Anna & Anna in elegant minimalism

Jennifer McNichols (centre), Wallis Giunta. Photo by Jag Gundu

Kurt Weill and Bertold Brecht’s The Seven Deadly Sins is a strange creature. A 40 minute long communist morality play in the form of a ballet with singing to a full orchestra was never going to be easy to stage.  To this day it’s more often recorded than performed, and the TSO programming it and hiring Joel Ivany to stage it–as much as the Roy Thomson Hall allows for any staging–was a fresh and bold move. To quote Nicole Paiement, the 20th and 21st century pieces are more easily accepted by today’s audience if there’s a scenic component added to the mix, and this is probably going to be a growing practice around the presenting of the 20thC works. There’s a good expression in French: mise en espace (while full-on staging is mise en scène), making the most of whatever the available space happens to be to dramatize the performance.  Sometimes a scenic component is added to the originally non-scenic, “pure music” work, and sometimes a thoroughly scenic work is intentionally reduced to a mise en espace. There have been some good cases lately (for example the 2016 Lucio Silla by Rita Cosentino, the precise opposite of Opera Atelier’s approach) and we’ll be seeing more.

Joel Ivany and choreographer Jennifer Nichols, who also danced as Anna II, opted for what could be described as elegant minimalism in this Sins production. The TSO conducted by Peter Oundjian was moved to the back of the stage, the front stage covered by the black, dancer-friendly flooring. Two video screens above the orchestra showed both the supertitles and, in interludes between the themed numbers, pre-recorded black-and-white videos of the two principals, Anna I (Wallis Giunta) and Anna II (Nichols). Videos are simple–close ups, mirroring and merging of the two faces, a female figure walking on the train tracks at the beginning and the end. Nichols and Giunta on stage wear similar dresses and hair (Nichols had to dance and be carried around the stage while wearing a long Giunta-lookalike wig). Movement-wise, Nichols opted for fairly modern choreography delivered however en pointe: an interesting choice, perhaps meant to add to the constraints that the character of Anna II is under in the piece.

The Seven Deadly Sins is probably the most overtly feminist thing that Weill and Brecht created together, which is not to say that it’s an uncomplicated call to arms for the cause of sisterhood. Anna I and II are two sides of the same character that is sent across the mythical Weill-Brecht America (always in the primitive accumulation of capital stage, ever the Wild West) in pursuit of success and money and the American Dream business. There’s an all-male chorus, the “family” that comments on the action and eggs her on. They’re also the ones naming Anna II’s actions as sins while also benefiting from them and expecting to benefit even more in the future.

The split Anna character is an intriguing interpretive challenge. Only Anna II goes places, does things, commits sins, lives the impure, while the singing, analyzing Anna II comments, justifies, shrugs off. It’s possible that Anna I-II is an image of woman’s life under patriarchal capitalism: we will be asked to sacrifice so others could benefit, for which we will be condemned too (Anna II); we will see clearly that this is the case and will be able to do nothing about it and may even become articulate in the oppressive vernacular (Anna I, but also the Mother of the chorus).

Ivany, I think wisely, leaves it to the viewer to wrangle these questions and clears up and simplifies the proceedings as much as possible. The male chorus sings from the aisles and the wings as well as on stage, and is given dance-like movements by Nichols to great effect. They’re all dressed in black and white with suspenders and fedoras as the only accents (costumes are by Krista Dowson). Isaiah Bell (Father), Owen McCausland (Brother), Geoffrey Sirett (Brother) and Stephen Hegedus (Mother) sounded like a madrigalist ensemble at times, they were that polished and multi-coloured. All singers, including Giunta, were miked, which was surprising to hear at first, but kinda understandable later on: a noisy orchestra, RTH acoustics, lots of movement for singers and small- to medium-size voices all around is a combination begging for voice microphones.

