1984

I just managed to watch a video of Loren Maazel's magnum opus, 1984, which was recorded in 2005 at the premiere, was released in 2009 and finally made it to Netflix for me to watch. To start with a caveat, a video is not the same as a live performance, so one should not be mistaken for the other. But watching (and listening) to a recording of a new work can be beneficial in a different way from the live experience. First, you see the singers close up and in the case of Simon Keenlyside, whose acting is as wonderfully convincing as his singing, the camera's close proximity is no detriment. Second, you can hear the music more than once in a short period of time and replay parts to familiarize yourself with the work. And three, it costs a heap less money than flying to London to catch a performance.

I mention a specific work from a fairly recent premiere to make a larger point. 1984, like the vast majority of "successful" (well-attended and / or reviewed) or "unsuccessful" (not particularly well-attended or poorly reviewed) new operas suffers from the same repeating, damning, fatal flaw: competency. Nothing is worse than being merely proficient. Nothing so terrible as making no particular mistakes in composition or libretto. Nothing so tragic as being merely "good." Or worse, having "good" things in it. Because with something as complex as opera, anything less than "brilliant" is a failure, no matter how many people praise it or watch it...as Meyerbeer would tell you were he alive. Page after page of 1984 makes sense, has musical development, has interesting portions, differentiates between characters. The list of attributes could be extended. But nothing in it is wonderful. Nothing moves you, tests you, challenges you, or even teaches you something about how music works or succeeds. The production left nothing to be desired. The singing was (mostly) terrific. The DVD was made with skill and care and the elements of opera that make it such a pinnacle of musical expression, including melody, harmony, vocal writing, musical characterization, orchestration, etc. etc. were recorded with consummate skill. But what a disappointment. Who wants competency when you can hear genius at the touch of a button? Or at the very least, marvelous music?

Are there wonderful operas still being written? Yes. Thomas Ades' The Tempest is one. I was lucky enough to experience a production in Santa Fe that left me spellbound, moved, excited, quizzical, enchanted. A radio broadcast (now on CD) confirmed my every impression. This really IS great opera. But certainly anything but "easy" to hear or watch. It inhabits a weird oxymoron: complex simplicity. The music can be followed, enjoyed, "breathed in", experienced with pleasure in just one hearing as long as you let it take you where it needs to go. You have to listen with intelligence and alertness. "Humming" the tunes is not its goal in any way. It is not for opera fans who think Puccini was the last great composer (or ONLY great composer) and nothing is greater than La Boheme or Tosca. This Tempest makes demands. But if you rise to the "challenges" the rewards are bountiful. Perhaps most extraordinary of all is how much of the music is truly beautiful. And each encounter seems to reveal new layers you hadn't noticed before. By contrast, 1984 attempts beauty in the midst of ugliness (which befits the story and the characters maybe even this libretto) but only manages off-the-rack dissonance that stands in for the cruelty and pain of oppression, one-dimensional "passionate" passages that point at emotions rather than portray them, and an occasion "swelling" line that proves to be some lesser version of great music by someone else. You can't even HATE it. It isn't original or "difficult" or inept enough to elicit hatred. Like so much new music, nothing's exactly wrong with it. So everything is.