Author: Philip Gardner

Moffo & Merrill ~ LA TRAVIATA @ The Met

~ Author: Oberon

By chance, I came upon this lovely Louis Melançon photo (above) of Anna Moffo and Robert Merrill in Verdi’s LA TRAVIATA in the Met’s 1966 Cecil Beaton production of the Verdi classic, which evoked in me memories of their partnership in this opera. From Moffo”s debut in 1959 til her final Met appearance in a staged opera there in 1976, they sang these roles together 50 times with the Company, in New York and on tour. They also made a beautiful recording of the opera together for RCA. Listen to a portion of their Act II duet here.

Moffo’s 1959 Met debut came at The Old Met in the Tyrone Guthrie production. On September 24th, 1966, during the second week at the New Met, Cecil Beaton’s lavish production opened with Moffo, Merrill, and tenor Bruno Prevedi in the leading roles. Georges Prêtre was on the podium. I saw the Moffo Violetta four times, twice with Merrill as Germont, and twice with Mario Sereni, who was very good in the role, and a less ‘wooden’ actor than Merrill.

Above: Moffo as Violetta in the scene at Flora’s party

Anna Moffo had two Saturday matinee broadcasts of TRAVIATA in the Beaton production, nine months apart. For me, they offered tell-tale signs of what would be the diva’s eventual vocal decline. In the first broadcast, on March 25th, 1967, she sounded fantastic: the voice lyrical and free-flowing, the top gorgeous, the drama expressed thru colour rather than force: in sum, one of her great performances.

During June, 1967, I saw two more Moffo Violettas (one with Merrill, the second with Sereni) and she was very impressive indeed, receiving huge ovations. I met her at the stage door; she was extremely beautiful in person, and very kind.

On December 30, 1967, Moffo had her second matinee broadcast in the Beaton production. I was very excited to be seeing her onstage again, but from her very first line – “Flora, amici, la notte che resta...” – something had changed. On “…che resta..” she really leaned heavily on the low notes, sounding almost chesty. I was still a novice opera-lover at that time, but alarm bells went off. Moffo continued to pressurize her lower notes throughout the first act, but the coloratura and high notes of “Sempre libera” seemed fine.

During the intermission, I asked a fellow Moffo fan if her vocalism that day was worrisome to him; he felt she was making an effort to sound more ‘dramatic’, and he didn’t feel panicky about it. The soprano continued singing in this manner for the rest of the opera, and – since the drama gets increasingly intense as the story unfolds – we heard these big, juicy lower notes from Moffo throughout the afternoon.

As it turned out, I never saw Anna Moffo on The Met stage again after that, though she continued singing there for nearly a decade. On February 1, 1969, came the disastrous LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR broadcast, which I listened to in disbelief, which gave way to despair. The voice was wildly unpredictable: woozy in the middle, over-ripe in the lower range, and screamy at the top. Awkwardly, I ran into her in the Met lobby a couple of weeks afterward and she recognized me; she asked if I had heard the LUCIA broadcast, and I gave a neutral response. She said she had been ill that day, but that now things were back to normal.

I cannot say for certain whether she ever regained peak form again, but from reports from friends, she was not singing with the lustre and ease we’d come to expect from her. Her later recordings are so sad…I cannot listen to them.

In 1975, TJ and I – living in Hartford – tuned in for her broadcast of Nedda in PAGLIACCI. Moffo sounded dreadful, the voice unsupported. “What is she thinking?” I asked TJ. “I guess she feels she still has something to offer,” he replied.

In 1979, I was still living in Hartford (but no longer with TJ) when Moffo came to The Bushnell to sing MERRY WIDOW in English. I decided to go, and always regretted it afterwards.

Anna Moffo and Robert Merrill reunited on the Met stage one last time for the Met’s 100th Anniversary Gala on October 22, 1983. They sang the duet “Sweethearts“ from Sigmund Romberg’s MAYTIME. The audience greeted them affectionately, and they managed to get thru their duet without mishap.

I hadn’t intended to delve into the story of Moffo’s decline when I posted the photo at the top of the article; I prefer simply to remember her lovely performances from the first decade of her Met career. But one thing led to another once I started writing.

One of the most moving passages in her performances as Violetta was her farewell to Alfredo in Act II, when she thinks she will never see him again. In the Beaton production, this was staged so that Violetta came downstage while sustaining the top B-flat and sank to her knees, clasping Alfredo’s hand. Here is the phrase – “Amami, Alfredo…!” as Ms. Moffo sang it at La Scala in 1964:

Anna Moffo – Amami Alfredo! ~ TRAVIATA (Live)

And here is Moffo at her best, from a commercial arias compilation, conducted by Sir Colin Davis:

Anna Moffo – TRAVIATA ~ Act I scena (commercial recording)

~ Oberon

March 18, 2020
Moffo & Merrill ~ LA TRAVIATA @ The Met

~ Author: Oberon

By chance, I came upon this lovely Louis Melançon photo (above) of Anna Moffo and Robert Merrill in Verdi’s LA TRAVIATA in the Met’s 1966 Cecil Beaton production of the Verdi classic, which evoked in me memories of their partnership in this opera. From Moffo”s debut in 1959 til her final Met appearance in a staged opera there in 1976, they sang these roles together 50 times with the Company, in New York and on tour. They also made a beautiful recording of the opera together for RCA. Listen to a portion of their Act II duet here.

Moffo’s 1959 Met debut came at The Old Met in the Tyrone Guthrie production. On September 24th, 1966, during the second week at the New Met, Cecil Beaton’s lavish production opened with Moffo, Merrill, and tenor Bruno Prevedi in the leading roles. Georges Prêtre was on the podium. I saw the Moffo Violetta four times, twice with Merrill as Germont, and twice with Mario Sereni, who was very good in the role, and a less ‘wooden’ actor than Merrill.

