Category: Opera

Irene Dalis Has Passed Away

Above: Irene Dalis as Herodias in SALOME

Another of my great idols from my early years of opera-going has passed away: Irene Dalis – who, after a long singing career went on to run Opera San Jose – has died at the age of 89.

In 2007, I wrote an appreciation of Dalis for my blog and a few months afterward she either found it or it was pointed out to her, and she sent me a lovely note of thanks. I still have the Christmas cards she used to send me back in the ’60s and ’70s when she was singing at The Met.

December 14, 2014
LADY MACBETH OF MTSENSK @ The Met

Saturday November 29th, 2014 matinee – My friend Dmitry and I both really like Shostakovich’s LADY MACBETH OF MTSENSK; I remember being bowled over by Catherine Malfitano’s portrayal of Katerina Ismailova back in 2000. The chance to see this season’s revival caused us to weigh the pros and cons: basically we were not sure of what to expect from Eva-Maria Westbroek – who plays Katerina this season – having not been especially thrilled with what we’d seen her do to date: a solid but un-illuminating Sieglinde and a seriously miscast Francesca da Rimini. But in the end Shostakovich won out, and we were rewarded with one of the greatest Met experiences in the past decade.

As Katerina this afternoon, Ms. Westbroek sounded rather wobbly and edgy at first, but as the performance progressed the voice became steadier (though never truly steady) and her control of it was increasingly impressive. It’s a generous voice, and in addition to some rich spinto outpourings she was able to hone the voice down to a whisper at times. As an actress, she surely threw herself unsparingly into the role, winning a roar from the crowd as she took her curtain calls.

Brandon Jovanovich was the passionate, randy, and ultimately heartless Sergei. His voice is Met-sized, warm and vigorous. Tall and handsome of physique, he tackled the physical requirements of the production with gusto, including being hoisted aloft whilst humping the cook (Holli Harrison is a spirited yet hapless portrayal). Mr. Jovanovich sings the Verdi REQUIEM with the New York Philharmonic in January: something to look forward to even more eagerly after his big success today.

As the cuckolded Zinovy, tenor Raymomd Very gave a strong vocal performance; dramatically he seemed to be thoroughly under his father’s thumb and unable to comprehend the needs and desires of his slowly-smouldering wife.

In LADY MACBETH Shostakovich provides a number of finely-crafted roles which today were seized upon by a wonderful coterie of singing actors/actresses. In particular, we had a veritable parade of bassos who plumbed the vocal depths so beloved in Russian music whilst constructing their characters with juicy, scene-grabbing theatrics. In a pair of towering characterizations, Anatoli Kotscherga as Boris and Vladimir Ognovenko (the Police Sergeant) gave object lessons in the art of operatic performing. Mr. Kortsherga was the oily, lazy, hypocritical father figure to a T; his singing had delightful tinges of liquor and sleaze, his tone ample and with a dark vibrance. Mr. Ognovenko, who for over two decades has given us great portrayals at The Met, was in thunderous voice and threw himself into the staging with great gusto. His was a major triumph today. More basso brilliance from Mikhail Kolelishvili (the ample-voiced, dancing priest), Dmitry Belosselskiy (with his deep lamenting sound in the final ‘hymn’ of the doomed prisoners); and Ricardo Lugo (making his mark as a Prison Guard).

Back in August 1982 I saw a breathtaking Beni Montresor-designed production of Cavalli’s L’ORMINDO given by Chamber Opera Theatre of New York. The two male leads were tenor Ronald Naldi and (then-) baritone Allan Glassman. Both went on to appear in many Met productions. Mr. Glassman made the transition to tenor and has sung both character and leading roles at The Met, including Herod in SALOME and Bégearss in GHOSTS OF VERSAILLES. Today he was cast as the Shabby Peasant, the man who discovers the dead body of Zinovy, setting up the arrest of Katerina and Sergei. Mr. Glassman’s singing was stentorian and superbly characterized, his stage portrayal at once manic and furtive. His scene was a highlight of the afternoon.

Oksana Volkova, an outstanding Olga in ONEGIN last season, was rich-toned as Sonyetka – how gross that she and Katerina drowned in a vat of dumped human waste! – and Kelly Cae Hogan’s clear, pointed soprano rang out nicely in her few phrases as a Convict. Tyler Duncan (Millhand) and John McVeigh (Teacher) stood out among the supporting cast.

The hero of the afternoon was conductor James Conlon (above). With both the Met orchestra and chorus on absolute peak form, Conlon shaped the spectacular Shostakovch score with extraordinary commitment, summoning forth the vast colour-range of the music and evoking stellar playing in the featured instrumental solo passages that crop up quite frequently. Conlon gave his singers ideal support, and it was his musical vision that made the performance the thrilling event that it was. After the final chord, the Maestro remained in the pit, shaking hands with many of the players.

The Graham Vick production is one of The Met’s finest, making very inventive use of the stage area (especially the trap doors!) and with countless touches to lure the eye: the disco ball in particular casts brilliant shards of light into the auditorium. Elements of the Orthodox faith are incorporated (the over-the-top grieving widows clambering up a towering pile of garbage to plant crosses whilst flagellating themselves or beating their breasts); then there are the comic-opera police force, the roistering peasants, the shirtess hunks who work for Boris. It’s a vulgar, boozy, ironic and – in the end – moving production. This afternoon’s large audience seemed mesmerized throughout, and there were very few defections at intermission. The ovation at the end was hearty (though more was really deserved) and the orchestra players remained in the pit to be hailed lustily along with James Conlon during the bows. After the final curtain fell, there were loud sounds of celebration from the stage as the cast, chorus, and crew shared in the mutual admiration of their work at the end of a successful run.

Note: The performance started about 15 minutes late due to some lighting malfunction in the pit.

Metropolitan Opera House November 29, 2014 (matinee)
LADY MACBETH OF MTSENSK Dmitri Shostakovich Katerina Ismailova......Eva-Maria Westbroek Sergei..................Brandon Jovanovich Zinovy..................Raymond Very Boris...................Anatoli Kotscherga Aksinya.................Holli Harrison Millhand................Tyler Duncan Coachman................Dustin Lucas Peasant.................Allan Glassman Steward.................Rod Nelman Porter..................Brandon Cedel First Foreman...........Kurt Phinney Second Foreman..........Daniel Clark Smith Third Foreman...........David Lowe Priest..................Mikhail Kolelishvili Chief of Police.........Vladimir Ognovenko Policeman...............Earle Patriarco Teacher.................John McVeigh Old Convict.............Dmitry Belosselskiy Sentry..................Ricardo Lugo Sonyetka................Oksana Volkova Convict.................Kelly Cae Hogan Prison Officer..........Paul Corona
Conductor...............James Conlon

November 29, 2014
At Home With Wagner VII

As Summer began to transition into Autumn, I found myself with less time for my favorite solitary pastime: listening to recordings of live performances of the operas of Richard Wagner. But I spent a long time with a 1975 Bayreuth GOTTERDAMMERUNG, re-playing certain scenes repeatedly. It’s one of the most exciting performances of that opera I’ve ever heard.

