Exactly nine years ago in my sophomore year of college I was rehearsing my very first opera: La Bohème. I was the cover's cover, but they allowed me to sing one performance as Musetta. I didn't know then that a hierarchy of music exists. Or rather, I hadn't developed my own. The thing is, Boheme is absolutely without question one of the most brilliant works ever to be composed. The music feels like its coming out of your own soul as it swells into your ears. It is magical. I was grateful to participate, and I had a marvelous time, but I really didn't understand what an opportunity it was! The production was traditional, as they always are at BYU where all value is given to the composer intention and to introducing people to a story which is 99% of the time new to them. Bless Dr. Lawrence Vincent for that. Anyway, as I was only the cover's cover, the costume shop didn't bother making me a costume. They pulled a red parade float from their stocks and acted like I should be grateful. It was too big, so they pinned in on the outside and promised they'd take it in before my performance. Well, my big day came and they had forgotten to alter the costume. It seems kinda petty now, but at the time, bathed in nerves and insecurity, I nearly burst into tears. A miraculous thing happened, though. Another singer, super talented, who by right should have had the part herself but who had sung the lead in the opera a year before so was disqualified and was therefore demoted to the chorus, grabbed the dress and said, "You're not looking ugly on your night!" She pinned it on the inside right in the nick of time and I went on feeling as fabulous as you should to sing Musetta. So, my big scene in the second act came and I felt triumphant. Actually, it was a major turning point for me. I knew I loved opera and performance and languages, but I had always felt on the outside of things. Every theatrical experience had left me feeling like I didn't quite fit. Somehow disproportionately loud and large and wild. But Musetta allowed me all of those characteristics and singing there in the middle of a stage full of people with a full orchestra in an enormous hall, I was just right. I was BORN for this! That was the day I decided to genuinely pursue singing for my life. I had known that I enjoyed it, even loved it, but I hadn't known it was my niche on the planet until Musetta.
The other female role, Mimi, is probably more fitting to my throat, but I'm glad I got to sing Musetta first. She can belong to whomever plays her. Mimi has been more stigmatized. How she should look and act. People are chock-full of opinions about how she thinks and feels and is. I am 5'11 and was therefore told by many sources I shouldn't waste my time looking at the role because I'd never be paid to sing her.
Well, tonight I make my role debut as Mimi at the Semperoper in Dresden. I can't do it as demurely as perhaps somebody else would, but I will bring my own something to it and it will be worth hearing and seeing. The thing about stigmatizing a character is that if there were only one right way, why do we do it again and again? I am a different Mimi than this world has ever seen, and I am THRILLING to get to pass this refulgent music over my throat. It glides and gushes and tastes like forbidden fruit. And it turns out there is nothing standing in my way because in Dresden they don't mind that I am so tall! It turns out there are many ways to tell a story, there are as many stories as there are people, and each of those stories is worthy of telling. Love comes in every possible different permutation. It is pervasive and delicious. I celebrate that tonight by being a tall "Piccina".
Toi toi toi!
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Monday, August 5, 2013
Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life!
It is 9:50 pm the evening before I go in to the hospital to have my first child. Whoa.
I was obsessed, the entire pregnancy, with experiencing birth the most natural possible way. It feels like some sort of womanly rite of passage and I was determined to reject the pain meds and go hardcore. I wanted to have a water birth and was not deterred by the, let's be honest, fairly disgusting idea of sitting in a pool of my blood and amniotic fluid and placenta. Delightful. I convinced myself anything less than a natural birth sans medical intervention would irreversibly harm my darling baby and rob her of the healthiest possible circumstances. Aaaaaaaaaaand then in the 35th week, she was breech. First time in the whole pregnancy, but there she was! Head up in my rib cage and tiny bum sitting in my pelvis. Desperate, I tried EVERYTHING to make her turn. I had acupuncture several times in my small toe and up my legs (there are places which are supposed to open up your womb more and encourage the baby to move a lot. Often babies will turn after a good solid acupuncture session with needles shoved into your pinky toes. It's unpleasant, but what you gonna do, right?) One time my sort of incompetent midwife actually tread upon the needle in my left pinky toe, ripping it unceremoniously out of its cozy nook in my nerve endings and causing me to bleed all over the floor. By the way she LAUGHED when this happened and said, "Wow! That has never even happened to me before!"
I wanted to say, "It didn't happen to you. You did it to ME." Which, of course the American in me would never allow me to say. Instead, I tried to act like it was nothing and said something like, "Don't even worry about it. Not a big deal at all. I didn't need all the blood. Seriously, no worries!" Through a toothy, forced grin. So weird sometimes when cultures intersect. Anyway...
I put a big wooden plank on the couch and laid upon it with all the blood rushing to my head. I did "forward inversions" kneeling on the couch with my elbows on the ground. I crawled in a similar position across the floor. I saw a chiropractor. I stopped eating anything sweet at all. Aaaaaaaaaand she is still head up. So last week when I went to the hospital to check, they said she was borderline too big to try to deliver naturally from the breech position. I cried. I was so disappointed in myself. Also, it was terrifying because an event to which I had looked forward for ages which was starting to feel like would never happen was suddenly called, "Tuesday". As in, like five days from then. They said the safest thing to do is have a C-section. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I got it in my head at some point that to have a C-section was to sell out. That in general you should have a healthy distrust of the medical professionals who force you to have them when you don't need them. That God made the body perfectly able to deliver babies normally and if you have enough faith you could deliver a huge breech baby with no problems. But you know something? The people who told me all that stuff aren't looking into the earnest face of the obviously concerned doctor who has experience and A MEDICAL DEGREE who is telling me, "I really recommend you have a C-section for the safety of your child. It is risky to try it vaginally and if, mid-delivery there is a problem...we can't suddenly alter course. Where mid-vaginal delivery we would already long have opted for emergency C-section, such is impossible by breech babies." Also, the well-meaning people who told me it would be fine don't love my baby like I do. Point: I came to terms.
