Wow. I'm just in from a performance of Mussorgsky's Boris Godunov by the Kirov Opera and Orchestra of the Mariinsky Theatre at the Kennedy Center Opera House. The performance was two hours and twenty minutes with no intermissions (one act with seven scenes), but the time flew by and I was never restless.
We've been hearing dire forecasts of four to twelve inches of snow for today from the weathermen, but all the snow we got today was about one to one and a half inches, and it stopped late afternoon. I walked to and from the Kennedy Center tonight. It's not as long a walk as I thought, since it turns out it's just on the other side of the Watergate. After Laura Bush wore that white cashmere suit for the inaugural swearing-in, everyone is wearing winter white in Washington yesterday and today. I thought maybe the weather would put a damper on the crowds, but the house, while not packed full, was respectably filled. I was lucky enough to get a seat on the front row, about two-thirds of the way off center to the left. It was an excellent seat for me, since I could see much of the orchestra and I was close enough to watch the singers "work". I'm also not dependent on the projected surtitle translations over the stage as are many people, so being down front doesn't bother me at all.
The opera opens with the chorus on stage as a huddled mass, all clothed in Soviet grey and with grey toned makeup on their faces. As they toiled, two large machine apparati with multiple floodlights on each moved around the stage, occasionally shining their bright lights into the audience's eyes. I was very impressed when the boys' chorus came out later in the scene....they have quite a sound! The program notes that they aren't Russian, though—they are the Maryland Boys Choir. In scene two when we finally get to meet Boris, there were some dazzling costumes. All of the boyars (nobles) were dressed in textured metallic gold A-line garments with yard-tall metallic hats. When Boris made his entrance, he was also in a gold garment, but he had this dazzlingly jeweled, lacey metal framework cape with a tall standing collar around him, which he pushed like a cage as he walked around stage. The scenes which take place outside the cathedral are decorated with a dozen huge, blown-glass, "onion" domes which fly in and out from over the stage and which have lighting of their own. There were also four big translucent fiberglas columns which had their color changed in various scenes by different lighting effects. After a few monastery and peasant scenes, once they got back to the royal palace, the costumes were made of exquisitely textured which fabrics. In the final scene, the boyars reappear in black costumes similar to their gold ones, but this time they also had silhouettes which they pushed on to the stage and stood behind.
The main role by far is that of Boris, which was sung by Yevgeny Nikitin. Not surprisingly, as I look down the cast list, there's not a single name I recognize, so I won't repeat them here. The orchestra was conducted by Valery Gergiev, general director.
The close of the opera was greeted with enthusiastic applause from the audience, but they didn't begin to stand during the curtain calls until Boris made his appearance. They did the standard company bows and then the curtain came in, but since the audience was still applauding, they took the curtain out again for another round of bows. Tough audiences here in Washington!
I don't know where it was coming from, but throughout the performance, I kept smelling the distinct odor of vodka! There weren't many people sitting around me, so I don't think any of them were drunk or had vodka spills on their clothing. I can only surmise that the aroma was emanating from the orchestra pit.
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Friday, January 21, 2005
World premiere
Today was a work day. Hardly worth the effort—I'd say well more than half of the people in the building were out of the office for whatever reason. I think they fled Washington because of the inauguration. I would have written my review of last night's concert performance when I got home from the inaugural balls last night, but I did have to go to work today. Anyway, about last night.....
The National Symphony Orchestra performs in the concert hall of the Kennedy Center, which is a "shoebox" shaped auditorium with a virtually flat orchestra section and the four levels of seating around the three auditorium sides. The stage is dominated by the pipes of a big organ, and there is chorus seating by the pipes on the upper level of the stage. The room is bright, due largely to the seven decorative chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and there are a lot of smooth wood surfaces around the hall. The orchestra was clad in white tie and tails with the chorus men in tuxedos and the women in what appeared to be matching, flowing, burgundy tops with burgundy pants, though I could not really see that clearly.
Phillip Glass is an internationally famous composer, known largely for being a champion of what is called "minimalism," a movement in modern music dating from around 1970. Minimalism is typified by the repetitious repetition of a simple musical phrase or pattern, and I often find myself very bored, wondering when it will do something. Glass is particularly known for an opera called Einstein on the Beach, which, along with John Adams' Nixon in China are neither one some of my favorite operas. So, I went in to the concert not expecting a lot, and going just to be able to say I'd gone to a Glass world premiere.
