Category: Ballet

Pontus Lidberg’s UNE AUTRE PASSION

Photo by Gregory Batardon

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday April 24th, 2018 – Ballet du Grand Théâtre de Genève have brought Swedish choreographer Pontus Lidberg’s abstract take on Johann Sebastian Bach’s Saint Matthew Passion – UNE AUTRE PASSION – to The Joyce.

Pontus’s trademark flowing – and fluent – choreography is beautifully executed by the Geneva dancers, and – needless to say – the music is sublime. The audience seemed literally enthralled by the production, in which some stunning underwater film segments add a striking visual dimension.

Pontus turns to the classic 1959 Karl Richter recording of the Saint Matthew Passion, featuring the legendary Dietrich Fisher-Dieskau and the no less marvelous Hertha Töpper; the choreographer excludes the recitatives, assembling a soundscape of choruses and arias. He does not attempt a narrative of the story of Christ’s final hours, but rather an abstract essay in movement on the theme of the Passion, full of desire, uncertainty, and consolation.

At curtain-rise, six tall white panels form a wall at the back of the dancing area. Overhead, shadowy clouds hover and moonlight pierces the gloom. The dancers emerge, all in white: their skirts, trousers, shirts, and tank-tops are not gender-specific. They dance en ensemble.

The moveable panels become part of the choreography as the dancers slide them about the space; illusions are conveyed when one dancer vanishes behind a moving panel to be replaced by another as the panel slips away. The wall re-forms and the dancers crash into it.

Now the film begins: white mannequins stand under the water as a nude man swims lyrically among them…could the swimmer be the choreographer himself? From time to time, the film continues throughout the ballet. The mannequins get dis-assembled, and later the ‘lamb of god’ appears to float by in the guise of a stuffed creature.

The panels are transformed into slides, the dancers sliding down while colleagues dance a stylized ritual; solo passages, and a male ensemble, continue the endless fluidity of movement. A luminous passage shows the dancers in silhouette, like a living frieze. This gives way to a walking motif as groups of dancers cross the space – urgently – in regimented order.

At the heart of UNE AUTRE PASSION is a pas de deux performed to the great aria ‘Erbarme dich‘, sung by Ms. Töpper. The couple (I’m sorry to say I am not sure of the dancers’ names) move hypnotically; the woman has a solo and then they are reunited, only to part again. Then the man dances alone, seeking among the moving panels until he finds her again.

Now one by one the dancers remove their outer garments. The movement is stylized, filled with gestures of supplication. From solo and duet phrases, the dancers slowly assemble, lying in a row upon the floor along the side of the space. The panels are then formed into a wall, enclosing the bodies. A single man now seeks entry into this repository of souls; a second man prevents him, and their duet becomes yet another memorable passage in this deeply moving ballet.

The dancers re-assemble in a swaying motion; a male solo follows as the music becomes a hymn. The voice of Dietrich Fisher-Dieskau fills the space as we wait breathlessly to see how this Passion will conclude. The wall now stands along stage left, and the dancers approach it – at first walking, then running, then rushing. They pound on the surface, pray before it, collide with it, collapse at its feet: but the wall remains impenetrable.

“We are living through a very hard time, our gift is to be alive,” said Pontus Lidberg in an interview during the creation of UNE AUTRE PASSION. In this ballet, Bach’s immortal music and the poetry of the dance that it has evoked feel like an affirmation of life: a refuge of beauty in a darkening world.

The ballet ends with a naked man standing before the paneled wall. Has he been shut out of heaven, or does his vulnerable presence mark the dawn of a new day, freed of the hypocrisy, hatred, and oppression that have undermined the great religions?

~ Oberon

April 25, 2018
Pontus Lidberg’s UNE AUTRE PASSION

Photo by Gregory Batardon

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday April 24th, 2018 – Ballet du Grand Théâtre de Genève have brought Swedish choreographer Pontus Lidberg’s abstract take on Johann Sebastian Bach’s Saint Matthew Passion – UNE AUTRE PASSION – to The Joyce.

Pontus’s trademark flowing – and fluent – choreography is beautifully executed by the Geneva dancers, and – needless to say – the music is sublime. The audience seemed literally enthralled by the production, in which some stunning underwater film segments add a striking visual dimension.

Pontus turns to the classic 1959 Karl Richter recording of the Saint Matthew Passion, featuring the legendary Dietrich Fisher-Dieskau and the no less marvelous Hertha Töpper; the choreographer excludes the recitatives, assembling a soundscape of choruses and arias. He does not attempt a narrative of the story of Christ’s final hours, but rather an abstract essay in movement on the theme of the Passion, full of desire, uncertainty, and consolation.

At curtain-rise, six tall white panels form a wall at the back of the dancing area. Overhead, shadowy clouds hover and moonlight pierces the gloom. The dancers emerge, all in white: their skirts, trousers, shirts, and tank-tops are not gender-specific. They dance en ensemble.

The moveable panels become part of the choreography as the dancers slide them about the space; illusions are conveyed when one dancer vanishes behind a moving panel to be replaced by another as the panel slips away. The wall re-forms and the dancers crash into it.

Now the film begins: white mannequins stand under the water as a nude man swims lyrically among them…could the swimmer be the choreographer himself? From time to time, the film continues throughout the ballet. The mannequins get dis-assembled, and later the ‘lamb of god’ appears to float by in the guise of a stuffed creature.

The panels are transformed into slides, the dancers sliding down while colleagues dance a stylized ritual; solo passages, and a male ensemble, continue the endless fluidity of movement. A luminous passage shows the dancers in silhouette, like a living frieze. This gives way to a walking motif as groups of dancers cross the space – urgently – in regimented order.

At the heart of UNE AUTRE PASSION is a pas de deux performed to the great aria ‘Erbarme dich‘, sung by Ms. Töpper. The couple (I’m sorry to say I am not sure of the dancers’ names) move hypnotically; the woman has a solo and then they are reunited, only to part again. Then the man dances alone, seeking among the moving panels until he finds her again.

