A most sacrilegious murder

I've had murder on my mind quite a bit lately.  In the academic sense, of course, although I did dream I had murdered someone (unknown to me) a few nights ago.  That wasn't very pleasant.

But I've been listening to John Grisham's The Innocent Man and it is a harrowing true tale of injustice resulting from a murder which occurred in Oklahoma in 1982.  Two men were convicted of the rape and murder of a young woman, despite there being no physical evidence against them.  The little forensic evidence available did more to eliminate them from than to link them to the crime.  Nevertheless, it was used along with some other fabricated testimony to get a conviction.  One of them was 5 days from execution when a federal judge finally put a stop to all the nonsense (Oklahoma has the highest per-capita execution rate in the United States).  Soon after that, DNA evidence was analyzed which not only cleared them of all wrongdoing, but actually pointed the finger quite directly at another person who just happened to have been the last person seen with the victim, but whom the police had never considered a suspect.  The weird thing is that after their release the entire town, and especially the police and prosecutors, still believed them to be guilty.

The murder that I've been entertained by tonight was that of King Duncan inter alia by the dastardly Macbeth -- in this case in Verdi's masterpiece.  This was the Boston Lyric Opera at its finest.  I cannot remember such a good production of theirs, although I admit I don't go to many of them.  I went with Will to the Shubert Theater in Boston and we had a really pleasant evening of dinner, followed by a pre-performance lecture, followed by the opera.  The lecture, by Dr. Elizabeth Seitz, concentrated on the role of Lady Macbeth, demonstrating how her vocal part starts as confident and determined, passes through tentative, questioning, and ends rather sadly in the famous sleep-walking scene as completely unhinged.

The singers were outstandingly good.  Most of my recent opera outings have been either to the Met itself or to its HD broadcasts at local movie theaters.  While the Met talent may be more experienced and robust, there is a huge benefit as an audience member to being so much closer to the stage, which is really only practical at a smaller theater such as the Shubert.  And while, many rave about the HD broadcasts, they leave me a little cold.  There is nothing like live opera. 

While Macbeth (Daniel Sutin) and Lady Macbeth (Carter Scott) who between them carry most of the solo work (the opera also relies heavily on its chorus) were predictably excellent, I was actually very impressed Banquo (Darren Stokes) and, especially, Macduff (Richard Crawley) who have relatively minor roles.

The production was overall brilliant -- extremely imaginative designs, costumes, choreography.  Perhaps the most stunning aspect was the corpses hanging over the stage at the battles that begin and end the story.

The orchestra was excellent too, directed by (Englishman) David Angus.  Although I'd never previously seen the opera, I was already very familiar with the music from recordings and I was not disappointed in the orchestra.  I even know the 2nd clarinet, Karen Heninger, from gigs we've done together.  And, I was quite surprised to find that there was an instrument in the orchestra that I'd never seen before: the Cimbasso, a kind of tuba that looks a bit like a trombone.

I would heartily recommend this production to anyone who can get to it.  And I happen to think that Macbeth is actually one of Verdi's most entertaining operas.  The Verdi of 1846 was not quite so smooth as the when he wrote the big three from six or seven years later: Rigoletto/Trovatore/Traviata.  And definitely not as polished as the later operas of twenty or thirty years more experience.  But Macbeth is refreshing, invigorating and very direct.  The music is somewhat dark as befits its subject (plenty of bassoon and trombone stuff) but full of good tunes, with marvellous choral writing.

My personal interest in "the Scottish play" goes back almost as far as I can remember.  It was the first Shakespeare play that I learned and studied.  I think I can still do "Is this a dagger that I see before me?"  I've even been orienteering in the grounds of Cawdor castle (not very far from where the photograph at the top of the page was taken).  No doubt the real Macbeth got a bum rap at the hands of the bard, as did Richard III of England, but today his actual life signifies nothing. Yet the message of the play resonates whenever we hear of corruption and greed among the rich and powerful.

Perhaps Shakespeare's wisest line from the play, which applies to many aspects of life (take note, followers of famous people, and prosecutors and defenders of suspects in crime), is this: [Duncan]: "There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.  He was a gentleman on whom I built an absolute trust."

From the mundane to the sublime

One of the hallmarks of greatness at writing opera is the ability to take some mundane aspect of the plot, or somewhat banal text, and turn it into a beautiful aria.  It's one thing to create a great aria out of a poetic declaration of love, a fit of jealousy, sorrow, ambition or whatever.  But being able to create something sublime out of nothing requires genius.  To forestall the likely criticism of my thesis as so far described let me point out that, in the examples that follow, the number might in fact relate to a relatively significant plot element or character development.  But in such a case the text will deal with apparently ideas, or will use just plain ordinary words.

