Amazing "Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay"

This past Saturday, I along with countless others braved the worst winter storm in years to attend the cinema screening of Mason Bates' and Gene Scheer's new opera, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay.

I had thoroughly enjoyed the opera's opening night broadcast enormously but, like everyone else I knew, furious at the Met for not scheduling this important new work for an HD treatment. Fortunately for the Met, all seven performances were sold out with tickets were as rare as the proverbial hen's teeth. Seizing the moment, the Met scurried to get cameras in  to record the final performances into the seamlessly edited HD recording  we saw Saturday. They also (wisely) scheduled four more performances during the winter break. Thi is good.

With the daunting task of crafting a libretto for an "average length" opera from Michael Chabon's 650 page Pulitzer Prize winning novel, Mr. Scheer, while commiting some gender re-assignments of several roles, did a remarkable job and delivered a text presenting more than enough of the duo's adventures to project and evoke this sprawling tale of war, comic books, fascism, adventure, sacrifice, freedom, love and - most beautifully - friendship. Everything you need to know is in there.

Armed with this, Mr. Bates' created a wide sprawling score, infused with his now familiar style combining traditional orchestrations with electric, synthesized sound, and the result feels just right.  While I admire and champion many contemporary composers, Bates has been on my radar for 20 years, and I can't think of a composer better equipped to tell this kind of tale. 

(Side note: Many critics and audiences have complained about Bates use of electronics, and how they "don't belong" in "classical music."  One may not like employment of synthesizers, electric guitars, etc., but the fact is electronics have been used in classical music for more than a century, employed by countless composers including Edgar Varèse, Gian Carlo Menotti, Olivier Messiaen, Kaija Saariaho, Philip Glass, John Adams .  . . so precedent has been more than just merely "set.") 

Bates refers to this synthesis of traditional and electronic sound, as symphonic electronica.  As one who has been a fan of (and involved in) the Noise Music scene, I was heartened to hear the incorporation of these strange sounds (along with all the foley work supplied for the radio show-within-an-opera) incorporated into a work, with its myriad style motifs propelling the story through a gloriously unique hybrid of operatic theatre. While I prefer my opera live and in the house, it was especially fun experiencing Kavalier & Clay at a cineplex - bringing world of the movies into the mix. Yes, some have complained specifically about that, but those people are always yammering and whining about something ain't they? (Rhetorical question, but the answer is "yes.")

Bates' style motifs (my name for whatever it may be called)  work brilliantly, switching between elements of jazz, swing, avante garde (the symphony electronica), folksong, Hip Hop rhythms and, when appropriate, grand olde Hollywood epic soundtrack magic .  While Bates is not a minimalist, he comfortably employs the brightness and quicksilver sound of that movement seamlessly into the fabric of his score. Influenced by what has come before him, With nods to (at least to my ears) Ravel, Weill, Bernstein, Wagner, Strauss, Prokofiev, and others Bates manages to create his own original sound world and it is a beautiful, haunting and always captivating one.

Eschewing the modern practice (well from Wagner onward) of adhering to vocal parlando, Bates has created arias, duets, ensembles, choruses that feel like classic standard operatic set pieces - and I love that nod to past traditions.  

The mindblowing production design from 59 Studio, easily rivals the most impressive physical productions the Met has put upon that great stage. Curtains, dissolves, projections, sets - all move the story - and its audience - from 1939 Prague through Brooklyn, Manhattan's gallery scene, office buildings, skyscrapers, a gay bar, warehouses, the Western frontline of the war, and, just as importantly, the fantasy world of comic books. Bartlett Sher's direction here with a perfect, if not name-recognizable cast, is perhaps the best work I've seen from him to date, and it showed in the way he paced the story's action, as well as the work with that remarkable cast. 

With his warm, resonant baritone, endearingly accented English, and physical presence, Andrzej Filónczyk strikes all the right notes as Joe Kavalier. Bringing the immigrant's sense of wide-eyed wonder, fueled by hopes and dreams of a better life in America. this part of the story felt especially prescient given what's happening to immigrants - and citizens - in these United States of America. We watch the rise and fall of Joe and seeing those dreams crushed through the rise of World War II's fascism, and it is devastating. As an actor, Filónczyk pulls us along through that heartbreak and redemption. It is a tremendous performance. 