It didn't hurt that while I sat on the baby heart-moniter for 90 minutes a couple of days later, I heard the screaming and sobbing of a woman in obviously horrendous pain down the hallway. That essentially pain-free C-section looked better for every horrifying groan :/
Aaaaaaaand so tomorrow morning I will go to the hospital bright and early and have my baby pushed out of me. I do feel guilty for skipping the rite of passage, but obviously the single most important thing is the health of the squiggly creature I've been growing for 9 months. Man, I love her. I can't believe how much! We've never even met, but she is the most important thing I've ever helped create.
It has been such an emotional journey. When I look back on the planning stages and remember how concerned I was that I might have to cancel and engagement or risk losing the respect of the people I work for, I can almost laugh! If there is nothing else I learn in life, I hope I someday learn that it's about carving my own path through the world and not worrying so much about the comments from the periphery. Autonomy. It is the greatest thing a person can have in my opinion. Figuring out what it means to be who you are in all the contexts. Without too much influence from people who ultimately have very little idea where you are coming from.
I hope I can teach my daughter that. I yearn to provide her with a platform for healthy self-expression. I want to validate the heck out of her! Encourage her every enthusiasm (provided it doesn't endanger her life) as she learns all about the world! I want to teach her that her body is an amazing gift and blessing and that it came exactly the way it was supposed to! I want to teach her to go boldly into the world with reckless love and warmth. I want to teach her to breathe freely and to be whoever she is. I can't wait to find out :)
I was obsessed, the entire pregnancy, with experiencing birth the most natural possible way. It feels like some sort of womanly rite of passage and I was determined to reject the pain meds and go hardcore. I wanted to have a water birth and was not deterred by the, let's be honest, fairly disgusting idea of sitting in a pool of my blood and amniotic fluid and placenta. Delightful. I convinced myself anything less than a natural birth sans medical intervention would irreversibly harm my darling baby and rob her of the healthiest possible circumstances. Aaaaaaaaaaand then in the 35th week, she was breech. First time in the whole pregnancy, but there she was! Head up in my rib cage and tiny bum sitting in my pelvis. Desperate, I tried EVERYTHING to make her turn. I had acupuncture several times in my small toe and up my legs (there are places which are supposed to open up your womb more and encourage the baby to move a lot. Often babies will turn after a good solid acupuncture session with needles shoved into your pinky toes. It's unpleasant, but what you gonna do, right?) One time my sort of incompetent midwife actually tread upon the needle in my left pinky toe, ripping it unceremoniously out of its cozy nook in my nerve endings and causing me to bleed all over the floor. By the way she LAUGHED when this happened and said, "Wow! That has never even happened to me before!"
I wanted to say, "It didn't happen to you. You did it to ME." Which, of course the American in me would never allow me to say. Instead, I tried to act like it was nothing and said something like, "Don't even worry about it. Not a big deal at all. I didn't need all the blood. Seriously, no worries!" Through a toothy, forced grin. So weird sometimes when cultures intersect. Anyway...
I put a big wooden plank on the couch and laid upon it with all the blood rushing to my head. I did "forward inversions" kneeling on the couch with my elbows on the ground. I crawled in a similar position across the floor. I saw a chiropractor. I stopped eating anything sweet at all. Aaaaaaaaaand she is still head up. So last week when I went to the hospital to check, they said she was borderline too big to try to deliver naturally from the breech position. I cried. I was so disappointed in myself. Also, it was terrifying because an event to which I had looked forward for ages which was starting to feel like would never happen was suddenly called, "Tuesday". As in, like five days from then. They said the safest thing to do is have a C-section. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I got it in my head at some point that to have a C-section was to sell out. That in general you should have a healthy distrust of the medical professionals who force you to have them when you don't need them. That God made the body perfectly able to deliver babies normally and if you have enough faith you could deliver a huge breech baby with no problems. But you know something? The people who told me all that stuff aren't looking into the earnest face of the obviously concerned doctor who has experience and A MEDICAL DEGREE who is telling me, "I really recommend you have a C-section for the safety of your child. It is risky to try it vaginally and if, mid-delivery there is a problem...we can't suddenly alter course. Where mid-vaginal delivery we would already long have opted for emergency C-section, such is impossible by breech babies." Also, the well-meaning people who told me it would be fine don't love my baby like I do. Point: I came to terms.
It didn't hurt that while I sat on the baby heart-moniter for 90 minutes a couple of days later, I heard the screaming and sobbing of a woman in obviously horrendous pain down the hallway. That essentially pain-free C-section looked better for every horrifying groan :/
Aaaaaaaand so tomorrow morning I will go to the hospital bright and early and have my baby pushed out of me. I do feel guilty for skipping the rite of passage, but obviously the single most important thing is the health of the squiggly creature I've been growing for 9 months. Man, I love her. I can't believe how much! We've never even met, but she is the most important thing I've ever helped create.
It has been such an emotional journey. When I look back on the planning stages and remember how concerned I was that I might have to cancel and engagement or risk losing the respect of the people I work for, I can almost laugh! If there is nothing else I learn in life, I hope I someday learn that it's about carving my own path through the world and not worrying so much about the comments from the periphery. Autonomy. It is the greatest thing a person can have in my opinion. Figuring out what it means to be who you are in all the contexts. Without too much influence from people who ultimately have very little idea where you are coming from.
I hope I can teach my daughter that. I yearn to provide her with a platform for healthy self-expression. I want to validate the heck out of her! Encourage her every enthusiasm (provided it doesn't endanger her life) as she learns all about the world! I want to teach her that her body is an amazing gift and blessing and that it came exactly the way it was supposed to! I want to teach her to go boldly into the world with reckless love and warmth. I want to teach her to breathe freely and to be whoever she is. I can't wait to find out :)
Weeping in Paris
Last week I went to Paris for the first time. The trip was about singing for an important conductor of my repertoire specifically regarding a production of Cosi fan tutte in London in a couple of seasons. It was suuuuuuuch an awesome trip and I noticed my wallet growing thinner in direct proportion to my thickening stomach! :) The food. Holy canoli. THE FOOD. If for no other reason, go to Paris to eat. But, of course, there are millions of reasons to go to Paris! Notre Dame! The Louvre! Musee D'Orsay! Just the general walking around in it! Glorious. And thrilling! Mostly good thrills, but also crazy-go-nuts ones like driving our car all the way into downtown. WHAT WERE WE THINKING?! It was fine, but it was also full of the most heinous traffic violations to which I have ever been witness. I kept thinking about my tiny hometown of West Richland, WA and how two cars constitute "traffic". Ah, simpler times. It was seriously an amazingly romantic and incredible trip. I wished over and over that I could go back in time and tell my disaffected teen-aged self that in a few years time I'd be in Paris celebrating my birthday with the most wonderful man I've ever met, completely in love and expecting our first darling baby. I never knew how many fabulous things life had in store. I always worried about bad stuff, but it didn't occur to me to realistically dream about the kind of stuff that happens now. I mean, I always wished for the awesome to occur, but I didn't imagine it actually would! It did. I was in Pareeeeee!
