Mozart Lite?

It is difficult to believe that Mozart’s The Magic Flute is the work of a dying man. 

 

This beloved, optimistic, life-affirming opera, one that can be, and is, enjoyed by young and old, by opera neophytes as well as the most sophisticated intellectual. Goethe was apparently so taken by the opera that he began to work on a sequel, one that remained a fragment, partly because no composer wanted to risk comparison with Mozart. I know of no more insightful and multi-faceted discussion of this work of wonder than in Father M. Owen Lee’s essay “The Music of Intuitive Angels”, contained in his book A Season of Opera From Orpheus to Ariadne (University of Toronto Press, 1998), where he discussed the many different ways to view this – in Father Lee’s words – prismatic work, from masonic allegory to a retelling of classical myth, to even Jungian approach where characters in the opera are seen as archetypes. 

 

None of those considerations appear to be in the “concept” of directors Paul Barritt, Suzanne Andrade (of the British theatre group 1927) and Barry Kosky, who sought to transform Seattle Opera’s production of the opera into a live-action, and action-packed, cartoon, and keeping everything on a most superficial level, seeking only to entertain. And entertain it did, because the packed audience last Sunday roared and cheered following the performance. 

 

The “set” consisted only of a large white background, with various revolving doors where characters emerge and disappear. All the visual effects were supplied cleverly, even brilliantly, by computer projections. For me, such projected effects that worked so well for the company’s last production of the relatively static, Tristan und Isolde, took away much of – and perhaps even prevented such attempts to view the piece - the deeper meaning inherent in the Mozart’s score. 

 

The spoken Germany dialogue was removed entirely, thereby removing a major element of the singspielelement of the work. “Dialogue” and background description were projected onto the background. Apparently, the producers wanted to simulate the feeling of watching a silent film, where much of the emotions were mimed. Even as a non-German speaker, eliminating this important dramatic element from the opera made the entire production somewhat two-dimensional – again, perhaps this was also intentional. I was reminded of the fact that when silent films gradually gave way to “talkies”, many former superstars lost their careers overnight, simply because they were not able to “act” with their voices. I do feel that the spoken dialogue is an integral of this drama, and to eliminate it would be like ridding it of one crucial element of the art work.

 

Projecting the dialogue also made it easier to sidestep the more controversial, even seemingly offensive, dialogue. Monostatos’ line (indeed difficult to hear in our age), “Yet is all love’s joy denied me, for my black and ugly face” was changed to “Perhaps because I am ugly”. Perhaps another nod to silent films was the portrayal of Monostatos as a decidedly pale faced, Nosferatu-looking character. Once again, this begs the question of whether we remove, or sanitize, art that offend the sensibility of our age?

 

But what of the music?

 

To my ears, the musical aspect of Mozart’s score was indeed well done. Victor Ryan Robertson’s Tamino seemed to lack projection at the beginning of the afternoon, but it much improved as the performance continued, especially in the second act. Camille Ortiz sang Pamina with a purity and beauty in her voice, as well as an obvious affinity to Mozart’s style. Sharleen Joynt’s Queen of the Night was stunning, and her technically impregnable and dramatic searing singing of Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen took my breath away. Bass In Sung Sim sang Sarastro with great beauty of sound, perhaps a little lacking in richness, which somewhat undermines the character’s authority. Naturally, Pagageno invariably steals the show in any production, and Rodion Pogossov did not disappoint dramatically or musically. The three ladies of Ariana Wehr, Ibidunni Ojikutu, and Laurel Semerdjian, as well as the trio of genies of boys and girls (as opposed to the “three boys” indicated by the composer) of Sanne Christine Smith, Grace Elaine Franck-Smith, and Anthony E. Kim, acquit themselves more than admirably.

 

Conductor Christine Brandes conducted, paced and shaped Mozart’s miraculous score beautifully, and members of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra played with feeling as well as beauty of sound, especially by the woodwinds.