Above: Moffo as Violetta in the scene at Flora’s party

Anna Moffo had two Saturday matinee broadcasts of TRAVIATA in the Beaton production, nine months apart. For me, they offered tell-tale signs of what would be the diva’s eventual vocal decline. In the first broadcast, on March 25th, 1967, she sounded fantastic: the voice lyrical and free-flowing, the top gorgeous, the drama expressed thru colour rather than force: in sum, one of her great performances.

During June, 1967, I saw two more Moffo Violettas (one with Merrill, the second with Sereni) and she was very impressive indeed, receiving huge ovations. I met her at the stage door; she was extremely beautiful in person, and very kind.

On December 30, 1967, Moffo had her second matinee broadcast in the Beaton production. I was very excited to be seeing her onstage again, but from her very first line – “Flora, amici, la notte che resta...” – something had changed. On “…che resta..” she really leaned heavily on the low notes, sounding almost chesty. I was still a novice opera-lover at that time, but alarm bells went off. Moffo continued to pressurize her lower notes throughout the first act, but the coloratura and high notes of “Sempre libera” seemed fine.

During the intermission, I asked a fellow Moffo fan if her vocalism that day was worrisome to him; he felt she was making an effort to sound more ‘dramatic’, and he didn’t feel panicky about it. The soprano continued singing in this manner for the rest of the opera, and – since the drama gets increasingly intense as the story unfolds – we heard these big, juicy lower notes from Moffo throughout the afternoon.

As it turned out, I never saw Anna Moffo on The Met stage again after that, though she continued singing there for nearly a decade. On February 1, 1969, came the disastrous LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR broadcast, which I listened to in disbelief, which gave way to despair. The voice was wildly unpredictable: woozy in the middle, over-ripe in the lower range, and screamy at the top. Awkwardly, I ran into her in the Met lobby a couple of weeks afterward and she recognized me; she asked if I had heard the LUCIA broadcast, and I gave a neutral response. She said she had been ill that day, but that now things were back to normal.

I cannot say for certain whether she ever regained peak form again, but from reports from friends, she was not singing with the lustre and ease we’d come to expect from her. Her later recordings are so sad…I cannot listen to them.

In 1975, TJ and I – living in Hartford – tuned in for her broadcast of Nedda in PAGLIACCI. Moffo sounded dreadful, the voice unsupported. “What is she thinking?” I asked TJ. “I guess she feels she still has something to offer,” he replied.

In 1979, I was still living in Hartford (but no longer with TJ) when Moffo came to The Bushnell to sing MERRY WIDOW in English. I decided to go, and always regretted it afterwards.

Anna Moffo and Robert Merrill reunited on the Met stage one last time for the Met’s 100th Anniversary Gala on October 22, 1983. They sang the duet “Sweethearts“ from Sigmund Romberg’s MAYTIME. The audience greeted them affectionately, and they managed to get thru their duet without mishap.

I hadn’t intended to delve into the story of Moffo’s decline when I posted the photo at the top of the article; I prefer simply to remember her lovely performances from the first decade of her Met career. But one thing led to another once I started writing.

One of the most moving passages in her performances as Violetta was her farewell to Alfredo in Act II, when she thinks she will never see him again. In the Beaton production, this was staged so that Violetta came downstage while sustaining the top B-flat and sank to her knees, clasping Alfredo’s hand. Here is the phrase – “Amami, Alfredo…!” as Ms. Moffo sang it at La Scala in 1964:

Anna Moffo – Amami Alfredo! ~ TRAVIATA (Live)

And here is Moffo at her best, from a commercial arias compilation, conducted by Sir Colin Davis:

Anna Moffo – TRAVIATA ~ Act I scena (commercial recording)

~ Oberon

March 17, 2020
Antonín Švorc

Above: Antonín Švorc as the Flying Dutchman; photo by Oldrich Pernica

Antonín Švorc was a Czech operatic bass-baritone. He studied at the Prague Conservatory, making his professional opera debut in 1955, and joined the roster of principal artists at the National Theatre in Prague in 1956. In 1962, Švorc debuted with the Prague State Opera where he performed for the next several decades. In 1985 he was named a People’s Artist of Czechoslovakia. After retiring from the stage, he taught at the Prague Conservatory. He passed away in 2011.

Antonín Švorc’s repertory was vast indeed. In addition to singing in many Czech operas (including those of Dvořák and Smetana), his oles in the standard repertory included Verdi’s Amonasro, Iago, Nabucco, and Simon Boccanegra, Wagner’s Dutchman, Hans Sachs, Wotan, Kurvenal, Telramund, and Donner; Strauss’s Jochanaan, Orest, and Barak, as well as Scarpia, Alfio, Don Pizarro, Prince Igor, and Boris Godunov.

Above: Antonín Švorc as Simon Boccanegra; photo by Jaromir Svoboda

Czech soprano Ludmila Dvořáková joins her compatriot, Antonín Švorc, in a recording of the final scene of DIE WALKURE (sung in Czech) here.

Švorc gives a dramatic reading of the opening portion of the Dutchman’s monolog….

