Hamlet

Just watched the Royal Shakespeare Company's Hamlet on PBS and I must say how disappointing it was considering how much of it was excellent. The production itself was wonderful and "recreated' for television (not just a film of a stage production.)  I just couldn't get past David Tennant's Hamlet. He seemed more hammy actor finally getting a chance at a big juicy (as in ready for scenery eating) part of a lifetime than an actual "heir" to this ultimate of roles. He was outshone by almost everyone. Not a good sign in Hamlet. Maybe I'll watch it again in a week or so and see if my initial reactions stay the same. Perhaps I'm missing something. Could this be Tennant's way of mimicking insanity? Hamlet hasn't fared so well on the screen lately. Not since Derek Jacobi's BBC version in the 80's has a really convincing taped performance come off completely. Even Kenneth Branaugh was all wrong as Hamlet. It did not help that Jacobi was Claudius. And only idiots liked Mel Gibson's "bug-your-eyes out" and rush through the long parts to get to the action scenes portrayal (or betrayal as the case may be.) Ethan Hawke, though obviously talented, seemed all at sea, and sadly, unconvincing as well. Does this play only work (with a few notable exceptions) on stage? Evidence seems to point that way.

Great Tenor

I'm mourning the loss of a favorite singer of mine: Philip Langridge. He could (and did) sing music from every period, including many premieres by prominent composers of the last forty years. He was especially noted for his Britten interpretations and luckily, some of them are on video (and more are on cd.) He didn't have a "traditionally" beautiful voice, but he was a extraordinary musician and actor and he could delve into the psychology and emotions of characters unlike anyone else. If you are unfamiliar with him, try to find a copy of the video of Peter Grimes. He stands comparisons with both Pears and Vickers and is not found wanting. I saw him sing Aron in Moses und Aron at the MET in his sixties and he was riveting (not easy in that opera and not an easy sing at any age.) He made it seem natural and characterful--basically, he sang it like the masterpiece that it is. The opera world is a little less bright to me now that he is gone. He was singing until his health failed and singing smartly and well. He was 70.

Bad Met Revisited

I finally saw the first part of the repeat (of a repeat) of the Live from the Met Aida and what a horrible sight and sound it was. The tenor Johann Botha was a loud, stiff, (and in the long run) ludicrous Radames--and he was probably the best singer on the stage. What has happened to Violeta Urmana? Her voice was in tatters: shrill, unfocused, forced at any level about piano. This is a rather recent thing, because I've heard her within the last three years and she sounded nothing like this. Could she have just been so ill she couldn't sing well enough to support the sound? It was heart-breaking to hear her. And hiring Dolora Zajick again was just stupid. She sounded old and tired, she looked old and tired, she moved old and tired. And her costumes just accentuated her inappropriateness. The whole first scene was excruciating. Then The High Priestess sang flat the entire next scene. And then I had to turn it off. I couldn't stand any more. This is a tape that should be erased to save all concerned from embarrassment. Not a very good month for me and the Met.

Spotty posts - more to come, though

Still not completely finished with the website but enough people know about it so I'll try to be better about keeping the blog current. Last week I went to see Hamlet at the Met and had one of those dreaded evenings where very little went well and very much went terribly. Two of the principle singers (Simon Keenlyside as Hamlet and Jennifer Larmore as Gertrude) gave musically insightful, vividly acted, and just damned well-sung performances. That ends the good part. The orchestra was lackluster, missed notes, made embarrassingly ugly sounds (the sax player should never have been hired) and had trouble following the conductor who flailed away helplessly. Marlis Petersen, the Ophelie, was seen by the press as a "savior" who swept in to replace a canceling Dessay and kept the run of this troublesome opera possible. She is young, but worries already exist. She was obviously indisposed but vainly tried to sing anyway, to quite poor and sometimes painful effect until a nicely varied Mad Scene (which she copied almost to the note and movement from the video of Dessay in this same production), but even there, she cracked her two climactic high notes--which just leads a listener to wonder why she is singing this rep to begin with. Just because you can make the sounds does not mean you should be. I hope she finds more congenial roles although she is singing Lulu at the Met later this year. This performance did not make me want to rush out and see it. (Though I will.) I didn't want her to be Natalie Dessay, but she wasn't even June Anderson (the merely okay Ophelie on the most recent audio recording that I know of.) And James Morris gave the single most embarrassing performance I have seen and heard at the Met--and I've seen and heard some shit. I looked away and tried to think of other things during his "big" scene. In some ways I was angry with him. This is singing at such a sub-par level, he has no business taking roles ever again. He should have some self-respect and cancel everything and retire. The Laerte(s) was a once-fine singer--Toby Spence--who has decided he wants to be a big full lyric Italian tenor when he is a lovely sweet lyric tenor of a decidedly non-Italianate sound. Why? Who wants to hear you force? (Answer: no one.) Even some of the smaller (easier) roles were not much better. The Horatio should and shall go nameless. The Ghost made a dull part even duller (though David Pittsinger has a fine voice.) Only the two gravediggers made anything of their moments and they both shone. They were Richard Bernstein and Mark Schowalter. The audience (rightly) adored them. When the gravediggers out-sing Claudius, the evening cannot be seen as anything but a sad failure, despite a wonderful Hamlet and Gertrude. At least Keenlyside had a triumph. On this evening, that is saying something.

(Way) Post Oscars

Since we just got our new website up and running, I'm a wee bit behind. And I wanted to mention a few things about the Oscars. First, the "music" portions were wasted for the most part except for a bit of very odd but fascinating dance in the middle of all the tired "urban" flip-flops. Yes, aren't they athletic. Young kids can (and will) do that in my neighborhood. So for about 30 seconds, we got something fun and quirky. I should have seen what group that was. They might be worth seeing. The second thing is: the obligatory opening number is almost always a wash-out. Because Broadway-style does not mean Broadway caliber (well, old , good Broadway caliber.) Why do they keep doing them? And last, Michael Giacchino is such a delightful composer, I yelled when he won for his lovely, wistful, charming score for Up. And he had a wonderful, positive message. Watch The Incredibles and then Up (because they're great) and see just how far ranging his talents are. Long may he reign.

After Christmas Nutcrackers

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.

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.