A kind of hilarious/awkward thing happened one night we were there which I hesitate to share lest the participants find this blog and resent me for publishing, but on the other hand...so great :) We went to a kinda schmanzy, spendy restaurant one night which was highly rated on Yelp. I had to make a reservation and everything and apparently three days in advance our only opportunity to get one was if someone cancelled. Luckily, someone did and we got to go. We ended up arriving a few minutes late and were seated next to a couple of white-haired German gentlemen, who began engaging us in conversation. They advised us what to order (There was this halibut starter with lightly steamed baby vegetables which was so perfect I can't even tell you! I think it was the most balanced dish I've ever had. Too legit to quit.) and made generally awkward jokes about my being obviously pregnant. At one point one of them said, "Is the baby yours?" to me. Um, yes. The baby is mine. I realized later that he meant is the baby Rasmus', which is an awkward question to ask a near perfect stranger, but not suuuuuper surprising coming from a German (if I'm being perfectly honest). We affirmed that it was in fact our first child. And that we've been married nearly 6 years. Rasmus mentioned that I am a singer and when they found out about my repertoire they began to beg me to sing Elsas Traum from Lohengrin. Look, I don't want to be a diva or anything, but it is entirely embarrassing, in the middle of a restaurant where people are eating and conversing, to force the majority to hear something they didn't ask for. I just don't like being made to feel that I have to prove something. I long for those days to be behind me. I know opera doesn't have the mass enthusiasm of, say, pop music, but in my sphere, I consider myself sufficiently proven. Anyway, I declined. So they insisted. I declined again, as politely as I could. Until they were begging for "three words only!" And so, I caved and sang the first five words of the aria:
"Einsam in trueben Tagen..."
When people stopped eating and listened, I sort of chickened out and stopped. If I had known the reaction I would have kept going, but I am a coward and like I said, I don't feel like putting myself in a position where I have to be impressive to people who aren't asking. Anyway, shocking reaction. People kind of applauded awkwardly, but the really weird thing is one of the German guys started SOBBING. Like, truly sobbing. Tears streaming down his face he said:
"What we've just had was a perfect moment."
Which, of course, made me feel entirely guilty. I apologized for making him cry or for not singing more or whatever it was and he was inconsolable. Good thing by then we were nearly finished and could soon leave! Poor guy. I am grateful, obviously, that he appreciated it, and now I just have to hope he comes to hear me sing sometime for real and then I won't feel like I owe him the rest of an aria! :)
A kind of hilarious/awkward thing happened one night we were there which I hesitate to share lest the participants find this blog and resent me for publishing, but on the other hand...so great :) We went to a kinda schmanzy, spendy restaurant one night which was highly rated on Yelp. I had to make a reservation and everything and apparently three days in advance our only opportunity to get one was if someone cancelled. Luckily, someone did and we got to go. We ended up arriving a few minutes late and were seated next to a couple of white-haired German gentlemen, who began engaging us in conversation. They advised us what to order (There was this halibut starter with lightly steamed baby vegetables which was so perfect I can't even tell you! I think it was the most balanced dish I've ever had. Too legit to quit.) and made generally awkward jokes about my being obviously pregnant. At one point one of them said, "Is the baby yours?" to me. Um, yes. The baby is mine. I realized later that he meant is the baby Rasmus', which is an awkward question to ask a near perfect stranger, but not suuuuuper surprising coming from a German (if I'm being perfectly honest). We affirmed that it was in fact our first child. And that we've been married nearly 6 years. Rasmus mentioned that I am a singer and when they found out about my repertoire they began to beg me to sing Elsas Traum from Lohengrin. Look, I don't want to be a diva or anything, but it is entirely embarrassing, in the middle of a restaurant where people are eating and conversing, to force the majority to hear something they didn't ask for. I just don't like being made to feel that I have to prove something. I long for those days to be behind me. I know opera doesn't have the mass enthusiasm of, say, pop music, but in my sphere, I consider myself sufficiently proven. Anyway, I declined. So they insisted. I declined again, as politely as I could. Until they were begging for "three words only!" And so, I caved and sang the first five words of the aria:
"Einsam in trueben Tagen..."
When people stopped eating and listened, I sort of chickened out and stopped. If I had known the reaction I would have kept going, but I am a coward and like I said, I don't feel like putting myself in a position where I have to be impressive to people who aren't asking. Anyway, shocking reaction. People kind of applauded awkwardly, but the really weird thing is one of the German guys started SOBBING. Like, truly sobbing. Tears streaming down his face he said:
"What we've just had was a perfect moment."
Which, of course, made me feel entirely guilty. I apologized for making him cry or for not singing more or whatever it was and he was inconsolable. Good thing by then we were nearly finished and could soon leave! Poor guy. I am grateful, obviously, that he appreciated it, and now I just have to hope he comes to hear me sing sometime for real and then I won't feel like I owe him the rest of an aria! :)
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Giovanni Giovanni Giovanni!