Now one by one the dancers remove their outer garments. The movement is stylized, filled with gestures of supplication. From solo and duet phrases, the dancers slowly assemble, lying in a row upon the floor along the side of the space. The panels are then formed into a wall, enclosing the bodies. A single man now seeks entry into this repository of souls; a second man prevents him, and their duet becomes yet another memorable passage in this deeply moving ballet.

The dancers re-assemble in a swaying motion; a male solo follows as the music becomes a hymn. The voice of Dietrich Fisher-Dieskau fills the space as we wait breathlessly to see how this Passion will conclude. The wall now stands along stage left, and the dancers approach it – at first walking, then running, then rushing. They pound on the surface, pray before it, collide with it, collapse at its feet: but the wall remains impenetrable.

“We are living through a very hard time, our gift is to be alive,” said Pontus Lidberg in an interview during the creation of UNE AUTRE PASSION. In this ballet, Bach’s immortal music and the poetry of the dance that it has evoked feel like an affirmation of life: a refuge of beauty in a darkening world.

The ballet ends with a naked man standing before the paneled wall. Has he been shut out of heaven, or does his vulnerable presence mark the dawn of a new day, freed of the hypocrisy, hatred, and oppression that have undermined the great religions?

~ Oberon

April 24, 2018
More From The Lubovitch 50th @ The Joyce

Above: The Joffrey Ballet’s Fabrice Calmels in Lar Lubovitch’s Othello; photo by Herbert Migdoll

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday April 21st matinee – Continuing the celebration of the 50th anniversary of the Lar Lubovitch Dance Company at The Joyce, four dancers from The Joffrey flew in to perform excerpts from Lar’s 1997 full-length ballet, Othello, while Lubovitch Company members offered three distinctively different works by the choreographer. It was a first-rate afternoon of dance all round.

Little Rhapsodies (dating from 2007) is a gem of a dancework: to the delightful Symphonic Études, Opus 13, of Robert Schumann, three men – Jonathan Emanuell Alsberry, Reed Luplau, and Benjamin Holliday Wardell – trade solos and dance in unison.

At curtain rise, the dancers are seen in silhouette. They dance together, in a folkish vein. Then the solos begin: Mr. Wardell is a gorgeous and expressive mover; the ever-brilliant Mr. Alsberry is winningly whimsical and blithely balletic; and Mr. Luplau with a lightness of touch, breezy turns, and copious charisma. Music and movement are happily meshed in a pas de trois, followed by more solos: Mr. Wardell something of a revelation; Mr. Luplau amazingly swift, sure, and supple; Mr. Alsberry effortlessly combining the dynamic and the lyrical. The trio dance on to a fun finish.

Dance companies worldwide should snap up Little Rhapsodies: a perfect ballet to show off the male virtuosos on your roster.

Othello: A dance in three acts is Lar Lubovitch’s 1997 full-length ballet, choreographed to a score by Elliot Goldenthal. In excerpts from Act III, guest artists Fabrice Calmels, Victoria Jaiani, Temur Suluashvili, and Rory Hohenstein of the Joffrey Ballet danced the final pages of the tragedy with a compelling sense of theatre.

In a claustrophobic black chamber, Mr. Calmels’ downcast, glowering Moor sits on his black throne. The supplicant Cassio (Mr. Hohenstein, his hands bound) and the conniving Iago (Mr. Suluashvili) get under his skin whilst the incredibly lovely and vulnerable Ms. Jaiani as Desdemona seems unaware of her impending doom. The chilly music says it all.

Ms. Jaiani has a solo, her en pointe dancing a vision of grace. Mr. Calmels, his towering stature taking over the stage, displays the anguish of his mixed emotions. In a love/hate duet, he caresses his wife one moment and seems repulsed by her the next.

Mr. Suluashvili’s handsome, conniving Iago now continues his machinations to about bring about Othello downfall: in their dramatic scene, Mr. Calmels leaps onto the arms of his throne as Suluashvili’s Iago cowers beneath the Moor’s wrath (above, in a Cheryl Mann photo). Then the fatal handkerchief is produced. In this scene, composer Elliot Goldenthal makes marvelous use of the saxophone.

Eerie music accompanies Ms. Jaiani’s return as Desdemona. Then the composer conjures up an ominously cinematic setting for the final combat between husband and wife. Othello quickly prevails, and – true to Shakespeare’s immortal words – ‘I kissed thee ere I killed thee’ – passionately kisses Desdemona as he strangles her with the handkerchief.

As the four Joffrey dancers received resounding applause, I was recalling my only previous encounter with the Jaiani/Calmels partnership: they danced in Edwaard Liang’s Woven Dreams at Fall for Dance in 2011. They were splendid then, and splendid today.

Something About Night, Lar’s newest creation, was premiered earlier in the week. I liked the piece a lot at its first performance but, as so often happens, a second viewing today made an even stronger impression. The gently ecstatic duet for Nicole Corea and Tobin Del Cuore really cast a spell today, and Brett Perry’s solo was nothing less than sublime. Belinda McGuire and Barton Cowperthwaite had less to do than I might have wished, but Barton still had Men’s Stories ahead of him, wherein his performance brought down the house.

Men’s Stories: A Concerto in Ruin (above, in a Nan Melville photo) closed the performance on a mighty note. The cast was the same as that of the opening night, and they all outdid themselves. Stunningly-danced solos by Reed Luplau, Jonathan Emanuell Alsberry, Anthony Bocconi, and Barton Cowperthwaite – and an epic performance from Benjamin Holliday Wardell – kept the level of excitement sky-high, whilst Colin Fuller, Matthew McLaughlin, Brett Perry, and Lukasz Zięba all looked great and danced their hearts out.

The poignant, darkling, magically masculine world of Men’s Stories kept the audience in a rapt state of involvement, its musical mélange endlessly evocative. As waves of applause swept thru the house, the dancers took several bows before Mr. Lubovitch joined them onstage to a barrage of cheers. Happy 50th, Lar!!