Antonín Švorc – Flying Dutchman ~ monolog

…and in Berlin in 1967, he sang Orestes opposite Ingrid Steger’s Elektra, conducted by Otmar Suitner. Here is part I of the Recognition Scene from that performance:

Ingrid Steger & Antonín Švorc – ELEKTRA – Recognition Scene ~ Part I – Berlin 1967

~ Oberon

March 17, 2020
Janis Martin as Kundry

The American soprano Janis Martin was my first Kundry; she was also my first Sieglinde and Marie in WOZZECK. She was a featured singer at the Bayreuth Festival from 1968 to 1989 where she appeared in nine different roles: Magdalene, Fricka, Eva, the Second Norn, Gutrune, Kundry, Freia, Sieglinde, and Brünnhilde. She returned in for the 1995 and 1997 festivals, again as Kundry.

Janis Martin sang nearly 150 performances at the Metropolitan Opera, commencing in 1962 as Flora Bervoix in TRAVIATA. As a young opera-lover, I heard her many times on the Texaco broadcasts. She eventually progressed to “medium-sized” roles: Siebel, Nicklausse, Lola in CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA. Hearing her in these roles (in which she excelled), one would not have anticipated how her career would develop.

Ms. Martin left The Met in 1965 to build a career abroad, moving into soprano territory. She returned to The Met from 1974 thru 1977, when I saw her as Kundry, Marie in WOZZECK, and Sieglinde. Following another hiatus, she was back at Lincoln Center from 1988-1992, singing the Witch in HANSEL & GRETEL, the Dyer’s Wife in FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN, Senta, the Foreign Princess in RUSALKA, and two performances of Tosca.

Here is Ms. Martin as Kundry in a scene from the 1973 Bayreuth production of PARSIFAL; Jean Cox sings the title-role, with Eugen Jochum conducting:

Janis Martin – Ich sah das kind ~ PARSIFAL – with Jean Cox – Bayreuth 1973

~ Oberon

March 15, 2020
Jean Cox ~ Heldentenor

A native of Alabama, tenor Jean Cox studied with Marie Sundelius at the New England Conservatory and made his operatic debut at Spoleto as Rodolfo in LA BOHEME. In the early 1950s, Cox built his repertory and reputation at Kiel and Mannheim.

The tenor made his Bayreuth debut in 1956 as the Steersman in FLIEGENDE HOLLANDER; he returned to the Festival as Lohengrin in 1967 and went on to sing there until 1984, taking on the Siegfrieds, Erik in HOLLANDER, Parsifal, and Walther in MEISTERSINGER.

At other major opera houses, Cox sang Otello, Herod in SALOME, Bacchus in ARIADNE AUF NAXOS, Max in DER FREISCHUTZ, Gherman in PIQUE-DAME, and Captain Vere in BILLY BUDD. In 1976, Jean Cox made his Met debut as Walther von Stoltzing in a series of performances of DIE MEISTERSINGER in New York City and on tour. This was the sum total of his Met career.

Jean Cox was married to the British mezzo-soprano Anna Reynolds, a noted interpreter of Bach and Wagner, and one of my very favorite singers. Following their retirement from the stage, the couple opened a vocal academy where they trained singers from all over the world. While I was working at Tower Records in the early 2000s, I met two students from this academy. I asked them to give Ms. Reynolds a message from me; I wonder if they ever did.

Jean Cox passed away in 2012 at Bayreuth; he was 90 years old. Ms. Reynolds died two years later.

Enjoy this rare film clip of Jean Cox and the great basso Gottlob Frick in excerpts from Smetana’s BARTERED BRIDE and Weinberger’s SCHWANDA THE BAGPIPER.

And here are some audio samplings of Jean Cox singing at the Bayreuth Festival.

Jean Cox – Die Meistersinger ~ Prize Song

Jean Cox as Parsifal – finale of the opera – Bayreuth 1973

~ Oberon

February 28, 2020
Gregory Feldmann|Nathaniel LaNasa @ Weill Hall

~ Author: Oberon

Thursday February 27th, 2020 – Baritone Gregory Feldmann, recipient of the 2019 Joy in Singing Art Song Award, in recital at Weill Hall. Pianist Nathaniel LaNasa was the singer’s collaborator in a program of songs by composers whose music was suppressed under the Nazi regime.

The program was particularly timely, living as we are during a period when our own government seems hellbent on destroying our democracy. It’s ironic that we fought Facism in the 1940s – and that in recent years we have sent our soldiers into harm’s way in faraway lands, purportedly to bring democracy and freedom to the oppressed – only to find our country is now under threat from within. With these thoughts in mind, tonight’s concert became much more than just another lieder recital.

Mssrs. Feldmann and LaNasa, looking dapper in black bow-ties, took the stage to a hearty welcome from the packed house. The first half of their program was given over to songs by such well-remembered composers as Kurt Weill, Franz Schrecker, Alexander von Zemlinsky, and Erich Korngold.

Kurt Weill’s cabaret-style “Berlin im Licht” opened the evening. Weill had been living in Paris – and then in New York – since 1933. But this song was composed for the Berlin Festival of September 1928 (ten years after Germany’s humiliation in World War I); that event marked a resurgence of German pride in its cultural endurance that would eventually fuel Hitler’s rise to power. Tonight, Mr. Feldmann and Mr. LaNasa gave the song a swinging, optimistic treatment.

Franz Schreker had died in 1934, but his music was still proscribed by the Third Reich. In three Schrecker songs, the musical attributes of this evening’s two artists came to the fore. In the Straussian style of “Und wie mag die Liebe“, Mr. Feldmann’s handsome lyric baritone – and his persuasive way with words – assured us we were in for a great deal of very fine vocalism tonight. Of equal appeal was Mr.LaNasa’s playing, especially in the song’s postlude.

The partnership of the two musicians made for a luminous “Sommerfäden”, wherein the duo showed an affinity for Viennese-style melody. The shimmering piano introduction was enticingly played by Mr. LaNasa; this song has a rapturous mid-section, and then a big, operatic outpouring where Mr. Feldmann’s voice rang true.