Giovanni opens tonight! I am super excited about it, actually. I love singing this role! Donna Anna gets a bad wrap because she's sad the whole time, but the thing is: WHO WOULDN'T BE?! Also, I have heard she isn't very interesting to play because its much easier to do her one-dimensionally. I guess Fiordiligi from Cosi and Countess in Figaro both have more obvious depth and conflict, but I don't think Da Ponte let us down with Anna. Let's examine the story. Here's my incredibly subjective and character-biased synopsis for your reading pleasure:
The whole of the show is taking place over a period of like 36 hours. In the opening scene it's late enough for Anna and Commendatore (her dad) to be in bed, but early enough for Ottavio (her fiance) to not have gone to bed yet. You could speculate up and down about his having a gambling problem or something, which would result in his desperation to marry Anna quickly and inherit the Commendatore's wealth and position, but my guess is that Mozart didn't see it that way. Those two Ottavio arias: "Dalla sua pace" and "Il mio tesoro" don't sound disingenuous to me. Nor manipulative. Specifically the former. I mean, just take a minute and listen to one of these superhuman singers gliding this piece through their golden gullets:
My beloved Placido: http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=pvCdLmxApXc&feature=endscreen
Or the inconquerable Fritz Wunderlich (who, although possessing inferior capacity to pronounce Italian correctly, has arguably a stylistic leg up being a Deustcher like Wolfie was): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X1qysxLA9OQ
I mean, really. "E' non ho bene se la non l'ha." which roughly translates to "If my baby ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." :) So romantical.
I digress. Giovanni, probably tired of achieving his thousands of conquests the traditional, "woo" way, has progressed to violence. As I sit here thinking of the text, I am pretty sure he must have got it done. I mean, Anna says, "Or sai chi l'onore rapire a me volse..." which means, "Now you know who robbed me of my honor." She is kinda vague in the description of said EVENT, but I mean you can read that in between the lines... Luckily Da Ponte and Mozart had the class/necessary shame to obscure it. Which has lead to a gozillion arguments about what it all MEEEEEEANS. Anyway, that happens at the tippy top, preceeding and while Leporello is on stage complaining about how hard it is being the manservant of a bad guy. Anyway, Giovanni evidently *ahem* satisfied, fleas. Anna isn't having that. She chases him and says he better kill her if he has any intention of getting away with this. There is another struggle, all the while she is causing a huge scene in the hope the noise will draw other witnesses, someone to help stop the assailant, etc. Unfortunately, the only person who comes is her old dad. Anna runs to find more people to help, but Papa is paaaaast his prime and dies trying to kill Giovanni. Giovanni gets away. Yikes, McGee. Anna returns with servants and Ottavio who promises to spend "tutto il mio sangue" (all his blood) if she needs it. Thanks, man. That's a good call. Obviously what we need around here is some more blood. Also, slitting your wrists and bleeding out would provide us with an unspeakable advantage against the bad guy. See, Ottavio's sweet and earnest in my opinion -- did you listen to either of those guys sing 'Dalla sua pace'??-- , but he's also pretty...impotent and unhelpful. It's part of Anna's desperate depression the rest of the show.
Anyway. Anna and Ottavio arrive to find Commendatore dead in a pool of his own blood. How would YOU react to finding your own father brutally murdered? She acts approximately that way. Ottavio says things like, "Get that body outta here! She doesn't need to see this!" and, "Don't worry about it! You have a husband AND father in me! What a bargain!" At one point Anna gets confused and has an episode of PTSD when Ottavio touches her, but upon realizing who he is (or rather, that he is NOT the rapist) she demands Ottavio avenge her father. He agrees.
The next time you see Anna and Ottavio not that much time could have passed... Giovanni has interrupted the preparation for the peasant wedding of Zerlina and Masetto (whom she called a "Uom dottimo core" or a man of great heart. Awwwwwww.) Giovanni likes her and probably is excited by the idea of ruining the marriage and the peasant's lives. He's such a cad. The audience has also met another of Giovanni's conquests: the noblewoman Elvira, who has been searching for him since he married her and left. I like her. She's not the type to mess with even though she is a woman in this era. She knows what is owed her and so she goes to get it. Also, she is so mad that he left that she says she will "carve out his heart." She mean bidniz. Leporello has disgusted and cut Elvia by telling her about all the bazillion women Giovanni has "had". He even has a little (big) black book with all their names and nationalities in it.
True story sidebar: when I once suggested a colleague looked nice with a different-than-his-normal hairstyle and that he should wear it that way sometimes because variety is the spice of life, he told me he got his variety in the range of women he slept with. Seriously. Also, another person in this field recently told me with pride that he had slept with a woman from nearly every European country. This is probably why people don't seem to GET the story of Don Giovanni in my opinion. Too many people are busy wishing they could BE him to notice responsibly how much destruction and horror he leaves in his wake. In my opinion, charm isn't everything.
So back to Anna and Ottavio, they enter to find Giovanni and ask him for help finding the murderer of Anna's daddio. He agrees and vows to support their venture with all he has. He flirts a little with Anna and is interrupted by Elvira who can't believe he's at it again (I neglected to mention that she stopped Giovanni from making it with Zerlina in the last scene). He says Elvira is coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs. She insists he is a monster. Anna and Ottavio are like, "This is really confusing. Who do we believe?" Giovanni shoves Elvira offstage and returns shortly to tell Anna that if she needs anything, she can find him in his house. Something about this interaction brings Anna to the realization that Giovanni is the rapist/murderer from the previous night. She tells Ottavio what went down...sort of. If she's vague, I think its because that's how rape victims probably are. Also, because I just don't think she wouldda felt comfortable talking about it at all. Also, she is a noblewoman who has been raised to behave a certain way. All of this is much much too much.
Anyway, Masetto is mad at Zerlina because she almost fell for it with Giovanni, and she sarcastically tells him to beat her up about it. Probably that's an 18th century way of saying, "So sue me." Giovanni comes back and invites both of them to a party at his house. They feel awkward, but agree. I guess back in the day if you were a peasant you just didn't say no to the noblemen. "One does not simply say no to Don Giovanni." Thanks, Sean Bean. Meanwhile Anna, Ottavio, and Elvira conspire to go to the same party in disguise to confront Giovanni. The party starts. Zerlina is abducted by Giovanni while Leporello distracts Masetto. Zerlina gets away somehow and Giovanni blames Leporello for her state of undress. Elvira, Ottavio, and Anna unmask themselves and say, "L'empio crede con tal frode di nascondere l'empietà!" which means "The wicked man believes this fraud will hide his evil deed!" or "We're not buying it, Buster."
