Rambunctious Baroque Fun

Jewels of the Baroque

(High voices and low tea in a semi-precious setting)

Opera Feroce / Vertical Player Repertory

Behind the Door, 219 Court Street, Brooklyn

November 28, 2015

"Castrati" getting loud
Photo credit: Vertical Player Repertory

Lei: Behind a tiny red door at 219 Court Street (Brooklyn), we were transported to a parallel 17th century universe, where everybody wore powdered (and feathered!) wigs, sported over the top Baroque gear and bore eccentric improbable names in a hodgepodge of old world tomfoolery. The hosts were British and served tea (with deliciously buttery scones and classic cucumber sandwiches) at intermission, the “renowned ensemble” providing entertainment was composed of an dashing young Italian man, Sig.re Topazio Ametista Catenadoro (mezzo Hayden DeWitt), a prissy French wannabe primadonna, M.lle Zirconie Pavé (soprano Beth Anne Hatton) and a self-absorbed German fop, Herr Smaragd Solitaroff von Schmückstuck (countertenor Alan Dornak), not to mention their “banda” of musicians with equally colorful names: Joe Ielli (flauto traverso), Wisteria Peasblossom (baroque violin), Yo-yo Ma-ma (viola da gamba), and Saffronia Peasblossom (harpsichord).

M.lle Pavé and Sig.re Topazio Catenadoro
Photo credit: Vertical Player Repertory

Lui: We’ve all been invited to Mrs. Minnie Minim’s home for “an après-midi of fine music presented by the renowned ensemble Opera Feroce.” Her husband, a cranky old fart who spoke in a slurred Welsh accent popped out half dressed every so often slightly perturbed by the ruckus in his parlor and their daughter Miss Acquamarinia Minim (soprano Allegra Durante, sporting a miniature peacock as headpiece) was also on hand. Speaking in a hybrid of Romanaccio Italian and heavily accented English, Topazio Ametista Catenadoro acted as the master of ceremonies throughout most of the show. After thanking the audience and Mrs. Minim for her hospitality, Catenadoro announced that they would be starting with a nice song about a shipwreck, (Caprioli’s Navicella ch’a bel vento) which in his broken English came out sounding like “sheep-wreck.” The laughs start early.

Schmückstuk exhibits his way with women.
Photo credit: Vertical Player Repertory

Lei: And the colpi di scena (or coups de theatre while we’re at it) arrive quickly, too. A lovely Bach duetto per flauto e violino by Miss Wisteria Peaseblossom and Mr. Joe Ielli (which sounds like “jewels” in Italian – get it?) was abruptly interrupted by a thunderous knocking on the door. I seriously thought it was some rude opera loving latecomer (there are many of those out there). But no, it was all part of the show, as an over the top uber-jeweled, feathered and Venetian-masqued operatic diva made her grand entrance together with a crazy-haired sketchy guy. She introduced herself as Diamante Maria Scarabelli (soprano Judith Barnes) and her companion as her trusted musician (and jealous lover) Señor Juan Almendra Sebolla Avellana Perejil y Gambas (playing the viola da gamba, of course).

Sig.ra Scarabelli is simply irresistible.
Photo credit: Vertical Player Repertory

Sig.ra Scarabelli mentions, in heavy Italian accent, that she wears a mask otherwise everybody would want to kiss her and touch her on the street because she’s such an operatic sensation. Turns out she was not kidding as Diamante Maria Scarabelli was indeed a real life popular Italian soprano in the late 17th and early 18th century (and indeed one could suspect that, as her name was the least absurd of the bunch). Diamante explains that she heard of the little concert and could not resist stopping by to make some music and regale everybody with her talent. The diva hijacks the show creating a number of hilarious vignettes: she distributes new concert programs with her name in a font that’s double the size of everybody else, sings moving lamenti from Bonconcini, Monteverdi and Porpora (every time tearing up and saying stuff like “this Claudio [Monteverdi] makes me feel things in the inside”). She constantly belittles the “French” soprano M.lle Pavé (who sneers “nous at Operrra Ferrross sommes ici pour la musique, pas pour ecouter vos cochonneries!), brags about her many dead husbands (all composers she “inspired” as their “muse,” of course) and so on.

