It's been a while since I posted a review based on a video of a live performance, but since I've just watched this one for about the 15th time in a little over a year I think it's time to let you in on the fun!
It's interesting that the world's audiences for classical music, opera, and ballet are all so damn serious about their favourite performances, and those performances are also notably serious in the manner they are presented. But in each of these wonderful art forms, there are also definite islands of comic relief.
Think classical music generally and you immediately think of the musical comedians: Victor Borge, Anna Russell, Peter Schickele a.k.a. P. D. Q. Bach, and Canada's own Mary Lou Fallis. In the world of opera, you get such delightful operatic comedies as Die Fledermaus, Die Lustigen Weiber von Windsor, or Martha (the last two have been previously reviewed in my companion blog, Off the Beaten Staff).
But ballet? Is there even such a thing as comedy in ballet? The answer, of course, is "Yes" -- although it can sometimes seem like a rarity. But there is one sparkling gem of comic dance that I want to review tonight -- La Fille Mal Gardee ("The Badly-Guarded Girl"). Originally staged in France in the eighteenth century, the story has frequently been restaged with a potpourri of music by many different hands attached to it during those many productions.
The version which has achieved such wide popularity in the twentieth century is the one made by Sir Frederick Ashton for the Royal Ballet in 1960. The score is adapted from Ferdinand Herold's music written in 1828 for the ballet, with additions, and the light-hearted adaptation and orchestration is by John Lanchbery. The same version, with identical sets, costumes, and choreography, is a recurring favourite in the repertoire of the National Ballet of Canada, and of many other companies as well.
In Ashton's version, the story of the love of the young girl Lise for the farmer Colas is developed with consistent humour and good high spirits through both music and dance (and some very entertaining mime and acting too!). The ballet begins exactly as it means to go on, with a comical dance of a rooster and 4 hens immediately followed by a morning scene in which Lise's mother, the much-put-upon widow Simone, throws vegetables to drive Colas out of her farmyard.
Widow Simone, by the by, is a famous travesti role for a male character dancer, and is very much inspired by the "dames" of British traditional pantomimes. The other nutty comic role is that of the slightly dull, but very wealthy, young Alain who is Simone's choice for a husband for Lise. This role is a tour de force of clumsiness raised to an art form in ways too numerous to describe. I would guess that it's almost as big a challenge for an expert ballet dancer to dance clumsily as it is for an expert singer to deliberately sing off-key!
The leading roles of Lise and Colas are very fine roles in the highest classical tradition, and their dances together and separately are the most traditional parts of the show. But even they have some fine comedic moments.
It's also really impressive to see how frequent, and how varied, are the dance numbers given to the corps de ballet. Ashton's work here manages to keep the dancers busy throughout the show, with multiple numbers for the corps in all 3 acts, which certainly isn't true of some famous ballets! The men in particular get a great chance to show off in the traditional Morris dance of Act III. This lively number, with the men wielding sticks with great aplomb, is one of the three significant importations of a traditional dance form into the ballet. Another is the joyous Maypole dance in Act II
The third, earlier in Act II, is the comic crown jewel of the piece: the Widow Simone's clog dance. First she plays up a moment of feigned reluctance, then she eagerly dons the clogs and starts out. She's quickly joined by four ballerinas of the corps who actually dance on pointe in their wooden clogs -- a sight you have to see to believe, and even funnier when Simone (who is a actually a man) tries to join them. Throughout this 4-minute number the choreography remains a traditional clog dance, but it's laced with all kinds of comic business and pratfalls. I almost always replay it before going on!
So, the video I have is a live performance at the Royal Opera House filmed in 2000. The splendid cast stars Marianela Nunez as Lise, Carlos Acosta as Colas, William Tuckett as the Widow Simone, and Jonathan Howells as Alain. The orchestra is beautifully conducted by Anthony Twiner. The camera work is mostly very effective, with a nice mix of long shots and close-ups, although some detail inevitably gets missed in some of the busier scenes. It's one of a series of very fine video productions from the Royal Ballet on Opus Arte video.
Wednesday 27 November 2013
Sunday 17 November 2013
Meanwhile, Back In The Harem!
Shamefully, scandalously late -- here at last are my thoughts on Mozart's Abduction From the Seraglio which I saw at Opera Atelier in Toronto three weeks ago! Better late than never....
