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Paul Taylor @ Lincoln Center 2015 #3

Above: Michael Trusnovec and ensemble in Paul Taylor’s Brandenburgs; photo by Paul B Goode

Saturday evening March 21st, 2015 – This evening, the programme at Paul Taylor Dance Company’s Lincoln Center season featured Taylor’s latest creation, Death and The Damsel, book-ended by two of his celebrated works from the 1980s: Sunset and Brandenburgs.

The simple but evocative Alex Katz set design for Sunset shows a flat aquamarine sky with suggestions of tree limbs in black. Along one side of the stage is an iron fence, which might also be a ballet barre. A group of soldiers in khakis and red berets are lounging and casually dancing. We know not what country they serve; they are simply universal soldiers.

Above: Robert Kleinendorst and Michael Trusnovec in Sunset; photo by Paul B Goode

Unlike Jerome Robbins’ Fancy Free, to which it is sometimes compared, Sunset is mostly devoid of humor or playfulness. Perhaps Taylor’s soldiers are part of an occupying force. When three white-clad girls appear, there are flirtations, tensions, and hopes. But Sunset retains throughout an under-current of sadness, fed by the wistful lyricism of the Edward Elgar score.

Above: Aileen Roehl and the ensemble in Sunset; photo by Paul B Goode

Passing playfulness – with four lovely ladies Aileen Roehl, Michelle Fleet, Parisa Khobdeh, and Eran Bugge – gives way to the sounds of birdcalls as dusk approaches. The tone becomes more pensive. In a sustained passage with the men, Ms. Bugge seems angelic, the white purity of her dress matching the purity of her dancing. The men then march off: to guard duty? To battle? Or to an unknown fate.

Paul Taylor’s newest work, Death and the Damsel, is set to Bohuslav Martinů’s Sonata #2, beautifully played live from the pit by Myron Lutzke (cello) and Margaret Kampmeier (piano). Massive backdrops of Gotham cityscapes (designed by Santo Loquasto) loom over the action; especially marvelous is Loquasto’s view of the Chrysler Building.

Jamie Rae Walker awakens from sleep in her tiny loft-room. In her introductory solo, Ms. Walker does everything from fouetté turns to cartwheels, expressing her innocence and her joy at living in the most exciting city on Earth. Suddenly her peace of mind is disturbed by the entrance of vampiric creatures dressed in black leather with Goth hairdos and makeup.

The action suddenly shifts to a dance club where Ms. Walker is heartlessly gang-raped. In a duet which combines terror and deadly allure, the girl is partnered by the glowingly sinister Michael Trusnovec. Later, she tries to fend off the gorgeously evil and predatory Laura Halzack. The ballet ends with Ms. Walker apparently being devoured by her attackers (though the people seated behind us were saying the ending was somewhat different at an earlier performance they had seen). Whether the scenario represents the damsel’s nightmare or her secret fantasy we cannot guess; but the work did offer a big opportunity for Ms. Walker and she made the most of it.

Above: the Taylor men in Brandenburgs; photo by Paul B Goode

Paul Taylor’s 1988 abstract Bach ballet Brandenburgs brought the evening to a marvelous close. Wearing Santo Loquasto’s rich forest-green velvety costumes, the men perform stylized leaps and semaphoric gestures that made me think of some of Martha Graham’s unison passages. Three beauties appear – Michelle Fleet, Parisa Khobdeh, and Eran Bugge – each dancing a solo enmeshed with the men: each woman radiant and creating her own perfumed atmosphere. In an adagio solo demanding peerless physical control and expressiveness, Michael Trusnovec was simply magnificent. Tonight’s Brandenburgs showed Taylor’s choreography and his thrillingly talented dancers at their very finest.

Above: Parisa Khobdeh and the ensemble in Brandenburgs; photo by Paul B Goode

I loved running into Annmaria Mazzini and John Eirich tonight.

March 21, 2015
Schubert & Schnittke @ CMS
Above: Juho Pohjonen

Friday March 20th, 2015 – Three outstanding artists joined forces this evening at Alice Tully Hall as Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center presented yet another outstanding programme in their Intimate Expressions series. Pianist Juho Pohjonen joined violinist Benjamin Beilman for Schubert and cellist Jan Vogler for Schnittke; then all three musicians concluded the performance with Schubert’s trio #1 in B-flat major.

Despite a late-Winter snowfall and chilling winds, a large audience filled Tully Hall, and it was in a marvelous state of silent anticipation that the listeners opened their hearts and minds to the extraordinary music coming from the stage. This state of mutual communication, where the players can’t help but be aware of the spell they are casting over the Hall, is one of the great pleasures of Chamber Music Society‘s presentations.

The level of artistry today was extraordinarily high. When Benjamin Beilman and Juho Pojhonen walked onstage we were struck by their youthful appearance and a trace of shyness as they acknowledged the welcoming applause. But as soon as they began to play, their surety of technique and depth of musicality drew us in to their compelling delivery of the opening Schubert.

Above: Benjamin Beilman

The Schubert Fantasy in C-major (1827) is a long work in seven inter-connected movements and it places extraordinary demands on the violinist while also requiring a pianist who is far more than an accompanist, but rather a partner in expressiveness.

