Tag: Anna Chatterton

Listed, Schmisted

On April 18, 2017

If you are active on social media, you may have seen the recent “musical” lists going around and being shared by contacts on Facebook, in which favorites (non-faovorites as well) are revealed. An opera version was quick to follow, and I’ve been reading the lists shared by various friends (including those working both inside and outside the industry) with much interest.

Tempted to join the trend, I found (shock) my own version was a bit too long, and it just became easier (and more logical) to post here, for everyone, including my many lovely European readers.

Hopefully some of these choices inspire, amuse, illuminate; some may really raise eyebrows, others may inspire smirks. Either way, I’d love to know if any of these might prod you, good reader, into either listening or watching a work in a new way, or even experiencing an opera for the first time. I hope so! Either way, enjoy, and feel free to share your thoughts.

Opera I hate:

I find this to be such a reductive question; I don’t hate any of them. Sometimes a certain production can lead to intense dislike, even hate, and that’s a pity; sometimes, the opposite is just as true, with a smart production elevating mediocre material, illuminating and inspiring audiences (which is, of course, lovely and delightful). There are definitely a lot of mediocre works, and directors, and it’s so often a question of finding the right pairing. I don’t envy programmers at all these days, especially with the current challenges facing the art form.

Opera I think is overrated:

There are no overrated operas; only undercooked (or over-heated) ideas in presenting them.

Opera I think is underrated:

Two, off the top of my head (though there are many):

– Stitch, by Anna Chatterton (who I interviewed last summer) and Juliet Palmer; this is a very moving work about sweatshop workers, deceptively simple, but more timely than ever;

– L’enfant et les sortileges, by Maurice Ravel, which I saw for the first time this past winter in Berlin, in a very beautiful production at Komische Oper. It’s a whimsical work, with a very impressionistic score, and its libretto is ripe for directorial creativity. I also think it would make a great introduction for kids, though it’s rightly been pointed out that the work is more of “a musical grotesqueness for adults rather than a children’s opera.” True, but still vastly underrated.

Opera I love:

There are truly too many things I love to mention. Even with works I take issue with, I almost always tend to find something I like, or even love, and sometimes, it’s a great performer who will elevate the material (or my experience of it) from meh to marvellous.

For instance, seeing (and interviewing) Patricia Racette in the title role in Madame Butterfly at the Canadian Opera Company in 2014 really made me re-think, and thus, re-experience this work in some important ways. I still find large swaths of it troublesome, but Racette’s interpretation and understanding of the role is so great, and she so very much made it her own (and from what I’d call a refreshngly feminist place), it was like seeing the famous Puccini work for the first time. Great artists have this power.

Opera I cherish:

This feels like a personal question; the act of cherishing something implies a kind of intimacy and comfort coupled with deep gratitude. I’m grateful for every work, but things that speak to me on a personal level include Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore (its tuneful score is so warm, so bright, so full of humanity), Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro (such a gorgeous study of fidelity, authenticity, and the corners of the human heart), and Berlioz’s Le damnation de Faust — not strictly an opera in the traditional sense, but when it done right, can be very powerful, as my experience of it in Europe this past winter so wonderfully highlighted.

Guilty pleasure:

There is no such thing as guilty opera love, is there? That implies there’s a kind of snobbery within the art form about things opera fans are “supposed” to like or dislike – to hell with those rules, and that way of thinking. Pleasure is pleasure; music is music; love is love. Go listen to something you enjoy, and don’t feel ever feel guilty that it somehow isn’t cool enough for the supposed “in” crowd.

Opera I want to see revived:

In North America, it would be nice to see more Meyerbeer put onstage; his stuff is musically dense, but has intense passages of musical wonder rich with fascinating characterizations as well as great theatrical possibilities. I’d also like to see Berlioz’s Benvenuto Cellini, Puccini’s La Rondine, and the work of Hungarian operetta composer Emmerich Kálmán staged far more often on these shores.

Opera that I first saw on DVD:

Forget DVDs! I have fond memories of regularly watching (and taping) Met broadcasts on the PBS program, “Great Performances.”

Opera that I first saw live:

Bizet’s Carmen (at age three!).

Opera that I first performed in:

I’ve never performed in opera, but I did act in the theater many years ago, and I particularly enjoyed Shaw’s Saint Joan, Sophocles’ Antigone, and Ophelia in Shakespeare’s Hamlet. I walked away from the stage years ago, and thankfully, found just as much value, power, and profundity in comic works as I used to see solely in tragedy. Ah, the wonderful things maturity brings.