The Abduction was Mozart's first really big success as an opera composer, and remained the audience favourite among his operas for the rest of his life. No wonder! Mozart adapted the well-known traditional situation and stock characters of the Italian commedia dell'arte to a fashionably exotic setting in Turkey, and then skilfully clothed the whole with some of his most genial music.
The Abduction was a relatively informal singspiel, not a stiff-necked full opera for the Italian theatre. As such it included much spoken dialogue between numbers. In presenting such a piece to a Toronto audience, Opera Atelier very sensibly decided on the hybrid course of singing the music in the original German, while presenting the dialogue in English. Okay, so it's not purist, but really, is a typically raunchy, subversive commedia dell' arte the place to start fussing about artistic purity?
For my money, not!
This was the first opera I ever saw Opera Atelier stage, and that was five years ago. I've been a determined attender ever since, and I have realized that this inventive company's productions often tread the line between comic insanity and artistic purity. Sometimes this does not serve the work in hand too well, but in this case the method suits Mozart's sparkling comedy right down to the ground.
The six principals were all excellent in their roles, but three in particular stood out for me. First was Adam Fisher, making his Opera Atelier debut as Pedrillo, the comic servant. His on-stage shenanigans were so energetic that they were causing me to feel breathless, just from watching, but Fisher had no trouble at all keeping his singing pure and clear throughout, with a fine light tenor made to order for this role. Carla Huhtanen is a perennial favourite of mine, and of Opera Atelier and its audiences alike, for her sparkling voice and pinpoint-accurate comic timing. These, combined with a face that often assumes a sassy smirk, are just the thing for Pedrillo's girlfriend Blonde, the maid who wraps everyone around her little finger in the cutest, funniest way.
The prize of all goes to Gustav Andreassen as Osmin, the harem master. His mobile face is made to order for comedy work, and his flexibility and strength of voice did full justice to Osmin's sizable and challenging musical role. One of his funniest moments was his repeated mime of how he would make his tormentor Pedrillo's neck loosen and twist with a hangman's noose around it as he described the same in his Act I aria.
This is not to say that the other three were no good! Pity Ambur Braid, for instance, faced with the formidable vocal challenge of Constanze's infamous Martern aller arten! But she, Curtis Sullivan (the Pasha Selim) and Lawrence Wiliford (Belmonte) all gave fine accounts of their music.
Margaret Lamb's costumes were particularly good for this production. Bright notes of colour were everywhere, as suited a light-hearted comedy. Colour-coordinated outfits in red (for the noble couple) and blue and yellow (for the servant couple) were a great touch, as was the use of commedia-styled diamond patterning in the costumes of Blonde and Pedrillo. Gerard Gauci's sets created an impression both sumptuous and exotic, an ideal combination.
It seems almost superfluous to mention the predicable excellence of the Atelier Ballet, the chorus, and the Tafelmusik Orchestra, or of the conducting of David Fallis which, securely as always, held the production together on its merry way.
A delightful, entertaining afternoon of music theatre, and one in which the entire production and staging was in perfect accord with the world revealed by the story, dialogue, and music.
The Abduction was Mozart's first really big success as an opera composer, and remained the audience favourite among his operas for the rest of his life. No wonder! Mozart adapted the well-known traditional situation and stock characters of the Italian commedia dell'arte to a fashionably exotic setting in Turkey, and then skilfully clothed the whole with some of his most genial music.
The Abduction was a relatively informal singspiel, not a stiff-necked full opera for the Italian theatre. As such it included much spoken dialogue between numbers. In presenting such a piece to a Toronto audience, Opera Atelier very sensibly decided on the hybrid course of singing the music in the original German, while presenting the dialogue in English. Okay, so it's not purist, but really, is a typically raunchy, subversive commedia dell' arte the place to start fussing about artistic purity?
For my money, not!
This was the first opera I ever saw Opera Atelier stage, and that was five years ago. I've been a determined attender ever since, and I have realized that this inventive company's productions often tread the line between comic insanity and artistic purity. Sometimes this does not serve the work in hand too well, but in this case the method suits Mozart's sparkling comedy right down to the ground.