Music was of the familiar Weill-Brecht sort, noisy, brassy and clangy that plays with then twists and abandons anything smacking of lyricism. The Sins were part of the TSO’s Decades project, which joins together wildly disparate works from the shared decade in the same concert. It was premiered in 1930s, as was Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings (TSO’s was a subtle take on the old hit) and Bartok’s Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta (utterly sui generis,  wouldn’t  sound out of place at the New Creations Festival). It worked great in this case: the three works couldn’t have been more different, yet the program cohered.

Peter Oundjian, Wallis Giunta and Jennifer Nichols. Photo Jag Gundu
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End of year highlights: performing arts

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George Benjamin, Gary Kulesha, Barbara Hannigan at Roy Thomson Hall, New Creations Festival, 2015

Best Hybrid Concert Performances, Hands Down

The 21C’s Cinq à sept concert that included Jordan Nobles’ π and Saariaho’s Grammar of Dreams. (RCM, 21C Festival, May, Toronto)

Against the Grain’s Death and Desire, the Messiaen & Schubert mashup. (Neubacher Shor Contemporary Gallery, June, Toronto)

CASP’s Living Spectacle concert (The Extension Room, November, Toronto)

Best Concerts

Barbara Hannigan, George Benjamin, Peter Oundjian and the TSO in “Let Me Tell You” by Hans Abrahamsen, etc. (New Creations Festival, RTH, February, Toronto). The TSO in Dutilleux’s Métaboles (same festival)–probably my TSO highlight of the year: they were positively levitating. The TSO again with George Benjamin conducting Written on Skin (still the same festival). This very scenic opera hampered by the lack of staging, but managed to impress.

Tania Miller conducts the RCM orchestra in Mahler 5 at Koerner Hall. Glorious acoustics; Mahler like I’ve never heard him before. (Koerner Hall, November, Toronto)

Spin Cycle: Afiara String Quartet with DJ Skratch Bastid (C21, Koerner Hall, May, Toronto). This is one instance where the electronica and the analogica really conversed.

Gewandhaus Orc with Ricardo Chailly at Musikverein, October 2015
Gewandhaus Orchestra with Riccardo Chailly at Musikverein, October 2015

Riccardo Chailly conducts Gewandhaus Orchestra Leipzig in a program of lesser known Strauss works. A Technicolor Dream Strauss. (Musikverein, October, Vienna, Austria)

Laurence Equilbey conducts Insula Orchestra in Mozart’s Concertante Symphony for Violin and Viola, Schubert’s 4th Symphony and a Fanny Mendelssohn overture. Rarely heard pieces done justice, in gorgeous period instruments colours. (Cité de la Musique / Philharmonie II, March, Paris, France)

Paris Philharmonie I & II
Paris Philharmonie I & II

Greatest disappointments in the Concert category

Mozart’s Mass in C Minor with the TSO (RTH, January, Toronto) – chiefly because of the two female soloists who indifferently phoned it in. Never seen a colder soloist than Julie Boulianne in “Laudate Me”; a bit terrifying, actually.

Andrew Davis’ orchestration of the Messiah with the TSO (RTH, December, Toronto). The add-ons add nothing to the sound and sometimes even take away from it. It’s the marimba, the snare drum and the xylophone, but it might as well have been pots and pans, bugles, and a vuvuzela—the latter as logical and organic to the sound as the former. And Toronto has heard it well by now; time for another conductor to do the big Messiah next year in whatever orchestration he/she chooses.

Best Operas

Not a lot of gushing to report here. It’s between Lepage’s Bluebeard, Tcherniakov’s Don Giovanni and Alden’s Pyramus, all good productions but neither for various reasons will push through as life-long memorable. But I’m really glad I discovered Barbara Monk Feldman.

The most er unusual performance in an opera

Michael Schade in Tcherniakov’s Don Giovanni was in his own production entirely. Gives me a chuckle even now thinking about it.

Best performance in an otherwise er unusual staging

Christine Rice in the ROH Mahagonny (ROH, March, London, UK). I feel obligated to like every attempt to mount a Brecht-Weill joint, so people would continue to do it, but still not sure if I can form an opinion, any opinion, about this one.

