THE LITTLE (MERMAID) MENTAL PATIENT

Benjamin R. Sokol, Fernando Silva-Gorbea, Sara Stevens, Qing Liu, and Su Hyeon Park

Some topnotch singing, acting, and orchestral luminosity delighted our ears last night at Manhattan School of Music Graduate Opera Theatre's production of Antonin Dvořák's Rusalka. We unfortunately had to deal with an ill-advised example of regietheater devised by Director John de los Santos, whose direction we usually enjoy. According to the Director's Notes which we generally read after viewing the production, Mr. de los Santos was inspired by the fact that the building occupied by Manhattan School of Music was once an asylum for the mentally ill.

Regular readers will recall that we strongly prefer a work that speaks for itself, allowing us to draw our own analogies, which we did and may choose to share  later on. The director's concept was to transform the water spite Rusalka into a mental patient around the turn of the 20th century, just about the time that Jaroslav Kvapil wrote his libretto, adapted from a fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen (and others)  which was, in turn, devised from a few Slavic folk legends about women water sprites who lured men to their death by tickling (!) or drowning.

In this production, Michael Ruiz-del-Vizo's double decker set design had an institutional appearance whilst Ashley Soliman's costume design had some of the characters in period costume with the inmates in drab identical shapeless garb. We deliberately called them inmates because the attendants treated them like prisoners, which, in a sense they were. (Dear Reader, do read about the Kennedy sister who was similarly imprisoned at the behest of her father Joseph.)

The stage was filled with efficient nurses in crisp nursing attire and guards with numbered arm bands, against whom the inmates struggled. Inmates were chained together cruelly by ropes and led around. It seemed more political than medical, with the exception of a kindly doctor who stood in for the opera's Vodnik, a water goblin that the water sprites call their father, except here he is their well meaning doctor. In this role, Benjamin R. Sokol used his resonant lower register and kindly demeanor to good advantage, singing with fine tone and sympathetic inflection.

As Rusalka, super soprano Sara Stevens (see what we did there?) threw herself into the role and gave the director exactly what he wanted and, through her superlative singing, gave us what we wanted--a vocally impeccable performance. The coloration was admirable and she floated her high notes when appropriate and opened up her voice when that was dramatically called for. The deservedly famous aria "Song to the Moon" expressed a longing so deep that it brought tears to our eyes. If someone told us that Rusalka was chosen as a vehicle to show off her artistry we would believe them!

In this odd version of the story, The Prince, whilst singing about spotting a white doe while out hunting, seems to be someone who stops by the asylum to read to the patients. Fernando Silva-Gorbea employed a pleasing tenor instrument with enough tenderness that we felt sad when he was stabbed to death by Rusalka However, we were wondering how a dagger would have been left lying around in an insane asylum--just one of a number of inconsistencies caused by shoehorning the story into a Procrustean bed.

The witch Ježibaba was here some kind of matron/surgeon in strange steam-punk dress who seemed to be operating on Rusalka's brain, since the latter emerges from behind a screen with a bandage on her head that was so disfiguring that we were surprised that The Prince fell in love with her. Of course, the entire thing must have been the hallucination of a paranoid schizophrenic, although a lot of women in these asylums were consigned there for dubious reasons. Qing Liu gave a fine performance in the role, employing a threatening demeanor and steely vocal coloration.

There was even some comic relief during the interaction between the Gamekeeper (Kevin Mann) and the frightened kitchen helper (Jordan Lee Gilbert) whose conversation served to advance the story about the Prince's affection wavering between Rusalka and The Foreign Princess, given an appropriate haughtiness by Su Hyeon Park.

Every voice we heard was of the highest equality, including the trio of Woodsprites (mental patients) comprising Xinran Du, Raine Filbert, and Yiqian Heng. Although Rusalka's "Song to the Moon" is the deservedly famous number, the trio in Act II would make as fine a concert piece as we have ever heard. 

Although Czech is not one of our languages, its plethora of consonants did not seem to hinder any of the singers and we were thrilled that the opera was sung in Czech since the composer's music is so well married to the text. Kudos to the large chorus and their chorus Master Jackson McKinnon.

Maestro Kelly Kuo led the Manhattan School of Music Orchestra through Dvořák's melodic and colorful score with excellent Slavic style. The weird storytelling was so distracting that at times we just closed our eyes and listened to the way the master composer told the story. Let us credit also the fine dramatic lighting of Ron Collins.

If we hadn't been force fed the director's concept, we might have been free to associate on our own, which is what storytelling should do. We imagined a small town girl who fell for a big city guy who was visiting her town and flirted with her because she was pretty and innocent. She followed him to the big city but couldn't match the sophistication and verbal expressiveness of his circle. She watched him getting infatuated with one of his own kind and returned home in despair, only to learn that she no longer fit in there and was ostracized. Now we certainly wouldn't foist that on other people but we sure enjoyed our own musings which, in our opinion, is what opera should do--give us something on stage that we can relate to on our own terms, from our own experiences.