The six principals were all excellent in their roles, but three in particular stood out for me. First was Adam Fisher, making his Opera Atelier debut as Pedrillo, the comic servant. His on-stage shenanigans were so energetic that they were causing me to feel breathless, just from watching, but Fisher had no trouble at all keeping his singing pure and clear throughout, with a fine light tenor made to order for this role. Carla Huhtanen is a perennial favourite of mine, and of Opera Atelier and its audiences alike, for her sparkling voice and pinpoint-accurate comic timing. These, combined with a face that often assumes a sassy smirk, are just the thing for Pedrillo's girlfriend Blonde, the maid who wraps everyone around her little finger in the cutest, funniest way.
The prize of all goes to Gustav Andreassen as Osmin, the harem master. His mobile face is made to order for comedy work, and his flexibility and strength of voice did full justice to Osmin's sizable and challenging musical role. One of his funniest moments was his repeated mime of how he would make his tormentor Pedrillo's neck loosen and twist with a hangman's noose around it as he described the same in his Act I aria.
This is not to say that the other three were no good! Pity Ambur Braid, for instance, faced with the formidable vocal challenge of Constanze's infamous Martern aller arten! But she, Curtis Sullivan (the Pasha Selim) and Lawrence Wiliford (Belmonte) all gave fine accounts of their music.
Margaret Lamb's costumes were particularly good for this production. Bright notes of colour were everywhere, as suited a light-hearted comedy. Colour-coordinated outfits in red (for the noble couple) and blue and yellow (for the servant couple) were a great touch, as was the use of commedia-styled diamond patterning in the costumes of Blonde and Pedrillo. Gerard Gauci's sets created an impression both sumptuous and exotic, an ideal combination.
It seems almost superfluous to mention the predicable excellence of the Atelier Ballet, the chorus, and the Tafelmusik Orchestra, or of the conducting of David Fallis which, securely as always, held the production together on its merry way.
A delightful, entertaining afternoon of music theatre, and one in which the entire production and staging was in perfect accord with the world revealed by the story, dialogue, and music.
Saturday 16 November 2013
Swan Lake: The Power of Tragedy
This is either the fourth or fifth time I have seen the National Ballet of Canada in James Kudelka's dark and powerful version of Swan Lake since it was first presented in the late 1990s. Since it is a Kudelka ballet, it's no surprise that I keep seeing and registering more and more on each viewing. His stagings are complex and multi-layered, so that you simply can not get it all in one viewing.
Tchaikovsky's music for Swan Lake (the first of his three great ballets) is world-famous -- and especially the beautiful and haunting "swan" melodies entrusted to the oboe. So is the basic outline of the story, which is essentially a tragedy where the other two (Sleeping Beauty and Nutcracker) are happily-ever-after fairy tales. Even in the older versions, the ballet is full of dark possibilities and tragic premonitions. In Kudelka's version, that darkness is brought very much to the fore in a way that makes a happily-ever-after ending unthinkable and impossible.
Like the National's predecessor version by Erik Bruhn, Kudelka's compresses the ballet into two acts (by fusing Act I with Act II, and Act III with Act IV), and manages the considerable feat of changing the sets on the fly without interrupting the action or resorting to closed curtains or blackouts. There's even a brief Prologue staged behind a scrim during the overture. All five sets make use of images relating to death and sadness: autumnal colours, dried reeds, and leafless trees in the hunting camp and lakeside scenes, a rotted boat on the scrim of the Prologue, dark blacks, blues and purples dominating the castle hall. Indeed, almost the only notes of colour in the entire production are the maroon costume worn by Prince Siegfried's friend Benno in Act I, and the brilliant capes and clothes of the ambassadors and princesses in Act III.
The action envisaged by Kudelka has its darker qualities too: the Prince's companions abusing and assaulting a wench in Act I, the "meat-market" display of the four Princesses in Act III, and the entire "black scene" atmosphere of Act IV, where only Odette (the Swan Queen) remains in pristine white. The sorcerer Rothbart emerges in Kudelka's vision as a demonic manipulator of human destinies, which is an interesting reversion to Tchaikovsky's original scenario -- the character was described in that as "the evil genius, disguised as Rothbart" (in other words, Satan).
Whereas Swan Lake has traditionally been dominated by the women, Kudelka's version creates incredibly challenging choreography for the men as well, so much so that only a few moments rely on mime to carry the story and character development. This shows right at the outset, when the first steps danced are one of several tricky numbers for the Fool. This was strongly presented by Robert Stephen (Conflict of Interest Alert -- my nephew!). The entire Act I is dominated by the men of the corps de ballet, who have much intricate choreography and carried it off with plenty of dash and fire.
