Philanthropy and Audiences, Christie Darville leading introductions and knowledge-sharing throughout the transition period ahead.

The COC’s passionate and deeply-engaged community of staff and supporters is one of its greatest assets and I know that you will join me in congratulating Perryn Leech in being named the next COC General Director and making him part of our Canadian Opera Company family.

Sincerely,

Jonathan Morgan
Chair of the COC Board of Directors”

*********

“Press releases and announcements” are presented verbatim without comment

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Lithgow’s Trumpty Dumpty

John Lithgow is one of the most theatrical personalities I can think of. Yes he acts in film & television, but perhaps more importantly, he is an ostentatious performer.

He’s not subtle. Not only is he a big man with a larger than life physical presence, but he has a unique speaking voice.

And so I was delighted to see that he had undertaken to write something funny about the American presidency at a time when everything seems so so very serious. Trumpty Dumpty Wanted a Crown is Lithgow’s second book, following bestseller Dumpty. Alas I didn’t see the earlier one, and only know of it from the jacket blurb for the new book. From looking online it seems that the previous book is –wow–from 2019. It reminds me of Lithgow’s cautionary preface where he expresses his frustration at how fast things are moving, that his “new” book may already be out of date even though he only finished writing it in June.

Aha so Lithgow’s “old” book is actually newer than many books I consider “new”..!?

It seems apt on the American Thanksgiving weekend to express gratitude for an artist who’s willing to put himself on the line & in print. Perhaps the target is easy, perhaps the humour isn’t especially profound, in silly couplets alongside line drawings.

As I read them I can hear them resounding in Lithgow’s powerful speaking voice.

And so perhaps the best thing I can do is to remind you of his greatest moments, that echo in the mind as we read the poems and look at his drawings.

I first discovered Lithgow in the early 1980s for a series of performances I saw again & again through the magic of home video. He was Roberta Muldoon in The World According to Garp, Sam Burns in Terms of Endearment, and Pastor Shaw Moore in Footloose. Yes there were lots of other roles but these were the ones that persuaded me to trust Lithgow no matter what sort of character he was assigned to portray.

And then came Third Rock from the Sun, my favorite television series of its era. Not only did I admire the premise but I loved the execution.

Whether romancing Emma Horton in Terms of Endearment, driving all the kids crazy from the pulpit in Footloose or taking orders from The Big Giant Head in 3rd Rock, there‘s an intelligence manifest in everything he does. It can be a twisted intelligence, for instance his masquerade as a university professor in 3rd Rock, a pompous ignoramus who manages to seem smart: not unlike a few professors I remember.

And shortly thereafter came Shrek, with Lithgow in a kind of self-parody as the diminutive Lord Farquaad. The animated character looks just like Lithgow, loudly overcompensating.

Lithgow explains that there’s another purpose to this book beyond entertainment. In time you may want to recall the name of one of the bit players in the story, one of the grotesques. Do you want to have to look them up on google? Or better yet you can pull up one of Lithgow’s rhym-inders, to recall Bill Barr the door or the Tortoise named Mitch (although those two alas aren’t fading away quickly enough for my taste).

It’s no surprise while perusing Lithgow’s bio to discover that he has also done children’s books. Trumpty Dumpty is really just another kids book, perhaps best thought of as bedtime verses with the pictures to match.

I’m ready to turn to a children’s author for whatever solace I can find.

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Sky Gilbert’s remarkable new book Shakespeare Beyond Science: When Poetry Was the World

I am on my third read-through of Sky Gilbert’s Shakespeare Beyond Science: When Poetry Was the World.

It is the best book I’ve read this year, one of the most interesting books I’ve ever encountered.

I’ve been dancing around this one for quite awhile, hesitant about the review because I am in awe of the book. Nobody expects me to be brilliant even if the book has put me in touch with a desire to be immortal, to make an impact. Gilbert’s book deserves to be read, deserves to be influential. While Gilbert hasn’t been a professor for very long (he was still in grad school when I was there not so long ago), he’s doing great things.