 

No doubt, a great success for Seattle Opera both in terms of box office and audience response. And in the end, it was Mozart’s music that triumphed. Yet, with so many of the elements of the score removed, the dramatic impact of the opera was, for me, somewhat lessened, even in the usually cathartic moment following Pamina and Tamino’s successful passage through the ordeals of fire and water. For me, there was something missing from the overall impact of the drama.

 

How much are we supposed to tamper with the indications on the composer’s score? Considering the radical interpretations or reimaging of operas, it seems our “tolerance” for what used to be considered radical ideas has markedly shifted. 

 

Certainly, Mozart’s music cannot be destroyed, regardless of how much a director departs from the score. 

 

Perhaps this is a concept of the opera for the 21^st century, and we must not forget that the opera was written not for Vienna’s most prestigious opera house, but a people’s theatre beyond city limit, as entertainment. 

 

One question that went through my mind after Sunday’s production was – what would Mozart say?

 

 

 

 

An Auspicious Debut - Lucas Debargue

Pianist Lucas Debargue gave one of the most satisfying and thought-provoking performances I have heard for a long time. In terms of programming and the performance itself, it seems obvious that Mr. Debargue gave very serious thoughts to everything that he approaches.

 

Debargue began his recital with Gabriel Fauré’s Nine Preludes, Op. 103, pieces that hardly ever appear on concert programmes. In these miniatures, Debargue captured the characteristics and mood of each piece, as well as the – typical of this composer – beautiful, and forward-looking harmonies inherent in each Prelude. It was evident, from the silence of the capacity audience, that he had won their undivided attention, a most rewarding gift for any musician, I am sure.

 

The recital continues with another relative rarity – Beethoven’s Sonata in E minor, Op. 90. In the first movement, Debargue certainly paid more than lip service to the composer’s indication – Mit Lebhaftigkeit und durchaus mit Empfindung und Ausdruck (“With liveliness and with feeling and expression throughout”). He kept the forward impetus of the music while always taking care to play with great expression and beauty of sound. Perhaps not everyone would agree with his playing of the second movement, where the composer writes, Nicht zu geschwind und sehr singbar vorgetragen (“Not too swiftly and conveyed in a singing manner”). His tempo is, to my ears, on the swift side, and he seemed to have deliberately played the movement in an almost jaunty manner. The songful quality of the music was still there, and Debargue presented a convincing case of his view of the music. On the whole, a satisfying and beautiful performance of this relatively underplayed sonata.

 

The first half of the recital ended with Chopin’s treacherously difficult Scherzo No. 4 in E Major, Op. 54, perhaps the only one of the set of four that somewhat fits the term “scherzo”. Debargue’s performance is pianistically stunning and musically convincing, and throws in high relief the contrast between the lighthearted, almost giddy opening section, with the reflective middle section. He gave the work wonderful flexibility in rhythm and highlighted the long line, not only of each phrase, but of entire sections. 

 

Debargue continued his recital with Fauré’s Thème et variations, Op. 73, one of the composer’s most substantial and greatest works for piano solo, and perhaps his most difficult technically. The young artist gave a performance of great coherence and organic unity. In some of the variations – variation 6 (molto adagio) or variation 11 (andante molto, moderato espressivo), for instance – the piano, especially the notes of the lower register, took on the sonority of an organ. It was truly a remarkable performance of stunning beauty and depth.

 

The artist’s tempo choice for the opening movement of Beethoven’s Sonata in C-sharp minor, Op. 27, No. 2 seemed to have highlighted the composer’s marking of “adagio” rather than his alla breve meter. What emerged was a performance of great solemnity, weight, and expression. However, at all times I felt that Debargue took pains not to impede the forward motion of the music. The Allegretto movement was played with as much charm and grace that the music calls for, and the Presto agitato was performed with an almost reckless abandon and stunning virtuosity that left the audience breathless.

