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CONTENTSCONGRATULATIONS
TO . . ., 3 LIVE EVENTS I
Hear Museum Art (B.L.C./Greenfest) <> Mad Dreams and Brits
(Hickey), 6 DOTTED NOTES
INTERVIEW SPEAKING OUT!
THE PRINTED WORD RECORDINGSÀ outrance
à la Anderson (de Clef Piñeiro) <> RECENT RELEASES, 31 THE
PUZZLE CORNER: COMPOSER INDEX, 34 BULLETIN BOARD, 35 WEB SUPPLEMENTLive EventsEquinox
Chamber Players In Concert for Impact CD ReviewsHarrison
Birtwistle: Refrains and Choruses ObituariesArthur
Berger (1912-2003) |
Bright Lights on a Powerful WomanJames L. Paulk ©2003 Bright Sheng: Madame Mao. Libretto by Colin Graham, also director; Conducted by John Fiore. With Robyn Redmon, Anna Christy & Alan Opie. Santa Fe Opera. Santa Fe, New Mexico. July 26th. World Premiere. Santa Fe Opera has distinguished itself not only by presenting a new work nearly every season (since 1957, it has hosted the world premiere or American premiere of 50 operas); its choices have consistently been more adventurous and more ambitious than those of other major American opera companies. The formula here, even after the death of founder and impresario Robert Crosby, is as follows: one Strauss opera, one Mozart opera, and one new work each season, with Verdi, Puccini, et al, dividing up the two remaining slots. And the new works are almost never the “safe” fare favored elsewhere. This year’s new opera was a commission by Bright Sheng, an acclaimed Chinese-born composer whose synthesis of Western and Chinese musical idioms has brought about a genuinely original sound. Madame Mao is
based on the life story of Jiang Ching, Chairman Mao Zedong’s infamous
wife. For Sheng, who came of age and learned his craft during the Cultural
Revolution, this is not a foreign topic. Jiang was one of the most powerful
women of the 20th Century, and her biography is surely among the most
operatic. Yet, since her death in 1991, she has somehow managed to escape
significant scrutiny—more books have been written about Elizabeth
Taylor, for example. Or Maria Callas. Sheng says he has wanted to write
this opera for more than a decade. Once he got the commission, he turned
to Colin Graham, with whom he had worked previously, to write the libretto,
and ultimately to direct the opera as well. Unfortunately, Graham’s
libretto, overly melodramatic and sometimes embarrassingly awkward,
is the weakest element of the opera. Nevertheless, it is a powerful,
haunting, strange work. The opera opens
with Jiang’s corpse hanging from the ceiling. (She committed suicide
in prison.) Dramatic mezzo Robynne Redmon, who portrays the mature Jiang,
points to the body and sings “I am she,” rising an octave
on the word “she.” Redmon is soon joined onstage by lyric
soprano Anna Christy, who sings the role of the younger Jiang. This
dual casting draws attention to the dramatic difference between the
ambitious young actress and the darkly manipulative Lady Macbeth character
she becomes, but it also allows duets and ensemble singing with the
two very different voices as well as internal dialogue (“At what
point in our life did you become me?”).
From the initial
scene, the opera moves backwards in time through a series of episodes,
ending the first act with the first meeting of Mao and Jiang. In the
second act, the opera reverses itself and moves forward. There are two
elaborate scenes from a traditional Chinese opera (by the composer)
which comment on the underlying work. In the major episodes we are confronted
with Mao’s first wife Zhizhen, whom he sent away to an asylum and
divorced in order to marry Jiang (Zhizhen haunts Jiang for the rest
of the opera, taunting her with lines like “you think you’re
not the same?”). We witness Jiang’s earlier affair with an
actor who betrayed her. We see Mao’s betrayal of Jiang, her ruthless
manipulation of affairs in the Cultural Revolution, a deathbed confrontation
with Mao, and Jiang’s trial before a mob. Woven through the opera
are references to the role of Nora, from Ibsen’s A Doll’s
House, which Jiang apparently played as an actress, and which becomes
a prism for understanding her character. Some of this is quite effective
and occasionally poetic. But there are occasional scenes that have a
documentary quality, and frequent scenes that resemble a bad soap opera,
complete with gratuitous vulgarity. In the end, what redeems this opera
and makes it click is Sheng’s setting of the text and his orchestral
score: his most daringly original accomplishment to date. Most of the
text is sung on pitch one syllable at a time with almost no portamento.
This, along with frequent extreme leaps in pitch and the fact that many
of the singers must push their voices into a very high range, gives
the opera a sound reminiscent of Chinese opera. It also results in less-than-flattering
sounds from the singers. Still, there are some lovely arias and ensembles
when Sheng reverts to a more traditional idiom, and some moments when
he writes in the style of Puccini. The orchestra, which goes its own
way almost all evening, gets the best music. Here, Sheng’s imagination
knows no bounds, as he uses a large battery of percussion and an otherwise
traditional western orchestra to create an impressive variety of sounds
which imitate and expand on the traditional sounds of Chinese music.
Thundering drums, crashing cymbals, and woodblocks are called on. There
are haunting woodwind figures, brass glissandi, echoes of Puccini, a
beautiful lullaby, and even some 12-tone passages. At his best, Sheng
has so effectively managed the fusion of Western and Eastern sounds
that the music ceases to be either; it is his own. Robyn Redmon was
simply splendid as the older Jiang. With her make-up and bearing, she
bore a frightening resemblance to the real Jiang, and she matched this
with a powerful Wagnerian dramatic mezzo voice and riveting stage presence.
She was paired with lyric soprano Anna Christy as the younger Jiang.
Christy managed the high passages with aplomb, looked great, acted beautifully,
and managed to maintain her dignity even when left onstage wearing only
her underwear. Alan Opie, a Verdi baritone singing the role of Mao,
struggled with Sheng’s cruel vocal writing. But he was recognizable
as Mao, perhaps because Mao’s stiff posture and simple expressions
are so easily caricatured. Conductor John Fiore
drew a forceful and finely nuanced performance from the orchestra. Neil
Patel’s elegant abstract geometric sets were the ideal background
for this opera, and Graham’s direction, despite occasional static
lapses, was mostly natural and effective. <> |