Friends and fans gathered on the lower level after the show; I loved seeing Gabrielle Lamb again, having a long chat with Nicole Corea, meeting Fabrice Calmels, and congratulating JJ, Barton, Reed, and Brett. When Mr. Lubovitch quietly walked thru the backstage door, the crowd burst into spontaneous applause.

~ Oberon

April 21, 2018
Marina Prudenskaya

Born in St. Petersburg, Marina Prudenskaya’s career has centered at Stuttgart (2007-2013) and more recently at the Berlin State Opera. Her vast repertoire has included Bradamante (Alcina), Clitemnestre (Iphigénie en Aulide), Adalgisa (Norma), Fenena (Nabucco), Federica (Luisa Miller), Amneris (Aida), Carmen, Waltraute (Götterdämmerung), Octavian, Azucena, Eboli, Ulrica, Venus in Tannhäuser, Brangäne (Tristan und Isolde), Lyubasha (The Tsar’s Bride), Marie (Wozzeck), Composer (Ariadne auf Naxos), Hansel, and Mother Goose (The Rake’s Progress).

She has sung at La Scala, the Mariinsky, and Bayreuth, and in 2017 she sang Amneris at Washington DC. Ms. Prudenskaya caught my attention while watching a DVD of Rheingold from La Scala, conducted by Daniel Barenboim: as Flosshilde (a role she’s also sung at Bayreuth), the mezzo sings lushly and moves with the grace of a dancer.

Marina Prudenskaya – Rimsky-Korsakov ~ Across the Midnight Sky

March 25, 2018
Celebrating Michael Trusnovec @ Paul Taylor

Above: Michael Trusnovec

~ Author: Oberon

Friday March 23rd, 2018 – This evening, at Mr. B’s House, we celebrated Michael Trusnovec’s 20th anniversary with the Paul Taylor Dance Company. Michael, one of the greatest dancers of our time, danced in all three works on tonight’s program. No one who has ever experienced a Michael Trusnovec performance needs to be told about his classically handsome face, his to-die-for physique, his complete command of every role he’s cast in, his peerless partnering skills, his musicality, his generosity of spirit, and his humble grace in acknowledging big ovations. All of this was wonderfully in evidence tonight. To be a star in an all-star Company, and to dance night after night the works of a master choreographer: what more could a dancer ask?

The three ballets on offer tonight were strongly contrasted in music, movement, and style. The program showed off the vast range of the Taylor dancers, and their priceless gift for keeping the Taylor masterworks ever-fresh whilst being ready, willing, and able to tackle new choreography and make it their own.

Above: from Doug Varone’s HALF LIFE, a Paul B Goode photo

Doug Varone’s HALF LIFE, set to a score by Julia Wolfe, with lighting by James Ingalls and costumes designed by Liz Prince, opened the evening. This ballet premiered earlier this season. It begins with Eran Bugge and George Smallwood dancing in-sync, in silence, on a bare stage with over-head fluorescent lighting. Then the music begins: vibrant and driven, it propels the dancers into a veritable whirlwind of motion and commotion. Fear seems to be the driving force behind all this activity as they dash about, full of apprehension, making fleeting contact with one another before rushing off in another direction. Terror has descended upon them as they push and pull, fall and rise, entangle and break free, twist, turn, and fling themselves about the space. Periodically, a dancer will raise his arm towards heaven, imploring god’s intervention. Like billions of prayers down the centuries, these remain unanswered.

The fluorescent lights have turned to a toxic, lurid yellow as they begin to descend, flattening the space as the dancers run away, hopefully to a fallout shelter. The lights sputter out.

HALF LIFE might be viewed as a ballet for the new nuclear age that threatens us now as today’s world leaders seem to be moving towards a “my bomb’s bigger than your bomb” mentality. While Mr. Varone’s choreography – so relentless, filled with an almost random dynamism – is exciting to behold in and of itself, watching the dancers thru my strong opera glasses added another whole dimension: their intense facial expressions, the fear and wariness in their eyes, and their desperation to communicate with one another brought the panic and dread of these uncertain times into sharp focus. HALF LIFE isn’t just a bunch of people rushing about with manic energy, but a commentary on the human condition as our planet experiences a second Age of Anxiety.

There were countless passages in which to focus on the individual dancers; clad in simple off-the-rack style clothing, they all look beautiful, even in their distress. The men – Mr. Trusnovec, Robert Kleinendorst, Sean Mahoney, Michael Novak, Mr. Smallwood, Lee Duveneck, and Alex Clayton – flung themselves into fast-paced moves and tricky, split-second partnering. Yet my opera glasses were continually lured by the women: Michelle Fleet, Parisa Khobdeh, Eran Bugge, Laura Halzack, and Heather McGinley. Ms. McGinley, the Company’s knockout redhead, danced up a storm. They all did, in fact.

There was a gigantic roar of applause as the curtain fell, and as pairs of dancers stepped forward during the bows, screams of epic proportion filled the hall: all so eminently deserved. At a time when so much new choreography seems simply to be going thru the motions, Mr. Varone – richly abetted by Ms. Wolfe’s tumultuous score – gives us an unnervingly timely piece. The dancers took it and ran with it. Thrilling!

Above: Parisa Khobdeh and Michael Trusnovec in EVENTIDE, a Paul B Goode photo

EVENTIDE, one of Taylor’s most lyrical works, unfolds before a backdrop of hazy trees on a late-Summer afternoon in the English countryside. The Ralph Vaughan Williams score brought forth idyllic playing from the Orchestra of St Luke’s and violist David Cerutti.

The ensemble dance a graceful and courtly Prelude, then individual couples appear in a series of duets. In the first, Parisa Khobdeh and Michael Trusnovec summon feelings of slightly hesitant tenderness; it finishes with Ms. Khobdeh perched on Mr. Trusnovec’s shoulder. There’s a bit of playfulness in the second duet, with Jamie Rae Walker and Sean Mahoney clearly attracted to one another but not quite sure of how to express it. I really like their partnership.

