If you didn't watch all the Nutcrackers on Ovation before Christmas, (and you're not sick of it), you might try watching three very different versions of the work that are either delightful, moving, funny, or insane. (Yeah, insane. We'll get to that one.)
The funny one would be Mark Morris's A Hard Nut. It is continually inventive and wonderfully childlike in its cleverness and wit--the costumes alone are funny--and is aimed at anyone who thinks they've seen the "original" too many times. (No one does the "original". They are all hybrids of more than one choreographer's work.) Just watch how the mice are killed. A joy for kids and adults. (Maybe not little little kids...but then neither is the original. All those murdered mice?)
The moving one is Matthew Bourne's The Nutcracker. As he did with Swan Lake, Bourne creates a new story that has allusions to the original story, but goes its own way and is hardly a Christmas story. In this version, children are left in a miserable orphanage where their spirits are so smashed they retreat into their imaginations. Act Two is like the version we know in that it is a divertissement consisting of solos and duets with new characters who come and go. But these are all objects like cakes and presents and ice cream cones. The end is quite a different experience from the standard one.
And then there is Maurice Bejart's version. You have to see it to believe it. It purports to tell the story of Bejart's life with a very Oedipal mother / son relationship, sex, violence, Diaghilev and a cat. For no particular reason, a cat. He seems to represent something, but I have no idea what that would be. And this is definitely not for children. Even some adults will be offended. It depends on your interest in an "I can't believe they've just done that" kind of production whether you'll enjoy it or not, but at least you can watch it any time of the year and never once be reminded of the holidays.
Needless to say, the dancing in all of these is exemplary (ever notice how the level of dancing in videos has a higher ratio of good to bad than opera videos?), the sets and costumes add to the experience of each (you have to love the giant sculpture in the Bejart) and the recordings are first class. See if you can rent one (or more ) of them. Maybe wait until you AREN'T sick of The Nutcracker.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Two (or more) of a Kind pt. 3
God, opera composers have been obsessed with Orpheus. There is that making the most beautiful music in the world thing, and the greatest love in the world thing, and the going to hell thing, but really...well, everyone probably knows the Monteverdi and the Gluck (Orfeo and Orfeo ed Euridice respectively for the two opera lovers who don't know by now) but what about the wonderfully whacky Orphee aux Enfers by Jacques Offenbach, and the weirdly what-the-fuck? The Mask of Orpheus by Harrison Birtwistle? Many may know the Offenbach (if not, listen to the newest recording with Natalie Dessay) where everyone and everything gets mocked in memorable fashion. And it's even better if you know the references it's ribbing. What other version celebrates Euridice STAYING in hell? If you listen without reading about it and just follow the libretto, you'll get several musical surprises of the "That's where that came from?" variety. But do feel sorry for the poor tenor. You'll know exactly what I mean when you hear it. The music of Offenbach is almost always delightful (really) and even undervalued. And it makes a fine comparison with Auber. (Opera comique is one of its targets.) Gilbert and Sullivan is second best in my book.
Then there's Birtwistle. He is still causing fights. I mean it. Yelling and screaming and walk-outs and standing ovations and write-ups pro and con in the world's opera magazines and newspapers. Like him or hate him, no one sounds like him. He's like Stravinsky with the premiere of The Rite of Spring, but with everything he writes. It is probably no accident that Stravinsky is one of his influences. And nothing has caused more hand-wringing and head scratching and hurumphs and hurrahs and hallelujahs than The Mask of Orpheus. It is somewhat indescribable. The tale of Orpheus and Euridice and Aristeus (who causes her to die) is told several times from various points of view with each character represented by an onstage singer, an offstage singer, and a giant puppet...yes, puppets. Musically, the same music is also repeated in (somewhat clear) panels and supports the action to a degree, so with a little concentration, you can just about follow the permutations of action and music. Then Act Two happens. And then Act Three. So even the most adventurous listener can be lost. But maybe that's part of its appeal. You can wallow in one-of-a-kind sounds (including computer-generated ones) and experience the whole thing as a wild pageant of very modern construction. I repeat for emphasis, no one sounds like Birtwistle. He takes ideas from Medieval and Renaissance music--like separate lines that move in and out of the foreground--and adds wild rhythms and growling screeches and lyrical suspended ideas and leaping melodies and stirs it over a high flame so it bubbles. He inverts the overtone series so that the smaller intervals are (usually) on the bottom and the larger ones move in and out of the upper reaches. (This is a gross reduction of very complex music but it's a good way to start to think about it.) I personally love the wild (and hard) ride, but I can't really blame anyone for throwing their hands up and running. But in a time of easy-listening opera available twenty-four seven, a little harshness and mystical beauty is welcome. It has been recorded, but I must warn you, following the action is even harder with the booklet! I suggest reading the synopsis and the names of the individual tracks and letting it go. I've heard it many times by now and I'm still not always sure what is what. Sometimes, that is a compliment.