“Stimmen des Tages” is darkish and unsettled at first; mood swings carry the two musicians thru to a passionate passage. Following a pause, the song resumes as if from the start. The gorgeous piano postlude was a treat in itself in Mr. LaNasa’s rendering.

Four Alexander von Zemlinsky songs were most congenial to the Feldmann voice. The composer, who had moved to Vienna in 1933 and then on to New York City in 1938, was largely forgotten in Germany. His songs have long attracted great singers, and in the first three tonight – “Tod in Ähren“, “Nun schwillt der See so bang “, and “Entbietung” – singer and pianist were simply superb. “Tod in Ähren” stood out for me: following its big opening from the keyboard, it becomes a lament. Both musicians were so persuasive in this song’s gentle lyricism, and in the tenderness of farewell.

The final Zemlinsky offering, “Afrikanischer Tanz” (African Dance), was a complete change of pace: aggressive and blood-stirring! Mssrs. Fedmann and LaNasa caught the mood perfectly, and the song drew a whooping response from the crowd.

Erich Korngold, best-known of the evening’s composers (well, aside from Kurt Weill), was famous for his opera DIE TOTE STADT and for his film scores. He was already established in Hollywood by the time World War II broke out. Tonight we heard a set of four Korngold songs, of which the last – “Vesper” – was of particular appeal, with the piano’s repetitive notes evoking the evening chimes, and a vocal line that took the singer into his upper range. The song’s sustained ending was wonderfully evocative.

Following the interval, works by a trio of less fortunate composers: both Viktor Ullmann and Pavel Haas were sent to Theresienstadt, and then on to Auschwitz where they both perished in 1944, whilst Haans Eisler faced trials of a different sort.

Ullman’s Liederbuch von Hafis consists of four songs, in which jazz influence can be felt. In the bouncy and ironic “Vorausbestimmung”, the music goes deep before one final bounce from the keyboard. In the following song, “Betrunken” (Drunk), agitation finds a lull before proceeding on its droll trajectory.

Mr. Fedmann’s lower range settled in nicely for “Unwiderstehliche Schönheit” (Irresistible Beauty), perhaps the most interesting of the Ullmann set: the piano takes up a trudging motif, a sort of tongue-in-cheek march. It is briefly interrupted by some bright, tinkling keyboard phrases before the pacing resumes. This leads immediately into the final song,”Lob des Weines” (In Praise of Wine), a salute to intoxication. Mssrs. Feldmann and LaNasa certainly had fun with this cycle.

Pavel Haas, who was Czech, drew on ancient Chinese texts for his Four Songs on Chinese Poetry; their sensual nature immediately won the label “degenerate”, and they offered so much fascination tonight as singer and pianist drew us along Haas’s musical pathway.

The songs are full of longing – for home and for loved ones – which must have seemed all too poignant to Pavel Haas, who left his wife and child behind when he was deported. A recurring motif in the songs is a four-note musical ‘message’, referring to the Chorale to St. Wenceslaus: representing home and freedom, this small token would have been meaningful to other Czech prisoners at Terezín.

In these four songs, Mssrs. Feldmann and LaNasa covered a wide spectrum of rhythmic, melodic, and poetic moods. Lines such as “My home is so far away…” and “My yearning keeps me awake…” seemed so poignant, and were so thoughtfully expressed tonight. But all is not gloomy, for the final song – “A Sleepless Night” – suddenly gives way to the sound of a magpie chattering at dawn, depicted by the pianist.

A native of Leipzig, Haans Eisler spent the war years in Hollywood, where he was a successful composer of film score. His troubles came later, when he was investigated by the House Un-American Activities Committee; his own sister denounced him as a Communist. Eisler was deported in 1948.

It was with Eisler’s “Friedenlied” (Peace Song) that the concert tonight ended. With a folkish feeling, this ballad sets forth a vision of hope. Despite a very annoying cellphone interruption, Mssrs. Feldmann and LaNasa carried on, with the pianist savouring a final postlude.

A Zemlinsky encore was the performers’ response to a very enthusiastic ovation.

These observations by the evening’s two artists are truly meaningful:

“When we memorialize victims of atrocities such as World War II,” wrote Mr. LaNasa, “we must also remember the conditions that led to such horrors, and the voices of those who tried to tell the world what they feared was approaching.” And Mr. Feldmann said, “We want to commemorate the lives and work of these artists by giving our audience the opportunity to respond to their work. The oppressors of their day prevented society from hearing these words and scores, and it’s a privilege for us to thwart that mission with music that is so beautiful and potent.”

The vociferous applause at the end of the concert indicated that the price these composers paid is not to be forgotten…and that they live on thru their music.

~ Oberon

February 27, 2020
Cherylyn Lavagnino Dance ~ Gallery

Above: dancers Gwendolyn Gussman and Malcolm Miles Young in TRIPTYCH; photo by Charles Roussel

Photographer Chares Roussel has produced a beautiful portfolio of images from Cherylyn Lavagnino’s production TALES OF HOPPER, given at the DiMenna Center on February 25th and 26th, 2020. You can read about the event here. Below is a selection of Mr. Roussel’s photographs from this wonderful evening of dance.

