Adès' Journey from Hades to Paradise

 

It is no overstatement to say the Boston Symphony's performance tonight, led by Thomas Adès and consisting of Stravinsky's Perséphone, with music from his epic Dante Project - The Dante Suite, Paradiso, and Awakening, was among the most important and moving concerts I have experienced in a lifetime of concertgoing.  I realize how that must sound, but there it is. Performed together, we are given two of the great ballets of the last century, each proving just how strongly their scores can exist, independently, and away from the ballet stage.  Without choreography or sets, without costumes, lighting, or, indeed, dancers, these prove to be concert works of bold artistic vision, powerful and profoundly moving on their own musical merits.

Through a proliferation of commissions and representing a diversification of forms both wide - and wild - Adès has established himself as one of the most important composers of our time. His works have played and are playing among the major opera houses, including Covent Garden, La Scala, The Met, Vienna and more, as well as virtually every major concert venue across the globe. As its first Artistic Partner, the Boston Symphony has, these past seven years, been the fortunate recipient of his gifts as he has given premieres of major works, conducted the various ensembles of and within the BSO, performed recital and chamber work, made recordings for Deutsche Grammophon, and served as Director of Tanglewood's Contemporary Music Festival.  

Adès' love of Stravinsky is well known, and his selection of the too-rarely performed  Perséphone was a wise and telling choice. Arriving over two decades after Le Sacre du printemps, Perséphone is Stravinsky's second ballet focusing on Spring, though the differences between the two are immense if not glaring. While the earlier ballet has become more popular, in many ways the latter exposes a far more experienced and nuanced composer and the massive score reflects that employing, a huge orchestra, two choruses, tenor soloist and narrator. Within that score one hears "most" of Stravinsky's styles, here is the jaunty dancing rhythms of Dumbarton Oaks, here the sheer power of the choruses and tenor soloist from Oedipus Rex there, the delicacy of The Rake's Progress, and so on.

In Adès's hands all of this - as well as his love for this composer's music cme through brilliantly.  The nuances and textual transitions were seamless . . . . sudden . . . effective.  Eumopolus, the Priest, begins the first Tableaux with an invocation setting the tone for the story to follow and tenor Edgaras Montvidas was ideal and engaging in the role, his clear, bright tenor precise and lyrical in much of the role, but expanding in power in those moments demanded by the score. As the Narrator, soprano Danielle De Niese was a vision, stunning in her flowery, billowy dress that "felt" like Spring in this cold, gray New England weather. Unamplified, it took a minute for ears to adjust to the soft grained, girlish timbre her voice, but then her delicate intensity of the spoken was touching, effective, her face, arms and hands reflective of the moving story she presented us. 

The Tanglewood Festival Chorus, and the Boys of Saint Paul's Choir School, did yeoman's work, and, again, led through their paces by Mr. Adès, and the soloists every moment pulled together forming a seamless and entirely satisfying whole.  The first half of this epic night was a major success, the appreciative (if smallish) audience calling back the principals, and cheering the splendid work of the chorus.

The second half, featuring Adès conducting music from his Dante Project could not have been more highly anticipated. On the heels of nothing but raves for performances both onstage (The Royal Ballet Covent Garden), and in concert (the Los Angeles Philharmonic under Gustavo Dudemel) the composer looked positively on-top-of-the-world as he took to the podium.  As with Perséphone, Adès is a fun conductor to watch, while not wild he is, nonetheless, a conductor of big gestures, and it was an enormous pleasure to watch the interactions between him and the musicians, most of whom looked as excited as he did.  Even the crimson lining peaking through the vents as he moved felt special.  The eight movements of the Inferno Suite revealed a composer adept at virtually every style of so-called "modern" music - a bit of Hollywood here, some nods to Wagnery-Mussorgsky magic there, delicate, almost seemingly invisible music yielding suddenly to a bombast of brass and pounding drums . . .  it's an exhilarating, glorious and yes, fun, cachaphony of sound. Nowhere is that sense of fun more evident than in Section XII The Thieves - devoured by snakes.  Here Adès just cuts loose in what I can only describe as a fistfight between Shostakovich and Rossini.  Fast and furious, the conductor even at one point jumping into the air, it obviously did not matter that there was still one movement to go, for at the conclusion of this penultimate one, the hall burst into roars with cheering, and frenetic applause - many even jumping to their feet before XIII Satan - in the lake of ice was allowed to conclude the suite.  Honestly, I cannot recall a similar reaction in the middle of ANY work, ever. I almost sensed the composer "daring" us to stay quiet.    

