A Chilling Bluebeard's Castle from the PSO

The Portland Symphony celebrated All Saints Day/Dia de los Muertos with two works seemingly at odds, the Bach Concerto for Two Violins in d minor, and Bartok's short, powerful opera, Bluebeard's Castle.

With a paired down chamber ensemble playing period style, the Bach glittered sparkled and reminded one of this composer's enormous genius never feeling academic but instead almost dance like. Maestro Moody gave the outer movements a brisk, almost breathlessly athletic pace, while in its gooey center movement he revealed Bach's genius at writing long, exquisite melodies, as the two violins wrapped around each other's lines in an embrace that makes it one of Bach's most beloved works.

Keeping it within the family, the soloists were PSO violinists Amy Sims and Sasha Callahan, each playing with beautiful baroque style and stunning virtuosity. They were rewarded with a glowing ovation from their hometown audience . . . all of us feeling the love.

Following intermission came the Bartok. I've loved this difficult (in many ways) opera since my teens, have enjoyed several live performances and most available recordings, but here, in a stripped down concert staging, it worked in a way few staged performances are capable of. Having Bartok's massive orchestra onstage allowed it to become an even greater part of the drama than from a recessed pit.

Once Moody took the podium, the house and stage lights went out, plunging the hall into darkness. Though no lighting designer or stage director was credited, one sensed immediately both lights and "action" would be part of the show. In the dark, a sounding narrator welcomed us with the Prologue of the Bard (spoken in English) as the haunting opening strains began. Dim light allowed us to see Bluebeard, Alan Held and his new bride Judith, Michelle DeYoung, enter his castle. The pair played superbly off of each other, DeYoung's Judith an enchanted young bride, reassuring her dark-souled husband of her love, while Held's Bluebeard tested her loyalty, offering her opportunities to return to her former life. Both singers were in superb voice, deftly projecting over Bartok’s dense, lush scoring even when Moody had the orchestra pulling out all the stops, including those of the mighty Kotzschmar Organ

The meat of the opera is comprised of seven closed door, each hiding a secret of Bluebeard is unwilling to reveal, until Judith demands them be opened. Bartok's tonal palette and gift of orchestration gives each of the rooms a unique sound spectrum, beginning with the first, a torture chamber. This production also had a recorded, piped in, most unsettling groan/sigh that chills both Judith and the audience. The theatrical highlight for many, including me, is the opening of the Fifth Door which reveals the vastness of Bluebeard's kingdom the organ and orchestra letting loose at fortissimo as Judith belts out a high C. The effect was heightened as from near darkness, the lights flashed on bathing the entire house in a sea of white as Ms. DeYoung, arms raised in awe, capped everything with as great a high C as I've heard, producing gasps from many in the audience. Brilliant.

At the final door, we meet Bartok's three, still very much alive former wives, representing morning, afternoon and twilight, Judith - who is midnight - must now join, leaving Bluebeard,. as he has been most of his life, alone in the dark.

I'm happy to see and hear Bartok's gem being programmed more than in years past (the nearby Boston Symphony also performed it last week), particularly when so ravishingly played as it was here. It was a highlight of Maestro's tenure so far with this organization, and a night that will not soon be forgotten, or bettered.

T'was the Night Before New Year's

And once again, with great apologies to Clement Clarke Moore!)

T’was the night before New Year’s and all through the Met
Garanca was smoking (I mean sans cigarette!)
The boo-birds were readying for opening night,
All dripping with malice – all spry for a fight.
While just hours before, there had been a debut
Dave Pomeroy sang Hoffmann (and pretty well, too!)
Some pronounced the voice “small” . . . others, “vin ordinaire”
Others yawned “he’s not Gedda, why the hell should I care?”

“I miss the old days” seemed the theme of the season
“We had real stars back then,” was the most proffered reason.
“We’d Tebaldi and Milanov and Schipa and Jussi
We had bassos like Pinza, so just keep your Pertusi!”
Others fought back, “they’re dead now, a new day has dawned!”
But the old guard dismissed them and collectively yawned,
“Oh yes, now there’s Handel and di capos galore”
So much quicker than Ambien, do you mind if I snore?”

So, this year we had Tosca, all stripped down and edgy,
Some praised it as “boffo” some yelled “goddamned reggie!”
They clamored for Franco, they demanded “tradition!”
They made it quite clear, “the old way’s our mission.”

Then the Janacek came and the ticket sales ceased
“Why the hell would they do such a depressing piece?
His music’s all spiky, all self-reverential
And with no tunes, why it’s all so damned inconsequential!”
“There’s no plot” - “There’s no story”- “there’s no love scenes” they cried
(And without intermission their bladders were fried!)

So they waited for Hoffmann, they waited so long,
While others complained “the acts’ orders all wrong!”
They wanted the trio, Antonia and such
They wanted it badly, they wanted it much
Then came coughs, cold and fevers as replacements came
(Though Held and Netrebko held fast to their game)
And while Bartlett’s production got mix-ed reviews
The show’s been a hit (so what else is news?)

Still they turned on the Gelb – a great list of complaints
(Turning men like Joe Volpe and Bing into saints)
“Why he’s ruining the Met and he’s killing tradition,
With his operas ‘bout Gandhi and . . . nuclear fission
We want things with nice tunes, we want sets that are pretty!
Not these dirges in darkness all dirty and gritty,
Bring back halcyon days of Nate Merrill and O’Hearn,
For this surely is what TRUE opera lovers yearn,

So, tonight we get Carmen, that hot Spanish wench,
Performed by a Latvian singing in French,
And we’ll see what distinction is brought by Brit, Eyre
(Who made Billy Crudup a hot dame with flair!)
But remember, what matters here most is the story
And of course, Bizet’s score – which is covered in glory . . .

So in honor of opera from Berg to Bellini
Let us bury all hatchets, let’s all raise a martini
(or a glass of champagne or of cider or beer)
And with opera all welcome a Happy New Year!

Happy New Year Everbody!