The program opened with TALES OF HOPPER, a series of danced vignettes inspired by eight of the artist’s paintings:

Justin Faircloth

Sharon Milanese

Sharon Milanese

Malcolm Miles Young, Dervia Carey-Jones, Philip Strom

Lila Simmons and Oscar Rodriguez

Lila Simmons and Oscar Rodriguez

Kristen Foote and Malcolm Miles Young

Justin Faircloth and Corinne Hart

Corinne Hart, Justin Faircloth, Claire Westby

Claire Westby

Emma Pajewski and Malcolm Miles Young

Following the interval, TRIPTYCH, a ritualistic ballet, was preformed:

Justin Faircloth and Emma Pajewski

The ensemble

The women in TRIPTYCH

The men in TRIPTYCH

Malcolm Miles Young, Gwendolyn Gussman, Dervia Carey-Jones

Oscar Rodriguez and Justin Faircloth

Dervia Carey-Jones

Gwendolyn Gussman and Malcolm Miles Young

VEILED was the closing work:

VEILED is a ballet for six women

Emma Pajewski in VEILED

The ensemble

Claire Westby in VEILED

~ All photographs by Charles Roussel

February 26, 2020
GrahamDeconstructed: CIRCE

Above: So Young An as Circe, with Lorenzo Pagano as The Snake and Lloyd Mayor, perched in Noguchi’s tree, as The Lion; photo by Melissa Sherwood

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday February 26th, 2020 – A revival of Martha Graham’s CIRCE will figure prominently in the Company’s 2020 season at New York’s City Center, which runs from April 22nd – 26th (details here).

Premiered in 1963, CIRCE has not been performed for fifteen years. To a score by Alan Hovahness, and with settings designed by Isamu Noguchi, the ballet is inspired by the mythic Circe, a sorceress with a penchant for turning men into animals.

Circe – or characters modeled after her – has appeared in various theatrical representations over time. She is often given the name Alcina, as in Francesca Caccini’s opera LA LIBERAZIONE DI RUGGIERO (the first opera written by a woman that has come down to us in a performable version); dell’Arte Opera presented this work in 2019. Handel’s opera ALCINA is rumored to be having its first Metropolitan Opera production in the next two or three years. And Circe plays a part in the narrative of my favorite opera, Richard Strauss’s ARIADNE AUF NAXOS, although she never actually appears. The young god Bacchus has escaped Circe’s island domain, and as he sails towards Naxos – where he will rescue Ariadne – he chides the sorceress by calling out to her across the waves:

Circe kannst du mich hören ~ ARIADNE AUF NAXOS – Ben Heppner & Deborah Voigt

Tonight, at the Graham Company’s homespace at Westbeth, a full run-thru of the work – replete with the Noguchi sets – was presented, with So Young An in the title role and six of Martha’s Men as those who have fallen under her spell or those she would like to add to her menagerie. It was an exhilarating experience.

Alan Hovanhess’s score is intriguing: by turns lyrical and dramatic, it also sometimes going off-kilter, indicating that things are far from normal in Circe’s realm. The composer makes fine use of solo instruments, notably the trumpet, horn, clarinet, and oboe. You can listen to the music here.

The Noguchi setting features a small boat and an archway which might also be a tree. These were designed for an earlier Graham work, FRONTIER, which had fallen out of the repertoire. Ms. Graham kept the set pieces in storage until she found the perfect home for them on Circe’s island.

So Young An was supple and tempting as Circe; the character’s magic resides in a flowing red scarf which she dons when it is seduction time. Ulysses (Lloyd Knight) and his Helmsman (Ben Schultz) arrive at the island in the very cramped boat. Circe observes them from her perch in the arch/tree.

Above: Lorenzo Pagano (The Snake), Alessio Crognale (The Deer) So Young An (Circe), Lloyd Mayor (The Lion), and Jacob Larsen (The Goat). Photo by Melissa Sherwood.

Above: Jacob Larsen as The Goat; photo by Melissa Sherwood

Four men who have been transformed by Circe into animals now take an interest in the new arrivals: enslaved by the sorceress, they will aid her in bringing about the downfall of Ulysses and his comrade. Lorenzo Pagano as The Snake first appears dangling from the tree; Lloyd Mayor is The Lion, Alessio Crognale The Deer, and Jacob Larsen The Goat. All the men in this ballet wear very little; I think that’s the way Martha liked her men. These dancers dispatched the demanding choreography with élan.

Above: Lloyd Knight as Ulysses, photo by Melissa Sherwood

As the story unfolds, it comes down to a battle between Circe, bent on conquest, and the Helmsman, who wants to save Ulysses and get the hell out of there. The red scarf nearly works its magic: Ulysses is falling under Circe’s spell. Hunkered down in the boat, the Helmsman is attacked by the Snake and sinks into a stupor.

Above, Deer, Goat, and Lion: Alessio Crognale, Jacob Larsen, and Lloyd Mayor, photo by Melissa Sherwood

The other animals stalk and caper, driving the victim into the enchantress’s arms. Just as Ulysses is about the capitulate, the Helmsman revives, hauls his master into the boat, and they sail away. Circe and her pets must now wait for someone else to succumb to the lure of her siren song.

Danced with the technical prowess and personal commitment that make the Graham dancers the best in the world, CIRCE truly does cast a spell. I look forward to seeing it again, often, and to having it become part of the Company’s permanent repertory.

All photos by Melissa Sherwood.

~ Oberon

February 26, 2020
Cherylyn Lavagnino’s TALES OF HOPPER

Above: dancers Justin Faircloth, Corinne Hart, and Claire Westby in Cherylyn Lavagnino’s TALES OF HOPPER; photo by Charles Roussel

~ Author: Oberon

{Note: this article has been updated with production photos by Charles Roussel}

Tuesday February 25th, 2020 (dress rehearsal) – Today, choreographer Cherylyn Lavagnino kindly invited me to attend the dress rehearsal of her newest creation: TALES OF HOPPER. It’s a collaboration between Ms. Lavagnino and composer Martin Bresnick, inspired by the works of the American painter Edward Hopper. Two earlier works from Ms. Lavagnino’s treasure chest were also on the bill: Triptych and Veiled.

