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Tales of Bad Parenting & A Hatred for Opera

C. Jefferson Thom — Sun, 17 Mar 2024 20:54:34 +0000

Tales of Bad Parenting & A Hatred for Opera C. Jefferson Thom March 17, 2024 - 16:54

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Photo: Brandon Patoc

Bach's St. John Passion

Benaroya Hall, Seattle

The subject of this libretto follows the Passion of Jesus according to the Gospel of John. If I didn't know better, I would think that this God fellow was a kind of shitty father. But what pains me more than the suffering of Christ is the vocal styles of operatic singing.

I didn't do my research and ended up listening to opera. St. John Passion by Johann Sebastian Bach began with forcefully wonderous choral arrangements and the soundings of a scaled-down orchestra. I enjoyed this very much, particularly the duetting oboes; they were so sad and hauntingly beautiful. I love oboes and celebrate their showcasing. I also love Bach. Hence, my haste to hear anything composed by this God of the Baroque, but I forgot that so many of my favorite composers had a far greater appreciation for operatic singing than I did.

I have tried numerous times over many years, and, for the most part, I simply do not enjoy operatic singing. Though I recognize the discipline and mastery of the craft and that opera singers are likely some of the most technically skilled vocalists walking the planet at any given time, my ears just aren’t hearing any of it. It usually sounds like a parody of itself but is devoid of any intentional humor. I respect the ability to reach a large music hall without microphones; that's very impressive, but it's still like getting a super-fast delivery of take-out food that you don't like. It doesn't matter; it’s just lost on me. It doesn't help that the singing is usually accompanied by what I consider cartoonish over-acting. I feel like I’m watching real-life humans do their best impersonations of Disney princesses and villains. With the broad gestures and over-emotive expressions made for daytime television, I can't take it seriously. Unfortunately, this performance of Bach didn't break any of those stereotypes for me. I appreciated the vocals offered by tenor Andrew Haji, finding them to be clean and with a fine balance of vibrato, but that's about what I could take away before tuning out. After the choir and orchestra began supporting the solo vocalists, my ears drifted, and my eyes examined the lighting fixtures. If I had focused on the stage, I would have had to suppress laughing at what I find absurdly comic, and I don't want to be rude.

As a life-long advocate and aficionado of musical theatre, I have often been on the opposite side of this taste argument. Just as I am convinced that those repulsed by the sounds of a showtune and its unique vocal stylings are missing out on something wonderful, I am likely really missing out on opera. I mean, it's been around so long; there has to be a reason people still dedicate their free time to it. While I know this in my head, my heart, ears, and soul do not care. On some theoretical level, I can muster a profound respect for this art, but in practice, I wonder if I wouldn't prefer listening to reggaeton. On second thought, probably not, but did I mention that I really don't like opera?

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Opera in the Wake of Rising Anti-Semitism

David Willinger — Thu, 03 Feb 2022 22:37:13 +0000

Opera in the Wake of Rising Anti-Semitism David Willinger February 3, 2022 - 17:37

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Photo: Alan Chin

The Garden of the Finzi-Continis

Museum of Jewish Heritage, NYC

Ricky Ian Gordon and Michael Korie's operatic adaptation of The Garden of the Finzi-Continis is a well-meaning show. This co-production between the National Yiddish Theatre Folksbienne and New York City Opera is performing in a limited run at the Museum of Jewish Heritage, appropriately billed as "A Living Memorial to the Holocaust." With the recent and steady rise of anti-Semitic attacks and outrages in America and Europe, this well-known narrative treating the Italian Jewish Community at the inception of World War II is worthy of reprise; the timing couldn’t be better. Most of us know The Garden of the Finzi-Continis through Vittorio De Sica's 1970 movie rather than from the original book of the same name by Giorgio Bassani which appeared in 1962.

The opera replicates the book in using the framing device from Bassani's novel (omitted from the film) of having the hero, Giorgio walking through the cemetery and ruined synagogue of Ferrara, the site of the story, where -- long after the war’s end -- he learns that the entire Jewish population of the city no longer exists. The eternal light the Finzi-Continis patriarch had paid to keep lit has gone out. He is joined onstage by the shades of the former Jewish community as they sing of the Ferrara of better days. This is one of the few times the ensemble appears onstage in its entirety. They are well-cast, and have haunting faces whose typicality is heightened by the period costuming. It is such a pity that we don't see much more of them as the opera unfolds. This is one of several important missed opportunities.

Other memorable scenes and nuances in the relationships from the movie are excluded or adapted in such a way as to simplify the contending dramatic forces. In so doing, the emotional impact of the piece is diminished. In the opera, Giorgio's family celebrates Passover with a seder. In the film his family -- which is characterized as cultured, sensitive, and prosperously middle class (contrary to the almost gross and brute depiction in the opera) -- is seen singing a traditional Italian-Jewish counting song. While it is evidently a children's song for Passover, all the adults quaintly participate. The song is repeatedly interrupted by phone calls from anonymous callers who refuse to speak -- intimating the sinister rise of anti-Semitic fascism and heightening the danger to the family. It would have been a natural scene to musicalize in the opera, but isn't included. Likewise in the opera, Giorgio's father who initially supports Mussolini, is depicted as a dogmatic brute who sticks to his guns, so Giorgio may come off as a misunderstood, prescient party. Their relationship -- through overlong scenes is depicted as a static impasse. But in the film Giorgio's father relents, admits that his son was right, and does all he can to strengthen their beautifully established relationship. The subtlety of those dynamics would have provided ebbs and flows that the opera misses out on.