Lucas Debargue approached Chopin’s Ballade No. 3 in A-flat Major, Op. 47 with a palpable sense of plasticity, souplesse, and a beauty of sound that was arresting. 

 

It was a performance that deservedly earned him the rousing ovation from the audience, after which he graciously expressed his happiness to be in Vancouver, as well as granted us two encores – his own transcription of Fauré’s Après un rêve as well as his own improvisation, one with a distinctly Gallic flavour. 

 

I hope to hear Mr. Debargue again, and often, because I have a feeling that he is the kind of artist who would always find something new and fresh about even the most familiar music. He is a thinking musician that looks deep inside a score, but filtered through his innate musicianship and musicality, and added to it incredible pianism, always giving the music moving and deeply felt interpretations. 

 

 

In Loving Memory of Maestro Akiyama

Sad news over the weekend – Maestro Kazuoshi Akiyama, beloved and long-term music director of the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra (1972 – 1985), died in Japan.

 

Growing up in Vancouver during the tenure of his music directorship of the VSO, Maestro Akiyama was a significant presence in the Vancouver’s music scene. My first encounter with him was an all-Brahms programme – the first piano concerto with Claudio Arrau, and the first symphony. Even with the atrocious acoustics of the Queen Elizabeth Theatre, the music, as well as his brilliant direction of the orchestra, came through loud and clear.

 

It was during those formative years that I experienced many of the great musical masterpieces under his direction – Brahms’ second symphony, Dvorak’s eighth symphony, Mahler’s fourth and fifth symphonies, Bruckner’s zero, many of the Strauss’ tone poems, Elgar’s Enigma Variations, Tchaikovsky's 4th symphony, Mussorgsky/Ravel’s Pictures at an Exhibition, to name just a few, not to mention the great number of distinguished soloists who were guests of the orchestra. In addition to that Brahms performance with the great Claudio Arrau, I clearly remember an incredible performance of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 27 in B-flat Major with Mitsuko Uchida, a gorgeous Chopin Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor with Vladimir Ashkenazy, and a beautiful Bruch Violin Concerto No. 1 in G minor with the young Cho Liang-Lin. 

 

There was a specially arranged concert – a fundraising performance (I no longer remember the cause) – where the orchestra played Beethoven’s Egmont Overture, Berlioz’s Les nuits d’été with Delia Wallis, and Brahms’ Symphony No. 1 in C minor. The way the orchestra played that evening – the sound and the sense of style - under Maestro Akiyama’s direction, rivalled any of the world’s great orchestras.

 

I was sorry that the orchestra did not extend his contract beyond 1985, because the last couple of years of his tenure witnessed some of his most outstanding concerts.  

 

During his farewell performance as music director, he conducted Brahms’ Piano Concerto No. 1 in D minor with the then young Jon Kimura Parker, and Mahler’s Symphony No. 4 in G Major, with Delia Wallis. At the end of the Mahler, he did not lower his baton for a long time, as if he was hearing sounds that no one else heard, and that he did not want that moment to end. It was an absolutely magical and stunningly beautiful performance.

 

After a brief stint as music director of the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra, and other than guest conducting orchestras all over the world, Maestro Akiyama later limited his musical activities in his native Japan. He did return to Vancouver on numerous occasions, and all those return appearances were special. The musicians were evidently happy to see him return, and so was the audience. 

 

After the death of Seiji Ozawa last year, the music world has now lost another great "soldier of music" (to use Shostakovich's words). Audience and musicians in Vancouver ought to be grateful to Maestro Akiyama for his many years of dedicated service in our city. 

 

Personally, I will miss this gentleman and gentle man – not to mention his beautiful prematurely silver-grey hair - his graceful way on the podium, and his indelible music making. The best way to honour a person is to remember them. I will cherish all my musical memories with Maestro Akiyama, and I am certain all the people whose lives he touched would have their own memories of him as well.

 

May he Rest in Peace.