The Skagit Opera hits an interesting borderline 'twixt community theater and the grandiose big-city Opera houses. It was one we had previously viewed with some skepticism. It's not to say that there are not many local artists of quantifiably great talent, but when Seattle is such a world class venue, it can be hard to scale down and see something undeniably local. But, well, Lucia di Lammermore is in direct competition with Pearl Fishers for my favorite opera and... Seattle Opera may do La Boheme to utter perfection (I expect it will be powerful), but I just don't much dig Boheme and its peppy-scampering-mice-score all that much. Perhaps more pertinently, two of my fathers friends - a South African doctor/swimmer and his ragingly stylish effervescent high-end-real-estate 200-people-a-party-giving significant other - were planning to go after hearing performances from the show by the main stars.
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| Mr. (W)right was also invited, but as you can see, the mere mention of "opera" has an instantaneous soporific effect and we only just this morning extracted him from his coma |
It was ... quite the experience. Lucia, Edgardo, and Enrico were world class. Evocative, artistically brilliant, exquisitely powerful. As will inevitably happen for me, the mad scene did not merely evoke the elegant mist of sentimental dew, but a full on shaking blubbering mess that lasted well through the end. It's funny, really, how very undignified a thoroughly aesthetic experience (with all our associated trappings of culture and civilization) can be.
It starts so promisingly seemly: The first strains of overture and my blood fizzes like shaken-not-stirred seltzer. A demure chill contratemps the slight nods and taps in time to the rhythm. As tension builds, a demure tear or two silently emerges from an eye. But then, by the emotional crescendo, we've gotten far more into corporal paroxysms; minor convulsions contained merely by a modest sense of decorum - and yes, perhaps some snot on a sleeve or two. My breath is labored, micromuscles on my face as twitching and fussing thoroughly rippling with no end expression in mind, and it's quite the mercy that the house lights are down. Spiritually transcendent music embodied in the most visceral human or even animal reaction. A thoroughly uncanny enchantment that's both disembodying and utterly grounding.
It's one that leaves me mildly despondent for minutes after the curtain drops. Which is why I resent intermissions. I appreciate that breaks heighten enjoyment, but after being so submerged in a moment, coming back from it instead of following the momentum of the scene... it's discombobulating and slightly painful to bounce back into the present moment and my own present self. Life is already all about profundity interrupted by the mundane, so must we let that ooze into our little crystalized catharses? Then again, I do rather like to run to the bathroom and grab a drink about two hours into a show, so I complain for naught.
I will say that the director made a fascinating and quite effective choice to restructure the third act in such a way as to allow Edgardo to be present at the castle and to leave -the curtain dropping just shortly after the mad-(money-)scene. Generally, the mad scene (in which the heroine, having discovered she has been tricked and cajoled into betraying her lover by marrying another and having subsequently been condemned by her angry love, and then having completely broken down and killed her husband with a knife, and then staggering down the stairs in a state of delirium hallucinating that it is the night of her wedding to her true love) occurs midway through the final act. Lucia will collapse at the end of an excruciating scene, after which the scene shifts to the tombs of Ravenwood where her lover sings that he is no longer angry and merely wishes to die. He eventually hears that she has died and kills himself soon after. Quite often as he dies, he hallucinates Lucia beckoning to him. In this production, his arias about still loving her happen at his home at the beginning of the act. He arrives at the castle as Lucia falls down dead and then shortly after kills himself as well. It heightens the impact significantly and leaves the curtain falling fresh on that money-scene. It was really quite the canny choice.