In a gorgeous, adagio/pas de quatre Heather McGinley and Michael Novak simply radiate gentle romance, Ms. McGinley’s eyes sweetly downcast so as not to be blinded by the handsomeness of her cavalier, whilst Mr. Novak shows a quiet pride at having such a distinctive beauty as Ms. McGinley on his arm. It’s a duet of mutual admiration and reassurance.

Deep and heartfelt emotion seems to fill the air as Laura Halzack and James Samson danced together in sublime harmony, casting tender looks into one another’s eyes; a moment when Laura simply touched James’s cheek was just unbearably lovely. This stage has been home to some very charismatic partnerships – Suzanne and Peter, Wendy and Jock – but few have moved me as much as watching Laura and James together this season.

A shadow falls over the meadow as Eran Bugge enters, wary but oddly hopeful: she’s being pursued by a quietly predatory Robert Kleinendorst, and as their duet ends, Robert leaves Eran on her own…a very significant moment, as she is both safe but perhaps also just a bit sorry. Together, Eran and Rob told this story so expressively.

Heather McGinley and Michael Novak bring a sense of open-hearted richness to their second duet. It’s a long pas de deux, but with these two dancing it could have been twice as long and remained thoroughly mesmerizing. Finally Ms. Khobdeh and Mr. Trusnovec re-appear in a poignant pas de deux, finding solace in their romance: elegant and sustaining dance, awash with fond devotion.

EVENTIDE concludes with an extended promenade for the entire cast. As ever, this ballet left me musing on my own romantic choices over the years, filled with notions of what might have been.

CLOVEN KINGDOM is a ballet I never tire of seeing. It was given a magical glow tonight, with everyone incredibly finding an extra iota of energy, commitment, and inspiration in honor of their colleague, Mr. Trusnovec.

Michelle Fleet, Jamie Rae Walker, Eran Bugge, and Parisa Khobdeh ease thru high-toned samba sways one minute, and then they’re flipping cartwheels the next. I just loved watching them thru my trusty binocs. Laura Halzack and Christina Lynch Markham are bound together by some mythic spell: we don’t quite know what their story is, but I never tire of trying to figure it out. Madelyn Ho periodically flashes across the stage in pursuit of Heather McGinley, who remains confidently self-absorbed as she carries on with her jetés.

Tonight, Mr. Trusnovec had Mssrs. Samson, Apuzzo, and Smallwood as his fellow tuxedoed teammates for the men’s pas de quatre that’s at the epicenter of this cloven kingdom. Their fearless athleticism and bizarre rituals underscore the Spinoza quote that always accompanies this ballet’s listing in the Playbill: “Man is a social animal.”

A whooping ovation greeted the first CLOVEN KINGDOM curtain call, a full-cast bow. Then the curtain rose again with Mr. Trusnovec alone onstage, clutching a huge bunch of flowers. Massive applause and cheers: the audience simply went crazy as Michael’s fellow dancers pelted him with bouquets from the wings.

Of Michael Trusnovec, Robert Gottlieb wrote in the New York Observer: “He’s the greatest male dancer we’ve had in America since Mikhail Baryshnikov, with whom he shares an immense range and a selfless devotion to his art. Trusnovec never demands your attention, but he always has it.” I couldn’t agree more.

~ Oberon

March 23, 2018
Through The Great War @ CMS

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday February 20th, 2018 – When I was in school, The Great War was rather glossed over by my history teachers; they always seemed to focus on World War II, which had ended just two decades before I graduated from high school. But my sixth grade teacher made us study World War I, which he felt had been a “stupid war” in that it solved nothing in itself but set the stage for Adolf Hitler’s rise. My teacher had served in World War II, and one day he brought in some big picture books which included horrific photos from the liberated concentration camps. This was my introduction to the Holocaust: those images have haunted me ever since as my first encounter with “man’s inhumanity to man”. My sixth grade teacher teacher eventually committed suicide.

This article helped me put The Great War in context by relating it to the world situation some 100 years on. For a more personal view of life during the war years, Vera Brittain’s TESTAMENT OF YOUTH – and the deeply moving film based on it – brings the lives (and deaths) of men who served and the women who waited for them vividly to life.

The glory and horror of wars thru the centuries have inspired works in all forms of literature and art, from poems to operas to paintings and architectural monuments. Wartime has given rise to great music, much of it painfully beautiful. It was just such music that we heard tonight at Alice Tully Hall as Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center presented works by Hungarian, French, and English composers written during the time of the Great War.

Above: composer Ernő Dohnányi

The evening opened with Ernő Dohnányi’s Quintet No. 2 in E-flat minor for Piano, Two Violins, Viola, and Cello, Op. 26 (1914). I admit to being unfamiliar with this composer’s music, but after hearing this sumptuously-played quintet tonight, I agree completely with violinist Alexander Sitkovetsky’s remark in his program note that Dohnányi is seriously underrated. The composer, who passed away in 1960, left a sizeable catalog of works – from operas, symphonies, and concerti to chamber and solo piano pieces. Hopefully the enthusiastic reception of the quintet tonight will prompt the Society to program more of the Hungarian composer’s music in future.

Mr. Sitkovetsky was joined for this evening’s performance by fellow violinist Cho-Liang Lin, violist Paul Neubauer, cellist Keith Robinson, with Orion Weiss at the Steinway.

From its doleful – almost chantlike – opening, the Allegro non troppo moves on the pulsing of Mr. Lin’s violin to an anticipatory piano theme, in which Mr. Weiss reveled, with the strings in rich harmonies. The piano grows rhaosodic, and Mr. Sitkovetsky takes up a wistful melody, then Mssrs Neubauer and Lin carry it forward. The music elevates to the grand scale, full of passion. Blissful piano music is heard, while the sound of Paul Neubauer’s viola kept breaking my heart. Tenderness and mystery entwine towards a gentle ending.