The diva and her charms.
Photo credit: Vertical Player Repertory

Lui: And just when you thought the Opera Feroce troupe was already having more fun than such a recital could possibly allow, they go and dial it up another notch and then another yet. Think about the duet between Herr von Schmückstuck and Miss Minim (Son nato a lagrimar, from Handel’s Giulio Cesare) that ends with Mr. Minim spanking his daughter because she starts speaking dirty German (the influence of the fop, no doubt). Or else the finale when tutti sing an aria from Mozart’s Idomeneo (the composer is not born yet, but when he is, Diamante will make him her “13th husband” because he will be a genius). Herr von Schmückstuck sings a very inspired final “Andrò ramingo e solo” in his deepest baritone voice, which prompts Catenadoro to yell “you’re not a real castrato!!!” To which he retorts “and neither are you!” (indeed, she’s a mezzo soprano). To conclude, Diamante, intrigued by his unexpected male attributes, starts flirting with von Schmückstuck while everybody takes a bow.

M.lle Pavé singing something lovely.
Photo credit: Vertical Player Repertory

Lei: Make no mistake about it: this company may successfully joke around and make its public laugh hysterically, but it is dead serious about the period music it makes, uncovering rare gems of the Italian, French and German 17th and 18th century repertoire, from Bonconcini to Monteverdi and Porpora, Rameau and Janequin, Telemann, Handel and Krieger. The genius of Opera Feroce consists in playing with the extravagant spirit of the Baroque and reinventing its interpretation in fresh and highly entertaining ways. No detail is too small for this company, as every single aspect of their show (costumes, props, programs, scones, multi-lingual jokes) was thoughtfully curated with an irreverent effervescence, yet coupled with an incredibly competent musicianship and respect of the original score and text.

Herr von Schmückstuk flaunts his stuff.
Photo credit: Vertical Player Repertory

Lui: We thought that with “Jewels of the Baroque” Opera Feroce was going to bring us a respectable teatime recital of baroque rarities, but after having discovered them in the extravagant pastiche Arminio in Armenia, we should have known to expect better than that. The whole evening was such a feast of linguistic playful pleasure on top of all the fabulous music. The artists of this fierce opera company outdid themselves yet again with a ragtag mash up of theatrical and musical entertainment punctuated by bouts of well-choreographed chaos and a true linguistic feast with hilarious dialogues in Italian, French and German. These guys just bring the music to life with the sheer joy that they so clearly bring to performing it, and the public cannot help but join in the contagious rambunctious Baroque fun.

- Lei & Lui

Opera Feroce e Amici
Photo credit: Vertical Player Repertory

Pygmalion Redeemed

Jean-Philippe Rameau’s Pygmalion (An acte de ballet)

On Site Opera

June 17, 2014

Madame Tussauds New York

Performers mixed with wax figurines at Madame Tussauds
Photo credit: Pavel Antonov

Lei: On Site Opera had several ambitious ideas for its new production of Jean-Philippe Rameau’s acte de ballet Pygmalion, starting with setting it in two very different site-specific locations: the opening gala at Madame Tussauds’ wax museum, and other two performances at a mannequin factory in Chelsea. Pretty clever for an opera about a sculptor who falls in love with his creation, eh? If that was not enticing enough, On Site created a lot of buzz around its partnership with Figaro Systems, a developer of “libretto simultexting technology,” to allow folks with Google Glass to see the supertitles on their devices during the performance. Finally, the June 19 show was also to be streamed live online. While these are excellent things that certainly sex up opera in the 21st century, to me they are all secondary priorities, embellishments that can come only after all operatic basics are covered, that is, solid singing, convincing acting and strong stage direction.