Somehow Giovanni gets away. Then there's an intermission. Cue Kenny G wait music, Mozart style.
Okay, so Act 2. By now its the evening of the day after the murder. Giovanni makes Leporello change clothes with him so that he can serenade another peasant girl who apparently wouldn't go for it if he were honest about his identity. I wonder why? Lawl. Anyway, his idea is also that Leporello can satiate Elvira by pretending to be Giovanni in the dark. Weirdly, this plan actually works. Must be pretty dark! This is one of those oh-so-common "You're gonna have to suspend your disbelief for the purposes of this story, mmmkay?" moments in Mozart which, in my opinion, aren't really SO different than for example, temporarily buying the notion of X-men for that story or magic for Harry Potter. Maybe centuries of story-telling have refined our ability to share absurd plot points without turning too many heads. Just give Mozart and Da Ponte this one, okay? Also the other one where the statue comes to life and pulls Giovanni to Hell. Just give em those two. You'll be okay.
Somewhere in here Giovanni dressed as Leporello encounters Masetto, who is hunting Giovanni. Convinced he is Leporello, Masetto agrees they will find and punish Giovanni together only to get the tar whooped out of him by Giovanni. Is that confusing? I'm not a baritone, so I don't pay enough attention to this part. Sorry. Anyway, Masetto is moaning about his wounds and Zerlina comforts him by telling him to feel her pulse (ha.) in a beautiful and sensual aria, "Vedrai carino." Whatever, it's okay. They're married. Although I have recently enjoyed lotsa jokes pointing at different places where you can take your pulse when she repeats many a time "Tocca me qua!" (touch me here. Usually referring to her heart. But you know, she could mean her finger or her wrist or her neck. Guffaw. I am nerd.)
Ultimately the real Leporello (dressed as Giovanni), probably fearing the gig is up the moment the sun comes up, tries to get away from Elvira and is caught by Masetto, Zerlina, Anna, and Ottavio who, I presume, have been searching for Giovanni since he got away at the party. They mistake Leporello for Giovanni because of his clothes and mask. They wanna kill him. Elvira is like, "Have pity! He's my husband!" and they're all like, "NO WAY, JOSE!" Leporello takes off his mask and begs clemency. Everybody's like, "This day is INSANE!" and "I can't believe it!" etc. Leporello says its all Giovanni's fault and then he gets away. Everybody is sad to have lost yet another chance to get revenge on Giovanni.
Cut to graveyard scene. Giovanni and Leporello are reunited (and it feels so good!) in the graveyard where Commendatore's grave is laid with wreaths (in my current production the wreathes are black and look like they were made out of dragon hide. Pretty cool.) Leporello reads the epitaph and Commendatore's statue starts talking to them. Giovanni, probably freaking out inside which makes him act all the more macho, invites the dead guy to dinner. They run away.
Anna and Ottavio enter again and she is now not only super sad about her orphaned state and the fact that she was most likely raped the previous night, but angry that Ottavio has been unable to do what he promised. He keeps saying, "Let's just get married tomorrow!" and she's like, "How can you say that? My dad just died!" to which he replies, "FINE! I hate you, you big jerk!" (I paraphrase). She then sings this lovely aria about how she is sorry to be mean, but she needs him to understand that she is in mourning. Not only would she feel terrible to ignore the tragic death of her father so quickly, but actually it would be improper to come out of mourning after only a day. "Troppo mi spiace allontanarti un ben che lungamente la nostr'alma desia, ma il mondo!" (I hate that we've had to wait this long to get married like we both want, but what would people think?!) She's like, "Don't tell me I'm cruel if you don't want me to die of pain." Drama queen. But I mean, I get it. Anyway, in the course of this aria I think she actually for the first time realizes that there might come a time when she doesn't feel this horrible about herself anymore. I think she has felt really guilty this whole time. She did, after all, call her father to the scene of his own murder. People get irrational when bad stuff happens. Everybody feels responsible for what they actually didn't do. I think in "Non mi dir", Donna Anna actually is hoping for forgiveness from heaven. When it gets to the flourid part, she says again and again, "Maybe someday heaven will take pity on me!" Maybe she is hoping to die? Maybe she means that heaven will bring about the destruction of Giovanni? We could bash ideas around about this all day, anyway she is sad, but at the end I believe she comes to hope for something. Up to the singer what.
Cut to Giovanni, home after his evening's escapades, rousing all the cooks and musicians in his employ from bed to prepare him a dinner and entertain him. Elvira enters again, heart broken. Often they have cut the beautiful aria she sings just before this scene where she says something like, "Stand by your man." Oh well. She pleads with Giovanni, who rejects her and the statue arrives. Elvira screams and runs out. So, its Anna's dead dad and he commands Giovanni repeatedly to repent. He refuses. And he is engulfed in the fiery flames of hell. Yep.
Then the rest of the cast come out and, surprised to find Giovanni gone, hear the story from Leporello. Everybody then says how they'll go on. Ottavio tells Anna aGAIN that they should just go ahead and get married. She's like, "Just give me a year to mourn." Audiences always laugh at that part, but throw the girl a bone! She maybe doesn't have to worry about avenging the father anymore, but she needs to take time to respect his passing, right? Elivira decides to join a convent, Leporello says he'll go to the east to find a better master, Zerlina and Masetto decide to go home and forget all about this craziness and then everybody promises the audience they will meet the same fate as Giovanni if they are bad, too!!!
The End.
So, parts of this show are really funny, actually. Like, nearly everything Leporello, Zerlina, and Masetto do, but Donna Anna is no laughing matter. All of this, by the way, is set to some of the most amazing music ever written. Music to which every subsequent composer owes a great debt. I freaking love this show.