The other title role was in equally excellent hands as tenor Miles Mykkanen's displayed all of the savvy, wit, ambition, along wit h the scarred insecurity and fear as the leg braced Sam with a clear, soaring tenor. It was impossible not to love Sam, and everybody did.

Sun-Ly Pierce (a singer I fell in love with in Des Moines Cunning Little Vixen) is Rosa who is very much  the anchor"and conscience of the show. Possessing a beautifully gleaming mezzo with a secure top, Ms. Pierce stole every heart. Her first act aria, Open Your Eyes reveals Rosa's earnest desire to rescue the child victims of the war. It was also the first sign I knew that I'd be in tears at what was yet to come. 

In some fun duel-casting, comic book hero The Escapist was portrayed by by a non-singing dancer, Jerimy Rivera, and "portrayed" by actor, Tracy Bacon who was beautifully sung by baritone Edward Nelson. Nelson, tall, blonde and handsome, Nelson was the epitome of the superhero-type, abundantly confident, openly gay, not quite garrulous but close, he is the opposite of closeted, fearful Sam, which makes their relationship both difficult and touching. The first kiss is not what one expects and was one - of many - moments that felt positively . . . well, cinematic.

As is often the case whenever he's cast, Patrick Carfizzi - in the brilliantly written character role of Sheldon Anapol - nearly steals every scene he's in. As the kindhearted, benevolent boss at Empire Novelty Company, Incorporated. Mr. Carfizzi never fails to impress and get to the heart of every role I've been lucky to see him in - and there have been plenty!

One of the most crucial roles in Kavalier & Clay, is Joe's 14 year old sister, Sarah. Not a big singing role, but whenever she is onstage - singing or not - she is at the heart of this epic story. Soprano Lauren Snouffer was not only believable as the braided teenager, she made me wish Sarah had more to sing.

How moving it was for me to see one of my all-time-favorite singers, Richard Croft, along with Ellie Dehn as Joseph's parents, Solomon and Estelle. Both were enormously moving, and I couldn't help but recall them working together nearly twenty years ago in Satyagraha (can it have been that long ago?)

The balance of the cast showed the careful attention the Met can lavish in bringing a new, challenging work to life.  

 Yannick Nézet-Séguin seemed to be charged by every element, presenting a reading that would be hard pressed to be improved upon, shaping and coordinating the myriad elements of orchestration, sound design, electronics, percussion (right down to the clicking of typewriter keys). I feel (and maybe am alone here) that he shines in this kind of material more than some "traditional" works. Bates score deserved this kind of treatment. 

For me, this is what contemporary opera can be: a great literary source inspiring a poet and then a composer, designers, directors, singers and players to present something that can touch thousands of people with its beauty.

One of the more fascinating things I've taken in about this opera is that audiences (generally) have been so powerfully moved both by this opera and its message, cheering, standing ovations (don't start on me with that) while it seems the majority of critics have either trashed it, or only given mild praise.  

I remember being glued to the premiere broadcast and, even without its visual element - being stunned into silence and moved to tears - as was the entire audience at my cineplex this past Saturday. It made the first review - Joshua Barone for The NY TImes - come as a bit of a shock damning it as "superficial."  I read how Scheer's libretto is cliché-ridden with no "meaning or purpose."  And while he positively cites the drawing projections, he complains about other design elements (e.g., the Clay's apartment). 

He damns Bates' score  as "uninspired . . . obvious . . . harmless . . . nondescript . . . forgettable" bringing up these were the same problems he had with Fire Shut Up In My Bones and Grounded - operas with "toothless scores that ask so l itle of their audiences."  His final paragraph beginning "That's not what opera is," is the final blow.  But he was not alone - the majority of "professional" reviews seemed to go out of their way - in best and most imaginative "I'm going to write a bad review with fun words." Some of the attacks were beyond laughable. One, complaining about the death of one of the characters and how it did not feel "tragic enough."  Or the number of reviews varying the theme of "the melodies are so banal you wonder why they bothered." And on and on they go.  How clever. they all are. 

But none of that matters to me - I - and almost everyone I know - loved the experience, and I've friends who were so moved by this - they went back to Wednesday's encore performance.  I'm thrilled that, despite any bad press - the Met saw the wisdom of bringing the production back during the break for four more performances beginning February 17 that, while not yet sold out, are already selling well.  I wish everyone in the company - and all future audiences - the very best.  I do hope that more positive word-of-mouth reviews will factor in more than the harsh criticisms of those who felt it a waste of time, money, and talent. 