P.S. If you'd like to try one of his operas that is not quite so complex, a well-recorded, played, sung, and even acted version of his latest work, The Minotaur, is out on DVD. Make it through the somewhat slow first scene, and you won't be able to stop watching.
Then there's Birtwistle. He is still causing fights. I mean it. Yelling and screaming and walk-outs and standing ovations and write-ups pro and con in the world's opera magazines and newspapers. Like him or hate him, no one sounds like him. He's like Stravinsky with the premiere of The Rite of Spring, but with everything he writes. It is probably no accident that Stravinsky is one of his influences. And nothing has caused more hand-wringing and head scratching and hurumphs and hurrahs and hallelujahs than The Mask of Orpheus. It is somewhat indescribable. The tale of Orpheus and Euridice and Aristeus (who causes her to die) is told several times from various points of view with each character represented by an onstage singer, an offstage singer, and a giant puppet...yes, puppets. Musically, the same music is also repeated in (somewhat clear) panels and supports the action to a degree, so with a little concentration, you can just about follow the permutations of action and music. Then Act Two happens. And then Act Three. So even the most adventurous listener can be lost. But maybe that's part of its appeal. You can wallow in one-of-a-kind sounds (including computer-generated ones) and experience the whole thing as a wild pageant of very modern construction. I repeat for emphasis, no one sounds like Birtwistle. He takes ideas from Medieval and Renaissance music--like separate lines that move in and out of the foreground--and adds wild rhythms and growling screeches and lyrical suspended ideas and leaping melodies and stirs it over a high flame so it bubbles. He inverts the overtone series so that the smaller intervals are (usually) on the bottom and the larger ones move in and out of the upper reaches. (This is a gross reduction of very complex music but it's a good way to start to think about it.) I personally love the wild (and hard) ride, but I can't really blame anyone for throwing their hands up and running. But in a time of easy-listening opera available twenty-four seven, a little harshness and mystical beauty is welcome. It has been recorded, but I must warn you, following the action is even harder with the booklet! I suggest reading the synopsis and the names of the individual tracks and letting it go. I've heard it many times by now and I'm still not always sure what is what. Sometimes, that is a compliment.
P.S. If you'd like to try one of his operas that is not quite so complex, a well-recorded, played, sung, and even acted version of his latest work, The Minotaur, is out on DVD. Make it through the somewhat slow first scene, and you won't be able to stop watching.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Two (or more) of a Kind pt. 2
The story of Manon Lescaut has been the heroine (if that's the right word) of not just the two famous examples of Massenet and Puccini, but two less-well known, but nonetheless interesting examples. They include the first and the last (that I know of) operatic versions: one a formulaic though still worth hearing opera comique by Daniel Auber, Manon Lescaut, the other a very 20th Century one-of-a-kind modernization by Hans Werner Henze, Boulevard Solitude. (If you don't know the Massenet and Puccini operas, what's keeping you? Go listen or see them. Very good videos exist of both: The Scotto / Domingo MET Puccini, the Fleming / Alvarez Massenet.)
The Auber is hardly a work of genius but it does show what opera comique was before real geniuses took over. All the conventions are here: light romances (or cavatinas) for the leading lady which show off her versatility and lack of a heavy instrument (this was before Carmen though too many mezzos over-sing it), tenor heroes, love duets, ensembles that fit a routine of soloists with chorus, starting small but building to a big climax with plenty of high notes, runs, trills, etc. The ends were not always happy though most of the music is light and (sometimes comically) positive. Opera comique is a form few people really know and this is a good way to delve into it. This particular example is stereotypical in its form and above average in invention. The only recording I know of gives a good reading. The leading lady is a bit shrill, but versatile, and the lead tenor is stylish. If you know the two famous versions, the interest increases.
The Henze is much more interesting, well, more than that--wonderful. It caused a stir and a controversy when it was first produced, due as much to the modern touches like drugs and jazz and the greed that feeds the plot (Manon and her brother are more like grifters. She is anything but innocent. She goes to jail for murder.) The music is a very unique mixture of the aforementioned jazz, tonality, atonality, chant, and admittedly lyrical twelve tone rows. The scenes are tense and stylistically different from each other as the whole thing rolls inevitably to a hard (anti-?) climax. A recent video makes a very good case for it. The whole production is dwarfed by a railway station where people come and go and never connect. The singing is of a very high level (for once in a modern work) and the singers are good actors as well. Like the Auber, knowledge of the two famous versions makes the work even more fascinating. If you can't find the Auber, at least get the Henze.
