|
Comment on this article
Till the svelte lady sings
July/August 2010
by Matthew Gurewitsch ’81MBA
Matthew Gurewitsch ’81MBA writes about international
culture from New York City.
In our grandparents’ day, or maybe our
great-grandparents’, when a box at the Met was handed down like the family silver,
the mantra used to be that opera was all about voice, voice, voice. Alas, for
much of the twentieth century, the glorification of the voice brought with it
neglect of theatrical values. Opera came to mean ramshackle sets, tatty
costumes, and corpulent dowagers cast as nubile courtesans. Bored with the
lingering traditions of yesteryear, companies today are promoting opera as
total theater—in truth, a concept as old as the genre itself—and seeking
directors from theater and film who can do justice to the drama without
shortchanging the music.
| |
Everyone knows opera is music. But can it be … theater?
|
At the Yale School of Drama, a new opera practicum
for singers and directors, created with the School of Music, addresses the
challenges and opportunities awaiting students upon graduation. The course was
co-taught this spring by directing professors David Chambers and Liz Diamond,
who believe it to be the first of its kind in the nation.
For many of the nine directing students, opera was an
undiscovered country at the start of the semester. For the half-dozen opera
students, the intense collaboration with theater directors was likewise a new
adventure. Chambers and Diamond had recruited a starry lineup of master
teachers—officially “visiting lecturers”—all of them respected directors from
the brave new world of contemporary opera.
The course was designed to familiarize the class with
challenges specific to opera: following the pace of the action as set down by
the composer, giving dramatic clarity to repetitious or overlapping text, and
coping with the sheer scale of opera houses, which are typically much larger
than playhouses.
The final workshops were devoted to Handel’s
pastorale Acis and Galatea. The assignment for Charlotte Brathwaite ’11MFA was to
stage Polyphemus’s aria “O ruddier than the cherry,” an expression of his
arousal and frustration. Brathwaite imagined the character as a graduate student
locked away in his dorm room, surfing X-rated websites for release. The
talented Jeremy Bowes ’10MusM fell in with her concept, singing and improvising
with fierce concentration. As he sang, Braithwaite had chorus members stationed
around the room mime the same pent-up private rage and pain.
The visiting director, Sam Helfrich, found the idea
powerful. But he raised questions about the execution. Brathwaite said she had
hoped to work out a great many practicalities in rehearsal. That
trial-and-error approach has its advantages—for one thing, it capitalizes on
the ideas of the performers—and in theater, it is common. But most opera
singers’ inexperience with improvisation makes it a recipe for disaster, as Helfrich
kept emphasizing. “There’s really no time to run a scene to see how it works,”
he said.
True to the spirit of a practicum, Helfrich’s concern
was craft, not concept. Whether traditional or far-out, a director needs to
know how to guide the viewer’s eye to the action that matters. As an example of
how wrong things can go, he cited a production of Carmen, the evergreen tragedy of opera’s
quintessential femme fatale, at a major American company that shall remain
nameless.
The curtain rises on a band of smugglers skulking by
night through a craggy mountain pass. The audience knows that Carmen is among
them. But lights are low, the costumes generic, individuals impossible to make
out. Then, suddenly, Carmen’s voice is heard. “At every performance,” Helfrich
said, “the same thing happens. People everywhere start looking high and low and
muttering, ‘Where’s Carmen?’”
Knowing laughter all around the room. Where’s Carmen?
Funny you should have to ask.  |