Royal Opera House detail (March 2015, Mahagonny)
A Royal Opera House detail (March 2015)

Greatest unexpected disappointment in the Opera category

Matthew Jocelyn’s staging of Philippe Boesmans’ Julie (Canadian Stage, November, Toronto). More fundamentally, Julie the opera itself. The Strindberg play can work as a claustrophobic battle of wills where subtle acting and silences matter, but as an opera? Not for this opera-goer. The dread of class miscegenation and the fear of female desire as sources of drama haven’t aged well into our own time. And opera has treated the master-servant shenanigans—and female desire–through its librettos for a couple of centuries now. I fail to fathom why any composer would want to turn Strindberg’s Miss Julie into a libretto, or why any director would hail such a work as one of the best contemporary operas today (as Matthew Jocelyn did in an interview).

Vienna Staatsoper, Macbeth (October, Vienna, Austria). The set was cement blocks, the costumes mid-twentieth-century dictatorship, Mid-Eastern or East European. Singing was fine, but the production overall showed no signs of life, no circulation, no breathing. How long was I going to stay on that balcony, craning my neck? I left at the intermission.

Inside Vienna Staatsoper, October 2015
Inside Vienna Staatsoper, October 2015

Best Theatre

NTLive’s The Hard Problem by Tom Stoppard. I hate to put a screening in this category, but I have to. (Cineplex, April, Toronto)

Juliet Stevenson as Winnie at the Young Vic (March, London, UK). Here’s a good conversation about this production between the director Natalie Abrahami and Juliet Stevenson with the BBC’s Matthew Sweet.

Dario Fo is good news any time, and Soulpepper’s adaptation of Fo’s Accidental Death of an Anarchist was a solid effort. It didn’t entirely work for me—the adaptation text didn’t emerge out of a movement or even a common experience or solidarity, as Fo’s original text did: Toronto theatre-goers are as likely to be Conservative as NDP, and have largely middle-class expectations and tastes. The play also appeared conflicted about what it wanted of us, to participate or be a silent audience; the foray into the audience was more odd than provocative. All that said, a theatre putting its resources into the social difficulty that is Fo should be saluted. (February, Toronto)

The most regretful miss-outs

Robert Lepage’s 887. I became aware of this play one day after it had closed! It’s touring now around the world, maybe it’ll return. Takes the PanAm Games to distribute some serious commissioning money around.

Betroffenheit: there were no tickets to be found. They’re returning to town next February, though.

Lisa Dwan in the three Beckett plays on women in extremis. Months preceding, I was looking forward to this, but that very month I had a death in the family and it all felt a little too close. I decided not to go. I hope to catch this somewhere eventually.

Would have loved to have seen Intelligent Homosexual’s Guide to Capitalism and Socialism with a Key to the Scriptures at the Shaw, but it’s difficult to get there (train plus bus, and you need to match your itineraries very carefully to the minute while the GO website is working against you achieving that goal), and no ticket under $100. So to watch a leftist play about an Italian working-class family, you have to own a car, have hotel accommodation money and pay the not at all cheap ticket.

What I realized this year

I lost interest in the star-vehicle recitals.

I will miss Rdio. Am now between streaming loyalties—dipping my toes into Spotify and not particularly liking what I’m seeing there.

As for the books of the year… Well, the books deserve their own post.

Memories of Vienna on bicycle, October 2015
Memories of Vienna, October 2015

The Opera Questionnaire: Cecily Carver

The Opera Questionnaire: Cecily Carver

If there is one person who we can blame the most for the fact that I started this blog back in 2010 (David Miller was Mayor… YNS was just taking over the Philly… screamers were screaming over Tim Albery’s Aida…), it’s Cecily. I discovered her own blog All Time Coloratura while desperately looking for Toronto-area opera blogs and found out the COC had scooped her as a digital publicist that very month (Cecily has since returned to IT and feminist gaming). I emailed her about the logistics of starting an opera blog, telling her that I had no idea how to run the thing, that there were so many wonderful opera blogs already, that I didn’t know if I’d add anything, and if I’d get the tone right, eccetera, and she said “But you must start it, it’ll be great! Never you mind the details, you’ll figure them out soon enough. Just get going.” So I followed her advice. We can blame her for what ensued.