The Auber is hardly a work of genius but it does show what opera comique was before real geniuses took over. All the conventions are here: light romances (or cavatinas) for the leading lady which show off her versatility and lack of a heavy instrument (this was before Carmen though too many mezzos over-sing it), tenor heroes, love duets, ensembles that fit a routine of soloists with chorus, starting small but building to a big climax with plenty of high notes, runs, trills, etc. The ends were not always happy though most of the music is light and (sometimes comically) positive. Opera comique is a form few people really know and this is a good way to delve into it. This particular example is stereotypical in its form and above average in invention. The only recording I know of gives a good reading. The leading lady is a bit shrill, but versatile, and the lead tenor is stylish. If you know the two famous versions, the interest increases.
The Henze is much more interesting, well, more than that--wonderful. It caused a stir and a controversy when it was first produced, due as much to the modern touches like drugs and jazz and the greed that feeds the plot (Manon and her brother are more like grifters. She is anything but innocent. She goes to jail for murder.) The music is a very unique mixture of the aforementioned jazz, tonality, atonality, chant, and admittedly lyrical twelve tone rows. The scenes are tense and stylistically different from each other as the whole thing rolls inevitably to a hard (anti-?) climax. A recent video makes a very good case for it. The whole production is dwarfed by a railway station where people come and go and never connect. The singing is of a very high level (for once in a modern work) and the singers are good actors as well. Like the Auber, knowledge of the two famous versions makes the work even more fascinating. If you can't find the Auber, at least get the Henze.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Two (or more) of a Kind pt. 1
Sometimes my brain just goes somewhere weird, and this is one of those times. I have always been fascinated by those oddities of music history where different composers taking a stab at the same book or play or myth and come up with something completely different (and not just the music.) One of the oddest "doublings" is Hector Berlioz and Kurt Weill writing comic operas on Benvenuto Cellini's Autobiography. A larger-than-life character, Cellini must have seemed ideal as a hero for a popular work. Alas, both Benvenuto Cellini (Berlioz) and The Firebrand of Florence (Weill) were horrible flops in their first productions. Both have had champions since, but they are far from "easy" to produce and perform, so no wonder the first audiences (and performers) had so much trouble. Anyone can listen to them on fine recordings (beware the Weimar version of the Berlioz) and compare, but here are a few ideas on each. Personally, I think these two geniuses have come up with two masterworks (Berlioz's a masterPIECE, yes it is, don't argue with me. That means you--you know who you are.) Listen and see for yourself.
Berlioz wanted to conquer the Paris Opera, so he wrote the opera comique to end all opera comiques. It had everything an opera comique could ever want: Lovely arias for the lovers (Cellini has two), comic duets, trios, ensembles, action, farce, romance, a dash of violence (okay, most opera comiques don't have a dash of violence) and a great musical build-up to the happy ending. But all of them were "super-charged" and left the audience, singers, orchestra, and conductor in the dust. Today, we've heard many more complex works and, with some concentration, can hear his great musical ideas that just proliferate throughout the work and enjoy them. (The Carnival Finale to Act One is unlike anything else, even today.) The orchestration alone is a marvel of its--hell, ANY--time. I personally smile every time I hear the bassoon mock the comic father by playing along with his low note during one of his "laments." (He almost continuously laments. It might not sound wonderful, but it is.) And he gets mocked again during the Carnival scene, where a troupe of actors "portray" him on a stage (while the "real" character watches) and--oh, just go listen, or better yet, if you're in New York, watch the MET production when it comes back next year. I'll just say the orchestration alone is funny.
The libretto--which has been criticized by some and blamed in part for the operas poor reception--is never less than functional and frequently more than that. Berlioz was obviously inspired by it. I've heard it many times and I have seen the MET production when it was premiered during the composer's Bi-Centennial year. It plays beautifully. But you have to pay attention. It is not The Barber of Seville (to name a comic opera where characters are shared by more than one work.) It has a much more complex story, is musically more sophisticated and requires virtuoso musicians from top to bottom--onstage and in the pit-- and is far-less frequently done, so the world hasn't already heard half the arias before the curtain goes up. And Berlioz has heard more chords than I-IV-V-I in three different keys. And colleges can't perform it with students. (So I don't LOOOOOVE Rossini. Bite me.) Maybe it's still a connoisseur's opera in it's opera comique on steriods approach, but anyone with a little musical sophistication can get something out of it. Others can go watch Barber at your neighborhood junior college.