There was something of a steep drop off from the quality of title characters, however. The chorus was passable, but most certainly what one would expect of a community chorus. They had minimal acting directions or intentions, and I found it particularly distracting to see them stumble through some "joyful dancing" awkwardly and half-heartedly projecting a tremulous implication of unease and Lucia stammers through her thoroughly blood-chilling madness and the other main performers experience tragically . I'd also have to say that the fact that at least three of the members were wearing glasses - very modern looking ones - was quite distracting to me. The sets, also passably community college, certainly reminded one of just how impressive the technical and artistic crews can be at the Seattle Opera. Also, it may have been a slightly unfortunate comic break when the spot light drifted off of Lucia at the peak of her madness, instead alighting up to obfuscate the supertitles. She took it in stride as it slowly attempted to find her again, but...
Lucia is also a ghost story, and the production quite literally included a ghost who climbs from the fountain and beckons to Lucia. At parts this was effective, while at others it verged from the eerie into the farcical. Sometimes I think - particularly when the budget is comparatively small - that what is unseen is more effective than a shoddy fascimile of what can be seen. Something I realized as I thought about recent Seattle productions is that the set/lighting/costume design that really worked for me has rarely been literal. Theater provides a venue and a mandate for larger-than-life impact, one that weaves wraiths and delusions into sensory experiences to create an atmosphere that pushes beyond its four walls. Imax 3-D realistic (I'd say photo realistic, but we've gone beyond that haven't we) stage design can be impressive, but add little to the story. Attempts at such realism that fall short can actually detract from the story. In this case, I may have argued more would have been less and a minimalistic staging may have added impact where it was lost.
I will say that the director made a fascinating and quite effective choice to restructure the third act in such a way as to allow Edgardo to be present at the castle and to leave -the curtain dropping just shortly after the mad-(money-)scene. Generally, the mad scene (in which the heroine, having discovered she has been tricked and cajoled into betraying her lover by marrying another and having subsequently been condemned by her angry love, and then having completely broken down and killed her husband with a knife, and then staggering down the stairs in a state of delirium hallucinating that it is the night of her wedding to her true love) occurs midway through the final act. Lucia will collapse at the end of an excruciating scene, after which the scene shifts to the tombs of Ravenwood where her lover sings that he is no longer angry and merely wishes to die. He eventually hears that she has died and kills himself soon after. Quite often as he dies, he hallucinates Lucia beckoning to him. In this production, his arias about still loving her happen at his home at the beginning of the act. He arrives at the castle as Lucia falls down dead and then shortly after kills himself as well. It heightens the impact significantly and leaves the curtain falling fresh on that money-scene. It was really quite the canny choice.
There was something of a steep drop off from the quality of title characters, however. The chorus was passable, but most certainly what one would expect of a community chorus. They had minimal acting directions or intentions, and I found it particularly distracting to see them stumble through some "joyful dancing" awkwardly and half-heartedly projecting a tremulous implication of unease and Lucia stammers through her thoroughly blood-chilling madness and the other main performers experience tragically . I'd also have to say that the fact that at least three of the members were wearing glasses - very modern looking ones - was quite distracting to me. The sets, also passably community college, certainly reminded one of just how impressive the technical and artistic crews can be at the Seattle Opera. Also, it may have been a slightly unfortunate comic break when the spot light drifted off of Lucia at the peak of her madness, instead alighting up to obfuscate the supertitles. She took it in stride as it slowly attempted to find her again, but...
Lucia is also a ghost story, and the production quite literally included a ghost who climbs from the fountain and beckons to Lucia. At parts this was effective, while at others it verged from the eerie into the farcical. Sometimes I think - particularly when the budget is comparatively small - that what is unseen is more effective than a shoddy fascimile of what can be seen. Something I realized as I thought about recent Seattle productions is that the set/lighting/costume design that really worked for me has rarely been literal. Theater provides a venue and a mandate for larger-than-life impact, one that weaves wraiths and delusions into sensory experiences to create an atmosphere that pushes beyond its four walls. Imax 3-D realistic (I'd say photo realistic, but we've gone beyond that haven't we) stage design can be impressive, but add little to the story. Attempts at such realism that fall short can actually detract from the story. In this case, I may have argued more would have been less and a minimalistic staging may have added impact where it was lost.
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