Céphise meets La Statue for the first time.
Photo credit: Pavel Antonov 

Lui: On Site Opera’s take on Pygmalion was certainly unique in terms of their reinterpretation of the core not only of Rameau’s work, but also of the myth itself. Their production opens with an expositional dumbshow, played out during the overture, in which we are introduced to the sculptor Pygmalion, sung by “haute-contre” tenor Marc Molomot, and his flesh and blood human lover, Céphise, sung by soprano Emalie Savoy, whom we saw all dolled up like a blonde bombshell of a diva as Countess Ceprano in a recent Rigoletto at the Met (potentially some real talent here, though unfortunately in both cases she has very few lines of actual singing). While in the Ovidian version of the myth Pygmalion is an independent loner of an artist and an intransigent misogynist, Molomot plays Pygmalion as bumbling and insecure, self-doubting and self-deprecating, in short, a weak-willed modern male. He ends up seeking refuge in the safe haven of his own idealized realm of artistic creation not because he despises women for their unruly imperfections as in the more orthodox version of the myth, but rather because he is too shy to share his work with his human lover.

The artist at work.
Photo credit: Pavel Antonov

At one point during their overture pantomime, Céphise redounds on the floor for him so he can sketch her beautiful reclining body. When she reaches out to see how he represented her, he throws a childish fit that comes more from a lack of self-confidence than anything that resembles the active misogyny of Ovid’s Pygmalion. Even William Christie’s recent production with Les Arts Florissants highlights Pygmalion’s polarizing reaction to Céphise and her nagging, which is not the case here. On Site Opera’s Pygmalion is a stereotypically effete modern male who flounders in his relationship due to his lack of agency. He does not have enough backbone to react negatively to the demands that his flesh and blood lover makes of him. On Site Opera modernizes the myth not only by making Céphise’s favorite accessory an enormous Starbucks-style paper coffee cup, but also by metamorphosizing Pygmalion from individualistic heroic sculptor into the apotheosis of the insecure modern male.

The artist's insecurities come to the surface.
Photo credit: Pavel Antonov

From there, everything goes according to Amour’s plans. On cue, the statue comes to life. The sculptor falls in love with his creation. The chorus of Graces gives her some lessons in how to move like a human, and a pair of ballet dancers performs a choreography that tells the story of a courtship, a marriage and its consummation of writhing and intertwined bodies. Most of the rest of this production’s decisions faithfully follow the traditional story arc, that is, until they spring a surprise ending on us.

Amour carries our her plans.
Photo credit: Benjamin Norman / The New York Times

In Pygmalion’s big final aria, “L’amour triomphe,” On Site Opera’s take on the story suddenly veers away from any traditional version one might be familiar with, that is, the one where Pygmalion and his statue end up happily ever after, with Céphise disappearing from the picture entirely. Traditionally, this myth’s essence is about the fulfillment of idealized love and the power of art over flesh and blood reality, with the love goddess Aphrodite intervening to make that happen. In this production, Pygmalion sings the first pass of his final aria all the way through and he is still swept away by the emotions of the moment. He expresses his gratitude to Amour for breathing life into the empty object of his idealized creation. Though she does not seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed, he is still jumping for joy over the miracle of the metamorphosis.

Règne, Amour, fais briller tes flammes,

Lance tes traits dans nos âmes.

Sur des coeurs soumis à tes lois

Épuise ton carquois.

Tu nous fais, dieu charmant, le plus heureux destin.

Je tiens de toi l’objet dont mon âme est ravie,

Et cet objet si cher respire, tient la vie

Des feux de ton flambeau divin.

Temporary fetishistic bliss.
Photo credit: Benjamin Norman / The New York Times

Then when it comes time for the second pass, to repeat the aria da capo, which by the way only includes the first few lines and thus skips the whole bit about loving an object in the last lines of the text that are only pronounced the first time through, he suddenly has a change of heart.

Règne, Amour, fais briller tes flammes,

Lance tes traits dans nos âmes.

Sur des coeurs soumis à tes lois

Épuise ton carquois.