The extraordinary delicacy of Mr. Pohjonen’s opening measures showed us at once that we were in the presence of a master of dynamic control; the silken seamlessness of his playing was ideally taken up by Mr. Beilman in his opening lyrical flight. As the sonata progresses, the violin’s poignant theme of longing shifts to a dynamic dancelike passage. In a set of variations, Mr. Beilman showed his skill in alternate plucking and bowing, as well as in flourishes of fast fiorature and rolling cascades of melody. A rapturous theme for violin and piano has a heart-rending quality, and soon we return to the still calm of the work’s opening statements. The gallantly graceful pace of the finale lulls into a last evocative slow passage before a dash to the finish. The audience embraced the two young paragons with warm enthusiasm for their savorable performance.

Above: Jan Vogler

Jan Vogler was making his CMS debut today, and a welcome event it was: he took on the the daunting combination of angularity and soulfulness that make the Schnittke sonata so remarkable, and again Mr. Pojhonen at the Steinway was an ideal accomplice.

Commencing with a rather ominous cello theme, this sonata often has a dreamlike (even nightmarish) sense of mystery. The cellist at one point slithers up and down a snakelike scale passage with a creepiness that evokes thoughts of the eerie prelude to Klytemnestra’s murder in Strauss’s ELEKTRA. In fact, the Schnittke might be said to echo the Strauss opera in its mixture of violence and unexpected flashes of lyricism.

I scrawled several brief notes, not wanting to take my eyes off our intrepid players: “march-like piano”, “rambunctious cello”, “bizarre waltz”, “restless quest”…and then suddenly Mr. Pohjonen lays into the lowest notes of the keyboard to produce a violent sonic boom. He then immediately swirls upward to the highest range, whilst Mr. Vogler takes up a desolate theme. The cello goes to the depths – and such resonant depths – interrupted by an aching/annoying 2-note motif before ending up on a very sustained tone. A brief, mysterious plucked passage before settling back into the deep while the piano creates a soft cloud of starshine in the highest range.

Let’s have Mr. Vogler back for the second Schnittke sonata, at the earliest opportunity.

After the interval, the three gentlemen set to a performance of Schubert’s Trio in B flat major, immediately establishing the kind of congenial rapport that makes a great piece of music even greater.

The trio was probably written in 1827; the original autograph score is lost. It is in four movements, and I can’t imagine a more pleasing rendition than tonight’s with its fusion of the three voices constantly sending those delightful little chills up the spine. The nostalgic theme that opens the Andante expanded into a vivid emotional experience with playing that was subtle and full of nuance. The three gentlemen were in a playful mood for the witty and sparkling Scherzo – with its lovely surprise of a slower interlude – and then moved on to the sprightly dance of the final Rondo, which includes an unusual ‘fluttery’ motif.

In this trio, the three players showed both graceful dexterity and a mutual desire to draw forth each thread of melody for our delight. Both in programming and in the choice of artists, Chamber Music Society sets the highest standard. I entered Alice Tully Hall tonight with great expectations, only to find they were not simply met, but surpassed. Incredibly, that seems to be the norm here at CMS.

The Repertory:
- Schubert Fantasy in C major for Violin and Piano, D. 934, Op. 159 (1827)
- Schnittke Sonata No. 1 for Cello and Piano (1978)
- Schubert Trio No. 1 in B-flat major for Piano, Violin, and Cello, D. 898, Op. 99 (1827)
The Participating Artists: Juho Pohjonen (piano); Benjamin Beilman (violin); Jan Vogler (cello)
March 20, 2015
Score Desk for DONNA DEL LAGO

Above: Loch Katrine, Scotland – the setting of LA DONNA DEL LAGO

Saturday February 28th, 2015 matinee – This performance of Rossini’s LA DONNA DEL LAGO was a late addition to my opera plans for the season. The Rossini repertory no longer interests me much, but I thought it might be good to experience one of his operas again in-house, and I’ve always liked Juan Diego Florez, so…why not?

Back in 1982, I heard Rossini’s LA DONNA DEL LAGO in a concert performance at Carnegie Hall; the principal roles were taken by Frederica von Stade, Marilyn Horne, Rockwell Blake, and Dano Raffanti. It was quite a night. Then in 2007, the New York City Opera staged it with a cast that included fine performances by mezzo-soprano Laura Vlasak Nolen, and tenors Barry Banks and Robert McPherson.

After taking some cuts in the prelude, conductor Michele Mariotti rushed the opening chorus with some resulting disunity. Someone tried to start entrance applause for Joyce DiDonato, but it didn’t catch on; it might have been the same person who tried to get some applause going after her opening aria, but he ended up with three solo hand-claps.

It seemed to me today that Elena (the opera’s eponymous heroine and triple love-interest) suits Ms. DiDonato much better than Donizetti’s Maria Stuarda did. She did some genuinely lovely singing – with persuasive coloratura – along the way; a slight flutter in her timbre at low-to-mid volume sometimes intrudes on complete enjoyment of her singing. But overall this is a fine role for her.

Juan Diego Florez sang with his usual fluency and expressiveness, tossing off added high notes and blending beautifully with Ms. DiDonato. Fleeting traces of sharpness in the tenor’s singing didn’t detract from the overall handsomeness of his vocalism, I should have stayed to hear the luminous aria “O fiamma soave” in Act II, but I didn’t.

I can recall the favorable impression Daniela Barcellona made singing Maddalena in RIGOLETTO at a special all-Verdi concert performance which The Met offered on September 22, 2001, as a benefit for the families of 9/11 first responders. She subsequently sang Bellini’s Adalgisa twice at The Met (also in 2001), and has since had an extensive career in Europe. Her return to The Met as Rossini’s Malcolm Groeme was a main factor in my decision to go to today’s matinee, but alas her voice now shows a widening vibrato – and a quick look at her bio shows the telltale reasons: Amneris and Santuzza are not roles one would think of for her type of voice, and once ventured it is not easy to switch back to bel canto. She had some beautiful low notes today, and managed the coloratura quite well. But sustained notes revealed an unsteady quality.

