BARD SUMMERSCAPE

Mascagni's IRIS at Bard SummerScape

It took three and a half hours on the bus to arrive at Annandale-on-Hudson, home of the beautiful Bard campus, but the pleasant greenery and dinner at the fashionable Spiegeltent restored our spirits.  The sight of Frank Gehry's Fisher Center dazzled the eye; the interior impressed with its comfort, excellent acoustics and fine sight-lines.

But we came for the music--an opportunity to witness a fully staged production of an important but neglected opera--which is the mission of this summer festival.  Pietro Mascagni was a contemporary of Giacomo Puccini, who was both friend and rival. Best known for his 1890 Cavalleria Rusticana, and his L'Amico Fritz of 1891,  Mascagni premiered Iris (also in Rome) in 1898. If one hoped to hear the gorgeous music for which this composer is remembered, one would not be disappointed. 

A chorus celebrating the Sun opens and closes the work and Chorus Master James Bagwell provided the depth and strength the work called for. Similar encomium can be offered to Maestro Leon Botstein, who led his American Symphony Orchestra in an articulate performance of the gorgeous score.  The singers left absolutely nothing to be desired in their performances.

Talise Trevigne's expansive soprano sailed over the orchestra and was just right for the lead and, like the other artists, she did her best to enact what the director requested, although she did not appear completely comfortable dramatically. Mezzo-soprano Cecilia brought a fine timbre to her role as Geisha and enacted a severe presence. Gerard Schneider's full-throated tenor met all of Mascagni's challenges; we felt sorry for him trying to perform a seduction on a most uncomfortable slab.

Douglas Williams seemed most comfortable onstage and exhibited a fine presence as well as a resonant bass-baritone just right for the role of Kyoto.  As the Blind Father, Matthew Boehler's bass truly delivered and he blundered around onstage in a convincing fashion. Samuel Levine's terrific tenor didn't show up until Act III but sounded just fine.

The flaw lay in the libretto. If one hoped for a cogent story with characters one could relate to, as in Cavalleria Rusticana, one definitely would be disappointed!  Since the Victorian era, Europe was in the grip of le japonisme, a fascination with Japan, a country which had been hidden from Western eyes for a very long time and was seen as a highly exotic place.  Composers from Puccini to Arthur Sullivan dipped their toes in Japanese waters.

It is puzzling that Luigi Illica, who would produce such a compelling libretto for Puccini's Madama Butterfly a few years later, would come up with such a weird and static story for Mascagni. Perhaps for audiences of that epoch, the "racy" story of a woman kidnapped for sexual slavery might have been titillating. In common with Madama Butterfly, we are witnessing the story of innocence despoiled. But Puccini's opera offers us some romance along with a remarkably naïve heroine being taken advantage of by narcissistic men!

Iris (Talise Trvigne) is a young girl living with her blind father (Matthew Boehler). She catches the eye of a wealthy fellow Osaka (Gerard Schneider) who teams up with the brothel keeper Kyoto (Douglas Williams) to trick Iris by means of a puppet play that affects her deeply.

The play is performed by three Geishas (dancers Jasmine Albuquerque, Justine Clark, and Kristen Leahy) and three Samurais (Jordan Isidore, Aaron Burr Johnson, and Sam Shapiro).  Chief "Geisha" (sic) was beautifully performed by Cecelia Hall. The "sic" is because Illica's idea of a geisha as a prostitute was only his fantasy.

In the puppet play, a young woman is abused by her father, sold into sexual slavery, and rescued by a figure of transcendence who gives her a spiritual death. Unlike the puppet heroine, Iris is highly valued by her father.

Once brought to the brothel, she mistakes it for paradise and does not respond to the sexual advances of Osaka.  Her father, shamed by her new "status" rejects her. She jumps into a sewer to escape and winds up in some kind of garbage dump of the mind where she encounters a Ragpicker (Samuel Levine).

We prefer our operas to tell a logical tale, rather than an Expressionistic one. We have the same unappreciative response to Pelleas et Melisande, although we love the music.

We are quite sure that James Darrah's monotoned production delighted many but we are not among them. We own up to being rather literal and if a little girl sings about a doll, we'd like to see her playing with it.  If she sings about waking up from a portentous nightmare, we don't understand why she would be dancing around the stage with gleeful abandon. If she mentions her new black sandals, we don't want to see her barefoot.

The set designers (Emily Anne MacDonald and Cameron Jaye Mock) created a bare grey and white set for Act I which takes place in Iris' home. There is nothing but a white wall on which Adam Larsen's designs of shadows were projected. The evil characters occupied a space above.  There was not a single element suggestive of Japan. There was a lot of stuff falling from the sky.  Leaves? Snow?