The first time I did it was in college, the second time a few months ago in Houston, and now my third production opens at the Dresden Semperoper tomorrow night! Toi toi toi everybody!!
xo,
Rachel
The whole of the show is taking place over a period of like 36 hours. In the opening scene it's late enough for Anna and Commendatore (her dad) to be in bed, but early enough for Ottavio (her fiance) to not have gone to bed yet. You could speculate up and down about his having a gambling problem or something, which would result in his desperation to marry Anna quickly and inherit the Commendatore's wealth and position, but my guess is that Mozart didn't see it that way. Those two Ottavio arias: "Dalla sua pace" and "Il mio tesoro" don't sound disingenuous to me. Nor manipulative. Specifically the former. I mean, just take a minute and listen to one of these superhuman singers gliding this piece through their golden gullets:
My beloved Placido: http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=pvCdLmxApXc&feature=endscreen
Or the inconquerable Fritz Wunderlich (who, although possessing inferior capacity to pronounce Italian correctly, has arguably a stylistic leg up being a Deustcher like Wolfie was): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X1qysxLA9OQ
I mean, really. "E' non ho bene se la non l'ha." which roughly translates to "If my baby ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." :) So romantical.
I digress. Giovanni, probably tired of achieving his thousands of conquests the traditional, "woo" way, has progressed to violence. As I sit here thinking of the text, I am pretty sure he must have got it done. I mean, Anna says, "Or sai chi l'onore rapire a me volse..." which means, "Now you know who robbed me of my honor." She is kinda vague in the description of said EVENT, but I mean you can read that in between the lines... Luckily Da Ponte and Mozart had the class/necessary shame to obscure it. Which has lead to a gozillion arguments about what it all MEEEEEEANS. Anyway, that happens at the tippy top, preceeding and while Leporello is on stage complaining about how hard it is being the manservant of a bad guy. Anyway, Giovanni evidently *ahem* satisfied, fleas. Anna isn't having that. She chases him and says he better kill her if he has any intention of getting away with this. There is another struggle, all the while she is causing a huge scene in the hope the noise will draw other witnesses, someone to help stop the assailant, etc. Unfortunately, the only person who comes is her old dad. Anna runs to find more people to help, but Papa is paaaaast his prime and dies trying to kill Giovanni. Giovanni gets away. Yikes, McGee. Anna returns with servants and Ottavio who promises to spend "tutto il mio sangue" (all his blood) if she needs it. Thanks, man. That's a good call. Obviously what we need around here is some more blood. Also, slitting your wrists and bleeding out would provide us with an unspeakable advantage against the bad guy. See, Ottavio's sweet and earnest in my opinion -- did you listen to either of those guys sing 'Dalla sua pace'??-- , but he's also pretty...impotent and unhelpful. It's part of Anna's desperate depression the rest of the show.
Anyway. Anna and Ottavio arrive to find Commendatore dead in a pool of his own blood. How would YOU react to finding your own father brutally murdered? She acts approximately that way. Ottavio says things like, "Get that body outta here! She doesn't need to see this!" and, "Don't worry about it! You have a husband AND father in me! What a bargain!" At one point Anna gets confused and has an episode of PTSD when Ottavio touches her, but upon realizing who he is (or rather, that he is NOT the rapist) she demands Ottavio avenge her father. He agrees.
The next time you see Anna and Ottavio not that much time could have passed... Giovanni has interrupted the preparation for the peasant wedding of Zerlina and Masetto (whom she called a "Uom dottimo core" or a man of great heart. Awwwwwww.) Giovanni likes her and probably is excited by the idea of ruining the marriage and the peasant's lives. He's such a cad. The audience has also met another of Giovanni's conquests: the noblewoman Elvira, who has been searching for him since he married her and left. I like her. She's not the type to mess with even though she is a woman in this era. She knows what is owed her and so she goes to get it. Also, she is so mad that he left that she says she will "carve out his heart." She mean bidniz. Leporello has disgusted and cut Elvia by telling her about all the bazillion women Giovanni has "had". He even has a little (big) black book with all their names and nationalities in it.
True story sidebar: when I once suggested a colleague looked nice with a different-than-his-normal hairstyle and that he should wear it that way sometimes because variety is the spice of life, he told me he got his variety in the range of women he slept with. Seriously. Also, another person in this field recently told me with pride that he had slept with a woman from nearly every European country. This is probably why people don't seem to GET the story of Don Giovanni in my opinion. Too many people are busy wishing they could BE him to notice responsibly how much destruction and horror he leaves in his wake. In my opinion, charm isn't everything.
So back to Anna and Ottavio, they enter to find Giovanni and ask him for help finding the murderer of Anna's daddio. He agrees and vows to support their venture with all he has. He flirts a little with Anna and is interrupted by Elvira who can't believe he's at it again (I neglected to mention that she stopped Giovanni from making it with Zerlina in the last scene). He says Elvira is coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs. She insists he is a monster. Anna and Ottavio are like, "This is really confusing. Who do we believe?" Giovanni shoves Elvira offstage and returns shortly to tell Anna that if she needs anything, she can find him in his house. Something about this interaction brings Anna to the realization that Giovanni is the rapist/murderer from the previous night. She tells Ottavio what went down...sort of. If she's vague, I think its because that's how rape victims probably are. Also, because I just don't think she wouldda felt comfortable talking about it at all. Also, she is a noblewoman who has been raised to behave a certain way. All of this is much much too much.
Anyway, Masetto is mad at Zerlina because she almost fell for it with Giovanni, and she sarcastically tells him to beat her up about it. Probably that's an 18th century way of saying, "So sue me." Giovanni comes back and invites both of them to a party at his house. They feel awkward, but agree. I guess back in the day if you were a peasant you just didn't say no to the noblemen. "One does not simply say no to Don Giovanni." Thanks, Sean Bean. Meanwhile Anna, Ottavio, and Elvira conspire to go to the same party in disguise to confront Giovanni. The party starts. Zerlina is abducted by Giovanni while Leporello distracts Masetto. Zerlina gets away somehow and Giovanni blames Leporello for her state of undress. Elvira, Ottavio, and Anna unmask themselves and say, "L'empio crede con tal frode di nascondere l'empietà!" which means "The wicked man believes this fraud will hide his evil deed!" or "We're not buying it, Buster."