John Osborn (Rodrigo di Dhu) pricked up our ears and perked up the performance with his powerful forays to the top register and the overall conviction of his singing. It is not the most ingratiating tenor sound you will hear, but he knows what to do with it in this demanding music, Oren Gradus, though not a bel canto specialist, did what he could with the role of Duglas D’Angus.

Musically, the opera moves in fits and starts. A ravishing melody or brilliant passages of fiorature will be followed by rum-ti-tum filler. Rossini’s idea of introducing a solo harp into the Act I finale stirs our interest, but the vocal melody that follows in pedestrian. This is followed by a jog-trot stretta to end the act.

It it hadn’t been for the looming Gelb intermission, I would most likely have stayed on to hear that Florez cavatina in Act II. The house was reasonably full and very attentive, but I did notice several fellow-defectors after the first act.

Metropolitan Opera House February 28, 2015 Matinee
LA DONNA DEL LAGO Gioachino Rossini Elena...................Joyce DiDonato Giacomo V/Uberto........Juan Diego Flórez Malcolm Groeme..........Daniela Barcellona Rodrigo Di Dhu..........John Osborn Duglas..................Oren Gradus Albina..................Olga Makarina Serano..................Eduardo Valdes Bertram.................Gregory Schmidt
Conductor...............Michele Mariotti

February 27, 2015
Gallery: Martha Graham/Joyce Season 2015

Above: XiaoChuan Xie (foreground) in Martha Graham’s Steps in The Street; photo © Yi-Chun Wu

Photographer Yi-Chun Wu has provided a portfolio of images from the Martha Graham Dance Company’s 2015 season at The Joyce Theater. In terms of both repertory and dancing, these Graham Company performances were outstanding. Read about two particularly memorable evenings here and here.

From Martha Graham’s Steps in The Street

Carrie Ellmore-Tallitsch in Graham’s Steps in The Street

Carrie Ellmore-Tallitsch and the ensemble in Graham’s Steps in The Street

Guest artist Misty Copeland of American Ballet Theatre and Graham principal Lloyd Knight in Martha Graham’s At Summer’s Full

PeiJu Chien-Pott in Andonis Foniadakis’ Echo

Charlotte Landreau in Andonis Foniadakis’ Echo

Abdiel Jacobsen and Ying Xin in Andonis Foniadakis’ Echo

Abdiel Jacobsen and Blakeley White-McGuire in Martha Graham’s Errand Into The Maze

The Joyce season marked Blakeley White McGuire’s farewell performances as a member of the Graham company. On the closing night of the season, Blakeley (above) danced Errand Into The Maze with her long-time Graham colleague, Tadej Brdnik, also taking his final bows as a member of the Company.

All photos © Yi-Chun Wu.

February 26, 2015
Schubert’s WINTERREISE @ CMS

Above: Gerold Huber and Christian Gerhaher

Tuesday February 24th, 2014 – Baritone Christian Gerhaher and pianist Gerold Huber performing Schubert’s immortal masterpiece, Winterreise, as part of Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center‘s Winter Festival, Intimate Expressions. The performance comes to us in the midst of a particularly cold and somber Winter.

Composed in 1827, when Franz Schubert was 30 years old and had less than two years remaining in his life, the twenty-four songs of Winterreise are set to poems of Wilhelm Müller. The poet, who had earlier provided the texts for the composer’s song cycle, Die schöne Müllerin, was a nearly-exact and equally short-lived contemporary of Schubert. They never met, and Müller died just as Schubert was beginning work on Winterreise.

Winterreise is not a narrative song cycle, but rather a collection of vocal miniatures on themes of solitude and despair, set against a relentless and unforgiving wintry landscape. Though the subject matter is overall quite gloomy, there is some variety of tempo and rhythm among the songs. But in the final twelve of the Winterreise songs, we experience a feeling of darkness gathering about Schubert, and his sense of impending doom. The last Winterreise songs evoke feelings of great beauty overshadowed by death. The composer died in 1828.

Tonight’s performance had all the makings of a superb musical experience – which, in fact, it was – yet the overall effect of the cycle was somewhat compromised. In her opening remarks, CMS co-artistic director Wu Han announced that the pianist Gerold Huber was suffering from a heavy cold. He had generously agreed to perform, but we were cautioned that he might be in need of taking a break midway thru the cycle. This was indeed the case; after about a half-hour, pianist and singer walked offstage and the audience took the opportunity to stretch, chat, and check their cellphones. This intrusion of reality broke the spell of the music. When the artists returned, it took a while for the hall to settle in again, and there were further minor disruptions in the second half of the performance, with a corresponding decline in focus.

Mr. Gerhaher has a wonderful lyric instrument capable of both power and shaded nuance; and yet it was the pianist – Mr. Huber – who most thoroughly entranced me with the subtle delicacy of his playing in the cycle’s most intimate moments. Together the two gave as fine a rendering of Winterreise as one might hope under the circumstances. The great benefit for me was, it sent my estimation of this cycle, which I have never previously appreciated and have in fact avoided, soaring. Perhaps that is one of the gifts of growing older.

I look forward to hearing Mr. Gerhaher on March 1st singing the Brahms GERMAN REQUIEM at Carnegie Hall. And I will hope to encounter Mr. Huber again at some point for he is an artist of intrinsic expressiveness.