The viola inaugurates the Intermezzo with a cordial invitation to dance, the music waltz-like with a Viennese lilt. A sprightly dance pops up, led by brilliantly decorative playing from Mr. Weiss; things turn light and witty. Over rolling waves from the piano, the violin and viola sing again. Pulsing strings lead on to a quiet finish.

The Finale opens with the lamenting song of Mr. Robinson’s cello; in canon, the viola, violin-2 and -1 fall in. The mood is somber, reflective, with dense harmonies. A reverential theme from Mr. Weiss carries us to a sublime string passage. Thru modulations, we return to the opening canon-theme. A rising tempo means rising passion, which expands only to subside into a reunion with the cello’s theme over misterioso piano. The atmosphere becomes achingly beautiful, with sweet sailing on high from the Sitkovetsky violin. Lush, rhapsodic music tears at the heart. Then comes a gentle, descending motif from the piano as the music evaporates into thin air. Magnificent playing from all, with the enraptured audience savoring every moment.

Maurice Ravel’s Le Tombeau de Couperin was originally composed for solo piano; the composer orchestrated it in 1920, and it was this version that George Balanchine used for his 1975 ballet Le Tombeau de Couperin which I have seen – and loved – countless times over the years. The music was later arranged by for wind quintet by Mason Jones, using four of the original six piano movements. It was this setting for wind instruments that we heard tonight.

With these pieces, Ravel honored the memory of six friends he’d lost to the war. But rather than convey feelings of doom or despair, the pieces are by turns charming, noble, and even witty: what wonderful people these six friends must have been to inspire such music.

Chamber Music Society put together yet another first-class ensemble for these Ravel gems: Sooyun Kim, with her flûte enchantée, Romie De Guise-Langlois (clarinet), James Austin Smith (oboe), Marc Goldberg (bassoon), and Eric Reed (horn). To say that they made beautiful music together would be an understatement.

The Prelude is wonderfully ‘busy’ music, with swirling motifs from the oboe and silvery piping from the flute. Ms. De Guise-Langlois, who gets such glamorous tone from her clarinet, always delights me – I was so happy to hear her again tonight – and the mellow bassoon and dulcet horn bring more colours to the mix. Birdsong hovers as the Fugue begins, again with the fluent playing of Mssrs. Goldberg and Reed varying from rich to subtle as the music flows along. James Austin Smith’s oboe was gracefully prominent in the Springlike Menuet, the theme taken up by the flute. Near the end, Romie’s clarinet sings as the music concludes on a rather jazzy note, with a bassoon trill. Sooyun Kim’s sparkling flute opens the Rigaudon, with Eric Reed’s horn clear and warm-toned. An interlude brings a sinuous oboe passage with a Mideastern feeling, the bassoon in a downward tread, before a brief resumption of the opening rigaudon tune comes to a quick, witty end.

Edward Elgar’s Quintet in A minor for Piano, Two Violins, Viola, and Cello, Op. 84, dating from 1918-19, begins hesitantly before weeping violins set a mood, gorgeously sustained by Mr. Robinson’s cello. A lovely slow dance develops a sense of irony from Mr. Lin’s violin. Emerging from a big tutti comes the deep voice of the cello in a descending motif: more marvelous playing from Mr. Robinson. Mr. Weiss sets out big piano statements met by agitated strings as passions arise, subsiding for phrases from viola and violin-2 (Mr. Sitkovetsky). Close harmonies and a long, out-of-the-air cello note herald yet another cello highlight, full of longing. The initial hesitancy of the movement returns before a quiet plucking signals an end.

There’s nothing quite like an Elgar Adagio, and this one finds Paul Neubauer at his most ravishing in a sustained viola theme of heartrending beauty. Continuing gorgeousness as viola, cello, and Steinway exchange phrases; Mr. Lin’s violin passage is lovely hear. The glorious mix of voices becomes overwhelming: this music goes right thru me, it’s so heartfelt as Mr. Weiss’s intoxicating playing propels it along. Turning bittersweet, and then to a hymn of peace, the vibrant, emotional playing of the five artists made this a deeply moving experience.

In the concluding Moderato-Allegro, with the developing passion of its opening, there’s a forward impetus. The ebb and flow of dynamics and harmonies is magically sustained by the players, carrying us thru a misterioso moment, a violin duet, a tremelo motif from the viola, and an animated yet poignant passage to sustain our emotional involvement. It’s the piano again that urges the music forward; a great restlessness looms up, and then subsides, only to re-bound to a triumphant yet dignified finish.

A great night of music-making, in terms of both programming and playing: just what we’ve come to expect from Chamber Music Society.

~ Oberon

February 21, 2018
PARSIFAL @ The Met

Above: the Grail revealed: Peter Mattei as Amfortas and Rene Pape as Gurnemanz in Wagner’s PARSIFAL; a Ken Howard/Met Opera photo

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday February 17th, 2018 matinee – A powerful and thoroughly absorbing matinee performance of PARSIFAL, the only Wagner in the Metropolitan Opera’s repertory this season. This dark, barren, and brooding production premiered in 2013, at which time the total absence of a Grail temple from the scenic narrative seemed truly off-putting. All of the action of the outer acts takes place out-of-doors, whilst the second act – as we were told by someone who worked on the production at the time it was new – is set inside Amfortas’s wound.

Not everything in the production works, and the desolate landscape of the final act – with its open graves – is dreary indeed. But the devotional rites of the Grail brothers in Act I and the stylized movements of the Flowermaidens in the blood-drenched ‘magic garden’ of Act II are engrossing – especially today, where I found a personal link to both scenes.

Musically, it was a potent performance despite a couple of random brass blips. Since the 2013 performances, I’ve been going to a lot of symphonic and chamber music concerts and this has greatly enhanced my appreciation of the orchestra’s work whenever I am at the opera. From our perch directly over the pit today, I greatly enjoyed watching the musicians of the Met Orchestra as they played their way thru this endlessly fascinating score.