Hoping to get the clearest possible vision of the Hopper piece, I had asked the choreographer if I might attend the dress rehearsal rather than a performance so that my concentration would be unbroken. As a further enhancement, I had earlier watched a studio rehearsal of one of the ballet’s solos danced by Sharon Milanese; Ms. Milanese’s dancing that afternoon really moved me, and made me eager to see the entire piece. Although a dress rehearsal, the participating dancers and musicians were all at performance level.

This evening’s musicians: Elly Toyoda, Lisa Moore, and Ashley Bathgate; photo by Charles Roussel

TALES OF HOPPER is a dance-theater work in which eight of Edward Hopper’s Americana masterpieces are brought to life. Mr. Bresnick’s original score is performed live – and excellently – by Lisa Moore (piano), Elly Toyoda (violin), and Ashley Bathgate (cello). Transparent set pieces, designed by Jesse Seegers, are re-configured to suggest the locale and mood of each of the Hopper paintings. The set changes are carried out by the dancers during blackouts between the vignettes. Frank DenDanto III created the lighting designs, and Christopher Metzger designed the ‘period’ costumes (the Hopper period, that is: the 30s thru the 60s); both gentlemen get top marks for their work, which were key elements in the evening’s success.

A Prologue opens TALES OF HOPPER; violin and piano are heard in music with a nostalgic air; the cello soon joins in. All of the Company’s dancers take part, costumed as the ‘characters’ they will eventually play.

Sharon Milanese (above) appears as the woman in Hopper’s 1952 painting Morning Star. As the lights come up, the dancer is slowly awakening. The music is thoughtful, and Ms. Milanese – a compelling dancer with a strong theatrical sensibility – is perfect as this restless and vulnerable creature. The music becomes quite passionate; as the lights fades, the dancer is left to her thoughts.

Above: Emma Pajewski, Phil Strom, Gwendolyn Gussman, and Dervia Carey-Jones in People of the Sun

Five dancers bring folding chairs to the stage for People of the Sun, Hopper’s 1960 painting showing a group of people enjoying the sunshine on a patio as they gaze out over an open field. The silence is broken by brief commentary from the violin, and by quiet laughter from Gwendolyn Gussman; she, Dervia Carey-Jones, Emma Pajewski, Malcolm Miles Young (reading a book), and Philip Strom constantly re-align their chairs so as to get the full benefit of the sunshine.

Justin Faircloth (above) has a solo vignette in the 1940 painting Gas, wherein a young service station attendant fritters away his time between customers by bouncing a ball. The piano offers jagged chords, the cello rocks gently, the violin stammers. The attendant pumps gas, gives a car wash, tinkers with an under-body. Then he hits the floor for some pushups.

Above: Lila Simmons and Oscar Rodriguez in The Office at Night

A plucking cello interlude takes us to the Office at Night (1940) where a secretary (Lila Simmons) and her boss (Oscar Rodriguez) are carrying on an after-hours affair. A mysterious dropped document is a bone of contention between them; they are alternately amorous and antagonistic. They embrace, have a steamy duet, and find tenderness at the end.

The magnetic Kristen Foote (above) is a cinema usherette in NY Movie (1940). Aside from some latecomers, the audience is already enjoying the film, and the usherette is biding her time by occasionally breaking into dance steps or miming lines from the movie.

Above: the duet from NY Movie, with Ms. Foote and Malcolm Miles Young

Pensive music heralds the appearance of a handsome man (Malcolm Miles Young) who is perhaps real or perhaps a silver-screen illusion. They dance a romantic/passionate duet; a brooding atmosphere develops musically, and the usherette resumes her solitary post. This might have been my favorite “Hopper tale” tonight, but I think if I were to see the piece repeatedly, I would probably favor a different episode every time.

Above: Justin Faircloth and Claire Westby in Sunlight in a Cafeteria

Sunlight in a Cafeteria (1958) commences with shimmering piano sounds. Justin Faircloth is nursing a cup of coffee when Claire Westby saunters past, intentionally dropping a glove. Justin is captivated. Then the openly provocative woman passes her admirer a note…and wanders off.

Above: Justin Faircloth and Corinne Hart in Nighthawks

With Nighthawks (1942), Ms. Lavagnino continues the ‘story’ of Sunlight. As Justin’s wife (or girlfriend), Corinne Hart (fetching in a deep green frock, which sets off her auburn hair) has found Claire’s note; the music (cello and piano) has a searching quality. Feeling betrayed, Ms. Hart confronts Mr. Faircloth: their romance breaks down. Claire Westby returns, and, after a tense trio, Justin chooses Claire over Corinne.

Above: Claire Westby in Automat

Automat (1927) extends the story line of the two previous movements to its finish. Ms. Westby, disheveled and run down, is alone with a cup of coffee. What’s transpired in the interim, we don’t know. Claire’s gorgeous flower-flecked dress – now rumpled – reveals her legs as she rolls about on the floor in a sensual frenzy. She finally composes herself and again sits alone. The dancers now all return to the stage for a final tableau which unites the characters of all the eight tales of Hopper.

Following the interval, the stage has been cleared for Cherylyn’s ballets Triptych (excerpt – 2012) and the 2016 Veiled. Both works explore spirituality in different contexts, and they looked wonderful in this open and finely-lit space…and both were beautifully danced.

