![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Jan. 15th, 2012 05:01 pm
Der Zaubereuro
Here's a little exchange I had at least twice in the past week:
Not only does this mark the third time I've seen Z...er, this particular Mozart opera at the Lyric, it's also the third time I've seen this exact same production. Seriously, what's up with that? (I think this quote in the accompanying programme from outgoing artistic director William Mason may shed some light: "Christopher Alden's Rigoletto was one of the most ingenious and well-thought-out productions I've seen, although the public didn't like it at all." My reaction, as a member of the public: "[T]he young directors had the 'brilliant' idea of setting the action in a Victorian gentlemen's club, an idea so half-baked even they abandoned it two-thirds of the way through and reverted to traditional form for the last act".)
But more on that later. The best thing about this version was the cast. The worst thing about it was also the cast. On the plus side, they brought a lot of vigour. In particular the Three Ladies (two of whom were Ryan Opera Center members) found a way to make their characters very animated and amusing without crossing the line into slapstick. And Stéphane Degout as Papageno was a marked improvement over whoever it was we had last time. I was put off by his singing when he very first appeared, but I soon warmed to it as he won me over with his speaking bits. For a Frenchman, he has amazingly good German.
But he was really the only singer in a young cast composed chiefly of Lyric Opera débutants who had a big enough voice. The rest were singing "for a house about two thirds the size", in the words of Nuphy. Nicole Cabell as Pamina and Rodell Rosel as Monostatos were the best at holding their own against him; the biggest disappointment was Audrey Luna as the Queen of the Night. Not only does she have a small voice but a small body as well--a head shorter than her putative daughter and half the size of the Ladies with their Cinderella-sisters hoop skirts. All that added up to a real lack of stage presence and an entrance that was seriously underwhelming.
To her credit, she did make it through one of the most ballbreaking arias in the modern repertoire, but that's all she did. As![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu says, "It should sound effortless; you shouldn't be holding your breath wondering if she's get through it." But that's exactly what I was doing. Afterwards, Nuphy advised me to check out Diana Damrau's performance. Wow.
So between the familiar production and a vocally uninspiring cast, I had plenty of time to think about how one would go about staging the opera in such a way as to minimise the outrageous 18th century racism rather than go out of the way to play it up, as this one seems to do. What's the point of giving the Moors green skin (altering the libretto to match) if you're still going to give them frizzy afros, "native" clothing, and grass huts to live in? That kind of dodge does't work when a pop artist pulls it and it doesn't work here.
I thought to myself, If they have to have another skin colour, why not make it blue and have them all be Smurfs? My next thought was, Wouldn't that make Sarastro Belgian? And does that make the Temple of Wisdom EU headquarters in Brussels? But Nuphy made a good point during the intermission that there's no need to interpret Monostatos' references to his blackness as indicating skin colour rather than character.
I shared with him my idea of remaking the allegory about embracing Enlightenment ideals into an allegory about embracing EU membership. (The Queen of the Night is Mother Russia, the Moors become bungling EU border guards, Papageno and Papagena are Arab/Turk/Roma as a dig at Eurabia, etc.) He didn't like it, because he doesn't think it's an opera that can survive updating. He's got a point: When's the last time you saw anything where there was a boardroom full of stuffy old white men and these were the good guys? But I'm not giving up yet. I really think a successful satirisation of the accession process would carry the audience over the hurdles.
Me: Saturday I'm going to the opera.This is what living with a German-speaking opera enthusiast will do to you. On the plus side, I've inadvertently stumbled on a first approximation to answering the question whether someone of my acquaintance "knows opera" or not.
NotMe: What are you going to see?
Me: Zauberflöte.
NotMe: Never heard of it.
Me: "Magic Flute" in English.
NotMe: Oh that one!
Not only does this mark the third time I've seen Z...er, this particular Mozart opera at the Lyric, it's also the third time I've seen this exact same production. Seriously, what's up with that? (I think this quote in the accompanying programme from outgoing artistic director William Mason may shed some light: "Christopher Alden's Rigoletto was one of the most ingenious and well-thought-out productions I've seen, although the public didn't like it at all." My reaction, as a member of the public: "[T]he young directors had the 'brilliant' idea of setting the action in a Victorian gentlemen's club, an idea so half-baked even they abandoned it two-thirds of the way through and reverted to traditional form for the last act".)
But more on that later. The best thing about this version was the cast. The worst thing about it was also the cast. On the plus side, they brought a lot of vigour. In particular the Three Ladies (two of whom were Ryan Opera Center members) found a way to make their characters very animated and amusing without crossing the line into slapstick. And Stéphane Degout as Papageno was a marked improvement over whoever it was we had last time. I was put off by his singing when he very first appeared, but I soon warmed to it as he won me over with his speaking bits. For a Frenchman, he has amazingly good German.But he was really the only singer in a young cast composed chiefly of Lyric Opera débutants who had a big enough voice. The rest were singing "for a house about two thirds the size", in the words of Nuphy. Nicole Cabell as Pamina and Rodell Rosel as Monostatos were the best at holding their own against him; the biggest disappointment was Audrey Luna as the Queen of the Night. Not only does she have a small voice but a small body as well--a head shorter than her putative daughter and half the size of the Ladies with their Cinderella-sisters hoop skirts. All that added up to a real lack of stage presence and an entrance that was seriously underwhelming.
To her credit, she did make it through one of the most ballbreaking arias in the modern repertoire, but that's all she did. As
monshu says, "It should sound effortless; you shouldn't be holding your breath wondering if she's get through it." But that's exactly what I was doing. Afterwards, Nuphy advised me to check out Diana Damrau's performance. Wow.So between the familiar production and a vocally uninspiring cast, I had plenty of time to think about how one would go about staging the opera in such a way as to minimise the outrageous 18th century racism rather than go out of the way to play it up, as this one seems to do. What's the point of giving the Moors green skin (altering the libretto to match) if you're still going to give them frizzy afros, "native" clothing, and grass huts to live in? That kind of dodge does't work when a pop artist pulls it and it doesn't work here.
I thought to myself, If they have to have another skin colour, why not make it blue and have them all be Smurfs? My next thought was, Wouldn't that make Sarastro Belgian? And does that make the Temple of Wisdom EU headquarters in Brussels? But Nuphy made a good point during the intermission that there's no need to interpret Monostatos' references to his blackness as indicating skin colour rather than character.
I shared with him my idea of remaking the allegory about embracing Enlightenment ideals into an allegory about embracing EU membership. (The Queen of the Night is Mother Russia, the Moors become bungling EU border guards, Papageno and Papagena are Arab/Turk/Roma as a dig at Eurabia, etc.) He didn't like it, because he doesn't think it's an opera that can survive updating. He's got a point: When's the last time you saw anything where there was a boardroom full of stuffy old white men and these were the good guys? But I'm not giving up yet. I really think a successful satirisation of the accession process would carry the audience over the hurdles.