We’ve met and talked and kaffee-klatsched a number of times since, and it’s always been a pleasure. This latest edition of The Opera Questionnaire will give you a hint of how brilliant and lovely she is.

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Cecily CarverThe work (or the scene) that is most likely to make a teen intrigued?

As someone who became an opera addict during my teenhood, it seems to me that opera is very well-suited for teenagers already – with its romanticism and big emotions. My adolescence wasn’t particularly painful or traumatic, but I was a very inward-focused, anxious, and emotional teenager. I was half in love with most of my friends but also desperately shy.

I lived in a drab city with drab weather, I didn’t drive, and since my high school was far from my home, I spent a lot of time riding the bus. Most of my music-listening was done while riding a bus through the city streets in winter. Opera fit me like a glove back then, because I was hungry for beauty and romance. I wanted beautiful clothes and beautiful surroundings, and wanted to be beautiful myself. Opera sounded beautiful, it looked beautiful on stage, and it took all my feelings and dressed them up and painted them in bright colours. And because none of my friends listened to opera, it made me feel like I was a special person for liking it.

A lot of what I liked were things I’d be a little ashamed to admit to now in serious company, like Rachmaninov, Puccini, and operetta. But those things were absolutely perfect for a shy teenager full of feelings to listen to on long bus rides through the snow. Tales of Hoffmann was a favourite. I also really liked Mahler (Still do. When I read the TSO’s brochure every year my first thought is usually: When is the Mahler).

The trouble with trying to “intrigue a teen” in opera is that it’s usually presented in such a pandering way. “Mozart was like a rock star in his day,” or “Rigoletto is all about sex and violence, just like those movies you like,” etc. Teenagers tend to be resistant to loving things that adults try to foist on them, especially if it’s wearing “high culture” clothing. And, opera is such a strange and stylized beast that trying to present it as connected to mainstream pop culture in any way is doomed to failure. A lot of ad campaigns for opera make me cringe, for this reason.

I don’t know if I’d have loved opera as much if it didn’t feel like something I found on my own, something that belonged to me.

I did make opera mixtapes for my friends. I would still make opera mixtapes for my friends if they asked me. To actually answer your question, I remember one selection that usually went over well was the trio from Der Rosenkavalier.

The opera (or the scene) with which to intrigue a pop-music-savvy adult?

With my own friends who are not Opera People, I’ve had the most success with John Adams and other composers who are (mostly) tonal without being old-fashioned.

And a film buff?

The “culturally elite” adults – the kind who go to art-house films and art galleries and keep up with literature, but who have never set foot in an opera house – I think they’re most likely to be intrigued by something subversive, ironic, or political. Anything by Kurt Weill is perfect, I think, as is the aforementioned John Adams, or maybe something like Anna Nicole. Usually I can convince someone to go to the cleavage-and-sequins traditional productions of romantic-era rep, and usually they have a good time, but they tend to approach it like a tourist, rather than someone engaging with a living art.

The best argument to use with opera traditionalists who argue that productions should be done the one “faithful” way and no other way?

I try never to have those conversations, because I usually end up boiling with rage. When part of my job involved sometimes encountering angry traditionalists, I never argued, just let them talk and asked questions. It amazes me how some of them can be still so angry about a production they saw years ago. I always want to say, “It must have made a very profound impression on you, for you to still be talking about it three years later.”

If you want to be tactful and persuasive, I think the best approach is to ask them more questions about how they think it “should” look. When pressed, they usually don’t want to return to the days of painted backdrops, suitcase arias, or park-and-bark staging. Often they have fond memories of a particular production they saw decades ago, which itself would have been different from what came before, and they can be brought around to the idea that production styles have always changed.

Often they’ll say things like, “I’m not opposed to updated productions, as long as they’re done well.” That’s usually a cop-out, and usually means “nothing that might be uncomfortable or confusing,” which is why Toronto critics are always patting themselves on the back for loving the Robert Carsen productions that come through town. But at least it’s not totally reactionary.

