Scribe Scott Cantrell is in Bayreuth, Bavaria, this week, attending the Bayreuther Festspiele. He's blogging about it here.
I envy him as far as making the trip to this beautiful part of the world and this shrine to Wagner's music. But I feel sorry for him having to sit through the abominable productions that have somehow become the mainstay of the festival, no matter how wonderful the sound is in the Festspielhaus. If I were there, I'd probably just close my eyes and listen to the music. But alas, it's only human nature to open your eyes and watch when a train wreck unfolds right in front of you.
Just my opinion, of course.
Scott is generally more open to regietheater productions than I, but even he is finding some of this -- such as the rat-filled Lohengrin -- a little hard to take.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Hungry? Try the opera
The other day I overheard a couple of my co-workers having a chuckle over an event listing in the newspaper for one of the Dallas Opera's summertime promotional events: Cooking@theOpera. Since the listing gave no explanation other than time, date and place, this raised some questions, including the obvious one: "What do you cook at the opera?"
And there was a comment about Verdi's famous opera Rigatoni. Building on that, I'm sure you're familiar with this story about the chef at the Duke of Mantua's palace whose young, innocent daughter, Jell-o, is seduced by the lascivious duke. Dad hires the assassin Sparrow-Food Chili to kill the duke in revenge, but Jell-o manages to get herself stabbed by the assassin instead, and ol' Dad finds her stuffed in a sack, barely alive. After a rather delicious duet, she dies, and Rigatoni cries out in anguish: "Ah, lasagna e minestro-o-o-o-o-ne!"
OK, maybe that was too much of an "inside" opera joke.
But food is a frequent element in opera, although drink is far more common. I read somewhere that there's actually a good reason for this: Singers can always use something to wet their pipes during a performance, but they don't want to get caught chewing a big hunk of ham when it's time to sing their next line. Onstage "eating," obviously, is almost always fake. And you can be pretty sure that anything they drink is really water, whether they call it wine, mead or poison.
Even so, there are plenty of memorable food scenes at the opera house. Rossini was almost as famous for his eating as for his composing, and in his L'Italiana in Algeri, the heroine makes her escape at the end by feeding her captor a sumptuous meal. Depending on the production, you may see some feasts laid out for party guests in Rigoletto or La Traviata. Verdi owes the inspiration for one of opera's great mad scenes to Shakespeare, where Macbeth interrupts dinner by imagining he sees the ghost of Banquo, much to the consternation of his dinner guests.
Banquet scenes and formal dinners abound -- in Die Fledermaus; in Boris Godunov, where feast and famine seem to emulate Russia's political troubles; in John Adams' Nixon in China; and in plenty of others. Humperdinck's Hänsel und Gretel is ALL about food -- the title characters eating all the strawberries, a gingerbread house, a witch who bakes children into bread, etc., etc. The busy and joyous second act of La Bohème takes place at the Café Momus, with the title characters and dozens of extras enjoying a festive Christmas Eve meal. In Wagner's Ring (you knew I'd get around to that eventually, didn't you?), there's actually a cooking scene: As Siegfried reforges his father's shattered sword, the villainous Mime "brews him broth from eggs" (with which he intends to poison the young hero).
But probably the most famous dining scene in opera is at the end of Mozart's Don Giovanni. Having rashly invited a statue of the Commendatore (whom the Don killed in the first scene) to dinner at his house, the statue actually shows up. And when Giovanni extends his hand in greeting, the statue grabs it and drags the lecherous Don down to Hell.
I'm sure Miss Manners would not approve of such behavior by a dinner guest, but given the circumstances, she might be OK with it.
And there was a comment about Verdi's famous opera Rigatoni. Building on that, I'm sure you're familiar with this story about the chef at the Duke of Mantua's palace whose young, innocent daughter, Jell-o, is seduced by the lascivious duke. Dad hires the assassin Sparrow-Food Chili to kill the duke in revenge, but Jell-o manages to get herself stabbed by the assassin instead, and ol' Dad finds her stuffed in a sack, barely alive. After a rather delicious duet, she dies, and Rigatoni cries out in anguish: "Ah, lasagna e minestro-o-o-o-o-ne!"
OK, maybe that was too much of an "inside" opera joke.
But food is a frequent element in opera, although drink is far more common. I read somewhere that there's actually a good reason for this: Singers can always use something to wet their pipes during a performance, but they don't want to get caught chewing a big hunk of ham when it's time to sing their next line. Onstage "eating," obviously, is almost always fake. And you can be pretty sure that anything they drink is really water, whether they call it wine, mead or poison.
Even so, there are plenty of memorable food scenes at the opera house. Rossini was almost as famous for his eating as for his composing, and in his L'Italiana in Algeri, the heroine makes her escape at the end by feeding her captor a sumptuous meal. Depending on the production, you may see some feasts laid out for party guests in Rigoletto or La Traviata. Verdi owes the inspiration for one of opera's great mad scenes to Shakespeare, where Macbeth interrupts dinner by imagining he sees the ghost of Banquo, much to the consternation of his dinner guests.
Banquet scenes and formal dinners abound -- in Die Fledermaus; in Boris Godunov, where feast and famine seem to emulate Russia's political troubles; in John Adams' Nixon in China; and in plenty of others. Humperdinck's Hänsel und Gretel is ALL about food -- the title characters eating all the strawberries, a gingerbread house, a witch who bakes children into bread, etc., etc. The busy and joyous second act of La Bohème takes place at the Café Momus, with the title characters and dozens of extras enjoying a festive Christmas Eve meal. In Wagner's Ring (you knew I'd get around to that eventually, didn't you?), there's actually a cooking scene: As Siegfried reforges his father's shattered sword, the villainous Mime "brews him broth from eggs" (with which he intends to poison the young hero).
But probably the most famous dining scene in opera is at the end of Mozart's Don Giovanni. Having rashly invited a statue of the Commendatore (whom the Don killed in the first scene) to dinner at his house, the statue actually shows up. And when Giovanni extends his hand in greeting, the statue grabs it and drags the lecherous Don down to Hell.
I'm sure Miss Manners would not approve of such behavior by a dinner guest, but given the circumstances, she might be OK with it.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Marvin Hamlisch dies
An American musical icon, Marvin Hamlisch, has died.
You've heard dozens of his songs -- like "The Way We Were" and "Nobody Does It Better" -- and no doubt seen at least a few of the many musicals and movies whose music he composed -- The Sting, A Chorus Line, etc. And he was a pops conductor extraordinaire including, at his death, with the Dallas Symphony.
Here is what Scott Cantrell wrote about Mr. Hamlisch today for The Dallas Morning News.
You've heard dozens of his songs -- like "The Way We Were" and "Nobody Does It Better" -- and no doubt seen at least a few of the many musicals and movies whose music he composed -- The Sting, A Chorus Line, etc. And he was a pops conductor extraordinaire including, at his death, with the Dallas Symphony.
Here is what Scott Cantrell wrote about Mr. Hamlisch today for The Dallas Morning News.
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