The Met’s soon-to-be music director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, was on the podium this afternoon, and he seemed to inspire not only the orchestra, but also the principals, chorus, dancers, and supers all of whom worked devotedly to sustain the atmosphere of the long opera. While I did not feel the depth of mystery that I have experienced in past performances of this work conducted by James Levine or Daniele Gatti, in Maestro Nézet-Séguin’s interpretation the humanity of the music seemed to be to the fore. This meshes well with the physical aspects of the production, which strongly and movingly depicts the fraternity of the Grail and the desperate suffering of Amfortas. The orchestra’s poetic playing as Gurnemanz sings of the slaying of the swan was but one passage of many where I felt the music so deeply. And the transformation music of Act I was particularly thrilling to hear today.

The singing all afternoon was at a very high level, with the unfortunate exception of the Kundry of Evelyn Herlitzius. We’d previously heard her as Marie in WOZZECK, but Kundry’s music – especially in Act II – needs singing that has more seductive beauty than Ms. Herlitzius delivered. The soprano’s one spectacular vocal moment – “Ich sah Ihn – Ihn – und…lachte!“, where she tells how she had seen Christ on the cross and laughed – was truly thrilling, but not enough to compensate for her tremulous, throaty singing elsewhere.

Above: In Klingsor’s Magic Garden, tenor Klaus Florian Vogt as Parsifal; a Met Opera photo

In 2006, Klaus Florian Vogt made an unforgettable Met debut as Lohengrin, and this afternoon as Parsifal the tenor again sang lyrically in a role that is normally sung by tenors of the more helden- type. The almost juvenile sound Vogt’s voice underscored Parsifal’s innocence; this worked especially well in Act I, and also brought us some beautiful vocalism in Act II. As Kundry’s efforts to seduce become more urgent, Vogt’s singing took on a more passionate colour. In his struggle between steadfastness and capitulation, the tenor’s cry of “Erlöse, rette mich, aus schuldbefleckten Händen!” (‘Redeem me, rescue me from hands defiled by sin!’) pierced the heart with his dynamic mastery.

Kundry’s wiles fail her, and with an upraised hand, Parsifal fends off Klingsor’s spear-wielding assault. Seizing the weapon that wounded Amfortas, the young man cries out “Mit diesem Zeichen bann’ ich deinen Zauber!” (‘With this Sign I banish your magic!’); the bloody back-lighting dissolves to white and Klingsor is cast down. Turning to Kundry, Mr. Vogt’s Parsifal has the act’s final line of premonition: “Du weisst, wo du mich wiederfinden kannst!” (‘You know where you can find me again’) and he strides out into the world to commence his long, labored journey back to the realm of the Grail. In the final act, Mr. Vogt’s expressive singing was a balm to the ear, lovingly supported by the conductor and orchestra.

Above: Rene Pape as Gurnemanz, in a Ken Howard/Met Opera photo

Repeating the roles they created when this production premiered in 2013, Rene Pape (Gurnemanz) and Peter Mattei (Amfortas) were again superb. Mr. Pape now measures out his singing of this very long part more judiciously than he has in the past, at times allowing the orchestra to cover him rather than attempting to power thru. But in the long Act I monolog, “Titurel, der fromme Held…”, the basso’s tone flowed like honey; and later, at “Vor dem verwaisten Heiligtum, in brünst’gem Beten lag Amfortas...” (‘Before the looted sanctuary, Amfortas lay in fervent prayer’) Mr. Pape’s emotion-filled delivery struck at the heart of the matter. Throughout Act III, leading to the consecrational baptism of Parsifal, Mr. Pape was at his finest.

Peter Mattei’s Amfortas (in a Ken Howard/Met Opera photo above) is truly one of the great operatic interpretations I have ever experienced, for it is not only magnificently sung but acted with matchless physicality and commitment. The guilt and suffering Mr. Mattei conveys both with his voice and his body is almost unbearable to experience in its intensity and sense of reality.

After a desperate show of resistance to calls for the Grail to be revealed in Act I, Amfortas – in abject anguish – performs the rite; his strength spent, he staggers offstage and as he does so, he locks eyes with Parsifal, the man who will succeed him as keeper of the Grail: one of the production’s most telling moments. And in the final act, Mr. Mattei throws himself into the open grave of his father, Titurel, as he begs for death to release him from his eternal suffering; this horrifies the assembled Grail knights. Such moments make for an unforgettable interpretation, yet in the end it’s the Mattei voice that sets his Amfortas in such a high echelon.

Evgeny Nikitin’s Klingsor (above), creepy and thrilling in 2013, incredibly was even better in this revival. The voice was flung into the House with chilling command, and the bass-baritone’s physical domination of his bloody realm and his hapless female slaves was conveyed with grim authority. His demise was epic.

Alfred Walker sang splendidly as the unseen Titurel, and I was very glad that he appeared onstage for the bows so I could bravo him for his wonderful outpourings of tone. Another offstage Voice, that of Karolina Pilou – who repeats the prophetic line “Durch Mitleid wissend…der reine Tor!” (‘Enlightened through compassion, the innocent fool…’) to end Act I – had beauty of tone, though the amplification was less successful here.

The Squires ( Katherine Whyte, Sarah Larsen, Scott Scully, and Ian Koziara) were excellent, especially as they harmonized on the emblematic “Durch Mitleid wissend…” theme, and the Flowermaidens sounded lovely, led with ethereal vocal grace by Haeran Hong. Mark Schowalter and Richard Bernstein were capital Knights, and I must again mention Mr. Bernstein’s terrific voice and physical presence as a singer underutilized by the Met these days. His lines ths afternoon were few, yet always on the mark; and in Act III, helping to bear the shrouded body of his late lord Titurel to its grave, Mr. Bernstein seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulder.

What gave the performance a deep personal dimension for me today was finding two dancers I have known for some time – David Gonsier and Nicole Corea – onstage in Acts I and II respectively. By focusing on them – Mr. Gonsier as a young Grail knight and Ms. Corea as a delicious Blumenmädchen – the ‘choreography’ given to these two groups became wonderfully clear and meaningful.