On the other hand, if you want to be snarky, the idea of “the composer’s intent” is ripe for ribbing. Any serious Regie warrior should be able to pluck numerous examples of composers who “intended” to make a quick buck, or placate a famous diva, or capitalize on a short-lived trend. They were also constantly re-jigging their “eternal, timeless” masterpieces for different audiences and changing tastes.

Have you ever been moved to tears at the opera?

Oh, all the time. Most recently during Tristan und Isolde, which was a semi-embarrassing cry-fest for me. Tristan also marks the only time I’ve cried during a director’s concept discussion, and I know I wasn’t alone in that one.

Have you ever nearly dozed off at the opera?

Never dozed off as far as I can remember, but some operas I find dreadfully boring. I will never understand the appeal of Simon Boccanegra, Capriccio, or La clemenza di Tito.

What kind of behaviour by the fellow audience members do you easily tolerate and what kind inevitably distracts?

I’m pretty tolerant of coughing these days, especially after having attended the COC’s spring run while sick and miserable myself, but any kind of whispering annoys me to no end. Also, I’m a small person and often the person sitting in front of me blocks my view of half the stage. Usually they can’t be faulted – tall people love opera too – but if they lean forward in their seat it blocks the stage out entirely and I gnash my teeth in frustration.

Name three performances about which you always say to your friends, “You had to be there…!”

TristanI really do feel like the recent Tristan was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. And the COC’s 2010 Aida looms large in my mind for many reasons, and has informed so much of how I think about opera that I love to talk about it with people who have seen it. I saw Against the Grain Theatre’s Turn of the Screw in all four performances (full disclosure: AtG is run by my close friends and I am a member of its admin team) and it really achieved a level of intimacy and involvement that is much more difficult to accomplish in a bigger, traditional venue. The most memorable operatic experience of my life might be when I saw Bluebeard’s Castle/Erwartung (originally a COC production) in Edmonton in 2006. I hope they revive it soon.

Your choice of arias or segments that illustrate how well opera understands love and desire.

R. Strauss is it for me here, especially the end of Rosenkavalier. Opera (and probably most art forms, when I think about it) are reluctant to deal with love that is not assumed to be permanent, that ends for reasons other than all-caps BETRAYAL or MISFORTUNE or DEATH, that when an opera deals in a mature way with the fading of love, and the ways it can be transitory and changing, it is so much more interesting and sophisticated.

If you’ll permit me to quote myself, I also wrote this a while ago about Carmen, which despite the ways in which it’s gotten tired-out from overplaying I think is just a dynamite piece of music theatre:

“The love-from-first-sight-until-death-yours-forever-most-beautiful-woman-in-the-world-I’ll-kill-myself-if-I-can’t-be-with-you attitude that characterizes a lot of the operatic repertoire – Verdi, I’m looking at you – can seem naive and one-dimensional to an audience accustomed to more complex relationships. Carmen, however, gives us a “love story” where passions ebb and flow; where lovers are alternately kind, cruel, and manipulative; where sex is a concrete and foreground presence rather than a subtext; where love comes into conflict with career and family and it isn’t immediately obvious that love should come first. I was struck for the first time by a moment in the last act where Carmen tells Escamillo that she loves him more than she’s ever loved any other man. It’s possible she tells that to all the men, of course. But that the librettist didn’t even bother to pretend that Don Jose was Carmen’s grand amour, that her most passionate romance might be with a supporting character, struck me as key to what makes Carmen so different from other operas.”

Your choice of segments or arias that show that in effect opera is as political as art gets.

All operas (like all narratives) are political in some way, because they all communicate something about how the creators think the world should be. What makes for a good monarch, a good woman, a good parent? And what are the ills that, more often than not, cause things to go horribly wrong? And, of course, we live in a time of interesting productions that interrogate these messages, whatever they are.

