Tiny Thoughts: Dog Days

In Tiny Thoughts, we respond to a performance based on how a friend would recount their outing to the theatre.

What's the deal with this show?

The New York premiere of an opera composed by David T. Little with a libretto by Royce Vavrek, about a family trying to survive in their suburban house after an apocalyptic war has left them isolated and hungry.

Presented by the PROTOTYPE Festival at NYU's Skirball Center.

How was the piece?

The piece is pretty fantastic. It's riveting vocal writing that has all the jagged edges of modernity while still landing in a rich, belly-warming way. Mr. Little weaves electronic "found sounds" into a relatively traditional nine-piece ensemble. It's important to note that unlike many new operas where the instrumentalists have had little time with the score, in this case the ensemble, called Newspeak, was one Mr. Little created himself and has performed with for years.

Lauren Worsham with James Bobick standing over John Kelly, with Newspeak in the background

Rather than a typical narrative cycle, this piece grows in tension until the very horrifying, inevitable end. It may take thirty minutes too long to get there, but the end result is so harrowing and thrilling, we forgave the extra half hour. And Vavrek deserves credit for extrapolating a great deal from the short story by Judy Budnitz.

How was it executed? 

With a minimal unit set and projections, the production by Robert Woodruff showcased the performances, which were overall extraordinary. The projections provided aerial shots of the family scampering for ration drops, rendering them animals hunted, or perhaps missile targets. However, despite both the instrumentalists and singers being amplified and well-balanced, my friends and I had a hard time understanding a lot of the words, and wondered why there weren't supertitles on the giant projection screen.

One reason for the difficulty in comprehension was that some cast members sang in a vernacular diction, whereas some used the more traditional Mid-Atlantic pronunciation and as a result were not understood consistently. I often wonder when the opera world will fully make this switch into modern American singing.

In the short story, the "dog" of the title is literally a man in a Halloween dog suit, while the dog of the opera was more disturbing. Played by artist and choreographer John Kelly, the dog resembled a sinewy, homeless hippie, covered in patches of fur and dirt and duct tape, panting and pawing through an unfeeling wasteland.

Who were the stars?

With any new work, the stars are the creators, Mr. Little and Mr. Vavrek. Beyond that, the piece seemed to be a vehicle driven and dominated by soprano Lauren Worsham as the preteen Lisa. It came as no surprise to learn that the original story was told from her character's perspective.

Ms. Worsham's aria to the mirror, in which the projection screen becomes a giant fluorescent reflection of her desperate face, is worth the time of the entire evening. Lisa fights through the searing pain of her isolation by searching for lost friends in the reflection, and adoring her own, skinny, hallowed image, telling herself how beautiful she is, how she finally looks like a model. Heartbreaking to say the least.

It was one of those moments where you forget you're watching an opera, the lines just seem to pour from a human's soul. In the final scene, she copes with a sudden loss with such determination despite her frailty - Ms. Worsham held us silently in the palm of her starving hands.

In an understated performance as Lisa's mother, silken soprano Marnie Breckenridge heroically portrayed the spiritual heart of this dying world.

What was the venue experience like?

I was surprised to find online that the Skirball Center seats nearly 900 - we were in parterre seats off the orchestra and it seemed much cozier. At the Saturday night performance of this much-buzzed about production, it was a celebrity parade of opera people.

So which would be better - having no intermissions so we can focus on the art and not who we feel compelled to say hello to - or having a bigger bar to allow for the networking and socializing sessions before and after the show? As it was, the management started flickering lights at us to get us out of the lobby afterwards. Felt a little sad after such a thrilling theatre event.

All in all, was the outing worth paying a babysitter?

I think seeing Lauren Worsham do anything is worth paying a babysitter, but this piece is particularly significant for its deft use of a minimal, visible chamber ensemble, use of amplification and video art, a fiercely timely subject matter, tour-de-force performances, and an evocative, satisfying soundscape - all elements new opera needs today.

Tiny Thoughts: Fleeting Animal

Last fall we began the season bustling our butts around seeing shows, and decided to try a new way of writing about them, especially those that do not get much press.

Then a sudden personal tragedy befell our team the last week of September and we have been derailed for a few months. But now we're back, and thought, what the hell, let's post some notes from the fall, albeit belated.