As I end this, I'm reliving the opera's emotionally transcendant final scene, I can't help but think of another opera that affects me with its bittersweet but beautiful message of hope in this often confusing and sometimes dark world  Leoš Janáček's The Cunning Little Vixen.  That's not bad company to keep. 

Viva Kavalier & Clay!

Opera Maine's Cinderella: Goodness Triumphs!

 

There is no doubt in my mind which opera is Rossini's greatest comedy: Il Barbiere di Siviglia often takes that prize, but for me La Cenerentola sings rings (or bracelets) around the more popular of the two masterpieces.  Last night in Merrill Auditorium, Dona D. Vaughn's sparkling new production for Opera Maine made Rossini's alternate title, Goodness Triumphs (La Bonta' in Trionfo) abundantly clear. 

With what appeared to be a nod to a sort of fairy tale noir, set and lighting designer Christopher Akerlind's created a series of backdrops that felt like a picture book fairytale wed to a Warner Bros. cartoon.  Diaphanous, almost transparent pinks and purples defined Don Magnifico's fading estate. The look was completed with an old-fashioned stove, and colorful stairway leading up to the unseen living quarters for Cinderella's cold-hearted, scheming stepfather and stepsisters. With a wink and a nod to the classic Disney classic film, Vaughn deployed human sized mice who hid and scurried about aiding in the scene changes. The effect was both hilarious, and enchanting.  Hilarious and enchanting is also the most accurate description of her entire production.

Blessed with a cast that I cannot imagine being bettered today, Vaughn created magic before our eyes. The intricacy of choreographed movement between the large cast and chorus was picture book perfect, the exquisite delineation of each character made the story pop with life. Recitatives came off like well written, witty scripts connecting arias, duets and ensembles with a life force, not something to get through until the next big tune.  The comedy was never overplayed, but with Rossini's champagne bubble score, felt and looked funnier than I can recall ever before - and this was perhaps my 20th Cenerentola. I cannot remember the last time I heard actual raucous belly laughs at the opera.  No, this was not the gentle comic tittering so often heard in the opera house but genuine, house ringing laughter. I would occasionally take my eye from the stage to look around the house and saw nothing but teeth from huge, open smiling mouths, and . . . yes, my heart kind of exploded seeing that kind of reaction from an entire audience. 

Few directors know how to move a chorus onstage as well as Vaughn, and she proved this yet again with this Cenerentola.  Each entrance of the Prince's chorus of servants - men of all sizes - paraded on, each identically bewigged, in pink stockings and classic 18th century livery. The effect was both regal and ridiculous and yet beautiful as well.     

 Everything about the production is memorable, but those many moments I will single out a favorite:  the Act One finale. The entire company is here displayed in gorgeous array, as the insanity of the score increases with its gurgles, dance-like bouncing, as it threatens to erupt into the chaos, the libretto describes:  are we confused? Dreaming? Is the earth quaking? The dizzying confusion grows in the pit as onstage, now plunged into blue strobing light effects, we watch these characters singers spin out of control; rising, falling, crashing into one another all while in perfect Rossinian symmetry and harmony.  When it finally stopped, the roar of cheers that rose from the entire house as the music was still hanging in the air, was instant and deafening.  

Also worth a mention: the Proud Mary style choreography for the famous sextet of Act Two.  Here, too, was more of the spirit of hilarity and yes, sweetness.

What can one say about the costumes of Milly Hiibel? Delightfully eye-popping, brilliant of color, at times almost architectural, they were a perfect visual match for this production, adding immeasurably to the entire effect.  The purple and green creations for Clorinda and Tisbe were over-the-top in elegance and ridiculousness, yet entirely beautiful.  Don Magnifico's pajamas then his preposterous fancy man ensemble was given an extra comic punch up by having a train on his coat trailing behind him in a design that would've made Floria Tosca jealous.  Brilliant. Likewise, Amanda Clark's hair and makeup designs worked in concert with Hiibel's costumes to make sure everything looked well . . . fabulous is the only word that will do. 

And now onto the singers.  What an extraordinary cast we were treated with last night: true bel canto artists who fearlessly navigated the intricacies, dangerously vertiginous coloratura of Rossini even adding fioritura that sounded as natural breathing.