It’s interesting to think about the ways that historical operas bend the stories of their subjects. Like Donizetti’s Tudor operas. The history they’re based on is already jam-packed with confrontation, betrayal and death, so why did the operas wind up with wildly different plots? Why, in Roberto Devereux, do we have Queen Elizabeth I going mad and dying of grief after wrongfully causing the death of her lover?

Wagner is also really interesting for this. Scholars argue a lot about what he’s trying to tell us about the world, especially in the Ring Cycle. We know that a lot of it is racist and unsavoury. At the same time, “burn the whole thing down” is certainly part of the message, and it’s a woman who does it.

The Met in HD – overall good or overall bad?

I myself don’t like it (and almost never go), but whether it’s “good” for opera is an open question. I think it’s a mixed bag, like most things.

It’s certainly made opera more accessible to people who for whatever reason can’t get into an opera house. I’m always a little tickled when I see ads for the Met playing before whatever mainstream popcorn movie I’m seeing at the Cineplex. Whether it’s “introducing opera to a new audience” is definitely debatable. From what people tell me, and from what audience statistics are showing, the audiences aren’t any younger and less white than for live opera – quite the opposite, in fact.

Also, a lot of opera companies are now competing with The Met for their audiences. I know that many people in smaller communities who used to make trips to their nearest opera company are now opting to stay put and go to the Cinecasts instead. I can’t blame them – it’s cheaper and more convenient, after all – but I think this is a real shame.

The idea of the Met as the gold standard in opera, the Best in the World, also mildly irritates me. I’ve seen a fair amount of live opera at the Met, but when I think of the most memorable opera experiences of my life, they’ve mostly been elsewhere. The Met gets away with a lot of mediocrity.

I worry that the opera world in North America will concentrate into a few massive companies doing HD broadcasts on one end, and community theatre on the other end, with all the mid-tier companies wiped out. Not that I have anything against the big players, or against community theatre, but a healthy opera ecosystem should have a number of companies of different sizes. It’s a bit like the concern about “big box” retailers gobbling up everything around them. I remember the outcry in the 90’s about giant bookstore chains destroying the independents. Now those big chains aren’t faring so well themselves.

A composer that never ceases to amaze?

I’m an R. Strauss girl all the way. I try not to think too hard about it.

A work that keeps revealing new and new layers of meaning and pleasure each time?

Figaro and Don Giovanni do this for me. I always hear something new.

Imagine I’m an opera house or a funder. Pitch to me some new opera commissions.

I would be tickled by an opera that mimics the structure of reality television, while turning up the frightening maw of glitzy emptiness to the maximum. Big personalities, meaningless contrived conflict, consumption, glamour, camp – what could be more operatic? Let’s put Angela Gheorghiu in it.

I’d also love to see more opera as cinema – written to be filmed, Umbrellas of Cherbourg-style. That’s largely unexplored territory.

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dmg_toronto_logo_200_altCecily Carver, an opera-lover since her teens, was the Canadian Opera Company’s social media co-ordinator (and later, digital marketing manager) from 2010 to early 2013. She is also the community outreach advisor for Toronto’s Against the Grain Theatre and the author of the now-dormant opera blog All Time Coloratura. Her non-operatic career involves building software and running the video game community organization Dames Making Games. You can learn more about Cecily’s work at http://cecilycarver.com.

 

Where in the world is Otter

Where in the world is Otter

THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF MUSIC  Earlier this month, in Wellington, New Zealand, for a Canteloube programme with the Wellington Orchestra. The perfectly à propos getup also sung Chants d’Auvergne (bonus fashionista points for the slippers). What is she saying so animatedly in that series of photos, you ask? “I cannot emphasize this enough: Lisbeth Salander is decidedly not what Pippi Longstocking becomes when she grows up. Salander as a character is problematic in many ways, which I’ll elaborate in a moment, while Pippi is a revolutionary, uniquely free role model for girls growing up, and we have so few of those around, still today, after decades of feminist cultural criticism.” (That’s what my sources tell me.)  The indispensable piano wizard Bengt Forsberg provided the summer blue later, at the post-performance reception.