Following a brief pause for the ladies of the chorus to assemble, we continued with Paradiso, and here was the magic of programming made manifest.  Dante's presence - his influence on this "project" is fulfilled in Adès' amazing use of an immense palette of colors from the orchestra. An almost endless development of a simple theme that rises slowly, hypnotically, at times almost imperceptibly, builds, feeling as though it might never end  (nor did I want it to).  As it rises, weaving through a tapestry of riches, it evokes our notions of heaven . . . of the cosmos. And then . . . oh, and then . . . we are greeted by the entrance of the worldless female voices - the heavens opening, and the full beauty of this moment feels as splendid as the sun. My eyes misted with tears, mouths fell open (yes, they did!) and it was, indeed, as magical as any music I have experienced in any concert hall.  So powerful was this effect . . . so beautiful, that for a brief moment nobody did - or could do - anything. As the music faded, it gave way to an explosion of bravos, cheers, whistles (the good kind) and a pounding ocean of applause. There was, a palpable sense we had witnessed something rare.  We had.  

John Adams: Doctor Atomic = Wow!

I've held off writing about Dr. Atomic. I've now watched the OpusArte DVD of the original production (mounted at De Nederlandse Opera) for the third time and haven't changed my mind. It's a masterpiece. There's no denying some of the power of the score, but it is in the many more introspective moments that I find its most arresting beauty and power.

Gerald Finley - a singer I went nuts for as Papageno nearly 20 years ago, still has a marvelously appealing boyish handsomeness that suits this role to a tee. This could be the role of his career so far. The voice is in absolutely peak condition, one of the most beautiful baritones singing today (in my opinion) with a winning combination of brightness, mellowness, one of the most even-sounding vibratos of any singer today and a light rich quality that simply gleams. His body was made for the stage, moving with a relaxed athleticism, and knows how to strike a pose that hits you like a spotlight. In many regards, his intensity reminds me of another favorite singer of mine, Lorraine Hunt Lieberson in that his gestures - while highly theatrical, seem germane, perfectly suited to the character - as though they could not be performed any other way. This is star quality that elevates a performance to greatness.

The most powerful moment for me remains the ending of the first act, Oppenheimer's brilliant prayer/aria "Batter my heart, three person'd God." I cannot watch this without tears pouring from first to last. The music itself is remarkable, but combined with Finley's voice, and passionate interpretation, the heightened sense of movement by Peter Sellars and the staging itself, it becomes nearly unbearable in its intensity and beauty. With the bomb behind a curtain, like some templed sacred object behind a veil, Oppenheimer slowly approaches the veil, then turns and falls, and repeats the a series of gestures, each time with increasing intensity rising, falling, beating his heart with fist, hands to his head, then again approaches the veil. Following the final verse, he enters the veiled room, left in silhouhette, his hand raised towards the object itself. It is one of the most beautifully powerful stagings of an aria I've experienced.

Richard Paul Fink is another of my favorite singers and his beautiful bass sound, remarkable diction and fine dramatic instincts make his portrayal of Teller as important as the central role of Oppenheimer, particularly in the first half.

Jessica Rivera is simply amazing as Kitty Oppenheimer, her first aria "Am I in your light," as the couple is in bed, her husband trying to study, offers a stunning contrast to all of the music before it. Oppenheim gives up his reading, and responds to her, climbing over and gently caressing her with stanza from Baudelaire. It is a quiet, intimate and beautiful moment.

Eric Ownes offers a richly detailed, entirely believable performance as General Groves, expressing his frustrations, concerns, detailing his weight issues (complete with calorie counts!) in that gorgeous, sonorous baritone of his.

The remainder of the cast, James Maddalena, Thomas Glenn, Jay Hunter Morris, and particularly the oddly moving performance of Ellen Rabiner as Pasqualita, are all up to the same level as the central roles.

I have some issues with the staging, and could have easily been happier if Lucinda Childs' incessant choreography had but cut - by at least half. Some of it is highly effective, such as the angular, ritualistic movement out in the desert, but much of it appeared as though a rehearsal for the Jets and Sharks were taking place at the rear of the stage while an opera was going on.

The chorus of De Nederlandse Opera sings English about as well as any English speaking chorus, and the musical direction of Lawrence Renes with the Netherlands Philharmonic rises to the level of Adams' remarkable score.

If I've any gripe (outside of the unnecessary choreography) it would be one I've made of many live performance videos: no curtain calls or opportunity to see - and share in - the audience's reaction. This is a bad move in my opinion. I understand by the end of viewing this how emotionally drained a viewer can be - I was exhausted - but there were several thousand people cheering this and, apparently, an enormous ovation for the performers. I find it a bit rude as well not to allow these people who'd offered these intense, blazing performances for three hours of a difficult score, the opportunity to take a bow in our respective living rooms.

There are a bunch of extra features, mini documentaries, and interviews that make this an exceptional DVD purchase for anyone interested in the future of opera. A truly overwhelming operatic experience. For anyone interested or wanting a glimpse, Oppenheimer's great aria "Batter my heart" is available on youtube at the following link.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yq6uI-IRa9A&feature=related

It's simply amazing, and I cannot recommend this set highly enough.