I hate to doom a singer to a single role, but Hongni Wu could have a career singing nothing but Cenerentola. The beautiful Chinese mezzo had everything needed, vocally and every other way, at her disposal; expressive features, a voice with a big bright top, a girlishly warm middle voice, and an easy plunge into the lower register.  The speed and accuracy of her coloratura was never less than dazzling, even possessing an impeccable old-school trill that thrilled. There were subtle differences in her acting as well. The first time we hear Cinderella's opening, wistful ballad Una vola c'era un Re (There once was a king) it's plaintive . . . almost mournful, but when she repeats it in the second act, there is a change both vocally and visually, and it’s these subtle little details that stand out and make all the difference.  Ms. Wu was an absolute delight in every aspect of the role, and in Nacqui all' affanno ... Non piu mesta one of the composer's great razzle-dazzle ending scenas, she quite brought down the house. Once again, as at the first act curtain, the audience went wild with applause and cheering. Bonkers would not be inaccurate, as the ovation went on and on.

Her charming Prince was Jack Swanson who presented a classic handsome prince-in-disguise, and like his Cinderella, had the full arsenal of bel canto necessities – rapid fire technical agility, easily produced high notes, a genuine and all too rarely heard these days, head voice that had a brightness and clarity which helped define his character.  Si, ritrovarla io guiro, his bravura aria with chorus, was easily one of many highlights of the night.  

Bass Baritone, Patick Carfizzi was born for buffo characters like Don Magnifico, and his turn as the comically evil stepfather was never less than bel canto buffo perfection in both voice and character. Capturing the arrogance, and deliciously smarmy sense of entitlement, Carfizzi sang with relish and aplomb, clearly enjoying the great comic bits laid out for him, as he attempted to reign over the stage all while that crazy coat train trailed his every step.

It was a treat to have Opera Maine favorite, Robert Mellon back in town and owning every inch of Dandini. With actorly flair, Mellon relished his role as "Prince for a Day," taking to royalty as the proverbial duck to water.  The comic business devised for his duet with Don Magnifico (involving an ever moving and unavailable chair) had the house in stitches.  

Cenerentola's one serious role is the philosopher/teacher, Alidoro who in Rossini's hands is equal parts Gurnemanz and Fairy Godfather.  It is Alidoro who directs and dictates the shape of the story, and in William Guanbo Su we had one brought out the best of both of those qualities.  With his rich, beautiful basso Là del ciel nell’arcano profondo, flooded the house with a wave of warm sound filled with love and hope, and segued the tale into its first bit of magic, as glitter rained, sparkling down as descending from the heavens a gown for Cenerentola to attend the ball.  I normally don't approve of interrupting the music, but the effect was so special, so breathtakingly beautiful, one simply had to forgive the audience for breaking into applause.

Katherine Henly and Rachel Barg took on the comedy team of Clorinda and Tisbe with such delightful absurdity that they threatened to steal the show at every turn.  Indeed, stealing the show - and the prince - seemed to be their raison d'etre. Once again comic timing and vocal agility provided the backbone of these two gloriously daffy sisters.

Rossini's score is, like all great bel canto comedies, deceptive. On the surface we see and hear music of such delightful charm, bubbling away like freshly poured champagne, but the dirty little secret is: it's hard. Really hard.  With time and key signature changes, music that shifts from legato to staccato, melodies that begin with one instrument that flow into another, accelerandos and ritardandos that come and go without warning . . . it's all standard in the work of one of music's true geniuses. Then there is the balancing of voices against (or rather hopefully with) the orchestra, be it a solo, a duet or an ensemble with full chorus.

The ingredients required are many and holding the entire thing together last night was Maestro Israel Gursky, a man who clearly gets Rossini's magic and knows how to transfer it from the stage and pit directly to the audience. From the outset of the overture, through the dazzling finale, Maestro Gursky kept the Rossinian flame lit with just the right amount of everything: security, control were ever evident as they must be to keep the entire thing from collapsing or becoming a train wreck, but at the same time there was buoyancy and brightness to make it all come alive.  Indeed, it is always something of a joyous miracle to hear all of the intricate coloratura from the singers, particularly in ensembles, perfectly coalesced with the rapid passagework coming from the pit. 

While La Cenerentola was well attended, it was not sold out, and that is a pity. I want everyone I love to be able to see this.  As it so happens, there is one more chance, this coming Sunday afternoon.  If I were you, I wouldn't miss it for the world.