The program notes said that this symphony—Glass's seventh—was called "A Toltec Symphony," and was based on musical ideas from the Toltec culture in Mesoamerica. The Toltecs are the people who are believed to have built the great pyramids in Mexico City before the Aztec culture took over that are. Glass gave his three movements colorful names: The Corn, representing the "link between Mother Earth and the well-being of human beings," The Sacred Root, which is "the doorway to the world of the Spirit," and The Blue Deer, representing "a vision, a voice that one might hear, or a thought uninvited by present in the mind of the practitioner."
From the outset, the music turned out to be quite pleasant and listenable. I think it was largely because Glass used a little bit longer musical phrase for his repetitions and there was a lot of melodic and thematic development. In some portions, I thought it even sounded like a motion picture score. The chorus appeared in the second movement singing what sounded like a unison chant in either some other languages or perhaps just vocables, and it wasn't until the end of the movement that there was a little bit of harmony and descant involved. The 31 women and 25 men from the Master Chorale of Washington just didn't have enough ummphf or volume to be heard and their diction was not crisp at all. Personally, I would have been just as happy to have cut the chorus from this movement, since I found the orchestral part (which was doing its own thing and not just doubling chorus parts) to be much more interesting. There were also a few spots where it seemed the orchestra was not cutting off phrases together, with the occasional sound sticking out. Movement three proved much more interesting for all concerned. Glass's music transported me to thoughts of Lord of the Rings-type movies or perhaps some medieval knight epic. Towards the end, he kept building up the music to these big ringing chords, only to abruptly halt the sound, have a grand pause, and then start all over again. When the symphony ended, it was rather low key and soft, and somewhat anticlimactic.
Mr. Glass was in the house and was brought up on stage, where he and the orchestra received two curtain calls. Unlike Tulsa, only maybe a quarter of the audience stood for the ovation.
After intermission, the chorus was gone and a much smaller orchestra remained on stage to accompany Matthias Goerne singing eleven of Gustav Mahler's "Songs from Des Knaben Wunderhorn" Goerne is an operatic baritone from Germany, and also has a good reputation as an interpreter of lieder (German art songs). I was not impressed at all. He wandered out on stage in a black suit and white shirt with an open collar! That was quite a contrast to the orchestra's white tie and tails. Goerne has also packed on some serious poundage since his program picture was taken, and he reminded me a lot of Larry Drake (remember Benny, the retarded mail clerk on L.A. Law?). He just didn't seem to command the stage, and his only stage movements were the occasional crouch, while he kept his hands together, fingers touching, almost the whole time. There was just something vaguely creepy about his stage demeanor.
The music itself was rather boringly repetitious, and I wonder if that was the connection to programing Mahler art songs with a Glass symphony! ;-) The lyrics were largely about leaving sweethearts behind and death. Goerne's mid range voice was very nice and rich, but he lacked volume on the lower register and his head voice was just present with no real excitement to it. I probably should have followed the example of about a quarter of the crowd and left at intermission! Of course, what particularly shocked me was that Goerne got *three* curtain calls with a somewhat larger (but still less than half) standing ovation, then he sang an encore (I have no clue what it was) and got two more curtain calls.
After the house cleared, there was to be a question and answer session with Philip Glass and Maestro Slatkin, but I didn't stay, since I was off to the balls. All in all, though, I'm glad I heard the Glass. It was worth the price of the ticket.
The National Symphony Orchestra performs in the concert hall of the Kennedy Center, which is a "shoebox" shaped auditorium with a virtually flat orchestra section and the four levels of seating around the three auditorium sides. The stage is dominated by the pipes of a big organ, and there is chorus seating by the pipes on the upper level of the stage. The room is bright, due largely to the seven decorative chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and there are a lot of smooth wood surfaces around the hall. The orchestra was clad in white tie and tails with the chorus men in tuxedos and the women in what appeared to be matching, flowing, burgundy tops with burgundy pants, though I could not really see that clearly.
Phillip Glass is an internationally famous composer, known largely for being a champion of what is called "minimalism," a movement in modern music dating from around 1970. Minimalism is typified by the repetitious repetition of a simple musical phrase or pattern, and I often find myself very bored, wondering when it will do something. Glass is particularly known for an opera called Einstein on the Beach, which, along with John Adams' Nixon in China are neither one some of my favorite operas. So, I went in to the concert not expecting a lot, and going just to be able to say I'd gone to a Glass world premiere.