AND ULYSSES SAILED TO HIS DOOM This Friday, November 25: in Los Angeles, singing in the world premiere of Hillborg’s Sirens (for chorus, soloists and orchestra) with Esa-Pekka Salonen conducting the LAPhil.

FRANCE, DROP EVERYTHING AND GO TO THIS On December 19, Emmanuelle Haïm conducts the birthday gala for Concert D’Astrée at TCE in Paris. The list of singers is ridic: in addition to Otter, Karine Deshayes, Ann Hallenberg, Renata Pokupic on the mezzo-soprano team, Marijana Mijanovic and Sara Mingardo carry the flag for the altos, while among the sopranos il y aura Natalie Dessay, Magali Léger, Patricia Petibon, Sandrine Piau. And that’s only to name a few. There will be men, too. Look here.

JINGLE BELLS, JINGLE BELLES In New York City December 28-30, singing Schubert with the New York Phil (c. Alan Gilbert)

HOW TO OPERATE A CIGAR WHILE SINGING THE HABANERA In London January 23, giving a Masterclass to the Guildhall students.

ANNA I & ANNA II In London at the Barbican on February 2, singing Brecht/Weill’s Seven Deadly Sins (LSO, c. Michael Tilson Thomas). Never has a house in Mississippi looked a better prospect.

WILL THEY BE ALLOWED TO MOVE THEIR HANDS In Paris Feb 28-Mar 16 at the Bastille in the Robert Wilson-directed Pelléas et Mélisande, singing Geneviève. Not an eye movement will remain unchoreographed.

LIEDERABADINAGE ODER LIEDERABINGE? In Zurich in June, for a Liederabend.

Earlier this year, by Mats Bäcker:

November planner

November planner

November 5, 3pm — Conductor Steuart Bedfords holds a voice Master Class. DEETS

November 6, 1pm — Saturday Opera Radio series begins with Donizetti and Maria Stuarda (the Canadian Opera Production from last year) on the anglophone CBC and with Weill and The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny (The Teatro Real Madrid) on the francophone Espace Musique. Or you could switch from one to the other and have ‘Maria Stuarda in the City of Mahagonny’? The rest of the Saturdays on CBC (SCHEDULE) are reserved for the recent live COC performances, whereas Espace Musique goes slightly obscure this month with Mercadante and Tchaikovski’s Iolanta (the PDF schedule is HERE under ‘Le calendrier automne 2010’).

November 10, 8pm is the Voice-Box opening night. The work that combines opera and female boxing was commissioned by the good folk of Harbourfront Centre’s Fresh Ground new works programme. Juliet Palmer composes, Anna Chatterton wordsmiths and Julia Aplin choreographs the singers/fighters. Part of the experience is a mini-gym where audience members can give boxing a try, and a Q&A session after every performance. MORE

November 11, 8pmToronto Symphony Orchestra performs Janáček’Glagolitic Mass. It’s an all-Slavic night with Tchaikovsky’March Slave and Prokofiev’s Suite from Lieutenant Kijé. Teng Li, the TSO’s Principal Viola, performs a work by a contemporary Czech composer Krystof MaratkaPeter Oundjian, conductor, Krystof Mařatka, conductor, Christine Brewer, soprano, Nancy Maultsby, mezzo-soprano, John Mac Master, tenor, Tyler Duncan, baritone, Michael Bloss, organ with The Toronto Mendelssohn Choir, Noel Edison, Artistic Director. MORE

November 11-14, 8pm (Sunday 3:30pm) — Tafelmusik performs Handel’s Dixit Dominus, and Rameau’s Grand Motet ‘In convertendo, and a bit of Charpentier. Rameau, finally! The French baroque, finally! Soloists Johanette Zomer (soprano), Vicki St. Pierre (mezzo-soprano), Lawrence Wiliford (tenor), Peter Harvey (baritone). MORE, including a radio interview with the conductor Ivars Taurins.

November 13, 1pm — Met in HD broadcast of Donizetti’Don Pasquale. Largely marketed as Anna Netrebko in underwear, this old-ish version is directed by Otto Schenk and conducted by James Levine. Scotiabank Cineplex.