A few examples will suffice, although there are indeed plenty to go around.  And I mean no disrespect to any of the great opera composers not mentioned here.  Let's take as exhibit one, a piece of music so familiar that as kids, who knew nothing of classical music, let alone opera, we even bowdlerized its common name: Handel's Largo which we irreverently referred to as Handel's lager.  I've only recently come to really know this piece which more properly is referred to as Ombra mai fu from Serse, the story of Xerxes I of Persia, successor to Darius the Great.  Xerxes sings this aria in praise of the plane tree and the wonderful shade it provides:

Never was the shade
of any plant,
dearer and more lovely,
or more sweet.

There's a wonderful video and recording on YouTube with Cecilia Bartoli [recall that Handel wrote many of his lead male parts for castrato voices which are generally sung these days by women].

My next example is from Mozart and you might quibble with my interpretation of the text as mundane as it tells of lovely fresh breezes in a romantic setting.  Yet, the purpose of the letter which the Countess is dictating is to expose her husband's infidelity, it is not an outpouring of some noble emotion.  She's not even particularly upset -- she just wants to teach him a lesson.  But I don't think you can disagree with my assessment of the sublimity of the duettino from The Marriage of Figaro: Sull'aria che soave zeffiretto.  You may even recall one of my all-time favorite movies scenes, from the Shawshank Redemption, when Andy (Tim Robbins) broadcasts this over the prison P.A. system to the consternation of the warden and the wonder of Red (Morgan Freeman).

A little song on the breeze
What a gentle little Zephyr
This evening will sigh
Under the pines in the little grove.
And the rest he'll understand.

Easily the best sound quality that I found on YouTube is the recording (without video) of Jessye Norman and Mirella Freni. The balance, and playing, of the oboe and bassoon are just perfect.  Incidentally, there's a clip of Dame Kiri which should be the best but the sound quality isn't good.  In particular, the bassoon overpowers the oboe!  [I'll bet you never thought I'd say that!]

My final example is by Puccini from that intrinsically mundane seeming story about the canal people: Il tabarro.  Even the title refers to something seemingly (though not in fact) insignificant: a cloak.  But don't be fooled.  This is verismo opera at its absolute best.  What appears ordinary is loaded with passion, repression and violence.  This rather long aria and duet is known as E' ben altro il mio sogno (I have a different dream) and tells of very ordinary life in the suburbs of Paris (in particular Belleville).  Here are Teresa Stratas and Placido Domingo.  Giorgetta's aria starts at about 0:40 and the duet, some of the most powerful music Puccini ever wrote, starts at 4:12.  Here are the words of that section (my own translation):

But whoever leaves the suburbs wants to come back
And whoever returns cannot leave.
Over there Paris is crying out to us,
with a thousand happy voices,
about its eternal enchantment.

I hope I've convinced you that ordinariness or banality is no bar to glorious opera when at the hands of a real master.

Musical Cards

Opera and bridge: two of my favorite things.  So what could be better than an opera about bridge?  Yes, the world's shortest opera (9 minutes) is Samuel Barber's A Hand of Bridge with libretto by Gian Carlo Menotti, himself a successful opera composer, including the world's first made-for-TV opera, Amahl and the Night Visitors.  Barber was one of America's most successful 20th century composers.  Barber's music can be sensual and emotional.  His Knoxville Summer of 1915 (based on text by James Agee) is a wonderfully evocative piece and still firmly in the repertoire.

I finally got around to listening to the recording loaned to me by my friend Walt.  The opera begins thus: 1♥ 2♣ 2♥ pass 4♥ 5♣ 5♥ all pass.  Thereupon each of the four players (two married couples) soliloquizes about some topic.  Their lack of attention to the game at hand is anathema to us bridge players!  Some of their musings are also a little, shall we say, risqué.  It is not a serious piece but the light orchestration is inventive and witty, including some good bassoon parts.

Perhaps it was composed as the antithesis of the Wagner style opera, for example Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, which takes four and one half hours to perform.  I imagine that A Hand... would be impossible to stage alone.  Nobody would want to drive into New York and pay $100+ for a 9-minute opera.  But I can think of at least one opera that it could be paired with: Tchaikovsky's The Queen of Spades.  There may be others.  Cards also play important roles in several other operas that I can think of.  Top of the list, in terms of dramatic importance, would be La Traviata (Verdi), Carmen (Bizet) and no fewer than two Puccini operas: La Fanciulla del West and La Rondine.  There's also a ballet by Stravinsky: Jeu de Cartes.

It's also been noted many times that it is not unusual to find bridge players interested in music.  I know lots of musically inclined bridge players.  Many of us Boston-area players are acquainted with the principal viola of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, Steve Ansell. Perhaps this correlation could be the subject of some fruitful research.