We're calling this new series of micro-reviews Tiny Thoughts. The purpose of Tiny Thoughts is not so much to judge a performance as it is to humbly give credit to outstanding performers and creatives, and ask some more pointed questions than just value judgements:

What is exciting about THIS SHOW, RIGHT NOW? Why is is worth PAYING A BABYSITTER to hoof it to the venue and sit through it?

We hope to present an encapsulation of what a thoughtful, clever friend would tell you about the show after seeing it - she might not mention everyone who contributed, but she's not going to talk dirty about anyone, either.

So we begin with a very unusual piece performed in six different Vermont towns in September 2015. The opera was based on a beloved book by David Budbill about rural Vermont life called Judevine, which has since become a the kind of local classic that Vermont high schoolers all have as required reading. So here we go:

What is the deal with this show?

It's a revival of an opera from 2000 by Eric Nielsen about poor rural Vermonters, and essentially a love story between a single mom living in a trailer and a Vietnam vet who struggles between rebuilding his life and managing deafening depression.

What's the piece like?

There are moments of absolutely bittersweet wonder in the score, which is sampled here. It blends modern harmonies with moments of blues and swing. The tough part is the sparkle moments are weighed down by cringe-worthy, stereotypical local color, which ultimately is much less interesting than the central love story. There is also an unfortunate subplot about provincial racism that really derails the central conflict of the story. What could have been a heart-rending ending was also derailed by predictable, trivial details about one of the main characters.

Tenor Adam Hall and soprano Mary Bonhag

How was the piece produced?

The show was designed to tour, so the set and lighting was minimal. The more complex challenge was for the vocal ensemble, who had very difficult roles and music to sing. There was also so many different theatrical styles used in the staging by Margo Whitcomb - albeit fitting for a cross-genre score - that the audience had to constantly adjust. There was a musical theatre softball scene, moments of abstract movement involving fabric and stones, and other more naturalistic styles. Perhaps most uncomfortable was the subplot about racism, and yet somehow the ensemble lacked enough singers of color to confidently pull off a fun scene of blues riffing. And I must mention that there were not only simulated gunshots, but the prop guns were pointed directly at the audience, which flies against any theatrical code of conduct I know. However, the music was indeed impressively executed by conductor Anne Decker and her seven-piece ensemble TURNmusic. 

Who were the standout artists?

Cheers go to Maestra Decker and her ensemble. The soprano Mary Bonhag gave a committed performance with a silvery soprano. The women in the ensemble -- Jessica Allen, Stefanie Weigand, Rebecca Bailey, and Lisa Raatikainen -- were also remarkable in their presence. Baritone Thomas Beard lent a surprisingly powerful, colorful voice to the production as the Vietnam vet William. 

What was the venue experience like?

We saw the production at Chandler Center for the Arts in Randolph, Vermont, which is a gorgeously renovated, historic hall. There was also a companion gallery exhibit, a really beautiful touch.

Babysitter principle? 

I would have been upset to pay the babysitter an extra hour for all the irrelevant scenes in the show, but the rarity of opera in Vermont means it was certainly worth the outing. 

Underneath the Jester's Cap

This spring, I was the Assistant Director on two operas; one production of Rigoletto with Bernard Uzan at Michigan Opera Theatre, and a production of Tosca with Massimo Gasparon, an Italian director and designer, at Palm Beach Opera.  Massimo is doing a new production of Rigoletto this summer at the Sferisterio Festival in Macerata, Italy, which I'm sure will be gorgeous.

In working on Rigoletto for the first time, I found a great little book that breaks down the derivations from the play, Le roi s'amuse, by Victor Hugo.  It's in a "Masterworks of Opera" series by Charles Osborne. Here are some fun notes from the book:

    •    Le roi s'amuse was arguably banned because it was seen as an "incitement to rebellion," yet in Rigoletto, the censored bits, like showing Gilda in the Duke's bedroom, were mostly due to perceived indecency, like how the FCC won't let us say "ass" on TV.
    •    Quote from Hugo: "It is precisely when there is no censorship that authors must censor themselves, honestly, conscientiously, severely.  It is thus that they raise the dignity of art. When one has complete liberty, it behooves one to keep within bounds."
    •    Hugo loosely based his story on Triboulet, historic jester to Louis XII and Francis I, the Duke being fashioned after the alleged shenanigans of King Francis I.
    •    However, the military censors required them to distance the opera from the French play, so they had to change all the character names, and change the French King into an Italian Duke from the same period, the Duke of Mantua: Federico II of Gonzaga. (take a deep breath and say Gonzaga three times -- it's fun.)
    •    To add a third Wikipedia bio in there, you could also argue that Verdi and Piave were REALLY talking about their hometown honey, Carlo III, c.1849. The fun fact about young Carlo: he was so despised that he was stabbed in the street when he was only 30, probably by a hired assassin, much like Rigoletto wanted to do to the Duke.
    •    Monterone was based on M. de Saint-Vallier, father of Diane de Poitiers, Countess of Breze.  So she's no street urchin.
    •    Sparafucile was based on Saltabadil -- when he identifies himself in the opera as Borgognone (from Bologna) the reference really refers to the line in the play, where he says he's a gypsy from Burgundy (I'd love to change that line to make it clearer).  His sister, Maddelena, was Maguelonne, and apparently lacked the compassion that so desperately flows from our love-struck Maddelena.
    •    Marullo was no courtier in the play but the court poet, Maître Clement Marot, so he was also in service to the King, which is arguably why Rigoletto appeals to him in Act II.  This brings up the political themes of Hugo, for a big part of Triboulet/Rigoletto's bitterness is that he is helpless in this monarchy - he is a servant, can't do anything else, probably can't own his own property - and Marullo is also part of this game: the livelihood of even a great artist is dependent on the whims of the idiot monarchy.
    •    Bernard would lament in rehearsal that he hated the "La maledizione" line that ends the opera.  In the play, the ending was a much more public scene, with onlookers and a doctor.  Triboulet ends by crying, "I've killed my child." Arguably Piave's scene is much more intimate and links the curse thematically to the rest of the show -- however, depending on how the singer does it, it can be seen as a cop out: he's not taking responsibility for his vile actions and just blaming 'that old man's curse.'
    •    The dance the courtiers do in Act One is a perigordino, a fiesty French country dance from the region of Périgord. However, the music in that section is usually done too slowly to really be a gig.  It's often staged more as a sexy minuet.

There are also a few things that are unclear about the piece that I'd love to crack:

    •    The first duet between Rigoletto and Gilda is very vague in terms of action, and as a result is very boring.  There is no sense of time of day, activity, nothing. It's even more boring if they love each other perfectly and have a perfectly open, communicative, father-daughter relationship.  I think the tragedy of the opera is not that they love each other and she dies; it's that she dies just when they are beginning to have a true connection to each other.
    •    Giovanna is also rather boring, but says some kooky things that don't fit as a doting nurse.  I honestly think she is trying to sell Gilda's virginity to the highest bidder, right under her father's nose.  In those days, even some parents would have done that, rather than supply a huge dowry for a daughter.  That's also why some girls went straight to convents, which Gilda does.  There should be a palpable threat of Gilda becoming a courtesan, and Rigoletto should know this and decide to avoid it at whatever cost.  
    •    The very first lines of the opera, where the Duke talks about some sweetheart to Borsa, are kindof ridiculous.  There is no way anyone would ever put it together that he's talking about our dazzlingly beautiful heroine soprano.  My only fix is to use some of that preshow music to visualize this part of the plot that has happened before the opera begins.  Maybe the church reception where they meet (which would have a been a pickup joint then, just as it is now) morphs into his own private party.
    •    The third act is really perfect drama.  Hugo was really jealous that Verdi could have so many people singing at once and you knew exactly what they were thinking and feeling. However, how much time passes from Act II to Act III?  The action is so intense is seems within a few days. Yet Rigoletto has a cryptic line that he's been waiting thirty days, dressed as the jester, for this moment.  I think if that line is translated literally, there should be some supertitle to say that time has passed, and everyone's moved on really, except Rigoletto can't shake his thirst for vengeance.

So the biggest moment of censorship is the moment before Gilda enters in Act II.  There is a whole scene in the play where Gilda is brought before the Duke; she realizes who he is and flees to hide (in his bedroom).  He goes in after her.  So we are left with the questions:

How does Gilda feel about the Duke lying about his identity?
Does the Duke rape her? Do they even have sex? Does Gilda enjoy it? Is she wearing her own clothes or is she forced to throw on some of his pajamas? Does the Duke still think she might be his true love? Does Gilda?  All of this could get foggy when Gilda's in front of her father.  I'd like to see her for a moment sometime before she meets him, even if it's before Rigoletto's entrance.

There are lots of other details I could chew on, but these are the main points for me.  In any case, this is a Verdi masterpiece that a director or conductor could spend a lifetime on.