OPERA MAINE’S ROCKING HORSE: A WINNER

 

I was fortunate to attend the second (and sadly final) performance of Rocking Horse Winner, by Irish composer Gareth Williams opera and Canadian playwright/librettist Anna Chatterton. Based on the short 1926 story by D.H. Lawrence (in turn based upon the lives of real people) Rocking Horse confronts some very tough family issues like a parable or a modern take on a medieval morality tale.

Ava is a difficult woman to like, self-absorbed manner with a hard shell, she exhibits neither patience or love (even while singing of both) for her son, Paul, here an autistic young man of no determinate age, and changed (necessarily) from the little boy in Lawrence’s story.  Both man and child, he senses mother’s sadness over the family’s modest financial status, and works himself into a frenzy in endless attempts to alleviate that sadness.  The impossibility of that task is also, sensed with devastating results.  Lawrence presented this as a type of ghost story, the house itself a character, and defined by Ava’s misery and Paul’s desperation. 

Scored for string quartet and piano, Williams’ opera alternately drones, sparkles, soars and dances as it reaches flights of excitable fantasy and plumets to profound depths of sadness. There are moments, (particularly for Ava) which seem to reach back to the recitativo style of Monteverdi, only to burst forth with the type of luminous energy we often associate with minimalists like Philip Glass, yet remains distinct and individual. distinct. These are but two examples of the wide range of Williams’ musical vocabulary.  That vocabulary is perfectly in tune with Chatterton’s libretto, itself a healthy blend of styles at once poetic and declamatory. Conductor Jackson McKinnon led the ensemble in a powerful reading of Williams’ score that hours later is still resonating in my brain.  I imagine it will for a long time. I also know I will be seeking out more of this composer’s music.

As integral to the story as its pro/antagonists are Paul’s Uncle Oscar, and Bassett, Paul’s caretaker. The pair are racetrack enthusiasts, and discovering Paul’s innate ability to pick “only the winners” exploit the boy’s gift in order to increase the family fortune, as Eva sips champagne, adapting to an easier life in the house that appears to be consuming and destroying them all. 

Christopher Akerlind’s spare set – chairs, benches, rocking horse, etc., achieves a dream-like quality through his dramatic lighting design, drawing us in from the moment the opera begins. As directed by Richard Gammon, every element, movement and effect seems heightened, and strikes a splendid balance between Paul’s sense of the world, and the world as seen by everybody else.

While it is easy to love Paul and loathe Ava, I felt myself pitying this woman who, for me at least, exhibited a paralyzing depression that kept her bound . . . stagnant, unchanging from first to last.

As Ava, mezzo Lauren Cook sang with intensity and managed a difficult balancing act of self-pity and ennui, that made me feel sorry for, instead of hating, her.  Tenor Houston Tyrell was handsome, affable Uncle Oscar disguising his greed and self-interest with a smarmy sincerity and sounding splendid doing so.  It was nice to have baritone Marcel Sokalski back from last season’s The Fall of the House of Usher, to infuse Bassett with perky energy, as well as provide the megaphoned horse race analyses in the scenes at the track.

Pride of place goes to the incandescent performance of tenor Dylon Crain’s Paul. From his “tight rope” like entrance atop the four benches to his final collapse at evening’s end, Crain made me believe in Paul, made me care for Paul and, ultimately, broke my heart as Paul.  Lawrence’s Paul is a little boy, but rather than a treble, Williams and Chatterton wrote the role for a tenor.  Happily, in Mr. Crain we got both; boy and man, the thrilling sound of a tenor perfectly wed to the emotions and actions of a boy.

As The House, Jamila Drecker-Waxman, Emily J. Cottam, Taka Komagata, and Daniel Chiu observed all, propelling the tale through sound and movement, haunted whispers, and full throated singing, frequently with an almost dizzying use of rapidly choreographed gestures that added an appropriate zing of the surreal and helping us steer the action from one point to the next.

Following tonight's performance, Opera Maine’s Artistic Director Dona D. Vaughn hosted a talk back featuring Shilo Goodue from the Autism Society of Maine, Dramaturg M. Calien Lewis, and tenors Houston Tyrrell and Dylon Crain, in a discussion as well as questions and answers from the audience. 

I’m proud of Dona D. Vaughn and my home team not just for the outstanding artistic work they provide year-after-year, but also their ongoing effort of tying in the complexity and diversity of life into the performing arts, and exploring what that means to each of us.

Opera Maine Takes on Poe and Glass

 

Despite the issues surrounding the performing arts in this country, Opera Maine is offering a most ambitious season with a pair of big deals.  Wagner’s The Flying Dutchman which opens next month, and Philip Glass’ The Fall of the House of Usher, given last night at the Westbrook Performing Arts Center. 

Richard Gammon’s production is stark, sparse, but effective.  A table, chairs, a bed, bottles everywhere, and a screen projecting live film of the grounds, etc., along with static images of the characters ranging from nearly beatific to demonic, including a jarring set quickly alternating between their normal faces with blood-drenched ones straight from a nightmare.  All set the mood and spurred a tale where not much happens, moving it forward almost breathlessly. 

Updated to the present, we see William, after Roderick’s letter of despair, driving to the haunted mansion, facing us, driving while the road is in the opposite direction, subtly registering his fearful dread.

Another element I found of particular interest was everyone being barefoot.  The symbolism of bare feet is powerful with myriad meanings:  innocence, death, aimlessness, separation from earthly things and entrance into holy spaces.  Subtle, and often unnoticed it adds an element that registers directly into the psyche of a work as evidenced here. 

Contemporary costumes worked, including Madeline’s short sparkling black dress – which quickly disappeared revealing a camisole and boy shorts, all helping define the characters.  William’s tee-shirt emblazoned with a skeleton surrounded by the sun, was perfection.    

Poe’s ambiguous tale has been open to myriad interpretations over a century.  Fueled by mystery, drug and alcohol induced madness, homosexuality, the implication of murder, incest, and most horrifically, vivisepulture, it is a juicy tale of madness.  Glass’ score achieves its desired result beautifully. 

The trio of William, Roderick and the wordless – but hardly voiceless Madeline – declaim, shout, and sing beautifully throughout in wonderful vocal lines Glass carefully wedded to the libretto.  The sense of these people knowing, each other, in love with each other, repulsed and horrified by each other came through in every gesture and movement. 

As Roderick, Joseph Tancredi offered clarion tenor tone while wavering between desperation and madness. One felt for the guy whilst simultaneously uncomfortable with this fellow clearly on the brink.  Gabrielle Clutter’s Madeline was lovely and, likewise, spooky.  With a voice of surprising size and beauty, though, Madeline’s wordless vocalises did at several times overpower Roderick and William’s narrative.  Appearing as William, Marcel Sokalski rendered a beautiful baritone, while exhibiting completely the man’s nervous sincerity as well as sense of morbid curiosity and innocence tying the story together perfectly. 

The small roles of Servant and Physician were well served by Miguel Pedroza and Joseph Sacchi.

Jackson McKinnon led the ensemble of about a dozen in an energetic and mesmerizing reading, the pacing, pauses and synchronicity between stage, screen and pit often exquisite. 

Overheard from a visiting couple behind me, “Well, we wouldn’t be seeing this in Arkansas.”  More’s the pity.  There’s another performance on Friday, July 1^st.  Go.