I have read a lot of entertaining books this year, but I’m certain this is the best, a great idea for a Christmas gift in a year when all the best-sellers seem to be about American politics. (click here for more information on how to get it)

Sky brings up Marshall McLuhan’s dissertation. Did you know that McLuhan was a professor at the University of Toronto? And that his scholarly work has little or nothing to do with media even if that’s where his fame lies. Sky’s choice of a departure point is apt given that the book stirs a comparable nationalistic pride.

So as you can probably tell by now, I admire the author & the book a great deal. If I were telling a joke, the worst thing I could do is to say “I have a wonderful joke to tell you” which would kill any possibility of a laugh. But that’s the thing, I’m not looking to be dramatic or to surprise you with an unexpected punchline. I am falling all over myself, after having nervously avoided writing this review for ages because I can’t be nearly so clever. So I have resolved to just put this out there as simply as possible. At one point –perhaps in the midst of my second read through—I was hoping to unpack more of the book, to discuss it and engage with its content: which I realize now is absurd, especially considering the economy of Sky’s prose. The book deserves to be part of a curriculum.

Sky Gilbert

I recall hearing that there were more books about Jesus, Napoleon Bonaparte & Richard Wagner than anyone else: a factoid likely composed by a musicologist. But when I googled the question I see that it’s now 1-Jesus, 2-Napoleon and, 3- (you guessed it): William Shakespeare.

With each trip through Shakespeare Beyond Science: When Poetry Was the World, my appreciation for Sky’s remarkable achievement grows, a book that flows with a conversational ease while opening up dense analytical pathways. I want to retain its ideas so that I can talk about it.

While the title is poetic it also captures the book rather well, the battle that seems to recur every century between those seeking to privilege science & what can be known, vs those of a more platonic or idealistic bent. The miracle is how Shakespeare can be both old yet also new. Old not just because he’s from centuries ago but as an examplar of even older rhetorical tendencies that were being discarded & pushed aside in Shakespeare’s time. New in his apparent deconstruction of words, through his resistance to denotative language, against interpretation via the slipperiness of his poetry.

If I seem to be teasing you, in comparison Gilbert’s book is a provocation, throwing down a gauntlet. I would refer you to Gilbert’s previous book small things (2018) that I see promoted online (AND that I now must read, as a possible gloss on the Shakespeare book) as follows:

Small things is a book of mini-anti-essays, part of Sky Gilbert’s project to dismantle and challenge the rigid classifications of genre, thus challenging 21st century notions of truth. Inspired by Oscar Wilde, Foucault, and the post-structuralist project, the small writings in small things are story, essay, and memoir combined. They question the notion that an essay is necessarily fact, or fair opinion, or even informed opinion, while at the same time challenging the dictum that fiction might necessarily be free of didacticism, or at least, ideas.

Amazingly I see Gilbert doing many of the same things in his newest book, this time in the deadpan manner of a scholarly study. Whether it’s teasing us with didacticism, poetry, the fluidity of post-structuralist discourse, all while undressing The Bard and challenging previous Shakespeare criticism, and even musing on Shakespeare’s actual identity in passing, I am reminded of Sky’s explorations & incarnations of drag-queens. Shakespeare Beyond Science manages to dress itself up in the clothing of a serious book while offering welcome challenges to the usual assumptions underlying the discipline.
Gilbert’s introduction closes with this nugget (and I quote perhaps more than necessary for the fun of it):

From the start stage director and editors modified Shakespeare’s text in order to render the language less ambiguous. Today, critics like Harold Bloom are suspicious of anyone who asserts that Shakespeare was primarily a poet. And scholars still waste a lot of time trying to figure out exactly what Shakespeare means. Shakespeare was obsessed with the truth that lies in language itself. But truth means something very different to Shakespeare than it does to us.
As it should have. Truth was his motto, and his last name
.

As I re-read this I noticed what he meant, a subtle but pointed reference to Edward de Vere 17th Earl of Oxford, a candidate to answer the questions surrounding William Shakespeare’s identity. In Latin that would be “veritas”, “vero” in Italian, or vérité in French.

I’m no expert so I can only mention the objections to de Vere raised via google, such as the problem of his death many years before that of Shakespeare. But that doesn’t derail the conversation. As we first engage with the meta-questions, the mysteries about Shakespeare’s identity, changes in his reputation over the centuries & the growing reverence he has acquired, we are teased with parts of the question. Let that encourage you to engage with Sky Gilbert rather than with me.