Opera I most recently saw:

Live, La traviata recently at the Met in New York City (rundown here); on PVR, Wagner’s epic Lohengrin with Jonas Kaufmann and Anja Harteros. The latter is a very good example of the right production hitting the right emotional and intellectual notes in order to produce a whole new experience and understanding of the score. The production, from 2009 and done at the Bayerische Staatsoper, was a very modern, unusual staging (which provoked some strong reactions in the opera world); I’ve enjoyed it for a while now (this wasn’t my first PVR viewing), and I thought Richard Jones’ directorial ideas truly suited the work; his sometimes-risky concept was helped immeasurably by the utterly committed performances of its leads, who were heartbreaking and fantastic and… sigh.

Greatest opening:

A few thoughts here:

I think Verdi had some bombastically good openings musically; you can’t beat the boom-boom-bang wonder of Rigoletto or Il trovatore or La Traviata. I remember my mother always seemed as if she was on the verge of jumping out of her chair, either at the opera house or at home, whenever the opening bars of any (/all) of these was played (and that’s after the overtures). I remember her shoulders hunching up, her eyes squeezing shut, her fingers curling into fists, as the music played, and her saying, quietly, after a few moments, “ohhhhhh, Verdi….” You have to admit, he is great with the attention-getting openings.

For myself, I think one of the most intriguing and misunderstood of openings is Don Giovanni; it’s really not at all as clear-cut as many believe it to be; I’m really not sure Donna Anna is as pure as many have made her out to be; I know how risky that is to say, but pffffft… the music whispers, at least to my ears, that we should be questioning, completely, the scene, in and of itself, and not taking its events — or characters — at face value. I deeply like (and heartily agree with) how director Sven-Eric Bechtolf staged this, along with the entire opera, last summer in Salzburg. Read on…

Greatest ending:

I dislike the “greatest” label – I find it insultingly reductive, and taste is such a personal thing anyway — but I will say, I enjoy the ending of Don Giovanni, because, like Austen’s great novels, it ends with people who are facing a new and uncertain kind of beginning; once the title character gets dragged off (to wherever — hell is non-existence to some), everyone has to figure out how and why to live now that he – that viral, vibrant tornado of chaos — is gone.

To those who know me well, it’s not a grand secret that I really, really loved Sven-Eric Bechtolf’s staging of this opera in Salzburg last summer (a re-mount of his 2014 production); it struck chords with me in ways I still can’t quite explain – though the fact he treated the women as actual human beings with real needs went a long, long way (for me) in further appreciating and understanding this troubling work, and it all started with a very sexy opening, and closed with… more suggestion of sex, a kind of continuation of that restless, rule-breaking chaos that is both so dangerous and attractive. Mozart and Da Ponte wrote a great ending full of question marks; Bechtolf took that and ran with it. Bravo!

Worst middle of an otherwise great opera:

I really don’t like this question, because it doesn’t take into account how damn hard the writing process actually is.

Many times librettists and composers (to say nothing of writers, editors, producers, and other assorted creative types) struggle against the dreaded middle-section-sag, sometimes to no avail. This is where good directors, conductors, and performers become extra-special important (more than they already are, of course); it’s up to the creative teams (sound as well as visual) to create something special with material that develops such unfortunate (if occasionally unavoidable) sag. Find something to elevate and illuminate, for audiences, and for yourselves; I think this is the aim of many good artists past and present, to be honest, and it is worth keeping in mind when you find yourself nodding off in the middle of anything.

Greatest opera of all time:

The next one I’m going to see, of course — or that you’ll suggest to me.

Only the Essentials

By Catherine Kustanczy

On May 27, 2016

In Canada, classical, interviews, opera

Photo via Tapestry Opera

What does “keeping the essence” of something really mean?

I recently attended a preview of Tapestry Opera‘s latest offering, an adaptation of DH Lawrence’s short story The Rocking Horse Winner, which opens in Toronto tomorrow night (May 28th). The tale, published in 1926, revolves around a boy who accurately predicts racehorse winners based on what he believes are tips from his rocking horse, in order to satisfy get the money to satisfy his upward-mobility-seeking mother. The company’s adaptation integrates contemporary elements with Lawrence’s original story, notably in its making Paul, the main character, autistic, and having the house he and Hester (his mother) share as being a real, actual character within Anna Chatterton‘s libretto and Gareth Williams‘ score.