The program notes said that this symphony—Glass's seventh—was called "A Toltec Symphony," and was based on musical ideas from the Toltec culture in Mesoamerica. The Toltecs are the people who are believed to have built the great pyramids in Mexico City before the Aztec culture took over that are. Glass gave his three movements colorful names: The Corn, representing the "link between Mother Earth and the well-being of human beings," The Sacred Root, which is "the doorway to the world of the Spirit," and The Blue Deer, representing "a vision, a voice that one might hear, or a thought uninvited by present in the mind of the practitioner."
From the outset, the music turned out to be quite pleasant and listenable. I think it was largely because Glass used a little bit longer musical phrase for his repetitions and there was a lot of melodic and thematic development. In some portions, I thought it even sounded like a motion picture score. The chorus appeared in the second movement singing what sounded like a unison chant in either some other languages or perhaps just vocables, and it wasn't until the end of the movement that there was a little bit of harmony and descant involved. The 31 women and 25 men from the Master Chorale of Washington just didn't have enough ummphf or volume to be heard and their diction was not crisp at all. Personally, I would have been just as happy to have cut the chorus from this movement, since I found the orchestral part (which was doing its own thing and not just doubling chorus parts) to be much more interesting. There were also a few spots where it seemed the orchestra was not cutting off phrases together, with the occasional sound sticking out. Movement three proved much more interesting for all concerned. Glass's music transported me to thoughts of Lord of the Rings-type movies or perhaps some medieval knight epic. Towards the end, he kept building up the music to these big ringing chords, only to abruptly halt the sound, have a grand pause, and then start all over again. When the symphony ended, it was rather low key and soft, and somewhat anticlimactic.
Mr. Glass was in the house and was brought up on stage, where he and the orchestra received two curtain calls. Unlike Tulsa, only maybe a quarter of the audience stood for the ovation.
After intermission, the chorus was gone and a much smaller orchestra remained on stage to accompany Matthias Goerne singing eleven of Gustav Mahler's "Songs from Des Knaben Wunderhorn" Goerne is an operatic baritone from Germany, and also has a good reputation as an interpreter of lieder (German art songs). I was not impressed at all. He wandered out on stage in a black suit and white shirt with an open collar! That was quite a contrast to the orchestra's white tie and tails. Goerne has also packed on some serious poundage since his program picture was taken, and he reminded me a lot of Larry Drake (remember Benny, the retarded mail clerk on L.A. Law?). He just didn't seem to command the stage, and his only stage movements were the occasional crouch, while he kept his hands together, fingers touching, almost the whole time. There was just something vaguely creepy about his stage demeanor.
The music itself was rather boringly repetitious, and I wonder if that was the connection to programing Mahler art songs with a Glass symphony! ;-) The lyrics were largely about leaving sweethearts behind and death. Goerne's mid range voice was very nice and rich, but he lacked volume on the lower register and his head voice was just present with no real excitement to it. I probably should have followed the example of about a quarter of the crowd and left at intermission! Of course, what particularly shocked me was that Goerne got *three* curtain calls with a somewhat larger (but still less than half) standing ovation, then he sang an encore (I have no clue what it was) and got two more curtain calls.
After the house cleared, there was to be a question and answer session with Philip Glass and Maestro Slatkin, but I didn't stay, since I was off to the balls. All in all, though, I'm glad I heard the Glass. It was worth the price of the ticket.
Saturday, January 1, 2005
Welcome!
Welcome to Sing Dance Act, a journey through the performing arts in the nation's capital and beyond!
This is where I will post my reviews, thoughts, commentary, and musings about the various performances and productions I see, plus news and gossip related to the arts.
Did you see the same show? Do you agree with me? Do you disagree? Either way, please post your comments! I love civil discussion of the arts, as two intelligent people can see the very same show and come away with completely different opinions. After all, look at the differences of opinion about art between Plato and his student Aristotle.
This is where I will post my reviews, thoughts, commentary, and musings about the various performances and productions I see, plus news and gossip related to the arts.
Did you see the same show? Do you agree with me? Do you disagree? Either way, please post your comments! I love civil discussion of the arts, as two intelligent people can see the very same show and come away with completely different opinions. After all, look at the differences of opinion about art between Plato and his student Aristotle.
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