For the brothel scene of Act II, everything was slick black and white with red neon. Again, nothing was suggestive of Japan nor of the 19th c. The red slab on which Osaka attempts to seduce Iris looked so incredibly uncomfortable we wondered if any seduction could have ever succeeded!

The sewer scene of Act III seemed to be a tower of discarded refuse with the ragpickers searching for anything shiny.  They might have looked in the set for Act II!  Should you be wondering how we thought it might have been better staged, we would have recommended  a concert version, thus avoiding the problematic story!  In the words of the Blind Father "Questo dramma è menzogna tutto! Malvagio in testo".

Peabody Southwell's costumes were consistent with the overall design.  Innocent Iris wore an unflattering ankle-length white dress that did nothing to make her look child-like.  Her blind father looked the most realistic.

The denizens of the red light district all wore black and looked like comic book villains.  The so-called Geishas wore garments suggestive of S&M with lots of straps and thigh-high boots. Kyoto was dressed in a jump suit which plunged to the waist revealing Mr. Williams' handsome chest. (No complaints on that account!)

Bard SummerScape offers many more programs centered around shorter operas and excerpts, offering something for everyone. They provide a lovely respite from the barren summer landscape. Head north and enjoy!

(c) meche kroop

IT TAKES A VILLAGE

Talise Trevigne and Sophie Junker (photo by Louis Forget)

There is nothing secret about our affection for Opera Lafayette and our excitement when they come up from Washington D.C., always bringing a delicious confection for our delectation.  Founded twenty years ago by Conductor and Artistic Director Ryan Brown, this highly regarded ensemble of period instrumentalists specializes in neglected French masterpieces of the pre-classical and classical period.

Last night, comfortably ensconced in the Florence Gould Hall of the French Institute Alliance Française, we totally forgot that we were in New York City in the 21st c.  We were transported to the newly born 19th c. in New Orleans (a time and place of which we are inordinately fond, as regular readers will recall). We are surrounded not by New York opera lovers but by a tri-cultural audience eager for the latest import from France, particularly from l’opéra comique. The pieces were closer to our present day musical theater than they were to opera which generally comprised tragédie lyrique, telling of gods, goddesses and heroes. These confections focused on the "common folk".

André Grétry was one of the musical superstars of the age and his L’Épreuve Villageoise premiered in Versailles in 1784 as a more serious work under a different title. Queen Marie-Antoinette, known to play at the simple country life herself, shared with the attendant aristocracy a lack of interest in the noble characters, preferring the subplot which was written for comic relief.  Thus, the romantic intrigues of the rustic characters were extracted, retitled, and performed regularly in France and then exported all over the world with a new title. These light-hearted works of the period had small casts and simple sets with spoken dialogue that was easy to translate. Thus they became, with the help of the Marquis de Lafayette, representative of French culture worldwide.

This point was made during the overture as the gaily costumed characters manipulated the three curtains on which were painted a small house, a large plantation, and a shaded glen. Placards in several languages announcing the work were exchanged several times with the ultimate one announcing the work as being performed at the St. Pierre theater in New Orleans. One got the impression of a traveling team of vaudevillians.

The story is a simple one. Young Denise (Pascale Beaudin) is being courted by two men—the farmer André (tenor Francisco Fernández) whom she loves but whose jealousy has troubled her, and Monsieur La France (baritone Thomas Dolié), the pompous overseer of a plantation who had previously courted her mother Madame Hubert (mezzo-soprano Talise Trevigne). Mother and daughter collaborate to teach both men a lesson.

The vocal lines and text (by Pierre Desforges) set Monsieur La France apart in both style and content from the three “peasants” who sang more simply. Although the solos were wonderful we were most interested in the blending of voices in the trios and quartets. The dance numbers were colorful and captivating, as choreographed by Aaron R. White, whose own dancing was nimble and brilliant.  Kendra Rai’s costume design was perfect—a kind of glorified representation of plantation workers. Slavery was never indicated!

Nick Olcott’s direction kept things moving and motivated, effectively using the cutouts in the hanging curtains (set design by Luciana Stecconi) for characters to spy on one another. The sextet of choristers added greatly to the proceedings—not just vocally but choreographically. 

The period instrument orchestra astonished us with their virtuosity. The strings were sweet with Claire Jolivet as Concertmaster. We loved the sound of the valveless horns, as well as the period oboes and flutes. Andrew Appel sounded just fine on the harpsichord.

What fun it was to pretend we were in the “there and then” instead of the “here and now”!

© meche kroop