During last week’s preview, Tapestry’s Artistic Director Michael Mori was asked, at one point, why such radical changes were necessary. Why alter something so dramatically from the original? What’s the point? Being curious about the art of adaptation, and passionate about opera as an art form, I thought it was worth asking both Michael and Anna for their thoughts — about the show, the adaptation, inspiration, and why and how change is a part of any adaptive process, especially for opera in the 21st century.

Why this particular story? Why did you think it would make a good opera?

Anna Chatterton (AC): D.H. Lawrence writes complex characters with a strong story structure. Composer Gareth Williams proposed the story to me, he particularly loved that the house whispers to Paul (the protagonist of the story) that was a clear singing opportunity. We could both see that the story could be distilled down and yet also expanded to tell a moving tale about greed, entitlement, and a complicated relationship between a mother and son.

Michael Mori (MM): He is one of the authors whose stories have stuck in my head ever since I was a child. And this story has great love, great loss, supernatural elements, and a house and horse that whisper and talk… so the space for music to animate the story is wonderful! Also, it is refreshing to have a break from romance and betrayal while still engaging in a subject with high dramatic stakes.

Carla Huhtanen and Asitha Tennekoon. Photo by Dehlia Katz / Tapestry Opera

At the preview last week, one particular patron was upset at the changes you discussed around the adaptation. First: why make the title character autistic? Secondly, can you elaborate on what you mean about keeping the “essence” of the piece intact (the word you used last week)?

AC: As it happens, that patron apologized to me afterwards, recognizing that we aren’t calling this opera “a dramatization of The Rocking Horse Winner” but “based” on The Rocking Horse Winner. (But) there’s a disconnect between everyone in the original story; so much is unsaid. We wanted to examine what was making the characters detach from one another — what barriers could be stopping them from understanding one another? From hugging one another? We’ve tried to keep this aspect of our adaptation present, yet also unsaid and under-the-surface. We wanted to explain yet still hang on to the otherliness of the boy at the heart of the story. There is a moodiness about the story, almost a nightmarish quality, which we followed; I would say in many ways the music is keeping the essence of the story intact. About a third of the original text is in the libretto.

MM: There are people who love period pieces being done in period costumes and re-constructed Victorian theatres – for example, Shakespeare at the Globe or La Traviata directed, designed, costumed, and set exactly as the score details. I am of the school of thinking that capturing the essence of the work involves interpreting it for a contemporary world. What Verdi, Shakespeare or D.H. Lawrence meant when they were speaking to the public of their generation and location would not be received the same today if performed or read exactly as it was. The essence of Rocking Horse Winner involves a plot structure, a specific dynamic between a mother and a misunderstood son, a class commentary in a period of time when entitlement is being challenged, and a loaded question of what is “luck” (which I take to mean, what is love)— all things explicitly included in the opera adaptation. Making Paul a young man on the autistic spectrum allows us to invoke a similar dynamic. Where the parenting role of an upper class mother in the early 20th century was being redefined in the time of the short story, the opera examines the role of an upper class single mother dealing with a developmentally challenged child, a situation and dynamic that, in 2016, we are continuing to learn how to better deal with.

Why have the house “talk” and not the horse?

AC: Because the house whispers to Paul in the original story, but the horse doesn’t. It didn’t even occur to us to have the horse talk…

MM: The house is the pressure, the question, the demand, the coaxing, and, therefore, the Mephistopheles to this family; a far more dynamic character and a more interesting expansion considering the potential of music.

Anna, how did having a child change or influence your approach to this work in particular?

AC: Having a child and becoming a mother instantly made me very aware of the complexities that are born at the same time as your child. It made me really understand and feel more empathetic about the mother character in D.H. Lawrence’s story. You can feel many emotions about being mother, and about your child. Even though I desperately love my daughter more than anything, I can feel differently towards her moment to moment. I can feel so proud of her and then for a few moments can secretly judge her and compare her to other children, then in the next moment go back to thinking she is the greatest child in the whole world and feel terrible about thinking anything negative about her. I can watch her and think “this is heaven” and then get so frustrated when she is acting up and think “this is hell.” What I love about the character that D.H. Lawrence wrote was that it was a brutally honest portrayal of motherhood. She is flawed, she exists, she tries to make up for her flaws, but badly.

Michael, your M’dea Undone last year was staged outside at the Brickworks, while Rocking Horse Winner is in a more traditional theatre setting. How do these locales influence and alter your decisions as a director?