November 20, 3pmStephanie Martin and the St. Mary Magdalene Gallery Choir launch a new CD and perform. Church of St. Mary Magdalene, 477 Manning Avenue. CD INFO

November 20, 8pm — Scaramella presents Old World/New World. The music of Brazil and the francophone Maritime Canada, the early European music, and a soprano voice? Yes, I say. English flutes, a baroque guitar, a viola da gamba and a harpsichord will all be heard in the Victoria University chapel. GO

In this world you must make your own bed

In this world you must make your own bed

À propos the coming mayoral election here in the twin city of Torontella & Torontone, one must watch Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill’s operatic masterpiece, The Rise and the Fall of the City of Mahagonny (Aufstieg und Fall der Stadt Mahagonny).

What happens there? A city gets founded as a business enterprise. At first, it’s promoted as touristic resort with great outdoors, abundance of consumer goods (booze, good hookers, poker tables, horse-meat) and without all the other stuff that makes big cities so awful (arts, diversity). Then after almost getting hit by a hurricane, the city turns from a medium-size enterprise to a sort of a money-worshipping orgiastic collective run like a Lehman Brothers derivatives department circa 2007-8. The new motto of the city is Just do it! (I am not making this up. Check the libretto. Yes, Brecht knew about Nike and branding before these were even flicker in an executive’s eyes.)

After one of the characters finds himself unable to pay his tab, we find out that not having money is the only crime punishable by death in the perfect City of Mahagonny. He goes through the trial where the bar owner is also the judge, incidentally. His pleas for a loan remain politely refused by his best friends — Billy: Jimmy, you know how much I care, but with cash, it’s quite another matter. Jenny, in the most beautiful and momentous melodic line: In this world you must make your own bed /And no one will show you the trick / So go lie down and get kicked / For me, I’d rather stand and kick.  After the execution, a god comes in and says he’s had enough and time for everybody to go to Hell, to which the city of Mahagonny reply, No, we are already there, we prefer this hell to yours.

The opera is like a Who’s Who of the Canadian political world of the last thirty years. (Other countries will recognize their own cast.) It’s also fitting in this pre-election time in TO. There’s a penny-pincher in the opera, and a fatty, and a furious power-grabber, then a guy who lobbies for other groups to be banned from parades, the city reps who know that having an opinion is rather unprofitable so they stay away from such activities, a collection of grandstanders, countless profit whores of all descriptions, and an editor-in-chief of the largest political weekly magazine in the country who is firm in his belief that funding arts is not in public good (if something’s valuable for the society, people will pay for it, didntja know).

But where was I?

Right. So I saw two productions of Mahagonny on DVD yesterday. A great Salzburg production from 1998 with the peculiarly cast main female roles, Gwyneth Jones as Leocadia Begbick and Catherine Malfitano as Jenny. Jones was sporting her royal white mane and playing the Mahagonny founder/bar owner as a boardroom suit with pearls and all, which was all very good, but the Wagnerian booming voice singing Leocadja was fairly… alienating, ahem. Malfitano was scary as a Goth Gramma version of Jenny whose voice is rather cracked – but maybe that was intentional, it’s a Brecht/Weill thingy after all.

Here’s a clip with the ‘must make your own bed’ segment as they arrest Jimmy (the excellent Jerry Hadley):

The second was an LA Opera production of the Mahagonny sung in English with Patti LuPone as Leocadia (who those far from Broadway might have seen as Frank Rossitano’s mother in 30 Rock) and Audra McDonald as Jenny. Worth watching on DVD, even if it’s not among the best productions ever:

Then of course there’s YouTube, which will show you that Germans know how to do their Breill. (Compound Brecht-Weill – geddit, geddit?) Find any clip from any recent production in any provincial German theatre and it’ll be fantastic. So here’s an outstanding one: the perfect voice for Jenny with Heike Susanne Daum, the perfect set and costumes, the perfect chorus, the perfect mix of angry and resigned with a dash of chillingly sinister: