A mediocre piece from a master sometimes survives less well than a single masterpiece of a lesser artist. The former is the case in the Chicago Opera Theater's Owen Wingrave. Based on a lesser work of the masterly Henry James, the masterly Benjamin Britten and his sometime collaborator, Myfanwy Piper, conveyed a dedication to pacifism by bringing the gothic tale to the small screen and stage. And to what effect? An evening of difficult but accessible music well sung. A portrait of English aristocracy of a century ago. An enduring message of individuality.
The singing was uniformly good with an outstanding performance by Matthew Worth in the title role. In a rather monochromatic role, Worth's Wingrave voiced many shades and subtleties of the music, truly triumphing. He demonstrated for me how exactly a singer should convey the musical intentions of the composer. I should say he sang well, but what I mean is that Matthew Worth made the music more alive for me than anything else. I didn't notice the odd set of moving staircases too much nor fret over the underwhelming libretto. I simply reveled in beautifully interesting Britten extremely well sung.
The other singer I would be ashamed not to mention is Matt Boehler. He sympathetically portrayed a sympathetic character very warmly.
The great musical accomplishments surely stem from the conducting of Steuart Bedford, the original conductor of the work. After hearing him interviewed on WFMT, I knew I would admire his work. I was right! These kudos could be better borne out by specific examples, I suppose, yet the evidence was all aural: bringing together the voices and instruments, highlighting and shaping the music, all the things conductors do (or are supposed to do).
Much ado has rightly been made of the appearance of this operatic rarity by this enterprising company. All of Britten's work remains important and relevant, even though Owen Wingrave may not be among his top ten. After all, even Mozart's La Finta Giardiniera remains in the repertoire.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
COT's La Tragedie de Carmen
A reoccurring theme for me this year has been KNOW YOUR GENRES. By that I mean that almost everything falls into some category or other, usually by design. The latest show from the Chicago Opera Theater has a very well-designed look, feel, and genre: film noir.
Grand opera it ain't nor was meant to be, as my somewhat disappointed colleagues from the suburbs discovered. They were perhaps expecting a red velvet cape and dancing gypsies, but expectations were, indeed, challenged. (Expectations is another theme of the year to be considered more at a later date, but I was not disappointed by the look and sound of this Carmen in the least.)
Opera On The Edge, as it were, is different from the Lyric's edgiest. Chicago Opera Theater often employs young singers, on the road to established careers but not yet at Placido Domingo's level. The handful of productions I've seen there have never been of a traditional ilk-- no white-powdered wigs. This is infinitely more of a European influence as well as an appeal to the proverbial thinking person. After all, there is a challenge in all art of any merit, and Chicago Opera Theater is challenging and very artistic at all times.
OK, OK, about the show: it is strange. Sir Peter Hall's adaptation rearranges the familiar musical numbers and, as pointed out by the Tribune's von Rhein:
While opera may not be known for the layered characters of theater, one usually finds subtext in the music. Not so in this rendition: the four principal characters were reduced to the archetypal innocent, destroyer, lover, and egoist (crossing psych genres, I know!). The program notes make all this sound very reasonable and attractive, yet this Carmen presents itself as a drama accompanied by familiar hit tunes.
With so much of the music based on dance forms of the times and region (I'm thinking Flamenco-esque), I did wonder if a dance historian should be considered. This is obviously true of any Carmen production, but I was more keenly aware of this because of the bare-boned orchestra and lack of chorus.
Sandra Piques Eddy sang the title role with a most lustrous voice and seemed to have the rhythms in her body. She was a cut above all the other singers, who were merely fine. Young singers often lack the commitment that experience brings but good direction can help them accomplish so much. Which in turn delights the audience, right?
The simple set worked very well in abstract and symbol. Chris Binder's lighting design (he also did the Clemenza) was perfection! Usually the audience doesn't notice lighting unless a performer misses the mark or something goes awry. This show was so well lit that I was prompted to remember the same splendor in Clemenza: not subtle, almost campy, yet precisely perfect for the drama. Again, the film noir genre always had high-contrast lighting.
I wonder how a little Luis Bunuel surrealism would go with this adaptation? Ah, well, another genre for another time!
Grand opera it ain't nor was meant to be, as my somewhat disappointed colleagues from the suburbs discovered. They were perhaps expecting a red velvet cape and dancing gypsies, but expectations were, indeed, challenged. (Expectations is another theme of the year to be considered more at a later date, but I was not disappointed by the look and sound of this Carmen in the least.)
Opera On The Edge, as it were, is different from the Lyric's edgiest. Chicago Opera Theater often employs young singers, on the road to established careers but not yet at Placido Domingo's level. The handful of productions I've seen there have never been of a traditional ilk-- no white-powdered wigs. This is infinitely more of a European influence as well as an appeal to the proverbial thinking person. After all, there is a challenge in all art of any merit, and Chicago Opera Theater is challenging and very artistic at all times.
OK, OK, about the show: it is strange. Sir Peter Hall's adaptation rearranges the familiar musical numbers and, as pointed out by the Tribune's von Rhein:
this Cliff's Notes "Carmen" reduces complex characters to schematic ciphers. There's no emotional development, since everything whizzes past at lightning speed, removed from a cogent dramatic context.
With so much of the music based on dance forms of the times and region (I'm thinking Flamenco-esque), I did wonder if a dance historian should be considered. This is obviously true of any Carmen production, but I was more keenly aware of this because of the bare-boned orchestra and lack of chorus.
Sandra Piques Eddy sang the title role with a most lustrous voice and seemed to have the rhythms in her body. She was a cut above all the other singers, who were merely fine. Young singers often lack the commitment that experience brings but good direction can help them accomplish so much. Which in turn delights the audience, right?
The simple set worked very well in abstract and symbol. Chris Binder's lighting design (he also did the Clemenza) was perfection! Usually the audience doesn't notice lighting unless a performer misses the mark or something goes awry. This show was so well lit that I was prompted to remember the same splendor in Clemenza: not subtle, almost campy, yet precisely perfect for the drama. Again, the film noir genre always had high-contrast lighting.
I wonder how a little Luis Bunuel surrealism would go with this adaptation? Ah, well, another genre for another time!
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