But I’m failing to properly capture the subtlety of Sky’s work. I feel I’d be a spoiler, like one of those critics who tells you the plot-twists in place of a review, were I to attempt to summarize the book.

On its cover, it’s presented this way:

Shakespeare wrote at a unique historical turning point: the world was understood through poetry—rather than through the science of observing it. In Shakespeare Beyond Science: When Poetry Was the World, Sky Gilbert’s radical new research locates Shakespeare as a disciple of the Greek rhetorician Hermogenes, and a student of the Neo-Platonist Johannes Sturm. No, not just another “interpretation” of the meaning of Shakespeare’s work. Instead a radical approach to Shakespeare as magician and rhetorician, as a post-structuralist more concerned with form than content, and confident of the dangerous magical power of words not only to persuade but to construct our consciousness.

Gilbert is painstaking in unpacking the basis for Shakespeare’s style, the clearest such explanation I’ve ever seen. If the Bard were just an actor from a small town in England, could he possibly have had the opportunity to learn all that would have been required? Additional subtext for the Bard as de Vere is in Gilbert’s discussion of de Vere’s education, and Johannes Sturm. Before Gilbert gets to Sturm & Hermogenes (who each get a chapter, illustrated by examples from Shakespeare) we revisit Marshall McLuhan & the Classical Trivium: the subject of McLuhan’s doctoral dissertation, and the backdrop for a subtle discursive shift that was taking place at the time. In a nutshell, it concerns the gradual acceptance of the biases exemplified by the Royal Society & Francis Bacon, towards trusting observations, inductive reasoning & clarity, and resisting or even decrying ambiguity in expression & poetry. In effect Sky invokes Shakespeare in defense of poetry: an ongoing struggle to this day.

But there’s so much more to it. There’s a chapter on sexuality where Ernest Hemingway rears his masculine head, and sodomy puts in its obligatory appearance.

I keep reading and re-reading, both because I keep noticing additional depths. And yes, Sky offers the best sort of escape from the horrors of CNN & CP24.

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Beethoven 250: which incarnation?

I hope it isn’t a radical idea to suggest that each of us is really several people, depending on context. The people around me, the places I visit, even the time of day might influence how I act. I’m more jocular around other men, aiming to be nicer at church where I am more mindful about my language. Hopefully I don’t speak loudly at night or honk the car’s horn when I might wake my neighbours. Some of this is common courtesy.

Every artist can be understood in several ways, so much so that we can almost think of them as having multiple personalities that can resemble incarnations. Consider the Eddie Murphy of Dreamgirls alongside the comedian Eddie Murphy of Norbit (and speaking of multiple personalities Murphy plays 3 characters in that one film), and then recall he also has a lucrative voiceover career in films such as the Shrek series. All these versions of Eddie Murphy are the same person, whether we’re speaking of the talking donkey, the three characters of Norbit or his work in Dreamgirls. The variety is driven at least partly by commercial considerations as much as artistic ones.

I was thinking about this after having seen The Pianist late Monday night (after watching and blogging about The Exterminating Angel). Yesterday & today as I played the piano Chopin was the natural choice. In case you haven’t seen The Pianist, it shows us the life of pianist Wladyslaw Szpilman between 1939 and 1945, including a scene at the very end where he’s playing with an orchestra. We hear him play Chopin a couple of times. At one point when he’s hiding, he sits at a piano, not daring to make any sound lest he be discovered, as he mimes playing without touching a key: and we hear the “music” in his head.

Even in what we’re seeing on screen one can imagine at least a couple of different sides to Szpilman, the public pianist with orchestra distinct from the quiet poet alone with his thoughts. I was very moved by the film, even as I was at times struggling with questions, wondering what Polanski might have been thinking as I ponder this, the most brutal depiction of this material that I have ever seen. I wanted to ask him “why this piece”? The choice of repertoire curates our experience in the music that we hear. Artist biographies may resemble a compendium of greatest hits for at least a couple of reasons. If they were too accurate we’d get lost in obscure moments with works we don’t know. They need us to recognize and connect to great works, so of course when we’re watching Mr Turner (Mike Leigh’s film about the painter) naturally we see the moments when he conceived of “Rain Steam and Speed” or “The Fighting Temeraire”. Polanski and his team may have pondered comparable choices, opting for instance to include the well-known G-minor Ballade, especially if the well-loved piece helps sell a sound-track recording.