Similarly, there is a sub-plot of the gay Finzi-Continis son, Alberto. In the opera -- opting again for the strident and reductive approach -- he is shown as hopelessly stigmatized and doomed in his obsessive hero-worship of the charismatic Socialist Gampiero Malnate. In the opera Malnate is clueless, whereas in the film all their scenes have a homoerotic (and reciprocal) charge. Even the scenes between Malnate and the supposedly exclusively heterosexual Giorgio could be read that way, providing ambiguity and layering. Likewise, in the movie, Alberto's uncle is explicitly portrayed as gay as well, and a role-model for him. De Sica's film has a lovely scene in which the uncle sits in Alberto's bedroom, languidly fanning himself at the window, a lost opportunity for a sultry duet. The uncle in the opera is given virtually no character whatever. These artistic choices sadly diminish the opera.

Photo: Alan Chin

There are positive aspects to the evening. The intricate orchestrations of the music often suggest nuances and cross-currents which the narrative flattens out. And the 14-piece orchestra under James Lowe's passionate and energetic baton plays their hearts out. John Farrell's simple, but ingenious set design allows for fluidity of set changes and transformations of locale. And Anthony Ciaramitaro interprets Giorgio with commitment and sensitivity. Yet the often clumsy and forced rhymes of the lyrics pull energy from the potentially heart-wrenching dramatic situations and cause the wrong kind of audience response. When the librettist jettisons rhyming it can be better, but that doesn’t happen too often. Maybe it would have been better in Italian; there are sub-titles in any case. This is, sadly, a tantalizing opportunity which falls short in too many ways.

Mr. Willinger is a professor at City College of New York, holds a Ph.D in Theatre, award-winning writer, and critic.

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ANNIVERSARIES: Klaus Nomi Born 70 Years Ago

Steve Holtje — Fri, 24 Jan 2014 19:56:04 +0000

ANNIVERSARIES: Klaus Nomi Born 70 Years Ago Steve Holtje January 24, 2014 - 14:56

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The one-of-a-kind New Wave singer Klaus Nomi was born Klaus Sperber in Bavaria on January 24, 1944. Though his career effectively lasted just five years and he had no hits, he became a beloved cult artist and introduced people outside the realm of classical music to the glories of opera through stunning, highly stylized performances that crushed genre boundaries in a way that the many more calculated "classical crossover" acts since have been unable to achieve, no matter how many more records they may have sold.

Some sources say Nomi (adopted as a stage name as an anagram of "omni") was "classically trained" (though that could just mean piano lessons); Kurt Loder, writing for MTV, calls him "a true, if untrained, countertenor." (A countertenor is basically a male alto.) He did, in his youth, work as an usher at the German Opera in West Berlin, and informally sang there for an audience of his fellow workers. He would also sing opera arias in Berlin's gay nightclubs. In 1972 he moved to New York City; he achieved his breakthrough in 1978 as part of New Wave Vaudeville, a variety show put on by habitués of the downtown New/No Wave scene. Fortunately, there is video of this performance, in which he sang "Mon cœur s'ouvre à ta voix" from the opera Samson and Delilah by Camille Saint-Saëns:]

At the time of the performance, that aria was a little over one hundred years old. Nomi became a regular on the downtown circuit: Mudd Club, Pyramid, etc. He had met songwriter Kristian Hoffman at New Wave Vaudeville, and Hoffman soon began working with Nomi, putting a band together, writing songs for him, and choosing more modern material for him to cover, such as his infamous rendition of Sixties star Lou Christie's "Lightning Strikes."

At the end of 1979, David Bowie hand-picked Nomi to appear with him on Saturday Night Live. Bowie also may have influenced RCA to sign Nomi (again, sources differ). The band with Hoffman had broken up, but two of Hoffman's songs, "Nomi Song" and "Total Eclipse," made it to his eponymous 1981 debut LP, along with "Lightning Strikes" and a couple other pop songs: the strangest version of Chubby Checker's "The Twist" ever heard, and the Lesley Gore hit "You Don't Own Me," which oddly enough is used regularly on Rush Limbaugh's show. The highlight, though, is Nomi's rendition of "The Cold Song," adapted from an aria in Henry Purcell's 1691 semi-opera King Arthur.

"Total Eclipse" achieved further underground notoriety for Nomi through its use in the 1981 concert compilation film Urgh! A Music War (and on its soundtrack):

Nomi's singing and striking costumes were noted even by mainstream media, as this Channel 5 10 O'Clock News interview shows:

His second album, Simple Man (1982) featured classical material a little more, with four tracks adapted from two songs each by Purcell and the even earlier John Dowland, and Nomi's public appearances and costume began to emphasize the connection with that period. But the ruffled collar he wore was actually intended to cover the AIDS-related Kaposi's sarcoma lesions on his neck. He died at age 39 on August 6, 1983, and is often cited as the first celebrity killed by AIDS.