Somehow Giovanni gets away. Then there's an intermission. Cue Kenny G wait music, Mozart style.
Okay, so Act 2. By now its the evening of the day after the murder. Giovanni makes Leporello change clothes with him so that he can serenade another peasant girl who apparently wouldn't go for it if he were honest about his identity. I wonder why? Lawl. Anyway, his idea is also that Leporello can satiate Elvira by pretending to be Giovanni in the dark. Weirdly, this plan actually works. Must be pretty dark! This is one of those oh-so-common "You're gonna have to suspend your disbelief for the purposes of this story, mmmkay?" moments in Mozart which, in my opinion, aren't really SO different than for example, temporarily buying the notion of X-men for that story or magic for Harry Potter. Maybe centuries of story-telling have refined our ability to share absurd plot points without turning too many heads. Just give Mozart and Da Ponte this one, okay? Also the other one where the statue comes to life and pulls Giovanni to Hell. Just give em those two. You'll be okay.
Somewhere in here Giovanni dressed as Leporello encounters Masetto, who is hunting Giovanni. Convinced he is Leporello, Masetto agrees they will find and punish Giovanni together only to get the tar whooped out of him by Giovanni. Is that confusing? I'm not a baritone, so I don't pay enough attention to this part. Sorry. Anyway, Masetto is moaning about his wounds and Zerlina comforts him by telling him to feel her pulse (ha.) in a beautiful and sensual aria, "Vedrai carino." Whatever, it's okay. They're married. Although I have recently enjoyed lotsa jokes pointing at different places where you can take your pulse when she repeats many a time "Tocca me qua!" (touch me here. Usually referring to her heart. But you know, she could mean her finger or her wrist or her neck. Guffaw. I am nerd.)
Ultimately the real Leporello (dressed as Giovanni), probably fearing the gig is up the moment the sun comes up, tries to get away from Elvira and is caught by Masetto, Zerlina, Anna, and Ottavio who, I presume, have been searching for Giovanni since he got away at the party. They mistake Leporello for Giovanni because of his clothes and mask. They wanna kill him. Elvira is like, "Have pity! He's my husband!" and they're all like, "NO WAY, JOSE!" Leporello takes off his mask and begs clemency. Everybody's like, "This day is INSANE!" and "I can't believe it!" etc. Leporello says its all Giovanni's fault and then he gets away. Everybody is sad to have lost yet another chance to get revenge on Giovanni.
Cut to graveyard scene. Giovanni and Leporello are reunited (and it feels so good!) in the graveyard where Commendatore's grave is laid with wreaths (in my current production the wreathes are black and look like they were made out of dragon hide. Pretty cool.) Leporello reads the epitaph and Commendatore's statue starts talking to them. Giovanni, probably freaking out inside which makes him act all the more macho, invites the dead guy to dinner. They run away.
Anna and Ottavio enter again and she is now not only super sad about her orphaned state and the fact that she was most likely raped the previous night, but angry that Ottavio has been unable to do what he promised. He keeps saying, "Let's just get married tomorrow!" and she's like, "How can you say that? My dad just died!" to which he replies, "FINE! I hate you, you big jerk!" (I paraphrase). She then sings this lovely aria about how she is sorry to be mean, but she needs him to understand that she is in mourning. Not only would she feel terrible to ignore the tragic death of her father so quickly, but actually it would be improper to come out of mourning after only a day. "Troppo mi spiace allontanarti un ben che lungamente la nostr'alma desia, ma il mondo!" (I hate that we've had to wait this long to get married like we both want, but what would people think?!) She's like, "Don't tell me I'm cruel if you don't want me to die of pain." Drama queen. But I mean, I get it. Anyway, in the course of this aria I think she actually for the first time realizes that there might come a time when she doesn't feel this horrible about herself anymore. I think she has felt really guilty this whole time. She did, after all, call her father to the scene of his own murder. People get irrational when bad stuff happens. Everybody feels responsible for what they actually didn't do. I think in "Non mi dir", Donna Anna actually is hoping for forgiveness from heaven. When it gets to the flourid part, she says again and again, "Maybe someday heaven will take pity on me!" Maybe she is hoping to die? Maybe she means that heaven will bring about the destruction of Giovanni? We could bash ideas around about this all day, anyway she is sad, but at the end I believe she comes to hope for something. Up to the singer what.
Cut to Giovanni, home after his evening's escapades, rousing all the cooks and musicians in his employ from bed to prepare him a dinner and entertain him. Elvira enters again, heart broken. Often they have cut the beautiful aria she sings just before this scene where she says something like, "Stand by your man." Oh well. She pleads with Giovanni, who rejects her and the statue arrives. Elvira screams and runs out. So, its Anna's dead dad and he commands Giovanni repeatedly to repent. He refuses. And he is engulfed in the fiery flames of hell. Yep.
Then the rest of the cast come out and, surprised to find Giovanni gone, hear the story from Leporello. Everybody then says how they'll go on. Ottavio tells Anna aGAIN that they should just go ahead and get married. She's like, "Just give me a year to mourn." Audiences always laugh at that part, but throw the girl a bone! She maybe doesn't have to worry about avenging the father anymore, but she needs to take time to respect his passing, right? Elivira decides to join a convent, Leporello says he'll go to the east to find a better master, Zerlina and Masetto decide to go home and forget all about this craziness and then everybody promises the audience they will meet the same fate as Giovanni if they are bad, too!!!
The End.
So, parts of this show are really funny, actually. Like, nearly everything Leporello, Zerlina, and Masetto do, but Donna Anna is no laughing matter. All of this, by the way, is set to some of the most amazing music ever written. Music to which every subsequent composer owes a great debt. I freaking love this show.