Tu nous fais, dieu charmant, le plus heureux destin.

Lover is reunited with his beloved.
Photo credit: Pavel Antonov

In a moment of introspection (remember he is a softie), Pygmalion comes to realize at the last minute that Céphise is his one true love and that, much to Amour’s chagrin, he is not interested in loving his work of idealized art, but wants love in the flesh with a real human girl (Starbucks in tow) despite all the hardships and difficulties, imperfections and disappointments that might entail for the slightly insecure and thoroughly sensitive modern male. And so, the credits roll on a happy ending unlike any you’ve ever seen in the context of the myth. Pygmalion is redeemed and Amour turns out not to be as powerful a god as s/he is supposed to be.

Lei: All this is certainly an intriguing and original concept, however the final product did not come out as polished as it should have. There were some very unfortunate and distracting background noise episodes: the roar of the air conditioning (though the director Eric Einhorn tried to charmingly convince the public to think about it as “rain falling on a Venetian palace”), the clunky ice cream machine at the snack bar, and, worse of all, the chit chat of the elevator operators and their walkie talkies by the entrance that persisted through a good part of the show. Not to mention the thump of a poor patron falling on the floor when his chair collapsed underneath him during the performance. Some of these issues could and should have been controlled and avoided; others were just bad luck.

The New Vintage Baroque ensemble sounded nice under the guide of the always excellent conductor Jennifer Peterson, whom we had the pleasure of seeing in a couple of Operamission productions over the last year (Rodrigo and Agrippina). However, it’s hard to say for sure because the air conditioning was just too loud. I would have been perfectly happy to pay the price of sweating in the NYC June heat to hear undisturbed baroque music, especially for an opera as short as Pygmalion.

The sculptor and his sculpture.
Photo credit: Pavel Antonov

As for the singing, I must confess that this was my first time hearing a “haute-contre” tenor and my ear was probably not ready for it. I have always been oddly fascinated by high operatic male voices, particularly by the castrati operatic rock-star phenomenon. Not because I particularly enjoy the sound, but rather out of a desire to understand the evolution in what’s considered “hot male singing” through centuries (particularly because I have very clear ideas on which male voices make me swoon). So, when I heard Marc Molomot I was a bit taken aback as he did not sound like anything I’ve heard before. His voice went pretty high but somehow felt restrained, almost as if it were trapped in his throat. I tried to better understand the mysteries of the different categories of high male voices and found this helpful article that sums up the subject as follows:

Countertenor: Guys singing alto (“against and above the tenor”). The three possible types are:

(1) Falsettist: Guys singing alto in falsetto (head voice);

(2) Tenor altino or haute-contre: Guys singing alto in chest voice and only using falsetto in their extreme upper end;

(3) Castrato: Guys singing alto (or even soprano) in chest voice because they have no testosterone and sometimes no balls.

All very fascinating, but I don’t think I am ready to appreciate haute-contre tenor roles just yet, no matter where and how they are performed. This may have something to do with my Italian operatic preferences, the haute-contre being a baroque French phenomenon historically loathed by Italians, who favored castrati instead.

Eloise DeLuca and Jordan Isadore tell a story without words.
Photo credit: Pavel Antonov

The sopranos, Camille Zamora (La Statue), Emalie Savoy (Céphise ) and Justine Aronson (L’Amour) did a fine job singing-wise, but their acting came off as generally forced and not very convincing. The dancing number performed by Eloise DeLuca and Jordan Isadore was creative in mixing different dance styles to baroque music, but the dancers just did not have enough room to perform, at least in the Madame Tussauds space.

Lui: On the whole, I concur with the excessive attention to secondary fancy touches to the detriment of fully covering the basics of a solid opera performance, though I commend On Site Opera for their intentions. Such a radical re-reading of the myth provided some lively food for thought. I look forward to following this young company as they continue to lay the foundations for their future.

– Lui & Lei

Amour presides over the scene in vain.
Photo credit: Benjamin Norman / The New York Times