Now the Weill piece is not nearly as successful as a whole, but PARTS of it are wonderful. Actually, from a musical standpoint, MOST of it is wonderful. Alas, the libretto is poor and even Ira Gershwin is not on his best form. (Some of the rhymes are so forced, you have to say, "What?") But it has a lovely duet for the two lovers, many comic numbers for most of the other characters, some clever ensemble writing, good solos, etc. etc. The "characteristic" Weill orchestrations, harmonies, and melodies are prolix here, and enjoyable on their own. Part of its original failure seems to have been a casting problem: most of these roles require true "operetta" voices, not "musical comedy" ones. He got a musical comedy cast and all the flaws of the show came right to the foreground and it's mastery fell away. But you can go listen to an odd but still charming recording--it keeps all the music intact but does away with the "bad" book by describing it in rhymed verse. ( I warned you it was odd.) The singing is masterly, though, so it does the musical side full justice. And a wonderful singer I went to school with named Lucy Schaufer has a role and more people should hear her so she might get more recordings.
So two "flops" that are musically wonderful. Go listen to them (or try to catch Cellini.) Tomorrow, four Manons...yes, four.
Berlioz wanted to conquer the Paris Opera, so he wrote the opera comique to end all opera comiques. It had everything an opera comique could ever want: Lovely arias for the lovers (Cellini has two), comic duets, trios, ensembles, action, farce, romance, a dash of violence (okay, most opera comiques don't have a dash of violence) and a great musical build-up to the happy ending. But all of them were "super-charged" and left the audience, singers, orchestra, and conductor in the dust. Today, we've heard many more complex works and, with some concentration, can hear his great musical ideas that just proliferate throughout the work and enjoy them. (The Carnival Finale to Act One is unlike anything else, even today.) The orchestration alone is a marvel of its--hell, ANY--time. I personally smile every time I hear the bassoon mock the comic father by playing along with his low note during one of his "laments." (He almost continuously laments. It might not sound wonderful, but it is.) And he gets mocked again during the Carnival scene, where a troupe of actors "portray" him on a stage (while the "real" character watches) and--oh, just go listen, or better yet, if you're in New York, watch the MET production when it comes back next year. I'll just say the orchestration alone is funny.
The libretto--which has been criticized by some and blamed in part for the operas poor reception--is never less than functional and frequently more than that. Berlioz was obviously inspired by it. I've heard it many times and I have seen the MET production when it was premiered during the composer's Bi-Centennial year. It plays beautifully. But you have to pay attention. It is not The Barber of Seville (to name a comic opera where characters are shared by more than one work.) It has a much more complex story, is musically more sophisticated and requires virtuoso musicians from top to bottom--onstage and in the pit-- and is far-less frequently done, so the world hasn't already heard half the arias before the curtain goes up. And Berlioz has heard more chords than I-IV-V-I in three different keys. And colleges can't perform it with students. (So I don't LOOOOOVE Rossini. Bite me.) Maybe it's still a connoisseur's opera in it's opera comique on steriods approach, but anyone with a little musical sophistication can get something out of it. Others can go watch Barber at your neighborhood junior college.
Now the Weill piece is not nearly as successful as a whole, but PARTS of it are wonderful. Actually, from a musical standpoint, MOST of it is wonderful. Alas, the libretto is poor and even Ira Gershwin is not on his best form. (Some of the rhymes are so forced, you have to say, "What?") But it has a lovely duet for the two lovers, many comic numbers for most of the other characters, some clever ensemble writing, good solos, etc. etc. The "characteristic" Weill orchestrations, harmonies, and melodies are prolix here, and enjoyable on their own. Part of its original failure seems to have been a casting problem: most of these roles require true "operetta" voices, not "musical comedy" ones. He got a musical comedy cast and all the flaws of the show came right to the foreground and it's mastery fell away. But you can go listen to an odd but still charming recording--it keeps all the music intact but does away with the "bad" book by describing it in rhymed verse. ( I warned you it was odd.) The singing is masterly, though, so it does the musical side full justice. And a wonderful singer I went to school with named Lucy Schaufer has a role and more people should hear her so she might get more recordings.
So two "flops" that are musically wonderful. Go listen to them (or try to catch Cellini.) Tomorrow, four Manons...yes, four.
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