The overall majesty of this GOTTERDAMMERUNG owes a great deal to the masterful conducting of Horst Stein (above). Under his remarkable leadership, the performance drew me in from the opening chord. Not only is the great span of the work honored in all its epic magnificence, but time and again Maestro Stein illuminated what I thought were familiar passages with fresh nuances of colour or dynamic.

As the First Norn, Marga Höffgen’s voice wells up from the mysterious glow of the prelude. Höffgen (pictured above) is authoritative and she sent a shiver up my spine with the line “Die nacht weicht…” (“The night wanes…”) sung with such a prophetically gloomy resonance. Wendy Fine as the Third Norn has a strong sense of urgency in her singing, and Anna Reynolds as the Second Norn is simply superb: in voice, diction and expression she brings a thrilling dimension to this music.

Horst Stein’s spacious reading of the Dawn Music has a triumphant ring, heralding the only truly happy scene in the entire opera. Catarina Ligendza and Jean Cox as Brunnhilde and Siegfried are splendidly matched, she showing a full-bodied sense of lyricism whilst the tenor’s strong, sustained singing will be a boon to the entire performance. Stein builds the rapture of their duet exctingly, a big vocal outpouring worthy of the passions they express…passions soon doomed to betray them.

Above: Jean Cox rehearsing at Bayreuth with Wolfgang Wagner

A wonderful rocking feeling pervades Stein’s reading of the Rhne Journey; we feel like we’re in Siegfried’s boat, along for the joyride. The threesome we meet at the Gibichung Hall are as strong a trio as one could hope for: power and pride of voice from Franz Mazura (Gunther), rich lyricism from Janis Martin (Gutrune), and the start of a masterful performance of Hagen from Karl Ridderbusch.

Ms. Martin (above, with Claudio Abbado) started out singing smallish roles at The Met, eventually having a major career as a Wagnerian soprano. She was my first Sieglinde, Kundry, and Marie in WOZZECK, and she really makes her mark here as Gutrune. She, Mazura, and Ridderbusch share a strong sense of verbal detailing, keeping the dramatic situation in sizzling high-profile; Cox and Mazura are very powerful in the Blood Brotherhood scene; they sail off to the Valkyrie Rock, leaving Ridderbusch to deliver a simply magnificent rendering of Hagen’s Watch, thrillingly abetted by Maestro Stein.

Above: Anna Reynolds

The scene is now set for some truly remarkable singing in the confrontation between Brunnhilde and her sister Waltraute, played by Anna Reynolds. Ms. Reynolds is a great favorite of mine; she was my first RHEINGOLD Fricka (conducted by Herbert von Karajan at a Metropolitan Opera matinee…his only Met broadcast), and a few seasons later I had the good fortune to also experience her WALKURE Fricka. All of the things I love about Reynolds’ singing are in ample evidence in this GOTTERDAMMERUNG: her timbre is truly beautiful, her registers even; she is dynamically alert and verbally keen, a very subtle colourist with a sense of majestic authority, later overcome by despair as Brunnhilde refuses to part woth the Ring. The argument between Reynolds and Ligendza is masterfully developed by Maestro Stein, Ligendza standing her ground with firm-voiced dignity. Reynolds concludes the scene on a splendid top A-natural and rushes away.

As the flames surrounding her abode leap up. Ligendza brings great lyric joy to her anticipated reunion with Siegfried; her despair at his betrayal and her realization of his deceit are finely delineated by Stein and his orchestra; the conflict and Siegfried’s brutal seizing of the Ring are excitingly realized by the singers and conductor.

Above: Gustav Neidlinger, a fabulous Alberich

Maestro Stein commences the second act with a throbbingly sinister prelude which leads to the appearance of Alberich (Gustav Neidlinger), manifesting himself in a dream to his son Hagen. This is one of my favorite scenes in the RING Cycle, and Neidlinger and Ridderbusch give it a tremendous impact, their singing and verbal nuances meshing to great expressive effect. Neidlinger (famed for his portrayal Alberich on the classic Georg Solti commercial RING) so vividly captures the restless insistence of the dwarf, desperate of regain the ring and depending on Hagen to achieve it. Throughout the scene, the two singers receive superb support from Stein.

Janis Martin makes the absolute most of every line Wagner gives to Gutrune, and then Karl Ridderbusch unleashes a tremendous “Hoi ho!”, grandly summoning his vassals to celebrate the arrival of Gunther’s bride. The chorus’s excitement seems genuine as they sing “Gross gluck und Heil!”; of course, the festive throng soon fall into epic puzzlement as the downcast Brunnhilde appears, escorted by Gunther. Mazura’s potent singing and rugged sense of nobility will make his downfall all the more tragic. The chorus, amazed by Brunnhilde’s stupor, whisper “Was ist ehr?” (“What ails her?”); the answer comes soon enough.

Catarina Ligendza shows very slight traces of vocal fatigue in this strenuous act, but scarecly enough to be a demerit to the overall impact of her portrayal. Even when somewhat taxed, she plunges bravely onward. The swearing of the oaths – potently underscored by Stein – finds the soprano a bit stressed here and there, and Mr. Cox fudges the brief high-C. But none of this really detracts from the overall thrill of the performance. As Siegfried and Gutrune leave to prepare for the ceremony, Ligendza is back on fine form in expressing Brunnhilde’s uncomprehending woe and then her unbridled fury. Mazura limns Gunther’s shame with disturbing intensity and when Brunnhilde heaps insults in him, he is filled with self-loathing. Ligendza, Mazura, and Ridderbusch then join in the final trio which bristles with dramatic fire, fanned marvelously by Maestro Stein and the orchestra.

The excellence continues with Act III: Horst Stein’s scene-painting is colourful and detailed, and I love his trio of Rhinemaidens: they blend very well, and you can hear each voice distinctly in the harmonies. Elisabeth Volkmann (Woglinde) sings so prettily, and Inger Paustian (Wellgunde) makes a fine impression as she spies the ring on Siegfried’s finger.

I’m particularly happy to have this souvenir of Sylvia Anderson (above), a singer I heard at New York City Opera in the 1970s as Octavian and as Giovanna Seymour in ANNA BOLENA. As Flosshilde, she gives a lovely mellow depth to the Rhinemaidens’ trios; it’s really nice hearing her voice again.

Unlike some Siegfrieds, Jean Cox has plenty of voice left to spend going into Act III. He really sings: no barking or hoarseness. Calling out to the hunting party from which he has wandered, Cox produces a walloping long high-C, a note most Siegfriends can’t even hit at this point in a long evening; it’s not beautiful, but it’s such a heroic touch.

In the ensuing scene, building up to the murder of Siegfried, Ridderbush is simply superb and Mazura remarkably vivid in lines that some baritones throw away. Siegfried’s narrative has a real lilt to it, and Cox is first-rate: yest abother distinctive passage from this imperturbable performer. The orchestral playing continues to shine, movingly supporting the tenor as he regains his senses after Hagen’s spear-thrust has laid him low. This leads to a grand and glorious rendering of the Funeral March by Stein and his tireless players.

Back at the Gibichung Hall, Janis Martin is again very impressive as she awaits the return of the men. The ensuing scene, with her horror at Siegfried’s demise, Hagen’s crude cruelty, and Gunther’s shame and remorse, is filled with tremendous tension: brilliant work from Martin, Mazura and Ridderbusch, ideally underscored by the valiant Maestro.

And now it’s left to Catarina Ligendza (above) to bring this mighty performance to a close with the Immolation Scene. She summons up impressive reserves for this big sing, and although traces of strain are detectable here and there, the overall sweep of the music and the fine support she gets from Stein send her sailing forward. In the great benedictive phrase “Ruhe…ruhe du Gott!” Ligendza is splendid. She then greets Grane with a fabulous top B-flat and finishes very strongly indeed. Maestro Stein brings his masterful interpretation of this epic work to a close with stunning aural vistas of fire, flood, and redemption.

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A performance of DER FLIEGENDE HOLLANDER from Vienna 1972 piqued my curiosity, mainly because of the presence of Cornell MacNeil in the title-role. MacNeil first sang the Dutchman in a series of performamces at the Met in 1968, conducted by Berislav Klobucar. His Sentas were Leonie Rysanek, Regine Crespin, and Ludmila Dvorakova. At the time my opera-going friends and I hoped that this would mark the first of many forays into the German repertoire for the voiceful baritone: we imagined him as Kurwenal, Telramund, Wolfram, Amfortas, Hans Sachs, the Wotans, Barak, Orestes, and Jochanaan. But aside from performances as the Dutchman in Seattle in 1972 and then in Vienna in the same year, MacNeil never again sang a German role to my knowledge.

MacNeil’s a most impressive Dutchman on this Vienna issue; if his monolog lacks the palpable sense of mystery and poetic longing that the greatest interpreters bring to this music, his power is ample and his sense of vocal commitment unerring. He is well-matched in Act I by the Daland of Manfred Schenk who sings strongly; the two men’s long duet here always strikes me as Wagner at his most Verdian; their singing of it is grand yet human. Adolf Dallapozza is a clear-voiced Steersman and the chorus respond heartily to conductor Otmar Suitner’s rollicking tempo for their casting-off chorus which ends the act.

Suitner sets Act II deftly in motion with the whirring of the spinning wheels; the choral voices seem girlish.

In a marvelous bit of casting, Margarita Lilowa (above) is a full-voiced, warm-toned Mary. She brings vocal appeal to a role that is often assigned to ‘character’ singers or aging Wagneriennes.

Janis Martin (above), an American mezzo-turned-soprano, loomed large in my opera-going career. A Met Auditions winner in 1962 (she sang Dalila’s “Mon coeur s’ouvre a ta voix” at the Winners’ Concert), 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 moved on to “medium-sized” roles: Siebel, Nicklausse, Lola in CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA. She left The Met in 1965 and built a career abroad, moving into soprano territory. She returned to The Met and from 1974 thru 1977; in thse seasons, she was my first in-house Kundry, Marie in WOZZECK, and Sieglinde. Another hiatus, and then 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. An interesiting footnote from her second Met TOSCA:

“Because of an injury sustained at her previous performance of Tosca on 10/20/93, Janis Martin did not leap from the battlement at the end of the opera but committed suicide by stabbing herself with the knife she had retained after killing Scarpia in Act II."

Janis Martin sang a single WALKURE Brunnhilde at the Met in 1997, her final performance there. Elsewhere during her career she sang Ariadne, Isolde, and Ortrud.

On this Vienna HOLLANDER, Ms. Martin is thoroughly impressive. She is able to produce a clear, soft lyricism in the more refective passages of Senta’s Ballad and then cut loose with authoritative intensity at the climax.

Like Janis Martin, tenor William Cochran first came to notice as a Met Auditions winner in 1968. At the Winners’ Concert he and co-winner Jessye Norman sang the “Wintersturme” and “Du bist der lenz” from Act I of WALKURE. After singing several performances of Vogelgesang in MEISTERSINGER at The Met in 1968, Cochran went off to build his career and reputation, returning in 1984-1985 for two performances of Bacchus in ARIADNE AUF NAXOS (including a broadcast). You can hear him here in the final scene of Act I of WALKURE with Eileen Farrell. On this Vienna HOLLANDER he’s Erik, the most bel canto of the major Wagnerian tenor roles. He sings clearly and has a feel for the Italianate flow of this two arias.

The scene where Erik describes his nightmare to Senta and she becomes increasingly intense in her reactions – since his nightmare signals her dream come true – is finely played by Cochran and Ms. Martin. And suddenly the object of her obsession appears before her. Mr. Schenk sings his jovial, folkish aria very well – he has no idea where all this is leading. And then Ms. Martin and Mr. MacNeil embark on their great duet, a very taxing piece for both in terms of breath-support, a tessitura that lies high, and the need for expressiveness throughout. MacNeil has a couple off-pitch moments and the soprano is just a trifle tense (but still sucessful) on her highest notes. With Mr. Schenk they drive the trio forward, Ms. Marrtin setting the pace with her high-strung pledge of eternal devotion. There’s no break now leading into the final scene of the opera.

The boisterous chorus and booted dance-steps of Daland’s crew and their call to the Dutchman’s crew to join them are met with eerie silence at first; later when the ghostly sailors begin their hellish chant, the opposing forces mingle violently. Mr. Cochran’s sturdy singing of Erik’s plea cannot dissuade Senta and after hearing Mr. MacNeil’s farewell – laced with heartbreak – and his revelation of his true identity, Ms. Martin sails clearly thru Senta’s high-lying pledge of eternal faithfulness. Maestro Suitner curiously omits the redemption theme from the opera’s closing moments.

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Sheer curiosity prompted me to order this disc of excerpts from DIE WALKURE. From the details provided, this peformance seems to have been a broadcast from the Royal Albert Hall of a concert version of the opera, with the orchestra of the Royal Opera House under the baton of Sir Georg Solti. The excerpts are rather oddly chosen: an excellent rendering of Siegmund’s Sword monolog from Act I finds tenor Ernst Kozub at his considerable best. The appetite is whetted for a continuation of the scene, but instead we jump to the final few minutes of Act I, with Claire Watson an urgent Sieglinde and Mr. Kozub ever-impressive.

Then suddenly we are in Act III, with Ms. Watson being first consoled and then inflamed by the sturdy Brunnhilde of Anita Välkki. Especially fine here are the mezzos and altos among the Valkyries as they warn Brunnhilde that her plan to aid Sieglinde’s escape may falter: Maureen Guy, Monica Sinclair, and Elizabeth Bainbridge are simply super.

The main reason to acquire this disc was to hear Forbes Robinson (above), a Covent Garden stalwart and noted Handelian, as Wotan. Back in the 1960s and 70s when I subscribed to the British magazine OPERA, Robinson’s name was everywhere. I was very curious to hear what sort of Wotan he might have been, and the answer – based on this sampling – is: marvelous! His voice is ample, rich, and warm, and he comes storming on in Act III to chastise his beloved daughter. Once the Valkyries have departed, Miss Välkki and Mr. Robinson give a truly moving performance of the opera’s great final scene, abetted with grandeur by Maestro Solti. If the soprano strays from pitch once or twice, her lovely take on Brunnhilde’s mixture of vulnerability and plucky courage is very finely expressed. The basso’s is surely one of the steadiest and most vocally pleasing Wotans I’ve ever heard, making me wish that the second act, with the god’s great monolog, had also been preserved. Robinson’s performance here amounts to a revelation, actually.

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Above: conductor Eugen Jochum

And now that Autumn is slipping into Winter, I set out to select a complete live performance of TRISTAN UND ISOLDE from the several on offer at Opera Depot. I wanted to delve deeper into this opera, which over the years has somehow managed to elude my thorough devotion; my plan was to choose a recording that would hopefully inspire me, and study the score while listening.

After much weighing of pros and cons (it actually took me a couple weeks to make a final choice) I narrowed the list down to three recordings; then the Depot offered one of their 50%-off sales and I made my purchase: the performance is from the Bayreuth Festival 1953, conducted by Eugen Jochum. Within moments of putting the on the first disc, I knew I’d made a perfect choice. It’s a first-class performance in every regard, and the sound quality is very fine indeed.

Maestro Jochum is the great underlying force of this performance. From the opening measures of the prelude, with their pregnant pauses, Jochum steers a monumental course thru this score. The first voice we hear is that of a young sailor, singing from high in the rigging. The tenor is Eugene Tobin, who recently passed away. He does a beautiful job with this plaintive song: a song with a sting in its tail that rouses Isolde from her state of depressed lethargy. And we are off!

Astrid Varnay (above) is for me a very uneven singer. Aside from her recording of ELEKTRA on the Koch label, I don’t have any of her commercial recordings; but I have started to appreciate her more on these Opera Depot releases. I mulled over whether she was the Isolde I wanted to have, and indeed for the first few moments when she starts to sing, I thought that the ‘matronly’ quality I sometimes hear in her singing would be a detriment. But soon she is warmed up and she goes on to give a thrilling performance in every regard. Her lower and mid-range are on exceptional form, and the top notes trumpet out. Her dynamic control is impressive as is her shading of the text.

Ira Malaniuk (above) makes a superb impression as Brangaene, musically and textually detailed and urgently expressive. Her singing throughout Act I is compelling, and she brings a caressive softness to some passages, drawing us in.

Ramon Vinay (above) is both powerfully masculine and poetic as Tristan. As his faithful friend Kurwenal, Gustav Neidlinger barks a bit as he chides Brangaene; later he will reveal his depth of musicality and a gruff tenderness of tragic stature.

We’ve now met the main characters for Act I: Malaniuk returns from her unsuccessful errand to Tristan, and Varnay, at first subtle and then passionate, prepares to unfold her Narrative. Here the soprano is marvelous, the text vividly coloured and the singing rich and secure. Especially gorgeous is her rendering of “Er sah mir in die Augen…” as she describes the troubling glance of the wounded Tantris. Then onwards to a spear-like top B and a blazing, overwhelming curse.

Malaniuk responds with excelling lyricism and a nice, steady top G: the interchanges between her and Varnay tingle with both vocal inspiration and verbal acuity as they discuss the various potions: here Malaniuk’s singing senses the mystery and peril. It’s all thoroughly absorbing.

Varnay is imperious, grandiose as she bids Kurwenal obey his future queen and send Tristan to her at once. She then gives her orders to Brangaene, describing the potions with great intensity; their conversation again bristles with foreboding, and Varnay’s low-A at “Todestrank!” is another marvel. Maestro Jochum now draws forth the ominous build-up to the encounter between Isolde and Tristan.

This scene, which begins with a formal exchange, is perfectly underscored by Jochum’s orchestra: the buildup of tension and passion is spine-tingling, and how cunningly Varnay expresses her reasons for not having killed Tristan. As the drinking of the potion looms – with a loud interjection from the sailors – Varnay’s vocal sorcery and Vinay’s moving sense of nobility are captivating. They drink; their doom is sealed: a flood of tenderness followed by the desperate confusion of the ship’s landing and the lovers torn asunder.

As the acronical second act opens, Malaniuk’s continued perfection and Varnay’s successful lightening of the voice as they discuss Melot keep tension high. Then Brangaene/Malaniuk seeks desperately to dissuade her mistress from extinguishing the torch. Jochum’s thrilling impulsiveness as the lovers finally meet – with Varnay striking some big top-Cs – slowly settles down, and the conductor and his players steep the interlude in a misty perfume. In the love duet, the singers become poets; their urgency waxes and wanes, tenderness and rapture build and then evaporate. Malaniuk’s voice floats her warning over Jochum’s dreamy orchestra. A heroic outpouring from Varnay and Vinay…and then fate intervenes.

Ludwig Weber (above) with his huge, inky voice – full of heartbreak – is very impressive as King Marke, with a flood of painful tenderness as his narrative ends. As Tristan invites Isolde to join him in the realm of darkness, Jochum and Vinay blend is a redolent expressiveness. Then Tristan surrenders himself to Melot’s blade and in a flash, the tragedy is fulfilled.

In his doom-ladened rendering of the opening chords of Act III, Jochum again strikes at the soul. The cor anglais solo is gorgeously played. Gerhard Stolze – well-known for his Loge and Herod – shows off his lyrical aspect as the Shepherd. Gustav Neidlinger’s Kurwenal assumes epic vocal proportions here, deeply moving and drenched with humanity. And Neidlinger’s great joy as Tristan awakens is truly touching.

As madness creeps in and overtakes Tristan, Ramon Vinay veers with aching intensity from wild abandoned to fevered calm. Following a stentorian outburst, Tristan collapses; yet again Neidlinger moves us in expressing his fear that his master has died. Vinay intones a gentle “Wie, se selig”. Then the rising ecstacy as Tristan senses the approach of Isolde’s ship. The shepherd pipes up! Incredible optimism and joy: Kurwenal urges Tristan to live. But in vain: with a single rough-tender “Isolde!”, Tristan expires.

The first hints of the Liebestod are heard in the orchestra. As the steersman, a young Theo Adam (later to become an excellent Wotan and Hans Sachs), warns of the approach of another ship. Jochum now marvelously underscores Kurwenal/Neidlnger’s magnificent death. Ludwig Weber and Ira Malaniuk have their final expressions, all awash with futile despair. And then Jochum and Varnay unite for an overwhelming Liebestod.

These recordings are available from Opera Depot.

November 25, 2014
Shostakovich Reflected @ Chamber Music Society
Above: Dmitry Shostakovich

Sunday November 23rd, 2014 – We seem currently to be in the midst of an impromptu Shostakovich Festival at the halls of Lincoln Center. Last night, the New York Philharmonic gave an epic performance of the composer’s 8th symphony under the baton of Jaap van Zweden. This afternoon, Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center offered a very satisfying programme entitled Shostakovich Reflected, with works by Sibelius and Debussy mixed with a Shostakovch song cycle and his Trio #2. At the Metropolitan Opera, the composer’s LADY MACBETH OF MTSENSK is holding forth, conducted by James Conlon (I’ll see it on November 29th). In February, New York City Ballet will jump in with a revival of Christopher Wheeldon’s ballet, MERCURIAL MANOUVRES, set to the Shostakovich piano concerto #1. The Philharmonic meanwhile will offer two more Shostakovich symphones later in their season: the 5th (conducted by Long Yu, from January 22nd-24th, 2015) and the 10th (Alan Gilbert conducting; from April 8th-11th, 2015).

At Alice Tully Hall today, Chamber Music Society‘s Shostakovich Reflected programme again left me searching for adjectives (superlatives, really) to describe the level of music-making by the participating artists: musicians who are rapidly becoming icons for me much as the great opera singers were back in my early days of opera-going in the 1960s and 1970s.

The Sibelius Trio in G minor opened the programme today; this brief, single-movement work has a rather dark-hued, wintry feel. The music evokes a sense of longing but also of resignation. It’s unknown why Sibelius never enlarged upon this work beyond the opening movement, though he apparently made sketches, they were never developed. Yura Lee (violin), Mark Holloway (viola), and Jakob Koranyi gave a deeply-felt performance, establishing the mood so convincingly that one wanted it to go on.

Soprano Dina Kuznetsova then appeared for Shostakovich’s Seven Romances on Poems of Alexander Blok, with Gilbert Kalish at the Steinway, Yura Lee, and Mr. Koranyi. The soprano’s voice at first seemed overwhelming in the hall, but soon the proper balance was found and she and the musicians worked in a fine state of rapport, the vocal line now well-controlled with some very expressive dynamics. Mr. Kalish played with his customary mixture of finesse and passion, and both Ms. Lee and Mr. Koranyi displayed their intrinsic mastery of their instruments in songs where the accompanying voices take a prominent place. The audience reacted with great enthusiasm to this set, calling the artists back three times.

It’s always nice to find links to the ballet on programmes of symphonic or chamber music; this afternoon my friend Monica Wellington and I were especially pleased to hear Claude Debussy’s Six épigraphes antiques for Piano, Four Hands, which we both love in its danced incarnation at New York City Ballet: ANTIQUE EPIGRAPHS, a Jerome Robbins masterpiece with an all-female cast. Gilbert Kalish and Soyean Kate Lee shared keyboard, with much hand-crossing. Their refined playing evoked Nature and the rites and rituals of a long-lost tribe.

The concert concluded with a thrilling performance of Shostakovich’s Trio No. 2 in E minor, composed fifty years after the opening Sibelius trio. This work opens with solo cello playing in the highest register; here Mr. Koranyi displayed incredible control. Violin and piano (the two Ms. Lees) join in a fugue; the underlying feeling is one of pensive melancholy, the playing from all three artists nothing less than ravishing. New themes rise up, and the music flows with much interchange of the three voices.

The brisk and rather jagged scherzo that follows seems alternately joyous and frantic: a lively dancelike theme cascades along, played with marvelous virtuosity by our trio tonight. The piano ripples thru scale passages or emphatic rhythmic motifs; the violin and cello alternately pluck and sing.

Yura Lee’s poignant introduction of the third movement’s lamenting theme set the tone for this Largo, with its heart of darkness. The voices melded in music which seemed to summon up the despairing tread of a funeral procession, the misty veil shot thru with glimpses of burnished light.

The finale sweeps aside this heavy sense of grief, yet proceeds under a threat of returning gloom. The pianist sets the music marching, and there’s more dance-rhythms as well; wit and humor are not forbidden, but are delivered with irony. The song-like theme of the first movement is recalled, setting up a continuum of memory even as the work plunges forward.

I can’t say enough in praise of the three musicians who wrought this superb performance. And the audience clearly shared my sense of deep appreciation: at the end, everyone stood up and cheered as the players were summoned back for repeated bows.

The Program:
- Sibelius Trio in G minor for Violin, Viola, and Cello (1893-94)
- Shostakovich Seven Romances on Poems of Alexander Blok for Soprano, Violin, Cello, and Piano, Op. 127 (1967)
- Debussy Six épigraphes antiques for Piano, Four Hands (1914)
- Shostakovich Trio No. 2 in E minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 67 (1944)
The Artists:
Dina Kuznetsova , soprano

Gilbert Kalish , piano

Soyeon Kate Lee , piano
Yura Lee , violin

Mark Holloway , viola

Jakob Koranyi , cello
November 23, 2014
Preview: Ballet Hispanico’s CARMEN.maquia

Above: Ballet Hispanico‘s Chris Bloom and Kimberly van Woesik in rehearsal for CARMEN.maquia Photo: Nir Arieli

Normally I don’t do previews of upcoming dance productions unless I’m planning to see them in performance. Ballet Hispanico‘s premiere presentation of Gustavo Ramirez Sansano’s CARMEN.maquia happens to fall on a night when I have tickets for the New York Philharmonic. But because I admire the Hispanico dancers so much (and their director, Eduardo Vilaro, is such a wonderful guy) I jumped at the chance to see a rehearsal today. I was so impressed with the work – for so many different reasons – that I have to send out the word: this is a must-see dancework. Ticket information for the November 22nd performance at the Apollo Theater here.

Luckily, photographer Nir Arieli was available to meet me and document the rehearsal today, which – as it turned out – was the first ‘costume-run-thru’ of the full work. I’m so grateful to publicist Michelle Tabnick for arranging things and to Ballet Hispanico‘s rehearsal director Michelle Manzanales for welcoming us to the studio.

As a long-time opera-goer (yes, I even went to the Old Met!) Bizet’s CARMEN has been in my blood for over half-a-century, starting with my first experience of hearing the great Rise Stevens singing the ‘Habanera’ on an old LP my parents owned. I know all the music intimately…and 99% of the words, which I found myself singing along today.

I don’t want to give away any secrets, but Mr. Sansano takes a non-literal stance towards the opera’s score for his new ballet, and he even incorporates music from other Bizet works. One interpolation in particular was truly daring, but I’m not going to spoil the surprise. In terms of relating to the story as told in the Bizet opera, we have dancers representing Carmen, Don Jose, Escamillo, and Micaela as well as smugglers, cigarette girls, and soldiers. But the choreographer makes some stunning re-assignments of music normally associated with one scene in the opera to a different situation in his ballet. For example…no, wait…you’ll have to go and find out for yourself!

In fact, I should not really say anything more lest I say too much. But I will mention that the black-and-white costumes are inspired by Picasso’s drawings, and that the personifications of the main characters by the marvelous Hispanico dancers transcend steps, acting, and music to create living, breathing men and women who wear their passions proudly. The work is provocative in so many different ways, from the aforementioned musical placements to the characterizations of the major players (they don’t always fit our stereotyped ideas), and even a bit of nudity.

So, rather than let too many cats out of the proverbial bag at this pre-premiere stage, I’ll share with you some of Nir Arieli’s rehearsal images. I had a terrible time deciding which ones to include, because I wanted to post them all.

Kimberly van Woesik (Carmen)

Kimberly van Woesik and Chris Bloom (Don Jose)

Mario Ismael Espinoza (Escamillo)

Min-Tzu Li (Micaela) and Chris Bloom

Min-Tzu Li and Chris Bloom

Melissa Fernandez

Jessica Alejandra Wyatt

Jamal Rashann Callender

Joshua Winzeler, Johan Rivera Mendez, and Lauren Alzamora

Christopher Hernandez and Marcos Rodriguez

Martina Calcagno

Johan Rivera Mendez and Marcos Rodriguez

The ensemble

Min-Tzu Li and Chris Bloom

The following images are from a duet for Carmen and her toreador: Kimberly van Woesik and Mario Ismael Espinoza:

All photography by Nir Arieli.

November 17, 2014
Bartok & Bruckner @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: Yefim Bronfman

Friday October 24th, 2014 – After experiencing Yefim Bronfman’s magnificent renderings of all the Beethoven piano concertos (and the triple concerto!) in a series of New York Philharmonic concerts last season, my friend Dmitry and I were keen to hear the pianist live again. Tonight, Mr. Bronfman’s playing of the Bartok 3rd marked the first of two concerts we’ll be attending this season which feature the pianist, the second being his performance of the Brahms 2nd concerto with the Chicago Symphony under Riccardo Muti at Carnegie Hall on January 31st, 2015.

Bela Bartok, who had fled Europe for America in 1940 to escape the rise of National Socialism, composed his third piano concerto as a birthday gift for his pianist-wife Ditta Pasztory-Bartok, working on it during the summer of 1945 at Saranac Lake, New York. Already in the final stages of lukemia, the composer returned to New York City where he died on September 26th, 1945, leaving the concerto unfinished. The task of orchestrating the final 17-measures, drawing from Bartók’s notes, eventually fell to the composer’s friend Tibor Serly.

Tonight’s performance found Mr. Bronfman at his finest, his fleetness of technique to the fore as his hands rippled up and down the keyboard, summoning forth one Bartokian marvel after another. He and Maestro Alan Gilbert formed a very simpatico union over this music, and the orchestra were at their best also: their many colourful eddies of sound swirling around the solo piano line. Mr. Bronfman’s dynamic range, his delightful dexterity, and his wonderfully genial personality combined to make this a truly enjoyable half-hour of music-making. The pianist, basking in enthusiastic applause at the end, bowed graciously to his fellow musicians, celebrating their mutual admiration.

Following the intermission, a genuinely thrilling experience for me: hearing the Bruckner 8th live for the first time. Everyone who follows my blog knows that, after decades of devoting myself to opera and dance, I’m now exploring the symphonic and chamber repertories; works that are thrice-familiar to most classical music lovers are new discoveries for me. Of course, having worked at Tower Records for almost a decade before they closed up shop, I did hear a lot of symphonic music day in and day out, some of it subconsciously absorbed; but there was no opportunity to stop and savor anything. So despite the familiarity of many thematic passages in the Bruckner tonight, it was all fresh and fantastic to me.

At a time when performances of Wagner’s music here in New York seem increasingly rare (The Met has only MEISTERSINGER to offer us this season, following on their ‘No Wagner’ season of 2013-2014) tonight’s Bruckner, with its Wagnerian sonorities, was a welcome treat.

Bruckner’s 8th opens murmuringly, but soon the composer begins to expand into marvelous arches of sound. The huge orchestra, resonating in the dense textures of intermingling voices of strings and winds, maintained clarity under Alan Gilbert’s steady baton. The 8th’s opening movement has been described as “simply shattering, destroying every attempt at criticism.” And Bruckner himself referred to the passage where the brass ring out the main theme repeatedly as “the announcement of Death…” This is followed by a surprising silence and the gentle, faltering heartbeat of the timpani.

In the scherzo, a big familiar theme dances forth; and then its in the adagio where I finally lost my heart to this symphony. This incredibe movement, marked in the score as “Solemn and slow, but not dragging”, opens up great vistas of panoramic sonic-painting. The harps are evocative indeed, and the massive waves of sound wash over us, suddenly to evaporate in a delicate waltz-like theme. The horns then blaze forth majestically; the overall sensation is life-encompassing.

Throughout this cinematic symphony, the ear and the soul are equally gratified. In the culminating fourth movement Bruckner’s architecture evokes a great cathedral wherein the listener is alternately overwhelmed by epic grandeur or sinks into a state of reverent contemplation.

In the end, this performance of this massive symphony – surely Wagnerian in its looming grandeur but also at times making me think of Tchaikovsky – gave so much pure satisfaction. I found myself wishing that Bruckner had written operas: what a thrill it would be to hear huge, dramatic voices soaring over his glorious orchestral soundscapes.

October 24, 2014
Score Desk for LA BOHEME

Tuesday September 23rd, 2014 – After a touch-and-go Summer of contract negotiations where – at one point – it seemed inevitable that there would be a lock-out at the Metropolitan Opera, the shut-down was miraculously averted and The Met opened last night with a new production of LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. The casting of the three major female roles in the Mozart opera didn’t appeal to me, so I skipped it and started my season on the second night.

The house seemed fuller than on most evenings last season, perhaps an indication that New York City opera-goers prefer traditional productions. And yes, curtain-rise on Franco Zeffirelli’s Cafe Momus still evokes a big round of applause.

Admittedly tonight’s cast, on paper, didn’t have much allure. The Met seem to be putting all their eggs in one basket this first week: the singers aligned for MACBETH (Netrebko, Lucic, Calleja, Pape) are about the closest you can come to an all-star cast in this day and age. Friends asked me why I bothered with this BOHEME and as the curtain fell on the Cafe Momus scene I in fact asked myself why I was there.

Bryan Hymel in the role of Rodolfo was the main attraction for me tonight; his impressive performances in LES TROYENS and MADAMA BUTTERFLY drew me back to hear him in this, his second Puccini role at The Met. He did not seem at his best tonight though there were many appealing moments in his singing of the role. He was not much helped by conductor Riccardo Frizza who tended to unleash too much orchestral volume at key moments. Hymel’s account of the famous aria “Che gelida manina” was nice, and he sustained the high-C to fine effect despite the conductor’s overdrive of volume. At the end of the big Cafe Momus ensemble, the two sopranos were perched none-too-sweetly on their high-B when Hymel chimed in on the same note and gave the climax the necessary zest.

Neither of the women were very pleasing to the ear. Ekaterina Scherbachenko (Mimi) lacked a persuasive feeling for the Italian style and didn’t bring a lot of nuance or colour to Mimi’s Act I narrative. When she ventured to the upper register, an uncomfortable feeling set in. Oddly, she did not attempt the written high-C at the end of the love duet; instead she sang an E-natural whilst Mr. Hymel sustained a high-C. This put me in mind of the 1968 Met broadcast of BUTTERFLY where Teresa Stratas ducked the final high-C of Act I, leaving her tenor Barry Morell to finish on his own.

Myrto Papatanasiu revealed a dime-a-dozen overly-vibrant lyric soprano as Musetta, snatching at her interjectory phrases until she got to the Waltz which was reasonably well-sung despite rather shallow tone. I don’t suppose we’ll ever again experience a Musetta the likes of Carol Neblett or Johanna Meier: big voices and big personalities.

The evening’s most impressive singing came from baritone Quinn Kelsey (above, in a Ken Howard headshot) as Marcello. This is a Met-sized voice for sure and I got a vast amount of pleasure listening to him nail Marcello’s music, phrase after phrase. I would have liked to have heard him in the third and fourth acts where the character has so much great music to sing, but the overall lack of magic in the evening sent me home after Momus. I hope The Met will give Quinn Kelsey more opportunities.

Of the remaining members of the cast, no one managed to make a special impression. The children’s chorus deserve a note of praise.

There’s nothing wrong with taking curtain calls after each act provided the audience is displaying sufficient enthusiasm to summon the singers out before the gold curtain. After both of the first two acts tonight, the applause had completely stopped but the bow lights came on and the singers came out, forcing people to clap for them out of a sense of obligation. I understand that the bows are ‘scripted’ into the performance but someone needs to determine whether there is any applause happening before sending the singers out.

Metropolitan Opera House September 23, 2014
LA BOHÈME Giacomo Puccini Mimì....................Ekaterina Scherbachenko Rodolfo.................Bryan Hymel Musetta.................Myrtò Papatananasiu [Debut] Marcello................Quinn Kelsey Schaunard...............Alexey Lavrov Colline.................David Soar Benoit..................Donald Maxwell Alcindoro...............Donald Maxwell Parpignol...............Daniel Clark Smith Sergeant................Jason Hendrix Officer.................Joseph Turi
Conductor...............Riccardo Frizza

September 23, 2014
Yin Yue/Jiangxi Zhongshan Dance School

Sunday September 21st, 2014 – Yin Yue Dance Company and students from China’s Jiangxi Zhongshan Dance School shared the stage at Peridance this afternoon in a programme that combined the contemporary with the classical in an East-Meets-West cultural dialogue.

Yin Yue is an award-winning Shanghai-born choreographer who graduated from Tisch, New York University. For this event, she summoned a contingent of dancers from the Jiangxi Zhongshan Dance School, a private professional dance school located in Nanchang, Jiangxi Province, China, who have arrived in New York City, bringing traditional Chinese classical/contemporary and folk dance as they meet the New York audience for the first time.

The programme was well-devised to contrast the two styles: the young women from Nanchang performed in colourful, elaborate costumes while Yin Yue’s dancers appeared in stark settings and casual contemporary streetwear. The two companies alternated throughout the afternoon.

The student company opened the show with a brilliant and festive piece Gan Yun You You in which elements of Chinese opera were featured. Later – in Spring Ballet – the girls danced on pointe in long pink tutus to the voice of a pop-oriented coloratura soprano. A quartet of solos – each dancer in red-highlighted costumes – went on a bit too long. Then Qinghua Rhyme was danced on pointe to a pop beat, while an Arabian Nights atmosphere pervaded Blossom: the girls all wearing red harem-style costumes and each carrying a red rose. Nuo Dance, the afternoon’s concluding work, featured the dancers wearing masks. At the end, a baby was delivered and he started to cry. Throughout their peformance, the dancers from the Jiangxi Zhongshan School showed surprising maturity of presentation and seemed thoroughly at home on the stage.

Yin Yue and her fellow dancers – Liane Aung, Grace Whitworth, and Luke Bermingham – performed five works, ranging from quartets to a solo by Mr. Bermingham. Yin Yue’s choreography is strong and sure; she makes excellent use of space and lighting and she persuasively employs partnering and passages of dancing in-sync. Her strongest work was the solo for Mr. Bermingham – One Step Before The Exit – which seemed to express the loneliness of contemporary life and a (thwarted) desire to connect.

Yin Yue’s undoubted gift for impressive dramatic movement is somewhat compromised by a lack of variety in her choice of music. Everything seems to be danced to a beat overlain in darkly throbbing industrial noise and/or static. The vaguely ominous atmosphere created by this type of music – so favored by many of today’s younger choreographers – becomes a cliché after a while. A bit of Chopin, alluded to in the playbill, never materialized. In taking a wider view of musical possibilities, I believe the choreographer will find ever-expanding avenues of expression.

September 21, 2014
Isadora: Lament, Hope, and Renewal

Wednesday September 17th, 2014 – Lori Belilove and the Isadora Duncan Dance Company presented an evening of film, live performance and discussion in an intimate salon setting at the Company’s home space on West 26th Street. A few days after marking the anniversary of Isadora’s untimely death (on September 14th, 1927), Lori and her Company keep the spirit of ‘the mother of modern dance’ vividly alive.

For me, this week brought the unusual happenstance of back-to-back evenings of Martha Graham and Isadora Duncan. These two pioneering forces on the frontiers of modern dance seem to me to be twin goddesses: from them, so many blessings flow – even onto the present day.

Central to this Isadora evening was the showing of a silent film clip of brief fragments from Dance of the Priestesses, a ‘lost’ Duncan work. This film, made in 1963, features extremely rare footage of Anna Duncan, one of the original Isadorables. In the film, Anna dances with Julia Levien and Hortense Kooluris, two women who were the teachers of Lori Belilove: thus the direct line of passing the torch from generation to generation is maintained.

The film was entrusted to Lori Belilove and it inspired her to embark on a restoration of Dance of the Priestesses which, until now, had been little more than a legend. The dance is set to music by Christoph Willibald von Gluck from his opera IPHIGENIE EN TAURIDE. In the film, Anna, Julia and Hortense show a wonderful weighted quality. Lori was able to impart this to the dancers of her current Company and, after viewing the film, we were treated to a beautiful live rendering of the piece. Lori has set it for five women (Isadora’s ensemble works can be danced by small or large contingents of dancers). The girls looked stately in their midnight-blue gowns, with Morgana Rose Mellett in a prominent role and Kim D’Agnese, Emily D’Angelo, Faith Kimberling, and Nicole Poulos as her sister/priestesses. Their performance evoked the ancient gods and the mythic rituals of times long vanished.

Also on film, we saw a full performance of Slow March (photo above) as performed by the Company last May.

Isadora created danceworks in several moods, stemming from her mental state at the time of creation. Joyous, celebratory dances gave way to dark, lamenting themes following the death of her two children. Lori Belilove performed two of these despairing solos tonight: Death and The Maiden (set to Chopin) and Mother (set to Scriabin). The mood was brightened by two Chopin mazurkas danced by Mlles. D’Agnese, Mellett, Kimberling and D’Angelo in signature pink-and-white Grecian tunics. Lori and the four girls joined in an extended finale: Dance of the Blessed Spirits and Orpheus’ Lament, both drawn from themes from Gluck’s opera ORFEO ED EURIDICE.

Pianist Melody Fader played all the selections for the evening, an enhancement to the atmosphere of the performance.

Watching the dances this evening, I couldn’t help but think that today’s young choreographers could benefit greatly in studying Isadora’s work. In terms of musicality, structure and creation of mood, Isadora’s instincts always seem spot-on. As dancer Miki Orihara wrote in her notes for her recent solo concert, we may look into the future of dance by investigating the past.

September 17, 2014
Finding Isadora’s ‘DANCE OF THE PRIESTESSES’

Above: dancers Morgana Rose Mellett and Emily D’Angelo of the Isadora Duncan Dance Company

Friday August 29th, 2014 – Today I went down to the Gibney Dance Center where friends of the Isadora Duncan Dance Company had been invited to an intimate studio session in anticipation of the upcoming renewal of a ‘lost’ Duncan work, DANCE OF THE PRIESTESSES.

Lori Belilove, artistic director of the Company, welcomed us and then told the story of how DANCE OF THE PRIESTESSES has miraculously re-surfaced after several decades of being nothing more than a bit of legend.

There had been talk of a film of the work having been made in 1963 and featuring one of the original Isadorables, Anna (Denzler) Duncan. Incredibly the film surfaced and was presented to Lori by some benevolent angel. Lori set to work with her dancers to re-construct the piece, and we will be able to see it danced both on the film and live at a presentation at the Gibney Dance Center on September 17th, 2014, at 6:30 PM. Further details of this event will be forthcoming.

The dancework is drawn from the story of Iphigenia, daughter of Agamemnon, who was rescued from her fate as a human sacrifice by the goddess Artemis. Iphigenia becomes a priestess at the temple of Artemis in Tauris, a position in which she has the gruesome task of ritually sacrificing any foreigners who land on that kingdom’s shores. Iphigenia is eventually confronted with the necessity of sacrificing her long-lost brother Orestes but that horrific duty is averted by the intercession of the goddess Athena.

The story was immortalized in Christoph Willibald von Gluck’s gorgeous opera, IPHIGENIE EN TAURIDE. And it is to Gluck’s music that DANCE OF THE PRIESTESSES is performed.

After providing us with this background, Lori asked each of us to cross our hands over our sternum and to breathe deeply; we can immediately sense our own center and the connectedness of the entire body. Her dancers then demonstrate some of the exercises with which they warm up: similar to a ballet barre, and yet the movement emanates from the torso rather than being guided by the limbs.

The dancers looked so beautiful doing these deceptively ‘simple’ exercises which actually call for great concentration and control. The movement has a slow and ecstatic quality as the wheel-like flow of the arms, radiating from the sternum, reach down to the Earth and then soars skyward.

Having shown us these stylistic elements, the dancers then performed a brief passage from DANCE OF THE PRIESTESSES. The ritualistic pouring of the libation oil and the stately pacing of the celebrants, arms opening in eloquent gestures of offering and supplication, create a timeless atmosphere of feminine power and beauty.

The dancers – Kim D’Agnese, Faith Kimberling, Emily D’Angelo, and Morgana Rose Mellett – each have distinguishing physical characteristics which maintain their individuality even when dancing in unison. Watching them was a truly savorable experience.

I’m hoping to see a rehearsal of the full work prior to the Gibney showing on September 17th.

Watch a brief film clip of Anna Duncan performing at Jacob’s Pillow in 1942 here.

August 29, 2014