But to come back to what I was hinting at in my preamble, there are at least a couple of different Chopins, just as there are several Beethovens or Gershwins.

The guy on the right

Brian Wyers, a painter I know & admire, has at least two different types of painting. Some of his paintings sell themselves, others seem to sit a bit longer in the gallery.

“Adoration” by Brian Wyers
“A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle” by Brian Wyers

The ones that sell easily appeal to customers who like beautiful images (especially his paintings of flowers), while the quirky ones that take longer to sell usually emerge from Brian’s deeper creative impulses. When he explained this to me, I thought of how composers hit a comparable fork in the road, especially if they know what work will best serve to help pay the rent. A friend joked about Puccini yesterday, observing Puccini’s irresistible style is always commercially successful and never difficult, even if this is Puccini’s curse, that he is lambasted by critics for daring to write music that is unabashedly beautiful. Some people prefer something difficult or obscure and are uncomfortable admitting that they like something that everyone else likes as well.

Ludwig van Beethoven is a funny case, because he’s recognized by scholars for great works, but also a composer of a great deal of music that is popular. Do you ever wonder about the relationship between popularity & greatness? Notice that the plays of Shakespeare, the music of Mozart, the paintings of Van Gogh, are not just beloved by the average person but also by the experts. But maybe there are different types of popularity. I mentioned Taylor Swift, John Legend & Ennio Morricone earlier this week, artists who are popular in 2020. I wonder if anyone will bother with their music in 2220, two hundred years from now.

That’s the thing. Antonio Salieri was famous for awhile, now known more for the disgruntled character in the fictional play Amadeus than as a composer who might deserve to be remembered for more than this misrepresentation of his character.
Let’s think about the way Beethoven continues to be popular long after his passing.
There are 1,613 soundtrack credits listed on the Internet Movie Database (IMDB) for Beethoven.

Let me break it down a bit further. That includes 251 Moonlight sonata references, 219 for Symphony #5, 192 for Symphony #9, 178 for the piano bagatelle “für Elise”, 83 for the Allegretto from Symphony #7 that we heard so tellingly in The King’s Speech, 58 of the Pathetique Adagio, plus many more besides.

Among those many Ninth Symphony credits is Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange (1971). While the synthesizer timbres from Wendy Carlos create a sound appropriately displaced from the composer’s time it’s still unmistakably Beethoven.

Later that same decade came another modernized Beethoven from another Walter, this time Walter Murphy, namely “A Fifth of Beethoven.”

There is also the Beethoven we hear in “Joyful joyful we adore thee”, a hymn repurposing one of his most famous melodies.

There are other versions of Beethoven that I’m not even broaching yet. He wrote music for solo piano, chamber music, music for the stage (including an opera), encompassing some of his political beliefs, and religious music too.

I wonder what he would think if he encountered his modern selves.

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Sounds like hell Mr Adès: Looking in the mirror of The Exterminating Angel

I wasn’t sure I’d have the nerve to go through with it, watching an opera that seems to show us exactly the predicament we face. Based on the surreal film from Luis Bunuel, The Exterminating Angel was today’s free Metropolitan online offering. Composer Thomas Adès collaborated with Tom Cairns on the libretto.

Here we are, facing winter & being told again and again by our public health professionals: you must stay inside. This is in large measure the nightmare of The Exterminating Angel, as a group of guests find themselves unable to leave. We see the upper class at their ugliest, what could be understood as a kind of manners comedy: except they have no manners.

No wait that’s not true. The servants are all polite.

We’re in a world not unlike what you find in Lord of the Flies, except the descent into unmannerliness happens in formal attire at a rich man’s home, not a desert island.