Prince Siegfried was danced with passion and energy by McGee Maddox, marking his first encounter with this signature role. On the whole, he was very impressive. In a few places he seemed a bit tentative, and I look forward to seeing him do it again a few years down the road when he has more time to grow into the part. His friend Benno was danced by Nan Wang, and there was a haunting eloquence to the duet in which he tries to entice Siegfried to snap out of his melancholy and try some new activity -- a concept expressed entirely through dance. Apart from the Wench, the only women in the scene are the Queen and her ladies-in-waiting, who appear briefly, just long enough for her to tell the Prince that he must choose a bride on the morrow. That done, they quickly leave.
The first appearance of Rothbart after the Prologue is in Act II, and he begins as he will go on -- in a pas de trois with Siegfried and Odile. After this unconventional opening, the ballet segues readily into the classic white-scene choreography by Lev Ivanov so beloved by generations of ballet lovers and so beautifully performed by the corps de ballet and Xiao Nan Yu as Odette. It's not hard to see why no one really wants to tinker with it. After watching the crisp yet playful execution of the Dance of the Little Swans by four members of the corps, you realize that there's no point trying to improve on perfection.
The centrepiece of Act III, the bride-choosing, is the four character dances. Instead of becoming a divertissement or entertainment, these are integrated into the story by Kudelka as the attempts of the four Princesses and the four Ambassadors to interest Siegfried and/or his mother. Dominant here was Jenna Savella as the fire-eating Spanish princess.
And then comes the shock to the system as Rothbart arrives with the Black Swan. Here's where the female lead role becomes a really daunting challenge. It is of course two completely different characters, who share a common vocabulary of gestures and movements. Xiao Nan Yu was one of the best Swan Queens I can ever remember, coming across equally clearly as the graceful, gentle, melancholy Odette and the hard, malicious, glittering Odile. This act again reverts to tradition with the famous Black Swan Pas de Deux, which (few people even realize nowadays) includes music not written by Tchaikovsky. Don't get me started! But there again, why give up a good thing? Both Xiao Nan Yu and McGee Maddox were spot-on in the endless series of fouettes which complete the pas de deux.
The third act ends with a catastrophic flood destroying the castle and drowning everyone except Siegfried. Act IV tops that in the only way possible. As the ruined castle sinks slowly at the back, the swans dance lakeside again, but all in black now. Siegfried and Rothbart appear and engage in a ferocious struggle over Odette, a demonic pas de trois like nothing else in classical ballet -- this is one of Kudelka's most amazing inspirations. Etienne Lavigne as Rothbart reached the peak of his performance at this point, as he must. Another storm erupts, Siegfried is killed, Rothbart vanishes, and the sublime harp epilogue -- originally accompanying the ascent of the dead lovers to heaven -- becomes instead a requiem as Odette mourns over Siegfried. This is the tragic culmination of Kudelka's dark vision, and Yu's dancing was more than equal to capturing the enormity of Odette's grief.
As always, I look forward to another year and another staging, when I'm sure I will realize yet more of James Kudelka's complex version of this classic ballet. It's not your grandmother's Swan Lake by a long shot, but in many ways it is a much more satisfying, more human version of the tale, even if the darkness lowers oppressively.
Tchaikovsky's music for Swan Lake (the first of his three great ballets) is world-famous -- and especially the beautiful and haunting "swan" melodies entrusted to the oboe. So is the basic outline of the story, which is essentially a tragedy where the other two (Sleeping Beauty and Nutcracker) are happily-ever-after fairy tales. Even in the older versions, the ballet is full of dark possibilities and tragic premonitions. In Kudelka's version, that darkness is brought very much to the fore in a way that makes a happily-ever-after ending unthinkable and impossible.
Like the National's predecessor version by Erik Bruhn, Kudelka's compresses the ballet into two acts (by fusing Act I with Act II, and Act III with Act IV), and manages the considerable feat of changing the sets on the fly without interrupting the action or resorting to closed curtains or blackouts. There's even a brief Prologue staged behind a scrim during the overture. All five sets make use of images relating to death and sadness: autumnal colours, dried reeds, and leafless trees in the hunting camp and lakeside scenes, a rotted boat on the scrim of the Prologue, dark blacks, blues and purples dominating the castle hall. Indeed, almost the only notes of colour in the entire production are the maroon costume worn by Prince Siegfried's friend Benno in Act I, and the brilliant capes and clothes of the ambassadors and princesses in Act III.