I first spotted Mr. Gonsier seated in the circle of knights; my imagination was immediately seized by the rapture evident in his eyes. For long, long stretches of the first act, I could not tear my gaze away from him as his mastery of the reverential gestural language and the deep radiance of his facial expressions spoke truly of what it means to be a knight of the Holy Grail. Amazingly, out of all the men I might have zeroed in on among the brotherhood, Mr. Gonsier was the last of the knights to leave the stage as Act I drew to an end: he received a personal blessing from Gurnemanz and their eyes met ever-so-briefly. So deeply moving.

Ms. Corea is beloved in the Gotham danceworld for her work with Lar Lubovitch; I ran into her on the Plaza before the performance today and she assured me I’d be seeing her this Spring at The Joyce as Mr. Lubovitch celebrates his 50th anniversary of making dances. Incredibly, within two seconds of the Act II curtain’s rise on the identically clad and be-wigged Flowermaidens standing in a pool of blood, I found Nicole right in my line of vision. Both in her compelling movement and her captivating face, Nicole became the icon of this band of bewitching beauties.

Whilst hailing some of the unsung cast members of the afternoon, mention must be made of the two heroic supers who literally keep Amfortas alive and mobile, frequently taking the full weight of the ailing man as he struggles to fulfill his dreaded duties as Lord of the Grail. Great work, gentlemen!

Much of the libretto of PARSIFAL‘s outer acts today seems like religious mumbo-jumbo. It’s the music – especially the ending of Act I – that most clearly speaks to us (and even to an old atheist like me) of the possibility of God’s existence. Perhaps He has simply given up on mankind, as His name – and his word – have been sullied in recent years by those very people who claim to revere him. Wagner may have foreseen all this, as he once wrote: “Where religion becomes artificial, it is reserved for Art to save the spirit of religion.”

At the end of Act I of today’s PARSIFAL, I momentarily questioned my disbelief. But then the applause – which I’ve always hated to hear after such a spiritual scene – pulled me back to reality. I’d much rather have stayed there, in Montsalvat.

Metropolitan Opera House Saturday February 17th, 2018 matinee
PARSIFAL Richard Wagner Parsifal................Klaus Florian Vogt Kundry..................Evelyn Herlitzius Amfortas................Peter Mattei Gurnemanz...............René Pape Klingsor................Evgeny Nikitin Titurel.................Alfred Walker Voice...................Karolina Pilou First Esquire...........Katherine Whyte Second Esquire..........Sarah Larsen Third Esquire...........Scott Scully Fourth Esquire..........Ian Koziara First Knight............Mark Schowalter Second Knight...........Richard Bernstein Flower Maidens: Haeran Hong, Deanna Breiwick, Renée Tatum, Disella Lårusdóttir, Katherine Whyte, Augusta Caso
Conductor...............Yannick Nézet-Séguin

~ Oberon

February 17, 2018
Rehearsal: Miro Magloire’s New Saariaho Ballet

Above: dancers and singers unite in Miro Magloire’s new ballet, “I AM“

~ Author: Oberon

Monday February 12th, 2018 – Since I am unable to attend this weekend’s New Chamber Ballet performances, the Company’s director, Miro Magloire, invited me to a studio rehearsal this morning of his newest creation: “I Am” set to music by Kaija Saariaho and Karin Rehnqvist.

When I arrived this morning, the Saariaho portion of “I Am” was being rehearsed, with dancers Kristine Butler, Traci Finch, and Amber Neff; members of the vocal ensemble Ekmeles (Charlotte Mundy, Mary Mackenzie, and Elisa Sutherland) not only sing but participate in the choreography, and NCB’s violinist Doori Na and pianist Melody Fader were on hand to play the magical music of Ms. Saariaho.

Here are some images from today’s rehearsal of “I Am“:

Mary Mackenzie, Kristine Butler

Amber Neff, Charlotte Mundy

Amber & Charlotte

Elisa Sutherland, Traci Finch

Elisa, Charlotte, Mary, and Kristine

Traci, Amber, and Elisa

Elisa and Charlotte face-off

Elisa Sutherland

Elisa encircled

Mary & Kristine

Kristine Butler

Traci Finch, Amber Neff

Traci & Amber

Charlotte Mundy

The second part of “I Am” is set to music by Karin Rehnqvist: “Davids Nimm“, a vocal trio based on Swedish shepherdess’s calls.

Between the two parts of “I Am“, the Company will show a new ballet danced to selections from Johann Sebastian Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier. This was being rehearsed today, with Melody Fader at the piano and dancers Sarah Atkins, Elizabeth Brown, Kristine Butler, and Amber Neff:

Elizabeth Brown

Sarah Atkins, Elizabeth Brown

Amber Neff, Kristine Butler

Amber Neff, Elizabeth Brown

Kristine Butler, Sarah Atkins

Kristine Butler with Elizabeth, Amber, and Sarah

The performances will be February 16th and 17th, 2018 at the City Center Studios. For tickets, go here.

~ Oberon

February 12, 2018
Ehnes/Denève: All-Prokofiev @ The NY Phil

Above: violinist James Ehnes

~ Author: Oberon

Thursday January 25th, 2018 – A composer we love, an orchestra we love, a violinist we love, a conductor we love: my friend Dmitry and I had a great time at The New York Philharmonic tonight.

For this all-Prokofiev concert, The Love for Three Oranges Suite proved an imaginative opener. I’ve seen this opera only once, in Maurice Sendak’s clever 1985 production for New York City Opera, and enjoyed it immensely. It was wonderful to encounter this music again, especially in Stéphane Denève’s witty and wonder-filled interpretation.