Here’s the intermezzo between the first two acts, conducted by the composer including a close-up of the ondes Martenot towards the end of the clip just in case you were wondering what that odd sci-fi sound was in the orchestral texture. Not only are we not in Kansas anymore we seem to have left the planet Earth altogether: because we’re in the orchestra pit for an opera needing an appropriately otherworldly sound. Have a listen.

It wasn’t as difficult as expected. Not only did I watch and survive, but I also felt some relief, awareness that this story was largely a critique of a particular class of people, even if I might feel that its satirical finger might point at me and my brethren. Yes I’m also a privileged spectator right now, fortunate in terms of where I live & what I’m able to avoid. There are people in this city who are more vulnerable, especially the health-care workers: let alone those in other countries. So it’s cathartic to endure a nightmare that does indeed end from which one can wake up (unlike 2020, which goes on…).

The opera seems like a perfect fit for Adès. I had already decided I would set aside the misgivings I acquired reading Adès’ Conversations with Tom Service, a book that attacks some of my favorite operas, for the simple reason that I admire his music.

Composer Thomas Adès

The Tempest is one of the most impressive operatic adaptations I have ever seen & heard. Those two things (misgivings + admiration) combine perfectly in The Exterminating Angel. My misgivings arose over Adès’s admission that he admires positivist thinking, and my assumption that his rejection of the kind of religious ceremony at the heart of Parsifal might be a kind of doctrinal prejudice (which is another way of saying, perhaps he’s an atheist). The ideal piece for an agnostic / positivist to adapt as opera would have to be a kind of rejection of transcendence, and that’s precisely what Adès finds in Bunuel’s film.

There are at least two moments that might underline this philosophical drift.

When the three sheep appear in the last act, there’s a musical parody of Bach’s “Sheep May Safely Graze” that hits you over the head. I am reminded of the outrage of Pete Venkman (Bill Murray’s character in Ghostbusters) when the Staypuft Marshmallow Man steps on a church.


Should I be saying “Nobody mocks a Bach cantata in my town”?

Except Adès does such a good job..! And come to think of it, this makes a lot of sense in this nasty world of caprice and disorder. Indeed if we recall what the Bach Cantata would tell us, that “sheep may safely graze”..?

Ah but in this kaka world no they may not safely graze oh no.

They get devoured by the bourgeois barbarians. So perhaps Jesus would approve of what Adès does at this moment.

And then there’s the double meaning in the libretto, once in the first act and again in the last…. The pianist Blanca is given a request to play something.

“Blanca something by Hades I implore you” is the line in the libretto. At first glance you’d think the “by Hades” is an epithet comparable to “by gum” or “by golly”: except that when it’s sung by the tenor, he pronounces the word Hades “Adès”, making the line very interesting in a self-referential way.

Because of course she (and everyone else) sings or plays something by Adès.

No not Hades, not hell. Just Adès. Is that also a metaphysical reference perhaps? I leave that up to you

Adès is writing some very difficult music for his singers especially the sopranos. Audrey Luna, who had already conquered the world with her astonishing high notes as Ariel in Adès’s Tempest, is back singing even higher this time. John Tomlinson balances her stratospherics with his solidly grounded portrayal at the other end of the staff. The Met production includes several great portrayals including some we’ve heard in Toronto, namely Alice Coote, Joseph Kaiser, Frédéric Antoun, and Christian van Horn.

You’d think the subject intolerable in our pandemic, over a dozen people locked in arbitrarily, unable to escape, and while entrapped, confronted with their own lives. But it’s surprisingly cathartic not just because we know that actually we can go outside. Perhaps we notice how much we have to be grateful for..?

So in other words, while the idea of this story might scare you, in the midst of our pandemic it hits the spot. I’m very impressed with this creation of Adès & Cairns plus the cast & creative team at the Metropolitan Opera. This is not an easy opera to stage, indeed the casting requirements (including a soprano who can hit a high A above the usual high C) make it all but impossible.

We can’t accuse him of having taken the easy route

Move over Glass & Adams. As far as I can see & hear when I recall his Tempest Adès must be placed at the forefront with the most accomplished & successful composers of new opera. His website mentions ballets employing Dante’s Divine Comedy. If he’s an agnostic what would that sound like? Or perhaps I’m all wrong about his beliefs.

But I’ll be very interested to hear his new works either way.

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