Above: from Triptych

Triptych is performed to the music of François Couperin: his Troisième Leçon à deux voix). With the men of the Company aligned upstage, Claire Westby performs a quiet solo with expressive port de bras; Claire prepares us for the entrance of the women – Dervia Carey-Jones, Gwendolyn Gussman, Emma Pajewski, and Lila Simmons – each a unique beauty and personality. The men – Mssrs. Faircloth, Strom, Young, and Rodriguez – come forward now, and Ms. Carey-Jones distinctively leads off a series of dances.

A duet for Malcolm Miles Young and Gwendolyn Gussman has a rapturous quality, whilst Emma Pajewski and Justin Faircloth’s lyrical partnering is poignantly musical. A pas de quatre for Mlles. Carey-Jones, Gussman, Westby, and Pajewski follows: they are dancing in a state of grace. A pas de trois joins Lila Simmons, a dancer whose wide-ranging emotional palette always captures my attention, with Phil Strom and Justin Faircloth. Ms. Carey-Jones joins this trio, leading on to a finale for the full cast. Of Triptych tonight, I wrote in my notes: “…a slice of Heaven.”

Above: from Veiled

The notion of Heaven was sustained as the evening concluded with Veiled, a dance for female ensemble set to Martin Bresnick’s Josephine the Singer, performed by violinist Elly Toyoda. Danceworks that speak of sisterhood always end up fascinating me, and I found Veiled to be a particularly engrossing experience: one of those ballets I could watch over and over.

The women are prostrated as Veiled ballet commences, with Ms. Todaya’s violin sounding in its highest range. As the piece unfolds, rituals of prayer, supplication, and consolation pass before our eyes; the atmosphere is paradoxically intense and calming.

I can’t find words to sufficiently praise the six women who danced Veiled tonight: Mlles. Carey-Jones, Gussman, Hart, Pajewski, Simmons, and Westby each had an inner glow that made them captivating to watch. Two duets passages – one for Claire Westby and Corinne Hart and another for Lila Simmons and Emma Pajewski – particularly moved me, but in fact everything about this ballet resonated richly.

After a series of brief, fleeting solos, the women form a circle; then they dance in a stylized chain, holding hands. The violin shivers, a prelude to hesitant lyricism that finally reaches unearthly high notes. As the light fades, the women huddle; they seem wary, but also safe in the community of sisters.

Near the end of Veiled, Emma Pajewski (above), kneeling in prayer with an expression of hope on her lovely face, became an iconic image for me. In this Year of the Women, Ms. Lavagnino’s Veiled is truly something to behold.

All photos in this article are by Charles Roussel. A gallery of additional production images from Mr. Roussel may be viewed here.

~ Oberon

February 26, 2020
Cherylyn Lavagnino’s TALES OF HOPPER

Above: dancers Justin Faircloth, Corinne Hart, and Claire Westby in Cherylyn Lavagnino’s TALES OF HOPPER; photo by Charles Roussel

~ Author: Oberon

{Note: this article has been updated with production photos by Charles Roussel}

Tuesday February 25th, 2020 (dress rehearsal) – Today, choreographer Cherylyn Lavagnino kindly invited me to attend the dress rehearsal of her newest creation: TALES OF HOPPER. It’s a collaboration between Ms. Lavagnino and composer Martin Bresnick, inspired by the works of the American painter Edward Hopper. Two earlier works from Ms. Lavagnino’s treasure chest were also on the bill: Triptych and Veiled.

Hoping to get the clearest possible vision of the Hopper piece, I had asked the choreographer if I might attend the dress rehearsal rather than a performance so that my concentration would be unbroken. As a further enhancement, I had earlier watched a studio rehearsal of one of the ballet’s solos danced by Sharon Milanese; Ms. Milanese’s dancing that afternoon really moved me, and made me eager to see the entire piece. Although a dress rehearsal, the participating dancers and musicians were all at performance level.

This evening’s musicians: Elly Toyoda, Lisa Moore, and Ashley Bathgate; photo by Charles Roussel

TALES OF HOPPER is a dance-theater work in which eight of Edward Hopper’s Americana masterpieces are brought to life. Mr. Bresnick’s original score is performed live – and excellently – by Lisa Moore (piano), Elly Toyoda (violin), and Ashley Bathgate (cello). Transparent set pieces, designed by Jesse Seegers, are re-configured to suggest the locale and mood of each of the Hopper paintings. The set changes are carried out by the dancers during blackouts between the vignettes. Frank DenDanto III created the lighting designs, and Christopher Metzger designed the ‘period’ costumes (the Hopper period, that is: the 30s thru the 60s); both gentlemen get top marks for their work, which were key elements in the evening’s success.

A Prologue opens TALES OF HOPPER; violin and piano are heard in music with a nostalgic air; the cello soon joins in. All of the Company’s dancers take part, costumed as the ‘characters’ they will eventually play.

Sharon Milanese (above) appears as the woman in Hopper’s 1952 painting Morning Star. As the lights come up, the dancer is slowly awakening. The music is thoughtful, and Ms. Milanese – a compelling dancer with a strong theatrical sensibility – is perfect as this restless and vulnerable creature. The music becomes quite passionate; as the lights fades, the dancer is left to her thoughts.

Above: Emma Pajewski, Phil Strom, Gwendolyn Gussman, and Dervia Carey-Jones in People of the Sun

Five dancers bring folding chairs to the stage for People of the Sun, Hopper’s 1960 painting showing a group of people enjoying the sunshine on a patio as they gaze out over an open field. The silence is broken by brief commentary from the violin, and by quiet laughter from Gwendolyn Gussman; she, Dervia Carey-Jones, Emma Pajewski, Malcolm Miles Young (reading a book), and Philip Strom constantly re-align their chairs so as to get the full benefit of the sunshine.