The suite is in six movements, starting with Ridiculous Fellows which opens big and then gets subtle; the music is filled with a sense of irony, as is the entire opera. The Infernal Scene – a card-game played by Tchelio and Fata Morgana – sounds ominous and develops a churning feeling. Fanfares herald the famous March, which begins softly and soon struts boldly. The xylophone and muted trumpets add a toy-like sound, and the winds play over pulsing violins; this March is droll, almost tipsy. Limpid fluting from Yoobin Son delights in the Scherzo, and there’s a really lovely viola passage for Cynthia Phelps. The violins and horns play in unison. The suite ends with Flight, an allegro with an agitated air. Maestro Denève was perfectly in his element for this coloristic music, and he gallantly drew Ms. Phelps to her feet for a solo bow, graciously kissing her hand.

James Ehnes’s playing of the Prokofiev Violin Concerto No. 1 was truly ravishing. This concerto has become very familiar to me over time in Jerome Robbins’s balletic setting, Opus 19/The Dreamer, for New York City Ballet; it’s my favorite of all Robbins ballets.

The music commences with a soft shivering tingle, and the violinist takes up a plaintive melody. Mr. Ehnes plays with an innate sense of rhythmic surety and delicious subtlety of dynamics. The music is dreamlike (hence the title of the Robbins ballet) with the soloist playing over soft tremolos from the violas. From this shimmering atmosphere, the flute sings while the violinist plays in his highest range. Really luminous.

The Scherzo was taken at super speed, giving the music a wild quality. Mr. Ehnes’s superbly scrappy attacks propel things forward; the music buzzes and the violin slithers. The last movement commences with Judith LeClair’s bassoon theme, into which the solo violin insinuates itself in a melodic rise. Liang Wang’s oboe enchants, and the music grows ethereal, with an atmosphere of swooning beauty. Prokofiev brings in the high harp, and the violinst plays gliding scales. A series of delicate, jewel-like trills in the stratosphere display Mr. Ehnes’s clarity and control; the concerto ends in an iridescent glow.

Mr. Ehnes’s sustaining of the intriguingly glistening atmosphere of the final movement held the audience under his spell; a warm ovation ensued, and Maestro Denève seated himself among the players as the violinist offered a heartfelt Bach encore. Called back for yet another bow, Mr. Ehnes was hailed by all the Philharmonic string players tapping their bows in unison: a lovely gesture of musical congeniality.

Above: Stéphane Denève, in a Genevieve Caron portrait

Selections from Romeo and Juliet completed the program. Myself, I think Cinderella is the more interesting of Prokofiev’s two full-length ballet scores. But audiences never seem to tire of the familiar tunes of the composer’s setting of the Shakespeare classic, and there was much brilliant playing in this evening’s presentation; it’s music Maestro Maestro Denève clearly savours.

This cinematic score impresses from the start, where a violent opening gives way to tender delicacy. Prokofiev’s orchestration provides one delight after another; the solo clarinet, saxophone, and harp each summon up unique emotions, while a passage for flute and celeste and another for unison basses and celli are particularly ear-catching. The tender dawn music as the ‘balcony scene’ ends puts a lump in the throat every time. Although I could not glimpse all the solo players, special kudos to Liang Wang, Robert Langevin (flute), and Pascual Martinez Fortenza (clarinet). Artists of this calibre add so much to every New York Philharmonic concert.

We had greatly enjoyed our first encounter with Stéphane Denève’s conducting in 2015, when he made his Philharmonic debut in a program we still talk about. I hope he will return often in future seasons.

This evening, the orchestra welcomed the Zarin Mehta Fellows: ten young musicians from the Music Academy of the West who have spent a week in New York City participating in an immersive program covering all aspects of the life of an orchestral player. One can only imagine their excitement at being onstage and playing with the wonderful artists of the Philharmonic.

~ Oberon

January 25, 2018
Compagnie Accrorap @ The Joyce

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday January 23rd, 2018 – For their Joyce debut, Compagnie Accrorap performed The Roots, a work for eleven men created by the Company’s founder, Kader Attou, that is at once vibrant and thoughtful. For 90 minutes, to an eclectic score, the men astound us with their break-dancing skills whilst also evoking a wide range of masculine feelings: loneliness, bravado, competitiveness, and camaraderie.

The Roots begins with a man slumped in a brokedown armchair. On an old turntable, a song is playing that summons up memories. He slips the needle off the disc, and music from a ghostly piano sounds as a group of men materialize: are they out of the past, the present, or the future? We never know. But they are soon dancing up a storm.

To a musical collage devised by Régis Baillet – from his solo project Diaphane, and a spectrum of other music – the Company dance in full ensemble, in splinter groups, in in-sync trios, duets, and fantastical solos which display by turns their prodigious break-dance skills, acrobatic grace, and poignant artistry. Nadia Genez’s everyday-wear costuming at once unifies the men as a community whilst allowing ample freedom of movement. In a dilapidated living room (Olivier Boune’s design), a coffee table cunningly disguises a trampoline from which the men launch improbable aeriel feats: they are are truly at home in the air. At one point, all the furniture begins gliding about the stage. A major factor in the overall success of The Roots is Fabrice Crouzet’s expertly atmospheric lighting.

There’s a lot to take in, both sonically and in terms of movement, over the span of The Roots. In terms of risk-taking, pinpoint timing, and musicality, these dancers have everything to offer. Gentle wit keeps the audience charmed, but much of the time exhilaration is the watchword. The furniture often plays a part in the choreography, as in one of the work’s most memorable passages: a terrifically subtle tap-dance routine done on a table top, whilst the lighting makes it a shadow dance.

Above photo by João Garcia

The dancers in The Roots are Babacar “Bouba” Cissé, Bruce Chiefare, Virgile Dagneaux, Erwan Godard, Mabrouk Gouicem, Adrien Goulinet, Kevin Mischel, Artem Orlov, Mehdi Ouachek, Nabil Ouelhadj, and Maxime Vicente. Superstars individually, as a collective they are incomparable. The roar of applause that greeted their curtain calls attests to their achievement.

Above: choreographer Kader Attou, founder of Compagnie Accrorap.

This program continues at The Joyce thru Sunday, January 28th; I give it five stars. Get tickets here, or at The Joyce box office.

~ Oberon

January 23, 2018