The first time I did it was in college, the second time a few months ago in Houston, and now my third production opens at the Dresden Semperoper tomorrow night! Toi toi toi everybody!!
xo,
Rachel
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
A Repentant Diva
Today was a remarkable day. I am nearly 24 weeks into my first pregnancy and I was super cranky this morning. Sensitive and angry. I actually had a little fit at work. How embarrassing. I slammed my hat into a set piece and said the ideas for the staging were stupid. I didn't even try to hide my disdain for the erroneously challenging staging which required action only while singing, not listening. This is in general an impolite and ungenerous practice for a director. I get that the initial impulse of young performers is to move when they are saying something, but a seasoned singer would always perform the compromising movements on the lines of others and remain fairly stable in their own lines! It seems to me this ought to be common knowledge in my field. Alas.
Anyway, I have had LOTS of struggles with directors since I started this journey a few years ago. In general it seems like singers have an attitude of "us vs. them" when it comes to even considerate directors. This is strange because I think the less a singer trusts the director, the worse that director ends up making a singer look. Sometimes there is an assistant teaching you the staging of an old production and the challenge is that they are religiously married to the original staging (its their job) and lack the dramatic justification which hopefully the original director had once used to motivate the movements. I have had too many arguments trying to understand what appears illogical, needlessly disadvantageous, or just plain stupid. Over and over I leave rehearsal feeling I was misunderstood and worrying that the directorial staff consider me difficult and badly behaved. Last week there was a particularly intense conversation about the use of a gun in the quartet of Don Giovanni. I insisted we needed to react if the gun was to be drawn. The director repeated again and again that it wasn't pointed at my character so what did it matter? I finally told him to imagine someone walking into the room where we were rehearsing and pointing a gun at say...the pianist, someone positioned far from this director in the room. I asked him how he would feel and react in that scenario in spite of the gun not being pointed even near himself. The final call was to remove the gun altogether from the scene. I won I guess, but I also left feeling like I had lost something. As in, what if there is only a finite number of fights you get to have on a production and I need one later? Like, what if they asked me to do something I found morally objectionable and I wasted my one fight on the gun in the quartet. My husband advised that if I didn't play nice I might lose the chance to do the show altogether which would be worse for the audience (he's so sweet). This was because I insisted (and still feel) that my primary motivation in arguing against the production as it apparently has been for the past 20 years was that I feel a sincere responsibility to give the audience a worthwhile show. I don't want to point at all the unnaturalness. We are already a few degrees removed from normalcy because we are singing, so do we need to remind them not to get swept away in the story by making it obviously illogical? Or, if it has to be illogical, can't it at least make poetry? Or create a beautiful picture? Something? Anything? I believe my arguing with the director was to stand up for those people who will come expecting or rather hoping to have an experience worth having. I am so willing to do all I can to give them that. Almost every singer I know is. I guess its stupid, though, because directors, for the most part, probably want the same thing. Maybe just a different way.
Once I told a difficult director that I trusted her and that I was willing to follow her advice for the sake of the most beautiful possible show. This one simple statement changed her entire demeanor toward me. She softened. She motivated change with encouragement rather than the humiliation and condescension which had previously dominated her directing. Ultimately, I think I did much better for having listened to what she had to say, but I certainly heard her message more clearly when it was polite and respectful with obvious belief in my ability to achieve success. Call me an egotist if you must. Anyway, that day I thought I learned a lesson about directors and how to build a meaningful, valuable professional relationship with them. I have come to understand, however, that the apprehension and defensiveness are always present at first. Singers not trusting directors and planning to defy all their staging once the show finally opens, directors resenting singers for this and treating them like idiots as a result, etc. The advice I have received from many colleagues and mentors on the subject is that you simply fake it. You act like what is being said is solid gold. You smile. Inside you reject it all and do what you want when the rubber finally meets the road. And if you need a little extra, if bending over and taking all the kicks in the shorts just isn't your thing, you can flip them off from in your pocket or behind your hand. I'll be honest, I've made a fairly standard practice of the latter in the past two years. You can have a huge smile on your face that can even look real if you are protecting yourself with that little birdy between the folds of your enormous rehearsal skirt. That's the thing about anger. It feels kinda like strength. It feels kinda like it can save you from vulnerability and hurt. For a long time I have bought into that as the best way to react to insulting ideas and behavior from directors, coaches, basically anyone acting like they know better. You know what, though? It isn't. Today something better occurred to me.
Yesterday afternoon, some sick maniac planted a bunch of bombs at the Boston Marathon. They hurt a considerable number of people and even killed some. It's disgusting. I was thinking about it, about how sad it is that people hurt each other. Someone on Facebook said it wasn't that big a deal given the much more significant death tolls which daily strike war-torn countries in the middle east. They contested that every human life is precious. I agree with that last part. I think, though, that tragedy doesn't necessarily lose its sting by comparison to "objectively" more severe tragedy. Anyway, in thinking of this I came to consider whether I believed in the genuine worth of human souls in any sort of practical and realistic way or only in an isn't-that special-to-theorize-about-but-at-the-end-of the-day-let's-get-real sort of way. I want to honestly choose the former. So, I decided to develop a little mantra. Each time I see a person I will remind myself that they are a child of God. As I walked to work I said it in my head about every person I passed. I started to notice their eyes more. I think most people don't genuinely consider themselves children of God, but I believe we all are. Not only that, but He is personally aware of each of us -- of the inner workings of our hearts and minds. He is there in the heart of everyone's most exquisite joy and profound sorrow. He celebrates every goodness and hopes for an improvement of every flaw. He loves. Perfectly and completely. Even the dirtiest, smelliest homeless guy. Even the most arrogant, self-important boss. Even me. As I thought about all these strangers I realized they were worthy of my respect and consideration. I hadn't known until that moment that I have been living with a me-against-the-world attitude for a long time. I have armored my softness with anger and defensiveness. How sad.
As I got to work, I carried on in my new practice. I looked into the faces of my colleagues and reminded myself of their inestimable worth and the love their Creator has for each of them. I looked into the face of the director with whom I had been so upset a few hours earlier. I reminded myself that it can't be me vs. him because we are all equally valued. Even if I don't agree with something, or am unable to see the point, we are not enemies unless we choose to be. We are children of God.
This method is new, and so far no major traumatic staging events have sprung up to impede my optimism that it is a better policy than the hidden middle finger, but I already feel so much better about the world.
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