Aimez-vous Puccini?

What is it about Puccini that sets him apart from other opera composers?  First, we might observe that, like Newton, he stood on the shoulders of giants, in particular those of Verdi.  Certainly, Puccini had a wonderful gift for melody and his mastery of orchestration is unsurpassed.  He also had a highly developed sense of poetry, holding his librettists to very exacting standards, and he had a tremendous feeling for drama.  But I think there's more.

It's often been said that Puccini loved his heroines.  That is certainly true.  But I'm going to argue that it's his love for all his characters that really makes him unique.  The first and perhaps most obvious example is Scarpia.  Evil he may be, but at the same time, we are drawn to his character likes moths to a flame.  Why?  Because Puccini loved him too. Why else would he bare his soul to us in the dramatic conclusion to act one of Tosca? And what is more obvious than the initial contrast between Liu and Turandot and the love that almost instantly flows from the suicide Liu to her nemesis Turandot.

However, I think it's in Il Trittico where this love of characters shines the brightest.  I was fortunate to see the production at the Met last Saturday and the three operas have been in my head ever since.  In Gianni Schicchi, his only comic opera, it's not surprising to find that he loves all of the characters.  However naughty we know them all to be, the music wraps them all in loving affection, especially Lauretta's famous O mio Babbino Caro.  Even the flawed doctor (from the school of Bologna) and lawyer are treated with gentleness and kindness.

In Suor Angelica, Puccini gives singing parts to no less than ten of the nuns, not including Angelica herself and the Abbess.  He wouldn't do that if if he didn't love his characters so much.  Instead he could have had just a few parts to cover all of the back story.  The music of course is exquisite and how can we not all love the pure and oppressed Angelica and want to share in her salvation?

But I contend that it is Il Tabarro that demonstrates this love Puccini had for his creations most forcefully.  In this opera, there are only six parts, apart from the ballad-seller and other ambient characters.  But the music for each character is crafted with extra loving care -- in direct contrast to the awfulness of the situation that they find themselves in.  Indeed, the participants in this rather gritty example of verismo are suffering life rather than enjoying it.  They make the best, or worst, of their situation without any hope of an improvement in the squalor.  These are the kinds of protagonists that Bob Dylan describes in Only a pawn in their game.

But Puccini's music lifts them right out of their hopelessness, none more so perhaps than la Frugola (the rummager, or ferret), with her dream of a little retirement house with their cat at her feet.  The style of this aria is not lyrical, nor dramatic.  It is in fact more like a Gilbert and Sullivan patter song.  But its upbeat jollity and the high call of the oboe help transform it from the mundane to the sublime.

No character is more poignantly set, however, than Michele, who in the scene with Giorgetta (before all hell breaks loose and he murders Luigi), sings some of the loveliest music ever written for an operatic bass.

Yet, the crowning glory of this opera is the duet sung by the ill-fated Giorgetta and Luigi about their roots in the Paris suburb of Belleville.  How could Puccini takes such pedestrian, banal thoughts and elevate them to one of the most glorious duets in the whole of opera?  Simply because he loved his characters.  Not only his heroines but their lovers too, and their friends and hangers-on too.

Not only did Puccini endow all his characters with love, but it is love that is the foundation on which all of his operas are built.

Il Trittico

Kim and I celebrated my birthday in style with a trip to New York (and a stopover in Connecticut), staying with our friends Rob and Melissa.  The highlight was The Met performance of Puccini's Trittico, which I know so well from recordings but had never seen live.  It went way beyond my expectations.  From the moment that the curtain went up on the incredibly realistic barge on the Seine, the production was inspired and flawless.  Patricia Racette was in all three operas, as Giorgetta, Angelica and Lauretta, but her performance as the eponymous Suor Angelica was without equal in my experience.  Not just her voice, which is truly magnificent, but her acting was nothing short of amazing.  For more on this opera, see my later blog entry Aimez-vous Puccini.

After the opera we went to our first Hannukah dinner at Melissa's sister.  The food was absolutely delicious.

We also spent a little time in and around Bristol, Connecticut, staying at a very nice B&B: Chimney Crest.  We visited the nation's oldest, and New England's largest, bridge club: the Hartford Bridge Club.  It's a very interesting area around there, with the Providence, Hartford and Fishkill railroad literally winding its way through town and two museums: one for carousels, one for clocks and watches.  Bristol is also the home of ESPN of course.

Meanwhile, in news from Peru, Miranda has managed to get her image into the LAN airline magazine in (see above where she is facing us at the nearest table of Rafael's). Now we know how she spends her time there.  Just kidding :)