February 24, 2015
Graham @ The Joyce 2015 – Part II

Above: Blakeley White-McGuire and Tadej Brdnik; these two phenomenal dancers were making their ‘farewell’ appearances as members of the Graham company tonight.

Sunday February 22nd, 2015 – For me it was a bittersweet evening at the Martha Graham Dance Company‘s final performance of their 2015 Joyce season following the news earlier this week that tonight would mark the ‘farewell’ Graham performances of Blakeley White-McGuire and Tadej Brdnik, two of the great Graham interpreters of our time and two people I greatly love and admire both as dancers and personalities.

Tadej danced in the very first performance of a Graham work that I ever saw: Appalachian Spring at Jacob’s Pillow some 20 years ago. That afternoon his Bride was the inimitable Miki Orihara. Combining the physique of a champion athlete with an appealingly boyish face, Tadej’s boundless energy and commitment have made him a Graham icon; he also has a devilish sense of humor, and I’ve seen him at the end of a long rehearsal keeping his fellow-dancers merry with one-liners and dead-pan expressions. In these final performances as a Company member, he has again shown the power and presence that have made him an emblematic Graham dancer throughout his career.

Of Blakeley White-McGuire, one can say she has indomitable technical prowess and a rare gift for communicating emotion. But beyond that there’s an undefinable element in her dancing which only a handful of dancers in my experience have possessed: a spiritual connection with the music and the movement that makes her performances not just important, but essential. Blakeley is twice-blessed by Terpsichore, and it is we – the audience – who reap the benefits of her beauty and generosity of spirit.

Like Wendy Whelan, who recently retired from New York City Ballet (and who was in the audience tonight!), both Blakeley and Tadej have indicated that they aren’t retiring, but simply turning a page in the chronicle of their dancing careers.

Blakeley and Tadej walked into the Graham studios for the first time on the same day some two decades ago. Although in the original scheme of things they were not scheduled to dance Errand Into The Maze together this season, it seems they were destined by the gods to do so.

Their performance was thrilling, commencing with Blakeley’s opening solo (photo above by Brigid Pierce) in which she danced with a palpitating mixture of fear and resolve, delineating the character’s destiny in a vivid marriage of technique and temperament. Tadej, as the monstrous Minotaur, stalks her like a vicious predator, his incredible thigh musculature giving him grounded strength of purpose. Their pas de deux, so fraught with struggle and sexuality, shows Graham’s gift for devising miracles of leverage, counter-balance, and entwining in her partnering motifs. Blakeley and Tadej’s joint triumph was vastly cheered by the packed house, and their Graham colleagues joined them onstage for the celebration.

For all the excitement generated by Blakeley and Tadej, the evening was an enriching one overall, commencing with two Graham works in which two of my beloved Muses appeared: Deep Song opened the program in a vivid performance by Carrie Ellmore-Tallitsch, and Miki Orihara gave a luminous rendering of an excerpt from Primitive Mysteries, presiding over a corps of young women in blue.

Above: Carrie Ellmore-Tallitsch in Deep Song; photo by Brigid Pierce

Deep Song is a solo work by Martha Graham, set to Music by Henry Cowell. It was premiered in 1937 as one of the choreographer’s responses to the horrors of war (the Spanish civil war in this case). In a black and white gown, Carrie Ellmore-Tallitsch is first seen seated on a white bench. The choreography develops with seeming inevitability as she struggles with her inner torment, sinking to the ground. She later lifts the bench, seeming to use it as a shield or hiding place. Finally the bench takes on a coffin-like aspect as she lowers it over herself. Carrie, a dancer I have always held in highest esteem, danced as superbly as I expected. The audience seemed to agree: she won a prolonged ovation which made me want to smile and weep at the same time.

Miki Orihara (rehearsal image, above) appeared like a shimmering angel all in white to perform the ‘Hymn to the Blessed Virgin’ from Graham’s 1931 ballet Primitive Mysteries. This is the Graham work I am most curious about, and tonight’s tantalizing excerpt makes me curiouser and curiouser. Escorted by a group of attendants in deep blue gowns (members and apprentices of Graham II), Miki radiates feminine mystique with her poetic gestures, moving with an almost ghostly lightness of tread. To Louis Horst’s atmospheric melody for flute and piano, the women perform antique rituals in this finely-structured dancework. The ensemble’s signature poses and port de bras make a particularly strong effect as Miki walks forward between facing rows of acolytes who sink down or raise their arms to heaven as she passes by. Miki sustains a powerful pose in demi-plié as the women circle about her. All to soon, their cortège passes onward but the resonance of their dancing lingers. Miki, always so movingly inspired and inspiring, sets a lovely example for the young dancers surrounding her: not only of how to move, but how to be.

In the Graham Company’s on-going project of asking now-generation choreographers to create short danceworks inspired by Martha’s legendary solo Lamentation, Michelle Dorrance and Liz Gerring have now devised new pieces – Lamentation Variations – for the Graham dancers. Bulareyaung Pargalava’s Variation, a classic by now, was also on offer tonight.

Above: the Graham men in Michelle Dorrance’s Lamentation Variation; left to right are Abdiel Jacobsen, Ben Schultz, Lloyd Knight, Lloyd Mayor, Tadej Brdnik. Photo by Christopher Jones.

Ms. Dorrance, a tap-dancing paragon, did not ask the Graham dancers to tap. But the music she used relied on tap rhythmics with a jazzy over-lay. The men formed a kind of central knot, while a quintet of women were seen in walkabouts…which one or two of the men sometimes strayed into. Though abstract, an underlying aspect of sadness and solitude prevailed throughout this work.