In spite of the conflict between the dialogue and the visuals and switching back and forth between the folktale and the director's conceit, we were glad we went because of the overwhelmingly excellence of the musical values.

© meche kroop

SENSATIONAL SOPRANO ARIAS

 Eduardo Gutierrez, Saul Ibarra, Elizabeth Pope, and François Gizycki

The sanctuary at Jt. Johns in the Village was "standing room only", a rare condition for a vocal recital in Manhattan. Apparently, word had gotten out that a remarkable young artist named Elizabeth Pope would be performing a challenging program of arias. We are happy to tell you that the promise was fulfilled. We love hearing singers at the start of their professional careers and following them as they mature and become successful on the world's stages.

Yes, the program was a challenging one, covering several periods and several languages. As extensive as was this survey of soprano arias, the audience begged for more and, trooper as she is, Ms. Pope gifted the audience with three encores.

Let us begin by saying that she is an engaging young woman who spoke easily to the audience, showing neither stiffness nor reserve. This created a welcoming atmosphere that drew us in collectively. Having come from a family of musicians                 (all present for the concert) and having received excellent vocal training, this young artist "picked up the ball and ran with it". It was clear that a lot of work and study had gone into the preparation of a most ambitious program but Ms. Pope succeeded in making it all appear effortless, even as she gave her all.

The program opened with "Tornami a vagheggiar" from Händel's Alcina which immediately gave evidence of a bright pure tone and a facility with ornamentation. The trill was clean as were the staccato passages. There was a nice contrast between the sections. Along the same lines was "Armate face et anguibus" from Vivaldi's oratorio Juditha Triumphans, in which the artist tore into this vengeance aria with a vengeance, making us think of the Queen of the Night. Her superlative collaborative pianist Saúl Ibarra was as undaunted by the racing piano score as she was by the florid decoration of the vocal line.

Was that the same artist switching easily to a 19th c. work-- Jules Massenet's Hérodiade? In "Il eat doux, il est bon" she showed us an adolescent girl besotted with the prophet Jean, and did so in fine French. 

This was far more effective dramatically than Violetta's first act scena "É strano..Sempre Libera" from Verdi's La Traviata. The vocalism was fine but, in spite of the generous use of gesture and facial expression, we were not convinced that this was a desperate woman weighing the choice between a chance at love and frantic partying. We think a few years of emotional experience on the part of the artist will result in a more convincing portrayal. We admit that we are very demanding of our Violettas since she is our favorite operatic character. Tenor Fernando Silva-Gorbea made an all-too-brief appearance as Alfredo but there was insufficient stage time to establish any chemistry between them.

Far more believable was her Nedda, the unfortunate heroine of Leoncavallo's        I Pagliacci. As Ms. Pope sang "Qual fiamma...Stridono lassú", we could feel the yearning for freedom of a young woman in unhappy marital "captivity", envying the birds overhead. This gave us optimism that the dramatic skills are there, just waiting to be coaxed out by a good director.

We felt the same about Fiordiligi's aria "Come scoglio" from Mozart's Cosi fan tutte. We wish that portraying a young woman with intended characterological firmness might come a bit more easily to Ms. Pope than it did. Perhaps negotiating those huge leaps in the score took a great deal of concentration. Focus on the character may come later as she develops. Perhaps it was the sophisticated sequined gown that was partly at fault, fighting, as it were, with the image of a teenage girl.

On the other hand, it did not distract from the half-mad desperation of Margherita from Boito's Mefistofele as she confusedly tries to deal with her guilt for poisoning her mother and drowning her baby. We haven't often heard "L'altra notte in fondo al mare" but we found it convincingly moving.

The program closed with an excellent performance of movements I and II from Heitor Villa-Lobos' Bachianas Brasileiras no.5. We were impressed by the fact that Ms. Pope herself arranged the work for the cello, played by Francois Gizycki, and guitar, played by Eduardo Gutteres. In this work she achieved the heights of expressivity, especially in the vocalise part in which the cello emphasized the memorable theme whilst the guitar filled in the harmonies. Even more astounding was the humming part which left us amazed. Whilst Part I is often heard, Part II (Dança) is less commonly performed. The excitement made a fine contrast with the tender vocalise.

The first encore was a Maria Grever song "Te quiero, dijiste" which Grever wrote for a child she lost. It is a beautiful song with which we are quite familiar and we were happy to hear it once more. Following another encore, a song by Debussy, the audience wanted more. We got a repeat of the Bachianas Brasilieras and finally the audience was satisfied.

For any more, we will have to wait for Ms. Pope's next recital. We will be eager to watch her growth as an artist.

© meche kroop