MM: I would say rather that our shows influence our locales… When we see a place with the most potential for the work, we go forward. M’dea Undone has a truly expansive feel and, when we considered the scope of it, we fell in love with the idea of setting it in the Brickworks and accessing that urban, raw, and shabby-grand feeling that it invoked, so in keeping with John and Marjorie’s M’dea. Rocking Horse Winner is an intimate story, set mostly in a house… and the Berkeley Street Theatre became a wonderful place for us to bring a house to life, while inviting the audience inside.

What sorts of things within the score do you think are important to emphasize directorially?

MM: There are motifs that recur: the race, the mother, Paul… all appearing and reappearing in different ways. Since my direction is always driven by the music, I would rather say that clarity of drama in areas where the music is loud and raucous (where the words may be hard to understand) is one of the things that I strive for.

Why are works like these important for opera ecology in Canada?

MM: A simple answer would be that new works are important for the same reason that reproduction is important to any living ecology. Without reproduction, survival is endangered. If we allow the perception that opera is a museum form with an ossified and static repertoire, then growth and inspiration within the genre and its performance practice will be stymied. As we return to accepting new works (in new ways) into our understanding of opera, we not only engage new artists and audiences in a form that is more relevant to them, but we also are training a new generation of masters. Just think about Mozart or Verdi’s first two operas – they had to have had opportunities to grow towards their masterworks. This show in particular will be a valuable piece, as it proves that a beautiful musical aesthetic in opera doesn’t mean a derivative or overly programmatic composition.

Roar

By Catherine Kustanczy

On November 15, 2010

In opera

It was predicted, and it came true: I’m in definite withdrawl from the amazing experience of seeing Grinderman last week. A mad mix of shrieking guitars, creaky violin, ear-splitting feedback, thudding bass, crashing drums & scratchy cymbals (oh, and one very booming baritone) has invaded my aural -and spiritual -space. It’s been perfect in terms of creative inspiration, but has totally stymied the more mundane aspects of Good And Proper Adult Responsibility. Oh dear.

Along with getting retweeted by the band’s amazing Twitter team and looking up every single live clip I can find online, I’ve been thinking a lot about women in rock and roll. It’s no accident that this fascination coincides with my diving head-first into the work of Patti Smith. Years ago I remember music-mad broadcaster George Stroumboulopoulos wisely observating that if Patti had been born male, she’d be as well-known as Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen (and, I might add, just as comfortably rich too). I think about all the crap (some deserved) Courtney Love has endured, despite the fact she’s put out some incredibly good stuff. I remember the great shows L7 used to give back in the early 90s, and how people I knew sneered and thought they were vulgar. I remember bopping along to Joan Jett and the Blackhearts as a kid and being accused of being “butch.” I enjoy all these artists as much as I enjoy Soundgarden, Led Zeppelin, and yep, Grinderman. Seeing them last week, I really have been wondering: where are the women doing this? why aren’t they being promoted? Why aren’t little girls who rock out being encouraged to… well, rock out? Somehow it feels like it goes against the image of what everyone thinks girls should do. Wear pink, like Barbies, wear makeup, and eventually, don heels. Why can’t we do all that AND rock out? (Or not do any of it but still like boys, drinks, and the rock music?) What’s the role of aggression and creativity -especially when you happen to have boobs?

It’s always been my opinion (based on direct experience) that the world doesn’t take very well to aggressive women: “butch”, “dyke”, “trashy”, “nuts”, even the eponymous “bitch” all get thrown at those women. Toronto’s urbanvessel theatre company wanted to take a closer look at this idea of women and aggression. Their show, Voice Box, was produced this past weekend in association with the city’s Harbourfront Centre (a big arts complex on the edge of Lake Ontario), and it integrates boxing with theatre and music. From the very first notice I got of this show, I was curious about the hows and whys. I interviewed Voice Box’s whip-smart writer, Anna Chatterton, at CIUT just before the show’s opening to get her insights into popular perceptions around female aggression, and how they relate to the art of getting in the ring.

Voice Box with Anna Chatterton by CateKustiAlas, I’m no closer to solving the riddle of why women aren’t making the kind of balls-out, kick-ass music that puts my stomach in knots and makes my blood do aerobics in my veins. But then, I suppose, there’s another argument that, if I enjoy it (like so many women do), that’s enough. But is it? Hmmm. Pop music has its fair share of male-female ratios in terms of performers (their presentation and marketing is a whole separate argument); why not rock and roll?

Dear Grinderman, please think about having Patti sing a number with you. I can hardly wait for her version of “No Pussy Blues”.