Saturday, October 24, 2009 - LA TRAVIATA (Program Notes | Story Synopsis)
Saturday, December 12, 2009 - HOLIDAY MAGIC
Sunday, March 21, 2010 - Celebrating J.S. Bach's 325th Birthday - SAINT JOHN PASSION
Saturday, May 28, 2010 - MUSICAL TWINS

October 24, 2009

LA TRAVIATA

Giuseppe Verdi’s La Traviata, one of the most beloved operas in the repertory, is so familiar that we are tempted to ignore its uniqueness.  Verdi chose the subject on the spur of the moment and composed the first version in about six weeks. The title of an early draft was Amore e morte (Love and Death). Of the premiere in Venice in March 1853, he wrote:  “a large fiasco—and worse, they laughed.” The subject was controversial, the singers inadequate, and the leading soprano too robust-looking to be convincing as a victim of consumption (as tuberculosis was then called). Revised into the version we know today for a revival a year later, again in Venice, La Traviata was a triumph.

La Traviata is the only one of Verdi’s 26 operas, and probably the first serious opera ever, to have a contemporary setting. The action occurs in 1840, though censorship forced early productions to pretend an earlier era.  Not merely contemporary, but documentary: the story is true.  The real Violetta (notice the name), Marie Duplessis, was born to poverty, rose to wealth and celebrity as a courtesan (more about that term shortly), and died of consumption at age 23. She was known as the Lady of the Camellias because she wore a white camellia every day except for those days when she was “unavailable,” in which case she wore a red one. Alexandre Dumas the Younger was one of her lovers and chose that title for a novel based on her life. The novel opens gruesomely with the exhumation of the heroine’s decayed body, a scene Dumas actually witnessed. (The opera mercifully omits it.) The fictional Marie is renamed Marguerite Gauthier. Dumas then turned the novel into a play which became a starring vehicle for such luminaries as Sarah Bernhardt, Eleanora Duse, and ultimately Greta Garbo, whose 1937 Hollywood film Camille is a famous period-costume weeper, far from the intentions of the original novel and Verdi’s opera.

Women in 19th century Paris had few options: the wage slavery of factory work, respectable bourgeois marriage (often another kind of slavery), or what Dumas dubbed the “demi-monde,” a complex world of precisely graded sexual relationships for which the word “prostitution” is an inadequate description. At the bottom were “grisettes,” poor girls who either lived unmarried with equally poor Bohemians (like Mimi in Puccini’s La boheme, another consumptive) or were “kept” by middle-class married men. At the top were high-class courtesans, women valued not only for their sexual favors but for their conversation, culture, and social connections. They were “protected” by wealthy members of the ruling elite. Such courtesans held regular salons at which important men mingled with decorative women. Such a courtesan was Marie Duplessis, Marguerite Gauthier, Violetta Valery, Camille. 

The novel, play, and opera are indictments of this system. They are angry works. As Dumas has his heroine say, “We no longer belong to ourselves. We are no longer beings, but things.” Verdi had a personal stake in this. The woman with whom he lived for most of his life, “Peppina,” was not his wife. Before then, she had already borne several children out of wedlock to other men. She was despised as a “fallen woman,” and their living together was considered scandalous. It is likely she had a hand in choosing the subject, and as a retired opera singer she helped him by singing portions of Violetta’s music as he composed it.

Early reviews of La Traviata labelled it immoral, depraved, filthy, and so on; its heroine was a modern woman who lived by selling herself. But for Verdi, she IS the heroine. Alfredo is an immature lovesick puppy. He may be admirable in his devotion to Violetta, but when he turns against her in Act II, Scene 2, he becomes unbearably vicious. His father, the elder Germont, manipulates Violetta’s emotions purely out of self-interest; if his son consorts with a fallen woman, his daughter won’t make a respectable marriage. (His aria “Di provenza” is a study in sweet talk.) This is the bourgeois mentality at its worst. Their repentance in the final scene seems small compensation. Violetta, however, combines the virtues of head and heart: practicality (she keeps the accounts for the improvident Alfredo) and self-sacrifice. The sinner is the most moral character on stage.

To 19th century eyes consumption was a manifestation of, and metaphor for, venereal disease. Sinners are sick. (More recently, we have seen a similar pattern in the public revulsion against people with AIDS.) The opera’s vision of tuberculosis is almost clinical: for instance, Violetta’s exuberance, her “return to health” just before her final collapse, is characteristic of late stages of the disease.

What to say about the music? In his prodigious middle period Verdi revolutionized Italian opera with a radically simplified and vigorous style.  Melody carries the day, mostly without the decoration favored by his predecessors. The demanding title part, it is often said, requires three different soprano voices:  vivacious coloratura in Act I, melting lyric in Act II, and powerful dramatic in Act III.  Maybe so, but what the music really indicates is Violetta’s growth in wisdom and moral stature.

You can, of course, take La Traviata as a succession of pretty tunes sung by pretty voices, enhanced by pretty costumes, and topped by a pretty death scene to send you out pleasantly teary-eyed. On the other hand, you might see it as a daring and tragic exploration of the relations—social, economic, sexual—between men and women. For a richer experience this evening, try the latter.

—Zeke Hecker

LA TRAVIATA – story synopsis
(Titles of arias in quotes)

ACT I
The salon in Violetta Valéry’s house in Paris

Violetta Valéry, a famed courtesan, throws a lavish party at her Paris salon to celebrate her recovery from illness. Gastone, a count, has brought with him his friend, the young nobleman Alfredo Germont, who has long adored Violetta from afar. While walking to the salon, Gastone tells Violetta that Alfredo loves her, and that while she was ill, the young man came to her house every day. Alfredo joins them, admitting the truth of Gastone's remarks.