The action envisaged by Kudelka has its darker qualities too: the Prince's companions abusing and assaulting a wench in Act I, the "meat-market" display of the four Princesses in Act III, and the entire "black scene" atmosphere of Act IV, where only Odette (the Swan Queen) remains in pristine white. The sorcerer Rothbart emerges in Kudelka's vision as a demonic manipulator of human destinies, which is an interesting reversion to Tchaikovsky's original scenario -- the character was described in that as "the evil genius, disguised as Rothbart" (in other words, Satan).
Whereas Swan Lake has traditionally been dominated by the women, Kudelka's version creates incredibly challenging choreography for the men as well, so much so that only a few moments rely on mime to carry the story and character development. This shows right at the outset, when the first steps danced are one of several tricky numbers for the Fool. This was strongly presented by Robert Stephen (Conflict of Interest Alert -- my nephew!). The entire Act I is dominated by the men of the corps de ballet, who have much intricate choreography and carried it off with plenty of dash and fire.
Prince Siegfried was danced with passion and energy by McGee Maddox, marking his first encounter with this signature role. On the whole, he was very impressive. In a few places he seemed a bit tentative, and I look forward to seeing him do it again a few years down the road when he has more time to grow into the part. His friend Benno was danced by Nan Wang, and there was a haunting eloquence to the duet in which he tries to entice Siegfried to snap out of his melancholy and try some new activity -- a concept expressed entirely through dance. Apart from the Wench, the only women in the scene are the Queen and her ladies-in-waiting, who appear briefly, just long enough for her to tell the Prince that he must choose a bride on the morrow. That done, they quickly leave.
The first appearance of Rothbart after the Prologue is in Act II, and he begins as he will go on -- in a pas de trois with Siegfried and Odile. After this unconventional opening, the ballet segues readily into the classic white-scene choreography by Lev Ivanov so beloved by generations of ballet lovers and so beautifully performed by the corps de ballet and Xiao Nan Yu as Odette. It's not hard to see why no one really wants to tinker with it. After watching the crisp yet playful execution of the Dance of the Little Swans by four members of the corps, you realize that there's no point trying to improve on perfection.
The centrepiece of Act III, the bride-choosing, is the four character dances. Instead of becoming a divertissement or entertainment, these are integrated into the story by Kudelka as the attempts of the four Princesses and the four Ambassadors to interest Siegfried and/or his mother. Dominant here was Jenna Savella as the fire-eating Spanish princess.
And then comes the shock to the system as Rothbart arrives with the Black Swan. Here's where the female lead role becomes a really daunting challenge. It is of course two completely different characters, who share a common vocabulary of gestures and movements. Xiao Nan Yu was one of the best Swan Queens I can ever remember, coming across equally clearly as the graceful, gentle, melancholy Odette and the hard, malicious, glittering Odile. This act again reverts to tradition with the famous Black Swan Pas de Deux, which (few people even realize nowadays) includes music not written by Tchaikovsky. Don't get me started! But there again, why give up a good thing? Both Xiao Nan Yu and McGee Maddox were spot-on in the endless series of fouettes which complete the pas de deux.
The third act ends with a catastrophic flood destroying the castle and drowning everyone except Siegfried. Act IV tops that in the only way possible. As the ruined castle sinks slowly at the back, the swans dance lakeside again, but all in black now. Siegfried and Rothbart appear and engage in a ferocious struggle over Odette, a demonic pas de trois like nothing else in classical ballet -- this is one of Kudelka's most amazing inspirations. Etienne Lavigne as Rothbart reached the peak of his performance at this point, as he must. Another storm erupts, Siegfried is killed, Rothbart vanishes, and the sublime harp epilogue -- originally accompanying the ascent of the dead lovers to heaven -- becomes instead a requiem as Odette mourns over Siegfried. This is the tragic culmination of Kudelka's dark vision, and Yu's dancing was more than equal to capturing the enormity of Odette's grief.
As always, I look forward to another year and another staging, when I'm sure I will realize yet more of James Kudelka's complex version of this classic ballet. It's not your grandmother's Swan Lake by a long shot, but in many ways it is a much more satisfying, more human version of the tale, even if the darkness lowers oppressively.
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