Liz Gerring’s Lamentation Variation is a quartet – performed by Natasha M Diamond-Walker, Charlotte Landreau, Ying Xin, and the indefatigable Tadej Brdnik (photo, Brigid Pierce) – which is set to a score for electronics and piano. The movement is rather stylized, and choreographer and dancers make excellent use of the space.

Above: from Bulareyaung Pargalava’s Lamentation Vartiation; photo © 2015 Yi-Chun Wu.

Pargalava’s Variation opens to the sound of Martha Graham’s voice speaking about the solo that inspired all these variations. Soon a haunting melody from Mahler’s ‘Songs of the Wayfarer’ is heard. In flesh-coloured tights, the delicate XiaoChuan Xie and her three demi-god partners – Ben Schultz, Lloyd Knight, and Lloyd Mayor – move with a sense of flowing lyricism through intricate partnerings in which Chuan alternately sinks down and is lifted on high. The dancers and the dance certainly wove a hypnotic spell tonight.

Above: Tadej Brdnik and XiaoChuan Xie in Annie-B Parson’s The Snow Falls in the Winter; photo by Brigid Pierce.

I saw Annie-B Parson’s The Snow Falls in the Winter a few seasons ago when OtherShore performed it. It’s simply not my cup of tea. For me one of the great joys of watching dance is: the dancers are silent. Once they begin to speak, a whole element of mystery falls away. Ms. Parson’s work is more like a play with a bit of dancing thrown in. The Graham dancers of course flung themselves into the piece with their customary zest, and Carrie Ellmore-Tallitsch and Natasha Diamond-Walker in particular proved themselves adept actresses. But while many in the audience applauded lustily and commented enthusiastically on this very ‘different’ work, I found it pretty tedious.

Above: from Andonis Foniadakis’ Echo, Lloyd Mayor, PeiJu Chien-Pott, and Lloyd Knight; photo by Brigid Pierce

The evening then soared to its conclusion with Andonis Foniadakis’ myth-inspired masterwork, Echo. It’s more a mood piece than a literal re-telling of the ancient tale of Narcissus and Echo, and as such it flows gorgeously upon Julien Tauride’s atmospheric score. The Graham Company’s beautiful pair of Lloyds – Mayor and Knight – create the illusion of Narcissus and his refection in deeply-enmeshed duets, their movement enhanced by their long sheer skirts (costumes by Anastasios Sofroniou) as caught in shadowy swirls by Clifton Taylor’s lighting design. PeiJu Chein-Pott is simply gorgeous as Echo, her dancing radiant and her creation of the character’s unspoken love and frustration literally becoming poetry in motion. In a supporting ensemble (as if such dancers can ever be thought of as merely ‘supporting’!) Tadej Brdnik, Ben Schultz, Abdiel Jacobsen, Natasha Diamond-Walker, XiaoChuan Xie, Charlotte Landreau, and Lauren Newman all wove into the marvelous mythic tapestry that Mr. Foniadakis has created.

Above: from Andonis Foniadakis’ Echo, Lloyd Mayor and PeiJu Chien-Pott; photo by Brigid Pierce

So nice to see many dancer-friends among the crowd: Wendy Whelan, Mariya Dashkina Maddux, Jere Hunt, Justin Lynch, Jonathan Breton, and Alexandre Balmain; and of course my delightful companion of the evening, Roberto Villanueva. Special thanks to Janet Eilber, the dance world’s most gracious hostess, and to publicist Janet Stapleton for sending me the production photos with perfect timing.

Afterglow: Tadej Brdnik and Blakeley White-McGuire basking in the affectionate admiration of friends and fans after the performance. Photo courtesy of Karen Brounstein.

February 22, 2015
ASO: Max von Schillings’ MONA LISA

Friday February 20th, 2015 – An opportunity to hear a forgotten opera, Max von Schillings’ MONA LISA, came about thanks to conductor Leon Botstein and the American Symphony Orchestra. Bringing us operatic rarities is one of Maestro Botstein’s specialties, and tonight MONA LISA proved a wonderful discovery.

The opera was vastly popular in its day; in the fifteen years following its 1915 premiere, it was performed more than 1,200 times, including in St. Petersburg and at New York’s Metropolitan Opera. The composer’s embrace of Nazism has since cast him as an unsavory individual and, upon his death in 1933, he and his music were essentially forgotten.

von Schillings was considered a neo-Wagnerian, but in MONA LISA we experience a link with Italian verismo; both in its Renaissance setting and its musical style, I was most often put in mind of Zandonai’s FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. The influence of Strauss and Zemlinsky may also be felt. von Schillings successfully blends a variety of stylistic elements into music that evokes the Age of da Vinci from a Germanic viewpoint.

The story is a Mona Lisa fantasy and revolves around her jealous husband, Francesco del Giocondo, and her former lover, Giovanni de Salviati who arrives at the del Giocondo palazzo on an errand from the pope: to purchase a rare pearl. Mona Lisa and Giovanni had once been lovers, and the flame is re-kindled.

The pearl is kept in a small, air-tight chamber. After arranging the purchase, Giovanni covertly persuades Mona Lisa that they should run away together when he comes to collect the pearl. Her husband notices the mysterious smile on his wife’s face – a smile she has never shone on him in their years of marriage – and suspects Giovanni as a rival. To avoid being caught, Giovanni hides in the pearl-chamber, which Francesco then locks. Mona Lisa knows that Giovanni will suffocate, but she keeps her cool and the next morning she tells her husband says she will wear the pearl. When Francesco enters the chamber to fetch the jewel for her, she slams the door shut behind him and locks it.

The opera is set during carnival season which gives rise to some passages of courtly entertainment. And, subtly, the libretto refers to Madama Borgia as being Mona Lisa’s friend. Thus the notion of dispatching an unwanted husband would come naturally to Mona Lisa.

The score abounds with melody and the opera is impressively orchestrated, bringing in harp, celeste, mandolin and organ…even castanets are heard at one point. The ASO‘s concertmaster Erica Kiesewetter seized several opportunities to bring forth beautiful solo violin passages.

The opera was well-cast with singers intent on characterizing their music. In the title-role, soprano Petra Maria Schnitzer, despite a less-than-comfortable upper register, blended lyricism with passionate declamation. As Francesco, the charismatic Michael Anthony McGee, delighted in the vocal art of insinuation, his genial vocal veneer covering a soul of brooding jealousy and duplicity. In a performance of intense power and commitment, tenor Paul McNamara scored a great success as he met the Wagnerian demands of the role of Giovanni; his vocalism made a strong impact in the Hall.

A quintet of courtiers, led by tenor Robert Chafin as Arrigo Oldofredi, provided ongoing commentary in Act I, with bursts of song woven into the tapestry. John Easterlin, Justin Hopkins, Christopher Burchett, and Michael Scarcelle kept their scenes lively with characterful singing and good dramatic interaction. An appealing trio of young women gave a vocal counter-balance to the men’s ensemble: Lucy Fitz Gibbon and Katherine Maysek sang attractively, and Ilana Davidson had a lovely vocal vignette, portraying Venus in a carnival pageant. The Bard Festival Chorale had rather less to do than one might have wished, but they did it well indeed.

THE CAST

Foreigner/Francesco del Giocondo: Michael Anthony McGee, bass-baritone
Woman/Mona Fiordalisa: Petra Maria Schnitzer, soprano
Lay Brother/Giovanni de Salviati: Paul McNamara, tenor
Pietro Tumoni: Justin Hopkins, bass-baritone
Arrigo Oldofredi: Robert Chafin, tenor
Alessio Beneventi: John Easterlin, tenor
Sandro da Luzzano: Christopher Burchett, baritone
Masolino Pedruzzi: Michael Scarcelle, bass-baritone
Mona Ginevra: Ilana Davidson, soprano
Dianora: Lucy Fitz Gibbon, soprano
Piccarda: Katherine Maysek, mezzo-soprano

Bard Festival Chorale (James Bagwell, director)

Conductor: Leon Botstein

February 21, 2015
ASO: Max von Schillings’ MONA LISA

Friday February 20th, 2015 – An opportunity to hear a forgotten opera, Max von Schillings’ MONA LISA, came about thanks to conductor Leon Botstein and the American Symphony Orchestra. Bringing us operatic rarities is one of Maestro Botstein’s specialties, and tonight MONA LISA proved a wonderful discovery.

The opera was vastly popular in its day; in the fifteen years following its 1915 premiere, it was performed more than 1,200 times, including in St. Petersburg and at New York’s Metropolitan Opera. The composer’s embrace of Nazism has since cast him as an unsavory individual and, upon his death in 1933, he and his music were essentially forgotten.

von Schillings was considered a neo-Wagnerian, but in MONA LISA we experience a link with Italian verismo; both in its Renaissance setting and its musical style, I was most often put in mind of Zandonai’s FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. The influence of Strauss and Zemlinsky may also be felt. von Schillings successfully blends a variety of stylistic elements into music that evokes the Age of da Vinci from a Germanic viewpoint.

The story is a Mona Lisa fantasy and revolves around her jealous husband, Francesco del Giocondo, and her former lover, Giovanni de Salviati who arrives at the del Giocondo palazzo on an errand from the pope: to purchase a rare pearl. Mona Lisa and Giovanni had once been lovers, and the flame is re-kindled.

The pearl is kept in a small, air-tight chamber. After arranging the purchase, Giovanni covertly persuades Mona Lisa that they should run away together when he comes to collect the pearl. Her husband notices the mysterious smile on his wife’s face – a smile she has never shone on him in their years of marriage – and suspects Giovanni as a rival. To avoid being caught, Giovanni hides in the pearl-chamber, which Francesco then locks. Mona Lisa knows that Giovanni will suffocate, but she keeps her cool and the next morning she tells her husband says she will wear the pearl. When Francesco enters the chamber to fetch the jewel for her, she slams the door shut behind him and locks it.

The opera is set during carnival season which gives rise to some passages of courtly entertainment. And, subtly, the libretto refers to Madama Borgia as being Mona Lisa’s friend. Thus the notion of dispatching an unwanted husband would come naturally to Mona Lisa.

The score abounds with melody and the opera is impressively orchestrated, bringing in harp, celeste, mandolin and organ…even castanets are heard at one point. The ASO‘s concertmaster Erica Kiesewetter seized several opportunities to bring forth beautiful solo violin passages.

The opera was well-cast with singers intent on characterizing their music. In the title-role, soprano Petra Maria Schnitzer, despite a less-than-comfortable upper register, blended lyricism with passionate declamation. As Francesco, the charismatic Michael Anthony McGee, delighted in the vocal art of insinuation, his genial vocal veneer covering a soul of brooding jealousy and duplicity. In a performance of intense power and commitment, tenor Paul McNamara scored a great success as he met the Wagnerian demands of the role of Giovanni; his vocalism made a strong impact in the Hall.

A quintet of courtiers, led by tenor Robert Chafin as Arrigo Oldofredi, provided ongoing commentary in Act I, with bursts of song woven into the tapestry. John Easterlin, Justin Hopkins, Christopher Burchett, and Michael Scarcelle kept their scenes lively with characterful singing and good dramatic interaction. An appealing trio of young women gave a vocal counter-balance to the men’s ensemble: Lucy Fitz Gibbon and Katherine Maysek sang attractively, and Ilana Davidson had a lovely vocal vignette, portraying Venus in a carnival pageant. The Bard Festival Chorale had rather less to do than one might have wished, but they did it well indeed.

THE CAST

Foreigner/Francesco del Giocondo: Michael Anthony McGee, bass-baritone
Woman/Mona Fiordalisa: Petra Maria Schnitzer, soprano
Lay Brother/Giovanni de Salviati: Paul McNamara, tenor
Pietro Tumoni: Justin Hopkins, bass-baritone
Arrigo Oldofredi: Robert Chafin, tenor
Alessio Beneventi: John Easterlin, tenor
Sandro da Luzzano: Christopher Burchett, baritone
Masolino Pedruzzi: Michael Scarcelle, bass-baritone
Mona Ginevra: Ilana Davidson, soprano
Dianora: Lucy Fitz Gibbon, soprano
Piccarda: Katherine Maysek, mezzo-soprano

Bard Festival Chorale (James Bagwell, director)

Conductor: Leon Botstein

February 20, 2015
IOLANTA/BLUEBEARD’S CASTLE @ The Met

Above: Boris Kudlicka’s set design for The Met’s production of Bartok’s BLUEBEARD’S CASTLE

Wednesday February 18th, 2015 – This pairing of ‘short’ operas by Tchaikovsky and Bartok at The Met didn’t really work. IOLANTA is an awkward work: too short to stand alone but too long to be successfully coupled with another opera. BLUEBEARD, so intense musically and rather static dramatically, is best paired with something like Schoenberg’s ERWARTUNG or Stravinsky’s OEDIPUS REX. Aside from the musical mismatch, the evening was further spoilt by an endless intermission.

Tchaikovsky’s IOLANTA is full of nice melodies and is perfectly palatable but at no point do we feel connected to the story or the characters as we do with ONEGIN or PIQUE-DAME. The production is gloomy, with a central ‘box’ (Iolanta’s bedroom) which periodically (and rather annoyingly) rotates. The stage direction was random and incoherent, the minor characters popping in and out, and then a big choral finale populated by men in waiters’ aprons. Nothing made much sense, really.

Musically, IOLANTA was given a not-very-inspired reading by Pavel Smelkov. It took Anna Netrebko a while to warm up; her singing became more persuasive as the evening wore on. She was attractive to watch and did what she could dramatically with a limited character and a dreary production. Mzia Nioradze was a sturdily-sung Marta. Among the male roles, Matt Boehler stood out vocally as Bertrand. Neither Vladimir Chmelo (Ibn-Hakia) nor Alexei Tanovitski (King Rene) seemed to be Met-caliber singers, and Maxim Aniskin’s Duke Robert was pleasant enough vocally though of smallish scale in the big House.

IOLANTA was in fact only saved by a superb performance as Vaudemont by Piotr Beczala. From the moment of his first entrance, the tenor’s generous and appealing sound and his commanding stage presence lifted the clouds of tedious mediocrity that had settled over the scene. As his most Gedda-like vocally, Beczala seemed to enflame Ms. Netrebko and their big duet had a fine sense of triumph.

The House, which was quite full for the Tchaikovsky, thinned out a bit at intermission. Those who stayed for the Bartok were treated to an impressive musical performance thwarted to an extent by busy, awkward staging. Mr. Smelkov seemed more in his element here than in the Tchaikovsky; the orchestra played Bartok’s gorgeous score for all it’s worth, and that’s saying a lot.

After the eerie, ominous spoken prologue, we enter Bluebeard’s dark domain. Where we should see seven doors, we instead see an automatic garage door closing. Then begins the long conversation between Bluebeard and Judith which will end with her bound in permanent captivity with his other wives.

The staging did the two singers – Michaela Martens and Mikhail Petrenko – no favors; periodically they appeared – for no apparent reason – in an isolated ‘cupboard’ high up at extreme stage left while the central space was filled with the filmed image of a gaping elevator shaft (see photo at the top of this article). The opening of each each ‘door’ was staged as a series of odd vignettes. Nothing made much sense. The final scene was ugly and failed to project the sense of mystery that should hover over Judith’s fate.

Both Ms. Martens and Mr. Petrenko were on fine vocal form, and both brought unusual warmth and unexpected lyricism to much of their music. They sang powerfully, the mezzo showing a large and expressive middle register and resonant lower notes, with the basso having both power and tonal beauty at his command.

At several points along the way, their singing seemed somewhat compromised by the staging; and never more so than in Judith’s famous high-C. At this moment, the director placed the singer far upstage – almost on Amsterdam Avenue – and so although Ms. Martens nailed the note, she was too far back to crest the orchestra. I suspect it was staged this way as a covering device for the vocal unreliability of the production’s earlier Judith, Nadja Michael.

But overall, Ms. Martens and Mr. Petrenko each made a distinctive vocal showing; and it was they, the Met orchestra, and Piotr Beczala’s Vaudemont earlier in the performance that gave the evening its lustre and saved it from sinking into the murky depths. Attempts to show some kind of link between the two operas by means of certain stage effects proved unconvincing. The Bartok, especially, deserves so much better.