Justin Faircloth (above) has a solo vignette in the 1940 painting Gas, wherein a young service station attendant fritters away his time between customers by bouncing a ball. The piano offers jagged chords, the cello rocks gently, the violin stammers. The attendant pumps gas, gives a car wash, tinkers with an under-body. Then he hits the floor for some pushups.

Above: Lila Simmons and Oscar Rodriguez in The Office at Night

A plucking cello interlude takes us to the Office at Night (1940) where a secretary (Lila Simmons) and her boss (Oscar Rodriguez) are carrying on an after-hours affair. A mysterious dropped document is a bone of contention between them; they are alternately amorous and antagonistic. They embrace, have a steamy duet, and find tenderness at the end.

The magnetic Kristen Foote (above) is a cinema usherette in NY Movie (1940). Aside from some latecomers, the audience is already enjoying the film, and the usherette is biding her time by occasionally breaking into dance steps or miming lines from the movie.

Above: the duet from NY Movie, with Ms. Foote and Malcolm Miles Young

Pensive music heralds the appearance of a handsome man (Malcolm Miles Young) who is perhaps real or perhaps a silver-screen illusion. They dance a romantic/passionate duet; a brooding atmosphere develops musically, and the usherette resumes her solitary post. This might have been my favorite “Hopper tale” tonight, but I think if I were to see the piece repeatedly, I would probably favor a different episode every time.

Above: Justin Faircloth and Claire Westby in Sunlight in a Cafeteria

Sunlight in a Cafeteria (1958) commences with shimmering piano sounds. Justin Faircloth is nursing a cup of coffee when Claire Westby saunters past, intentionally dropping a glove. Justin is captivated. Then the openly provocative woman passes her admirer a note…and wanders off.

Above: Justin Faircloth and Corinne Hart in Nighthawks

With Nighthawks (1942), Ms. Lavagnino continues the ‘story’ of Sunlight. As Justin’s wife (or girlfriend), Corinne Hart (fetching in a deep green frock, which sets off her auburn hair) has found Claire’s note; the music (cello and piano) has a searching quality. Feeling betrayed, Ms. Hart confronts Mr. Faircloth: their romance breaks down. Claire Westby returns, and, after a tense trio, Justin chooses Claire over Corinne.

Above: Claire Westby in Automat

Automat (1927) extends the story line of the two previous movements to its finish. Ms. Westby, disheveled and run down, is alone with a cup of coffee. What’s transpired in the interim, we don’t know. Claire’s gorgeous flower-flecked dress – now rumpled – reveals her legs as she rolls about on the floor in a sensual frenzy. She finally composes herself and again sits alone. The dancers now all return to the stage for a final tableau which unites the characters of all the eight tales of Hopper.

Following the interval, the stage has been cleared for Cherylyn’s ballets Triptych (excerpt – 2012) and the 2016 Veiled. Both works explore spirituality in different contexts, and they looked wonderful in this open and finely-lit space…and both were beautifully danced.

Above: from Triptych

Triptych is performed to the music of François Couperin: his Troisième Leçon à deux voix). With the men of the Company aligned upstage, Claire Westby performs a quiet solo with expressive port de bras; Claire prepares us for the entrance of the women – Dervia Carey-Jones, Gwendolyn Gussman, Emma Pajewski, and Lila Simmons – each a unique beauty and personality. The men – Mssrs. Faircloth, Strom, Young, and Rodriguez – come forward now, and Ms. Carey-Jones distinctively leads off a series of dances.

A duet for Malcolm Miles Young and Gwendolyn Gussman has a rapturous quality, whilst Emma Pajewski and Justin Faircloth’s lyrical partnering is poignantly musical. A pas de quatre for Mlles. Carey-Jones, Gussman, Westby, and Pajewski follows: they are dancing in a state of grace. A pas de trois joins Lila Simmons, a dancer whose wide-ranging emotional palette always captures my attention, with Phil Strom and Justin Faircloth. Ms. Carey-Jones joins this trio, leading on to a finale for the full cast. Of Triptych tonight, I wrote in my notes: “…a slice of Heaven.”

Above: from Veiled

The notion of Heaven was sustained as the evening concluded with Veiled, a dance for female ensemble set to Martin Bresnick’s Josephine the Singer, performed by violinist Elly Toyoda. Danceworks that speak of sisterhood always end up fascinating me, and I found Veiled to be a particularly engrossing experience: one of those ballets I could watch over and over.

The women are prostrated as Veiled ballet commences, with Ms. Todaya’s violin sounding in its highest range. As the piece unfolds, rituals of prayer, supplication, and consolation pass before our eyes; the atmosphere is paradoxically intense and calming.

I can’t find words to sufficiently praise the six women who danced Veiled tonight: Mlles. Carey-Jones, Gussman, Hart, Pajewski, Simmons, and Westby each had an inner glow that made them captivating to watch. Two duets passages – one for Claire Westby and Corinne Hart and another for Lila Simmons and Emma Pajewski – particularly moved me, but in fact everything about this ballet resonated richly.

After a series of brief, fleeting solos, the women form a circle; then they dance in a stylized chain, holding hands. The violin shivers, a prelude to hesitant lyricism that finally reaches unearthly high notes. As the light fades, the women huddle; they seem wary, but also safe in the community of sisters.

Near the end of Veiled, Emma Pajewski (above), kneeling in prayer with an expression of hope on her lovely face, became an iconic image for me. In this Year of the Women, Ms. Lavagnino’s Veiled is truly something to behold.

All photos in this article are by Charles Roussel. A gallery of additional production images from Mr. Roussel may be viewed here.

~ Oberon

February 25, 2020