Written on Skin (U.S. Stage Premiere)
Music by George Benjamin
Text by Martin Crimp
August 13, 2015
Mostly Mozart Festival, Lincoln Center
Forbidden love. Photo credit: Pascal Victor/Artcomart |
The critically acclaimed contemporary composer George Benjamin’s
Written on Skin received its stage premiere at this year’s Mostly Mozart
Festival to great fanfare. Benjamin’s stab at modern opera has a lot going for
it. The singing is largely very beautiful and the orchestra, conducted with
tact and nuance by Alan Gilbert, chimes in throughout with dramatic
color that ranges from the sublime to the haunting. The score was rarely
intentionally strange for the sake of being strange the way so much modern
music can be, though it constantly walks the line.
The Protector and his little lamb. Photo credit: Pascal Victor/Artcomart |
Unfortunately, I remain ambivalent about operatic singing in
English. Martin Crimp’s highly poetic and rather unconventional libretto did
little to assuage my ambivalence. There are certain things that simply do not
need to be sung, like, for instance, compound Latinate words such as “international
airport” (as in “cancel all the flights”) or expressions like “erase the
Saturday car-park.” It just doesn’t work. I know it’s meant to be jarring and
to emphasize the modern/medieval time contrast but it doesn’t lend compelling
musicality to the whole. And what is with having them sing meta-narrative descriptors,
like “He said” and “She said”? At one point Agnés sings a baffling description
of a minor detail of her character’s experience. She sings: “What is it she
feels between her bare feet and the wood floor? Grit.” How’s that for a
non-sequitur? On the one hand it’s vaguely sensual, but on the other it’s just
weird.
Bare feet, wood floor, grit. Photo credit: Pascal Victor/Artcomart |
Crimp and Benjamin are obviously pushing boundaries by having
singers sing things that otherwise would neither be sung, nor spoken on your
average stage. If Wagner dismantled the traditional aria, depriving his operas
of heightened moments of musical narrative climax and emotional outpouring,
Benjamin and his librettist give us meta-narrative descriptive details that,
though surreal, hardly fit into narrative music, let alone into any other
traditional storytelling mode. Crimp’s characters sing the unsingable. They are
made to put to music the unnecessary, the superfluous.
The Protector unleashes his wrath. Photo credit: Pascal Victor/Artcomart |
While there are moments in which ordinary phrases enter the
musical texture of the piece, more often than not big non-colloquial lines are
pronounced. The Protector, sung by an imposing Christopher Purves, often
talks in the abstract of big vague and apparently unrelated concepts like “purity
and violence.” When asked about how his wife is doing he answers: “Sweet and
clean.” Is this not the strangest answer to this simple throwaway everyday
query you’ve ever heard? Later he will say straightforward things like, “Make
him cry blood,” but also more convoluted thing like, “Expel him from joy / with
a lacerating whip,” that sounds more awkward than a schoolboy’s mechanical
rendering of an ablative absolute in his homework for Latin class. Crimp
certainly has a knack for the uncanny turn of phrase.
Girl meets scribe who writes on skin. Photo credit: Pascal Victor/Artcomart |
Slow motion up the stairs. Photo credit: Pascal Victor/Artcomart |
There were many unique elements to this piece and its staged
premiere performance. Like the ending with its slow motion chase across the
stage and up the stairs. The production values were high and the set design was
intricately ornate for such a short run. The compartmentalized way the stage was
broken up vertically into a series of rooms as in a dollhouse contained under
the same roof: a two story sort of modern backstage dressing room and design studio stand adjacent to the
stark Medieval space of the Protector’s home in which a grove of trees has grown. This staging
effectively and cleverly collapsed indoor and outdoor space, the contemporary
with the antique. It’s rare to get such an elaborate set at the Met these days
and it was a pleasure to look at and try to dissect its sense.
I want to have my faith in contemporary opera restored, and I
still have high hopes for the art form. So much of it depends on the right
synergy between music and text. Benjamin and Crimp are not entirely off the
mark. By the end, I was clapping because at just an hour and forty minutes, I
felt like the composer let us off the hook very judiciously and I wanted to
thank him for that.
– Lui & Lei
Medieval meets modern in the compartmentalized stage. Photo credit: Pascal Victor/Artcomart |
A woman alone. Photo credit: Pascal Victor/Artcomart |
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