Metropolitan Opera House February 18, 2015
IOLANTA P I Tchaikovsky Iolanta....................Anna Netrebko Vaudémont..................Piotr Beczala Robert.....................Maxim Aniskin King René..................Alexei Tanovitski Bertrand...................Matt Boehler Alméric....................Keith Jameson Ibn-Hakia..................Vladimir Chmelo Marta......................Mzia Nioradze Brigitte...................Katherine Whyte Laura......................Cassandra Zoé Velasco
BLUEBEARD'S CASTLE Béla Bartók

Judith.....................Michaela Martens Bluebeard..................Mikhail Petrenko

Conductor..................Pavel Smelkov

February 18, 2015
YCA Young Composers Concert @ Merkin Hall

Tuesday February 17th, 2015 – Young Concert Artists presenting an evening of chamber music by young composers at Merkin Hall. I invited my choreographer-friend Claudia Schreier to join me, as she is always in quest of music to set dances to.

It was a cordial and wonderfully satisfying evening of music, the four composers showing an expansive range of styles and influences, and a fine mastery of writing for the chosen instruments. The level of playing was high and mighty, and how lovely to re-encounter Ursula Oppens, who throughout her career has been a champion of new music.

Things got off to a shining start with BENJAMIN C.S. BOYLE‘s Sonata-Cantilena (NY premiere) performed by pianist Charles Abramovic and flautist Mimi Stillman (above). This four-movement work opens with a Debussyian shimmer; it wends its way thru melodious passages – sometimes doleful and sometimes evoking the warblings of exotic birds – with some sprightly, witty cascades of impetuous coloratura added to the mix. Ms. Stillman, in a fetching pale-violet frock, played beautifully and Mr. Abramovic was a congenially artful partner.

Ms. Oppens (above) was then joined by violinist Paul Huang and clarinetist Narek Arutyunian for DAVID HERTZBERG‘s Orgie Céleste (Premiere), a fantastical evocation of heavenly delights. Complex and ear-tingling in its textures, much of the music has an ethereal quality as the piano and violin linger in their high registers; meanwhile the clarinet murmurs a two-note motif endlessly, like a subtly pulsing heartbeat. Mr. Huang showed extraordinary technical control as he met all the composer’s demands with alacrity, including some ironic glissandi. The intermingling of the three voices kept everything in a constant state of freshness, Ms. Oppens was wonderfully vivid in her silvery filigree and Mr. Arutyunian seizing melodic opportunities his mellow, expressive tone. The audience responded enthusiastically to both the music and the musicians.

The only one of tonight’s composers previously familiar to me was KENJI BUNCH, who I had met several years ago while I was working at Tower Records. Since then I have heard quite a bit of his music, but I had not had the pleasure of hearing him play live. He’s a superb violist, with a marvelous mastery of the instrument, making it sing for him is two very contrasted works.

Above: Kenji Bunch and pianist Monica Ohuchi

In I Dream in Evergreen, Kenji revealed the viola’s depth of lyricism in a poignant reflection on the sundering aspects of death, when mortal friendships end and are transformed into memory. Ms. Ohuchi’s gently shimmering opening theme is soon joined by the viola intoning its poetic recollection of past affection and regret. Together the two musicians provided a reflective interlude, impeccably played.

Kenji’s Étude No. 4 (from a set of twelve études he composed for his wife, Ms. Ohuchi, under the title Monica’s Notebook) is a brief and brilliant piece. Lasting all of 90 seconds, it sends the pianist’s hands rippling up and down the keyboard in a delightful display of dexterity. Ms. Ohuchi nailed it, and she was rightly given sustained applause which wouldn’t quit til she returned for a solo bow (personally, I was hoping for an encore of the piece!)

In Étouffée for solo viola, Kenji’s panoramic exploration of the viola’s possibilities was truly impressive and enjoyable; his playing is mesmerizing – there’s no other word for it. Inspired by a favorite dish from the Cajun culture, the work opens with a hazy, out-of-focus quality as if the viola was drunk on Southern Comfort. This evolves into a big country dance-tune, captivating in its combination of rhythmic drive and sexy rubato. Bravo, Kenji! His entire set was really impressive.

Having musicians of the caliber of the Opus One quartet (above) play the New York premiere of your work must have given composer CHRIS ROGERSON a thrill. His Summer Night Music for Piano Quartet is full of musical marvels and how superbly it was played tonight by the Opus One artists: Ida Kavafian, violinist; Steven Tenenbom, violist; Peter Wiley, cellist; and Anne-Marie McDermott, pianist.

In four movements, Summer Night Music opens with a sense of quietude at Twilight. First the cello, then viola, and then the violin introduce themselves in gentle motifs. Ms. McDermott reaches inside the body of the Steinway to pluck the piano’s strings as the cello murmurs plaintively and the violin plays high and pensive. In Fireflies, the piano spins forth with fluttering restlessness and sparkling little interjections. There’s a dense passage from all four players until, until – with a high fade-away from violin and piano – the memory of a Summer night slips away.

The third movement, Evening Prayers, sounds like a gentle lullabye; the violin lingers on high and the viola and cello blend thru the music in simpatico phrases. The concluding Sleep Music commences with a gently vibrant quality, soft and high; a mellowness of cello and viola evoke deepening night. There is a broad melody for unison strings – and a passionate piano theme – before the music finally vanishes into thin air on Ms. Kavafian’s violin strings.

In researching some of the participating artists, I came upon the above quote from the young violinist Paul Huang. He has expressed something here that I have always felt.

February 17, 2015