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Inside Opera
Volume 1 Number 1

Greetings, Opera Lovers!

This is the first issue of an electronic newsletter sent to members of the Opera League of Los Angeles: Inside Opera. This and succeeding issues will discuss issues and/or personalities that will enhance your knowledge of opera productions and the particular artists appearing in them here in Los Angeles.

The goal here will be to give you, in an entertaining format, opera-related news not available in your daily newspaper or other periodicals. We welcome your comments.

Enjoy!
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Stringing Us Along

Weren't you taken with this moment? It came at the end of Act 1 of Der Rosenkavalier: The Marschallin was undergoing a quiet, agonizing self-appraisal, recognizing that time was now her enemy, and that her lover would eventually abandon her for one who is younger. It was a moment punctuated with delicacy ...... punctuated with an exquisite violin solo, played by LAO's Concertmaster Stuart Canin.

 


Concertmaster Stuart Canin

It is the sort of thing that Mr. Canin has been doing for over one-half century. When Maestro Kent Nagano became Music Director, he soon set about, in 2001, recruiting as Concertmaster Stuart Canin, an artist whom Maestro knew had been:

Concertmaster of the San Francisco Symphony from 1970-1980.

Concertmaster and violin soloist of the Chamber Symphony of Philadelphia

Concertmaster of the Casals Festival Orchestra in Puerto Rico

Concertmaster of the Mostly Mozart Festival at Lincoln Center

Concertmaster of the San Francisco Opera Orchestra

Music Director and Concertmaster for the New Century Chamber Orchestra

First Prize winner of the Paganini International Violin Competition

Awarded the Handel Medal, New York City's highest cultural award

On the faculties of the Oberlin Conservatory and the Hochschule für Musik in Germany.

Late last Spring Stuart Canin was featured at an evening at the Music Center, it being one of a series of revelatory receptions entitled, Unsung Heroes. On that night, flowing right along with the bubbly, were some great anecdotes. The crowd's favorite that night was that of Stuart at a truly "Command Performance" before the (then) leaders of the world.

World War II had just ended in Europe, and Rifleman Stuart Canin was allowed to exchange his firearm for something more suited to his talents: A G.I. Orchestra was being formed, as part of a Soldier Show Company (Josh Logan Producer), to entertain the troops still stationed in Europe. Before very long, a special entertainment request came down the line: three entertainers were to assemble and stand by to perform, if requested, for the world leaders assembling in the Berlin suburb of Potsdam.

The entertainers selected for this assignment were Stuart Canin, pianist Eugene List, and comedian Mickey Rooney. They waited a call as the conference began on July 16. After a week (Stuart still remembers living in a tent in 1945 with Mickey Rooney to be an absolute cure for boredom), the call came.

Stuart played appropriately brief selections from the music of Wieniawski, De Falla, and Kreisler. Eugene List, mindful of the brooding presence of Josef Stalin, played a group of Shostakovitch Preludes. Mickey Rooney ..... was never called upon! The officer in charge, knowing the unpredictability of Mickey, was afraid of something untoward being said to Stalin.

Even President Truman contributed to the musical interlude, playing the "Missouri Waltz" on the piano. Stuart remembers Truman musing, " I wonder if the world would have been better off if I had become a concert pianist." President Truman's ebullient mood surprised Stuart (after all, the war with Japan was continuing): it wasn't until later that Stuart learned that, while at Potsdam, Truman had been given word that the first test of our atomic bomb had been successful.


Churchill, Truman, Stalin


  Cecilienhof Palace in Potsdam


  

Stuart Canin may have helped end WW II, but he was most definitely the catalyst for the beginning of a historic feud, albeit one confined to the radio airwaves. Stuart, born in New York City, found it reasonably convenient, in 1936, to audition for the then weekly radio program of acerbic comedian Fred Allen, airing every Wednesday from 9pm to 10pm. This hour-long show included a segment wherein young aspiring musicians competed for cash awards.

Stuart auditioned, playing a work of Kreisler ---- which impressed the show's producer, but also elicited a request to play something shorter. Stuart settled on a number by Francois (Yes, that is Francois and not Franz!) Schubert: "The Bee". It usually times out at around one minute, but Stuart, taking no chances, practiced until he had it down to 45 seconds.

Stuart won that night, pocketing the $75 winner's award --- a sum three times what Stuart's father took home each week! Fred Allen, after expressing his admiration for Stuart's performance, ad-libbed a caustic barb directed at Jack Benny, contrasting this young performer's art with that of: "That thirty-nine-year-old would-be violinist, whose playing brings to mind a she wildcat defending her young. Benny can't even play on the linoleum." ...... A more eloquent declaration of war has never been framed.

Benny, whose own radio program aired on Sunday evenings and armed with three days of creative work from his own team of writers, replied in kind, and the "feud" was on!


Jack Benny Fred Allen

It wasn't exactly the Capulets vs. the Montagues, but it did "rage" over the airwaves for four years, with Stuart making guest appearances on both radio shows. Just one example --- Allen, describing a Benny performance: "Benny was doing a monologue with a pig on the stage. The pig was out there to eat the garbage that the audience threw at Benny. ...... Some nights he needed two pigs."

With "The" Feud finally wearing a little thin, Benny and Allen made, in 1940, a motion picture, "Love Thy Neighbor", in which these two real-life friends sort-of patch up their differences. Stuart was presented with a $1,000 check onstage at the Paramount Theatre at intermission of the premiere of this very forgettable film. Using this then magnificent sum of $1,000, Stuart used this award to further his continuing musical education, studying with the revered and legendary Ivan Galamian at the Juilliard School in New York.

Stuart Canin, in addition to accumulating a catalog of musical careers whose number is legion, has visited us here in Los Angeles often enough to work producing the musical background for over 650 motion pictures, serving as concertmaster for such big-name Hollywood films as Forrest Gump and Schindler's List. For the film Titanic he contributed a violin track: you can hear him during the climactic "and the band played on"scene.

Stuart, thank you. We are awed and can only ask of you: Play on ..... Please, play on.

 



Volume 1 Number 2

 

A  Team  Player

 

 

When you saw the second pair of operas for our season, perhaps you reviewed the cast and staff information for both Tosca and Parsifal and saw, of course, that Music Director Kent Nagano conducted both operas. Did you wonder: How was Maestro able to simultaneously prepare two operas for their respective production runs? How could he have rehearsed the casts and choruses for two operas, and then still have had any time and energy left to integrate the orchestra into the mix in time for each opening night?

 

The answer, of course, is: He couldn't. ……… not without help, at least.

 

The help came in the form of a supporting staff that was comprised of a combination of members of the permanent staff of LAO and some outside artists, contracted specifically for the productions at hand. Tosca had a cast of ten and a chorus of forty-eight. To help prepare for Tosca’s production run, LAO utilized two Assistant Conductors: Staff member Paul Floyd, and Kostis Protopapas, a part-time Assistant Conductor and Chorus Master with the Lyric Opera of Chicago. This revival of Tosca, substantial though it was, at least found almost all of the principals and chorus ---- and even the Supers ---- very familiar with their respective roles.

 

In contrast, the preparation for Parsifal required rehearsal effort that was at least as heroic as the opera itself. Parsifal had a cast of nineteen and a chorus of eighty-three (That included eleven “Auxiliary Tenors” that never appeared onstage, but nevertheless sang). The preparation for Parsifal involved three Assistant Conductors: Brad Moore, an Assistant Conductor from the MET; Pedro Yanez, a Voice Coach from the Santa Fe Opera; and Paul Harris, part-time with the San Francisco Opera and recently LAO’s Assistant Conductor for Aida. These three conductors basically functioned as rehearsal pianists for Parsifal.

 

Completing the team of conductors that worked under Maestro Nagano for Parsifal was Associate Conductor Walter Althammer. As an example of the strength of the Parsifal conducting team, one may examine the person of Maestro Althammer and the role he played in the preparation for this opera.

 

Maestro Althammer is no stranger to LAO, having previously worked here, first sharing the baton with Hartmut Haenchen for Orfeo ed Euridice in 2003, and then as Associate Conductor for LAO’s production of Idomeneo in 2004. Maestro Althammer, age forty-three, bears some resemblance (at least in these photos) to Gustav Mahler.

 

 

                                                   

                                                                     Althammer                                                              Mahler

 

He is thankful, though, that his wife, Dr. Maria Hafner-Althammer, a pediatrician,  is much more of an ideal life partner for him than Alma was for Gustav!

 

Maestro Althammer arrived here on October 23, just under five weeks before the first performance, and began rehearsals the very next day, first with the Flower Maidens (as they arrived), then with the covers for the principals, the chorus, and, of course, ultimately, the principals themselves. Singers and musicians have their respective unions to ensure that they are not called to rehearse more than twice per day, but conductors have no such constraint. So Maestro’s rehearsal schedule quickly evolved into a regular routine of three-per-day rehearsals (that's 9-10 hours per day) for six-to-seven days per week. Just as with his work in Idomeneo, Maestro’s responsibility was largely limited to work with singers and piano only.

  

Details that the average opera-goer would not think of had to be addressed. For example, in the processionals in Acts 1 and 3 one heard low-frequency chimes, mimicking the measured tread of the knights. Here at LAO, a synthesizer generated these chimes. A special listening/coordination session was held to settle on the synthesizer's controls, so that the desired tone and timbre of the chimes could be established.

 

The rare day off either found Maestro, for example, sitting in on the Sitzprobe for Tosca or, as often as possible, camped out in LAO’s Music Library. Maestro, soon to conduct his first Lucia in Ulm, spent almost all of his spare time studying the score and noting the bow markings that the LAO orchestra used for its Lucia in 2003.

 

Although this tour of duty with LAO allowed Maestro close to zero time for visiting points of interest in our community, his earlier visits here have found him in such varied cultural and historic venues as the Schoenberg Villa in Brentwood (where he was the dinner guest of Ronald, Arnold’s son), the Heroes Garden high up at the Drescher Campus of Pepperdine University in Malibu (a site honoring the heroes of UAL Flight # 93 on 9/11), and Canter’s Deli on Fairfax (where he inhaled his very first pastrami sandwich).

 

In a way, much of Maestro Althammer’s career to date served as preparation for this project. Twenty years ago, in one of his first professional jobs, he worked as Assistant Conductor, a.k.a. rehearsal pianist, under the direction of Wolfgang Sawallisch for a production of Parsifal. Since then his career has progressed, as he has assisted renowned conductors such as Bernard Haitink, Riccardo Chailly, and Hartmut Haenchen in the preparation for concerts, operas, and off-stage orchestras. His own work as principal conductor has largely been confined to lower-echelon houses in locales such as Amsterdam, Rousse (Bulgaria), and Ulm (Germany).

 

Occasionally the opportunity to conduct a performance at a major house presents itself. Such was the case two years ago here in Los Angeles for Orfeo. Maestro Haenchen was the principal conductor, with Maestro Althammer slated to conduct one of the seven performances. A late return flight from Europe delayed Maestro Haenchen one Saturday, and, as a consequence, Maestro Althammer got to conduct a second performance. Joshua Kosman of the San Francisco Chronicle wrote, “Conductor Walter Althammer led a lithe, vibrant orchestra performance.”

 

Getting to work with both singers and orchestra, plus conducting actual performances has been the ‘Best Of Times’. However, as satisfying as it was to be a central cog in the creation of this Parsifal production, there remained some frustration in, once again, being constrained to work almost exclusively with singers, chorus, and piano. In fact, Maestro Althammer was unable to linger here for Parsifal’s opening night: he had a commitment to conduct a concert in Amsterdam and had to depart Los Angeles on November 23rd.

 

An unspoken ambition of Maestro Althammer is to establish a career as principal/resident conductor at a major opera house, and many of the “apprenticeships” as Associate Conductor have been accepted, no doubt, with that goal in mind. Still, as an additional consideration, Maestro now also strives for balance between his professional and private life. Besides his wife Maria, he has two children: Katharina, just beginning formal schooling, and Maximilian, age four. His professional obligations often require him to be absent from them for long periods of time, and, when that happens, he misses them dearly.

 

Maestro Nagano clearly values the work of Maestro Althammer very highly: Parsifal and Le Nozze di Figaro will be Maestro Nagano’s last two operas to conduct before he leaves LAO, and he has chosen Maestro Althammer to be his Associate Conductor for both of them. This confidence was further manifested once during the third week of rehearsals when Maestro Nagano, although scheduled to conduct the midday rehearsal, took the unusual step of having Maestro Althammer conduct the entire three-hour session, with Maestro Nagano simply being the audience, listening and observing.

 

Although Figaro will be the final opera here in Los Angeles for the Nagano-Althammer

combination, we shouldn’t be surprised, given the circumstances of past experience and future commitment, if this collaboration is renewed in Europe. Come next July, Maestro Nagano will be assuming the position of Music Director at the Bavarian State Opera, an entity for which Maestro Althammer has previously worked as Voice Coach.

 

Maestro Walter Althammer: you didn't see him on the podium for Parsifal; you probably didn't even find his name in the program; but you wouldn't have enjoyed a polished performance without his contributions to the rehearsals. Away from us in Europe on The Night Before Christmas, the occasion likely found Maestro with visions, not of sugarplums, but of Flower Maidens .......... dancing in his head.

 

 

 

Photos: Robert Millard & HGO                            Photo Montage: May Wang of OLLA

 

 


Inside Opera
Volume 1 Number 3

Propping Up Los Angeles Opera

 

 

It was Sunday evening, January 15, and the end of Act 1, Scene 2 of Twilight of the Gods at Long Beach Opera’s production of Wagner’s Ring was in sight. Siegfried had drunk that amnesia-rendering potion and the time was fast approaching for Siegfried and Gunter to drink their “Blood Toast”.

 

    The staging called for the wine goblet to be setting on an anvil in mid-stage. The anvil was to be a convenient, dramatic prop for the goblet to rest on. Then, as each man made a cut on his hand, a few drops of blood would fall into the goblet, there to mix with the wine.

 

    Only one problem loomed on the horizon: There was no anvil on stage!

 

    Dean Elzinga, singing Hagen and having earned an advanced degree in mathematics from Cal Tech, had no difficulty in determining that the stage was short exactly 1.0 anvils. Fortunately, Mr. Elzinga made this determination just as the score granted him a few measures respite from singing. Dean sidled backstage and shortly returned, anvil in hand.

 

Kirk Graves, Production Properties Coordinator for LA Opera for the past eighteen seasons, had nothing to do with this (temporarily) missing anvil, but he did, in the Spring of 2002, obtain an anvil for LA Opera. Kirk secured an honest-to-goodness anvil from The Sisters Of Charity of Rolling Hills, a benevolent organization that accepts used household goods and either sells these items or redirects them to the Needy. Sister Angela Breeden, one of the Catholic Nuns at this Rancho Palos Verdes facility and having seen LAO’s production of the Bach Mass in B minor, personally certified LAO as being needy. Kirk went to the Sisters’ establishment solely to secure the anvil, but wound up also bringing back a full truckload of used furniture.

 

    Foraging is one of Kirk’s major functions as Properties Coordinator. As the opportunities present themselves Mr. Graves frequents garage sales, estate sales, and otherwise responds to ads in local newspapers that promise to be a source for potential stage props.

 

    Kirk’s office reflects his duties as a collector of things. The photo below shows Kirk holding a remnant of LAO’s own ‘Phantom of the Opera’ (actually, just one of the alternate skull designs considered for last season’s Der Rosenkavalier). The Native American figure to his right is Pocahantes, a prop unlikely to ever make an appearance on the stage of the Chandler.

                                                       

 

Kirk --- with Pocahantes and Rosenkavalier artifac

 

Having a ready supply of used furniture has proven fortuitous on many occasions, one being just two years ago when the soon-to-be-revived production of Le nozze di Figaro was put together. In the early Spring of 2004, the Creative Team headed by Jürgen Flimm canceled its commitment to LAO for this (then) new production. So, starting from scratch, a new team of Ian Judge, Tim Goodchild, and Deirdre Clancy --- indispensably served by Kirk Graves --- put together this present production in only ten weeks, easily the record for anything of this nature that LAO has ever done.

 

    Although almost all of Figaro’s props are medium-to-small pieces of furniture (four full sets of furniture are needed), it is the concluding fireworks which is the most memorable of the production’s stage props. For this display, fifteen sets of floor mortars are used, with each canister having both a lifting charge and an aerial charge in its construction. Interestingly, the local fire marshal gave his (supervised, to be sure) blessing to this exciting-looking fireworks, but forbad the use of sparklers.

 

Another display of raw firepower was used in LAO’s 1997 production of Monteverdi’s Il Ritorno d'Ulisse in Patria (The Return of Ulysses to his Homeland). In the course of the story, Ulysses returns and, in a rage, fights and kills the suitors that have been pestering his faithful wife Penelope. The scene emphasized Ulysses’ rage and fierceness of the battle with a wall of fire that erupted, coinciding with Ulysses’ firing an arrow to the back wall of the set: The propane was planned to ignite just as the arrow crossed the jets’ plane of reference. This ignition was not triggered by the arrow, of course, but rather by a timed musical cue: Ulysses simply had to get that arrow to the rear wall right on time, else the scene’s effectiveness would be lost

 

 

Photo by Ken Howard for LAO               Il Ritorno d'Ulisse in Patria --- 1997

 

Sir Thomas Allen was this production’s Ulysses and often had trouble loading the arrow and drawing the bow. He never really ‘got the hang’ of slipping the bowstring into the arrow notch in an expeditious manner: some nights it looked as though he might have to throw the arrow, in order for it to get to the back wall on cue!

 

Usually, Kirk is not required to be in attendance for performances, but Ulysses was an exception. This production was unique in that it used a live prop: Marimba, a South African Martial Eagle (Polemaetus Bellicosus) , accompanied by its trainer, served as the incarnation of the god Jupiter. The eagle, when it chose to show off its nine-foot wingspan, was what lawyers call an “attractive nuisance”. Backstage, with Marimba secured on a short tether, LAO established a seven foot radial "no-fly" zone, and it was Kirk’s job to keep Lookie-Lous away from Big Bird and its trainer.

 

Kirk, proving himself adept at human psychology, accomplished this by surreptitiously initiating two rumors:

1)       That Marimba, when in the wild, was known to bring down 150 lb. Thomson Gazelles

2)       That, when Marimba followed you about the set with his eyes, he was routinely evaluating where exactly your place in the Food Chain lay

When these rumors got back to Kirk, he would, as you might guess, decline to deny them.

 

    Of course, there are fires and there are fireworks, but there are also firearms, and LAO uses real weapons: real swords, real spears, and real guns that fire real …….. blanks.  The weapons are stored in a super-secret room in the bowels of the Chandler. Below is a photo of Kirk in The Armory, holding in his right hand one of the bolt-action, Russian Mosin-Nagant rifles used by the firing squad in Tosca. The semiautomatic pistol in Kirk's left hand hasn't been fired on stage yet, LAO still proceeding cautiously when considering the use of weapons of mass destruction.

 

Kirk --- in The Armory

 

Besides the medium size props (furniture), there are BIG props and little props. An example of a BIG prop was the set LAO rented from the Netherlands Opera for Pelleas et Melisande. This set, a model of a three-story home, was suspended from the ceiling of the theater, with each floor being cantilevered out from stage rear. That meant that the suspended set had to be engineered, with safe net load weights established for each floor, all furniture weighed and even every singer’s body weight taken into consideration.

 

An example of a little prop is a candle; say, for example, that pair of candles so ceremoniously repositioned by Tosca, after causing Scarpia to assume room temperature. First of all: Yes, the candles are real, and, yes, Tosca’s shawl is made out of flame retardant material. Now, the candles, remember, are sitting on a stage that slopes front-to-back. So, in order to have each flame burn in a line coincident with its respective candle stem, the base of each candleholder must include a wedge that “takes out” the slope of the stage. No way would we want to drip melted candle wax onto Scarpia’s furniture!

 

    That anvil which Kirk obtained from Sister Angela has yet to be used. To the surprise of some, anvils were not used when LAO last revived our production of Il Trovatore in 2004, Stage Director Stephen Lawless reasoning that the famous Anvil Chorus is not really about anvils, but about gypsies, celebrating and talking about how sexy women enrich their lives [ Ed. Note: Just like Happy Hour in our contemporary society! ].

 

    But, perhaps, when LAO produces the Wagner Ring Cycle in a few years, we will finally see Siegfried and Gunter, primed for a “Blood Toast”, setting their communal goblet on that anvil Kirk Graves obtained back in 2002 from Sister Angela.

 

Acknowledgments:

 

       1) Thanks to Kirk Graves, for taking time away from what has to be the most fun job in all of the Fine Arts, to share his experiences with us

 

       2) Thanks to Doris Koplik, LBO Media/Publicity Liaison, for providing the photo of the Blood Toast from LBO's Dress Rehearsal

 

       3) Thanks to Bob Cable, LAO Public Relations Manager, for his cooperation and perseverance in tracking down that photo of Marimba with his Trainer (costumed photo)

 

       4) Thanks to Mary Corrigan, LAO Office Manager, whose power of recollection regarding past productions dwarfs my own

 

 

 


 

Inside Opera

Volume 1 Number 4

 

A Rose by Any Other Name, etc.

 

 

 

Maestro Nagano spoke at the Little Tokyo Japanese Cultural Center last May 15. He spoke regarding his personal involvement with the musical creation: "Manzanar: An American Story", performed at UCLA on June 2.

 

Maestro Nagano speaks very well in this sort of informal, off-the-cuff situation. Among the several personal and family anecdotes that he shared with the audience was the fascinating and entertaining (at least, the way he told it) story of why his ancestral name is not really "Nagano".

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The family name is, historically, Eto, with a long "o" (It could be spelled Etoh or Etou, in order to get the long vowel sound).

 

His grandfather, born in Japan, was the youngest of six brothers. This circumstance, deemed as fortunate because sons were at that time greatly preferred over daughters, ultimately became a problem because all six sons survived childhood, and, as the brothers approached maturity, a familial conundrum developed:

        a) It would not be feasible to divide the family farm six ways.

        b) The younger five brothers were not of a mind to (ultimately) work as servants for their oldest brother.

 

An initial, partial solution to this problem was to give away Maestro's grandfather to another family which lacked sons ---- and part and parcel of this arrangement was for grandfather to assume the name of this adopted family, the name being (you guessed it): "Nagano". BUT: the Japanese-based Naganos were silk weavers, located in a region that adjoined silkworm growers, and Maestro's grandfather quickly developed an aversion to every characteristic of the silkworm.

 

It happened that, more-or-less concurrent with the disenchantment of Maestro Nagano's grandfather with the silkworm industry, an additional attempt to reduce the family oversupply of sons was now settled upon: the intermediate four brothers would emigrate to America (via ship). Maestro's grandfather asked to be included in this plan, but was turned down, his brothers citing his new obligation to the Nagano family.

 

Because one of the four brothers became ill prior to sailing, only three of the Eto brothers departed Japan for the New World ...... that is, until ten days into the voyage (in the vicinity of Hawaii), when grandfather "miraculously" appeared! (Yes! --- A stowaway!) [Ed.note: This recounting evoked thoughts of the movie A Night at the Opera, only imagining Zeppo appearing during that cross-Atlantic voyage to join up with Groucho, Chico, and Harpo.]

 

USA customs, having proved to be an insurmountable hurdle, caused the brothers to settle for a country less finicky about visas and that sort-of-thing: Mexico. Times were surely difficult, as the brothers settled in with neither English nor Spanish in their resumes.

 

The brothers became New World farmers, and Maestro's grandfather reassumed the family name of Eto. It was then that a break in the family history took place: at one point in time the four brothers were farming in Mexico, and then several years later they all reappeared as farmers in the Los Angeles area. (Maestro likens this gap in his family history to the same sort of gap occasioned by former Presidential Secretary Rosemary Wood's erasure of 20 minutes of Richard Nixon's Watergate Tapes.)

 

Because of hard work, diligence, and good fortune the four brothers prospered and, ultimately, spread out over California: one to Fresno, one to Sacramento, and two, including Maestro's grandfather, resettled in the Central Coastal area (Morro Bay and Pismo Beach).

 

The two brothers in the Central Coastal area continued to prosper, so much so that, very often, market orders for one brother's business would be confused with the other brother's business. In order to put an end to the confusion between the two Eto businesses, Maestro's grandfather changed his name ---- again. He, undoubtedly recalling the prior precedent in Japan, chose (you guessed it again): "Nagano".

 

So it is, whenever someone asks Maestro, "Are you related to ________ Nagano?", Maestro can confidently reply, "Highly unlikely!"

 

Acknowledgment:

 

OLLA Member Kimiyo Sasaki organized the event in Little Tokyo and graciously corrected my notes with respect to the spelling of Japanese surnames, and also reviewed my notes for general accuracy. I especially appreciated Kimiyo's not laughing too overtly at my pronunciation of Numajiri, Eto, etc.

 

 

 


 

Inside Opera

Volume 1 Number 5

 

 

 

Garnering More Backstage Magic

                                              

                                                     

 

Many of us in the Opera League began the current season, 'way back last summer, by attending a league-sponsored showing of the award-winning Zeffirelli film of Pagliacci, featuring Placido Domingo and Teresa Stratas.

 

In the scene where the character of the misshapen clown Tonio sings of his love for Nedda (Subito ho l'incanto; M'ha vinto l'amor), Zeffirelli staged the scene so as to have Nedda bathing a young, naked boy, the youngster standing in a tub of water. Filmed as it was and using a sufficiently discrete camera angle, the scene was a charming portrayal of a bit of rustic life and, in the context of the opera, reinforced Tonio's growing affection for Nedda.

 

This same basic Zeffirelli production was the one used here by LAO, but it was not feasible, of course, for LAO to have a naked child on stage. Instead, for the dress rehearsal, the young boy wore a pair of shorts for the bathing scene. While now modest, the scene lacked credibility: one just doesn't take a bath while wearing shorts. 

                                  
Stanley M. Garner, the Assistant Stage Director for Pagliacci, had a better idea. 

 

Mr. Garner replaced the boy with a young girl, and, instead of being bathed, the girl had her hair being combed by Nedda. Now we had a scene that both preserved the spirit of down-home, rural life and had no distracting inconsistencies in its staging.

 

Mr. Garner 'called the shots' on this change because Zeffirelli didn't make it here for this revival of his design, and Associate Director Marco Gandini departed our city on September 10, prior to opening night. So it was Mr. Garner who supervised all of the regular stage performances of this spectacular, multilevel creation of the teeming streets and crowded tenements of the on-stage city and applied his special touches of stage intelligence to the existing design.

 

 

 

Stanley M. Garner

LAO Photo

 

This is something that Stanley Garner has become known throughout the operatic world as being an expert in doing. As an Assistant Director (or Restage Director, as some opera companies prefer) he can take a particular creation's Production Book, an amalgam of stage directions, lighting cues, etc., and convert these "cold" words into a perfectly timed reproduction of the original stage concept, often making good-sense modifications along the way.

 

LAO has benefited from Mr. Garner's expertise in times past for many productions, his working between 1-4 productions per season, ever since 1994. Included in these productions were those of Xerxes, Die Zauberflöte, La boheme, and, of course, this same production of Pagliacci in 1996. His strongest memories, quite naturally, remain with the productions of La boheme and Die Zauberflöte for which he got 'top billing' as the Stage Director.

 

For his La boheme in 2004, Stan worked to make the production more true-to-life and to alter those bits of stagecraft that might distract from the primary storyline. For example: In Act Two he had the chorus remain on stage, thus avoiding the distraction of a large number of people reiteratively entering and exiting; In Act Four he deleted the bicycles (Think about it: what is the likelihood of people riding bicycles about on a rooftop, anyhow?) and gave the painter Marcello a real-life female model, posing for a portrait (topless for the evening performances, but wearing a shirt for the student matinees)

 

It was his adaptation of Sir Peter Hall's production of Die Zauberflöte which has proved to be, so far, the most lasting of his creations. Stan took the production we saw here at LAO in 1998 and streamlined it --- eliminating much dialogue and having the scenes flow into one another rapidly (much as we've seen him do with the just-completed Figaro performance run). A major convert to (and advocate of) Stan's re-creation was Gerald Scarfe, Set and Costume Designer of the original production.

 

His creation was first performed for the Seattle Opera in 1999 and then reprised for LAO in 2002, the cast, if you recall, including Michael Schade, Rod Gilfry, Sumi Jo, and the never-to-be-forgotten, pulse-quickening Andrea Rost as Pamina. Since then it has been used by several other opera houses. Stan refers to it as the "gift that keeps giving". [Ed Note: One gathers that royalties are a factor here.]

 

                                  

                                                             

   Andrea Rost as Pamina                                              Sumi Jo as Die Königin der Nacht       

 

                                        Photos by Ken Howard for LAO

                    

An examination of Mr. Garner's career affirms the natural suspicion that one must typically follow a devious route when developing a career in stage direction. Stan's parents encouraged him to persevere through piano lessons in his youth, succeeding to the extent that he largely bankrolled his way through Northeastern Oklahoma State University (at Tahlequah) on a piano scholarship.

 

Graduating with a degree in (and a dislike for!) piano, Stan eased into the world of perpetual auditions, working as an actor of primarily classical orientation (Shakespeare and the like). After ten years of this, it was the "crossover" role of Pasha Selim for the L'Opera de Montreal's production of Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail that built the bridge for Stan to migrate over into the field of opera. Connecticut Opera, after seeing him as Pasha Selim, offered him a contract to direct its 1990 production of Le Nozze di Figaro.

 

Mr. Garner admits to being the most nervous of any time in his professional life when the curtain rose on his Connecticut Opera Figaro. For the first time ever, he realized that matters were now out of his personal, hands-on control. Heretofore he had been an actor, accountable only for his own performance on stage, and now he was dependent upon others whom he had trained. To his delight, the singers followed his directions and the audience laughed and applauded just as reliably as any preprogrammed sound track for one of Gary Marshall's TV programs. A career in stage direction had begun.

 

Mr. Garner has left his mark on opera companies throughout the U.S., working at venues as varied as the Virginia Opera, the Santa Fe Opera, the Washington National Opera, and the Seattle Opera.

 

It was at the Seattle Opera in 1998 that Stanley Garner helped create and choreograph a scene, which devotees of Wagner still enjoy ..... In fact, some fortunate ones of our number witnessed it once again last summer. I speak of the Seattle Opera's production of Das Rheingold. In the opening scene, Wagner's original concept calls for the three Rhine Daughters to simultaneously "swim" and sing throughout the twenty minute scene.

 

Mr. Garner, working with Director Steven Wadsworth, put together what is still seen on the stage to this day. His planning began thus: "On his computer, Garner made a grid of five horizontal divisions and three vertical divisions, like a three-by-five tic-tac-toe. He then created small ovals for a bird's-eye view and stick figures for a straight-on view. These he dragged around his screen until he had the whole scene mapped out, complete with Alberich the dwarf scuttling around the reefs at ground level."

 

 

Photo by Rozarii Lynch for Seattle Opera

 

 

The entire creative process for the above is chronicled and may be read via this hyperlink:

 

Click here: Seattle Opera

 

You can read for yourself that, compared to this effort, directing our revival of Pagliacci must have seemed like 'child's play'.

 

And, speaking of Child's Play, those of us with either small children or small grandchildren may have enjoyed Mr. Garner's expertise on Saturday mornings, as well as Saturday evenings: Twice Stan has directed (for school children and their lucky parents) "The Magic Dream", LAO's hour-long adaptation of the Mozart classic. In this production, Stan, harking back to his own childhood experiences in watching Saturday morning television, has the operatic principals breaking the "third wall" and speaking directly to the children in the audience.

 

Stan, with the Figaro performance run going well, was able to spend some earnest time prepping for LAO's 20th Anniversary Gala on April 19. Once again, Stan is the Stage Director, and, keeping true to his goal to 'never leave anything to the inspiration of the moment', he has been preparing himself for this time-critical task of readying a wave of singers to perform well for this celebratory event.

 

Here we see him, illuminated by one of the chandeliers from Prince Orlovsky's Palace, looking for insights into Die Fledermaus:

                                   

Stanley M. Garner, a sometimes Stage Director for LAO ..... Someone who puts a human face and an artistic touch to the words of a Production Book.

 

 


Inside Opera

Volume 1 Number 6

 

A Straight-Shooter From Texas

 

 

f you were in Los Angeles in the late spring of 1994, you probably made it a point to go to the Mark Taper Forum and see a performance of Terrence McNally's "Master Class", with Zoe Caldwell portraying the character of Maria Callas. There you heard the character of Anthony Candolini, a brash young tenor, sing the aria from Tosca, “Recondita armonia”. He sang it, first somewhat affectedly (and was marked down), but then repeated it with such a purity of feeling that his mentor, overcome with emotion, said, “I have never really listened to it before.”

 

If you were in the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion on either the afternoon of November 29 or December 5 of 2005 for either of LAO's two student matinee performances of Tosca, you heard this same real-life tenor, now a bit more world-wise, sing, not only that particular aria, but also the entire opera in the role of Mario Cavaradossi.

 

The tenor, on both occasions:  Jay Hunter Morris.

 

Jay Hunter Morris; Zoe Caldwell

                 Master Class

Photo from Jay Hunter Morris’ Website

 

An enduring memory of Morris' is that of him, with Ms. Caldwell on his arm, regularly patronizing (what was then) Otto’s Restaurant after performances and schmoozing with the likes of Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau.

 

So it was, in a novel bit of “luxury casting”, LAO contracted for Mr. Morris to sing both these two student performances and to cover the role of Mario for the first six regular performances of Tosca. Interestingly enough, Mr. Morris had never sung the complete opera until he returned here for the revival of this old LAO favorite. For those two performances of Tosca, those lucky students who, most probably, had never had the opportunity to listen to it before, heard an impassioned declaration of Mario Cavaradossi’s love for the beautiful Floria Tosca.

 

It has been just this sort of role that has been favored by Mr. Morris in his career so far: Werther, Pinkerton, Canio, Rodolfo, the Drum Major (in Wozzeck), etc. For those of you who wonder, the answer is: Yes, Cheryl Barker is the most beautiful soprano that Jay Hunter has had the pleasure of embracing on stage.

                                                              

    

                            

 

In Wozzeck @ Santa Fe in 2001               With the luscious Cheryl Barker in

                                                                Sydney's 1998 Butterfly

Photos from Jay Hunter Morris’ Website

 

For this production of Tosca, Jay Hunter, ever mindful of the volumes of operatic lore associated with various on-stage anomalous happenings during performances (the springy trampoline, the suicidal firing squad, etc.), took all of the necessary precautions that he could think of to assure that nothing untoward happened to him. In Tosca the firing squad is typically composed of six to eight supers. In LAO's production, some of the firing squad fire loud blanks; the rest fire wads of material that go, “Poof!” On our opening night, one or two of the “Poofers” pulled their respective triggers prematurely, and emitted a rather “tame” report that the audience heard. Salvatore Licitra, the Cavaradossi for the occasion, had the good sense to sort-of stagger in response to this early discharge and then to fall when the “real blanks” were fired.

 

Jay Hunter recognized that, given the rather close quarters separating Cavaradossi from the Firing Squad and observing the high exit velocity of the Poofing material, realized that, if the Poofing material hit him below the waist, there was a finite possibility of an accidental impact transmogrifying him (at least on a temporary basis) from voice type tenor to that of countertenor. So, during rehearsals, Jay Hunter gave firm instructions to his Firing Squad, “Aim high, fellas!”

                             

                                Jay Hunter & His Tosca, Susan Foster

                                           Photo by Bob Bernard

 

Both Susan and Jay joined the other principals in going up the balcony immediately following each Student Matinee and engaging those seated there in a "up close and personal" Q & A session that more than compensated these students for not being seated down below in better seats.

 

Although a native of Paris, Texas, Jay Hunter has yet to see the film of the same name [Tip: This is a marvelous film, starring Harry Dean Stanton and Nastassja Kinski, an engrossing meditation on loneliness, alienation, family, and redemption]. Jay admits that Paris, Texas, is just a gritty small town, but he, right along with its chamber of commerce, boasts of a very predominant civic landmark. Las Vegas may have its London Bridge nearby in Lake Havasu City, but Paris, Texas, has its Eiffel Tower, an accurate, sixty-five foot replica ….. topped with a cowboy hat!

 

                            

                             The Eiffel Tower, Texas Style

                             Photo from Paris, Texas Chamber of Commberce website

 

Jay Hunter’s undergraduate work was done at Baylor University and, later on, he studied under the same voice coach at Southern Methodist University as did another Texas tenor, Gary Lakes (Recall Gary as Samson and then as Aeneas (in Les Troyens). Jay Hunter could have joined the faculty at Baylor, but Waco is simply too small, too gritty for Jay’s taste. Texas will likely never leave Jay Hunter [He lapses into a delightful drawl at the drop of a (cowboy) hat, delivering one anecdote after another], although Jay Hunter has most definitely left Texas. Of recent date he has appeared as Mitch in A Streetcar Named Desire, the prison Chaplin in Dead Man Walking, and Captain James Nolan in Doctor Atomic, all productions with the San Francisco Opera.

 

The years since his Tony in Master Class have affected Jay Hunter in predictable ways. Each of the last six years have found him traveling and working for eleven months out of twelve, and this, combined with his girl friend’s stay-at-home job (She is a Broadway dancer, doing eight shows per week), finally brought about the termination of what had been a fine relationship.

 

Over the years, he has acquired his own bag of stage tricks, one of the most essential being the art of on-stage vocal chord lubrication. The need for this first manifested itself during a performance of Die Meistersinger. Jay Hunter, singing the role of Walter opposite the magnificent Hans Sachs of James Morris, had loaded up on a big jug of Gatorade, the idea being to give him enough energy to last the duration for this marathon of an opera. A problem developed near the end of Scene 1 of the third act when the high concentration of sodium in the Gatorade began to dry out Jay’s throat. The cotton buildup in his mouth got so bad that Jay was almost driven to extemporize an emergency lube job by snatching away from James Morris the beer stein (containing water) that the senior Mr. Morris held on stage.

 

The above experience so traumatized him that Jay Hunter went to a small wad of chewing gum, secreted in the recesses of a cheek, as an insurance policy and peace-of-mind guarantor for those occasional lubrication needs. Of course, if one puts something in one’s mouth, there is always the chance that that something just might migrate downhill into the throat. This happened once in Frankfurt when, one night, a wad of Spearmint came along south while Jay was pulling in a breath. After a brief game of ping-pong between larynx and pharynx, the wad was expelled via a spontaneous cough that caused the wad to fly out in a perfect arc, over the stage lights, and into the orchestra pit, where it came to rest on the trouser leg of a violist.

 

Jay Hunter now uses tic-tacs for his emergency lubrication needs.

 

At age forty-two, Jay Hunter Morris has made the sort of career self-assessment that almost all professionals must make at one time or another. We quote from the Introduction section of his website:

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I try not to put my self-worth up for public debate. My Mom once told me I was just fishin' for compliments when I read reviews, so now I don't. I go out there and try. I've worked my way up to the lower middle echelon of my field, but I am not finished.

 

I've learned that for me, there probably won't be some big break, some new production or role or voice lesson or coaching that just brings it all together and everything will suddenly just click, and I'll be a great tenor and in great demand and will possess a flawless technique and I will behave properly and have panache and be clever and artsy and thin and everyone will love me. I just have to do the work. I have to study hard and practice wisely and passionately, and I should either be smart, or find an agent who is …….. Think I'll go with the smart agent.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Jay Hunter has joined us again for LAO’s world premiere of Grendel. Jay will sing the role of Unferth, a hero-type thane as depicted in the John Gardner book. As Unferth, he will be costumed in personalized body armor designed by the Schmitthenner Armory of Screven, Georgia.

 

As both an example of  the Armory's product and an indication of what we may expect Jay Hunter to wear on stage, we see below a suitably equipped Gerald Butler (as Beowulf) that the Armory provided the battleware for in the 2005 film Beowulf & Grendel

                                  

                                                      Gerald Butler in Beowulf & Grendel

 

The Schmitthenner Armory, if nothing else, is authentic. A family business, going back five centuries,it has served royalty, tracing its lineage to both 'Philip the Handsome' of Spain (1478 - 1506) and Philip's son, Ferdinand I, Holy Roman Emperor (1503 - 1564), Ferdinand having once ruled over Austria, Germany, Bohemia, and Hungary. The Armory belongs to the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism), and their motto is: " A Nobleman's Selection at a Peasant's Price".

 

 

Jay Hunter Morris is not finished. Maybe this will be the new production that ‘brings it all together’. Jay is studying hard, practicing wisely, and we should never, never doubt his passion for his art.

 

                                                

                                   

                                                  Jay Hunter Morris

 

[Ed. Note: I don't care what the libretto calls for, I'll be rooting for Jay Hunter when Unferth fights Grendel!]

 


Inside Opera

Volume 1 Number 7

 

Setting   The   Scene

 

 

   and  

 

 

 

I hope that, when you saw LAO’s recent revival of Robert Wilson’s Madama Butterfly, you didn't linger too long over intermission refreshments, talking with friends, but rather returned to your seat early enough for you to settle back and allow the carefully crafted ambiance of the stage, as it was projected out into the theater, envelope you and prepare you for what was to come.

 

Long before the house lights dimmed and Maestro Dan Ettinger returned to the podium, there was much for the audience to absorb. What we saw was a scrim, the initial impression of which for almost everyone being, undoubtedly, that of a collection of black, horizontally oriented swatches of amorphous shapes, all on a white background. The color of black, of course, having the connotation of death.

 

The basic construction of the scrim was conventional, it being made of white honeycomb cotton. The lighting was also conventional: The stage was lit from behind, with no lighting directly striking the scrim (This would have reduced its translucency). The sparse set, with its rock and chair, was clearly visible.

                         

                         Photo by Maiko Nezu, Design Assistant at LAO

 

What was not conventional was the design painted on the scrim.

 

The images on the scrim, random in appearance, 'set the scene' most dramatically. Using a technique reminiscent of traditional Japanese Sumi-E line brush drawings, images had been painted on the scrim with dry, ruff, uneven strokes --- strokes largely devoid of energy. They conveyed feelings of uneasiness and turmoil. One could not help but feel disturbed while looking at them. They set the scene for the tragedy that was to come.

 

For a close-up view of this scrim, both its genesis and its construction particulars, we had a conversation with Stephanie Engeln, Set Designer for both Parsifal and Madama Butterfly and a frequent collaborator with Robert Wilson.

 

The original design image for the scrim was created by Robert Wilson himself in Paris in 1992. He, with a single gesture, applied color to a lithograph stone, and it was from this abstract lithograph that the graphic design model was generated. Below is the graphic design model, as given to the painter:

 

                               

                                Image courtesy of Stephanie Engeln

 

And the following photograph shows LAO's scrim being painted in Mr. Wilson's Paris workshop:

 

                               

                                Photo courtesy of Stephanie Engeln

 

From lithograph design ... to graphic design .... to workshop painting ....... to transport and installation in the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion: A product of many minds and many skills, plus a journey of thousands of miles. Quite a story for a scrim used at intermission time.

 

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