The Baron Douphol, Violetta’s current lover, waits nearby to escort her to the salon where the Baron is asked to give a toast, but he refuses, and the crowd turns to Alfredo (Alfredo, Violetta, Chorus: “Libiamo ne’ lieti calici”—the Drinking Song).

From the next room, the sound of the orchestra is heard and the guests move there to dance. Feeling dizzy, Violetta asks her guests to go ahead and to leave her to rest until she recovers. While the guests dance in the next room, Violetta looks at her pale face in her mirror. Alfredo enters and expresses his concern for her fragile health, later declaring his love for her (Alfredo, Violetta: “Un dì, felice, eterea”—The day I met you). At first she rejects him because his love means nothing to her, but there is something about Alfredo that touches her heart. He is about to leave when she impulsively gives him a flower, telling him to return it when it has wilted. She promises to meet him the next day.

After the guests leave, Violetta wonders if Alfredo could actually be the one true love in her life (Violetta: “Ah, fors'è lui”—Perhaps he is the one). But she concludes that she needs freedom to live her life (Violetta: “Sempre libera”—Always free). From off stage, Alfredo’s voice is heard singing about love as he walks down the street.

ACT II
Scene 1: Violetta’s country house outside Paris

Three months later, Alfredo and Violetta are living together in a peaceful country house outside Paris. Violetta has fallen in love with Alfredo and she has completely abandoned her former life. Alfredo sings of their happy life together (Alfredo: “De miei bollenti spiriti”—Wild my dream of ecstasy). Annina, the maid, arrives from Paris, and when questioned by Alfredo, she tells him that she went there to sell the horses, carriages and everything owned by Violetta to support their country lifestyle.

Alfredo is shocked to learn this and leaves for Paris immediately to settle matters himself. Violetta returns home and receives an invitation from her friend, Flora, to a party in Paris that evening. Just then, Alfredo’s father, Giorgio Germont, arrives and confronts Violetta, demanding that she break off her relationship with his son for the sake of his family. He reveals that Violetta’s relationship with Alfredo has threatened his daughter’s engagement (Giorgio: “Pura siccome un angelo”—I have a daughter as pure as an angel) because of Violetta’s reputation.

Reluctantly, the elder Germont becomes impressed by Violetta’s noble and gracious manner, something he did not expect from a courtesan. She responds that she cannot end the relationship because she loves Alfredo so much, but the young man’s father pleads with her for the sake of his family. With growing remorse, Violetta finally agrees (Violetta, Giorgio: “Dite alla giovine”—Say to this child of thine) and says goodbye to the old man. In a gesture of gratitude for her kindness and sacrifice, the elder Germont kisses her forehead before leaving her weeping alone.

With resolve, Violetta gives a note to Annina to send to Flora accepting the party invitation and, as she is writing a farewell letter to Alfredo, he suddenly enters. She can barely control her sadness and tears, telling him repeatedly of her unconditional love (Violetta: “Amami Alfredo”—Love me, Alfredo). Before rushing out and setting off for Paris, she hands the farewell letter to her servant to give to Alfredo.

The servant brings the letter to Alfredo and, just after he reads it, the elder Germont returns and attempts to comfort his son, reminding him of his family in Provence (Giorgio: “Di Provenza il mar”—In Provence). Alfredo suspects the Baron is behind his separation with Violetta and the party invitation, which he finds on the desk, strengthens his suspicions. He determines to confront Violetta at the party. Giorgio tries to stop his son as he rushes out.

Scene 2: Party at Flora’s house

At the party, the Marquis tells Flora that Violetta and Alfredo have separated. Flora calls for the entertainers to perform for the guests (Chorus: “Noi siamo zingarelle”—We’re gypsies gay and youthful); (Chorus: “Di Madride noi siam mattadori”—We are bullfighters from Madrid). Gastone and his friends join the matadors and sing (Gastone, Chorus, Dancers: “E Piquillo, un bel gagliardo”—T’was Piquillo, so young and so daring).

Violetta arrives with Baron Douphol. They see Alfredo at the gambling table. When he sees them, Alfredo loudly proclaims that he will take Violetta home with him. Feeling annoyed, the Baron goes to the gambling table and joins him in a game. As they bet, Alfredo wins some large sums until Flora announces that supper is ready. Alfredo leaves with handfuls of money.

Violetta has asked Alfredo to see her. But as everyone is leaving the room, fearing that the Baron’s anger will lead him to challenge Alfredo to a duel, she gently asks Alfredo to leave. Alfredo misunderstands her apprehension and demands that she admit that she loves the Baron. In grief, she makes that admission and, furiously, Alfredo calls the guests to witness what he has to say (“Questa donna conoscete?”—You know this lady?). He humiliates and denounces Violetta in front of the guests, and then throws his winnings at her feet. She falls, fainting. The guests reprimand Alfredo: “Leave at once, we despise you. You have insulted a noble lady.”

In search of his son, Giorgio enters the hall and, knowing the real significance of the scene, denounces his son’s behavior (Giorgio, Alfredo, Violetta, Chorus: “Di sprezzo degno, se stesso rendo”—Worthy of contempt is the man). Flora and the ladies attempt to persuade Violetta to leave the dining room, but Violetta turns to Alfredo: “Alfredo, Alfredo, di questo core non puoi comprendere tutto l’amore”—Alfredo, Alfredo, little canst thou fathom the love within my heart for thee.

ACT III
Violetta’s bedroom

Violetta’s physician, Dr. Grenvil, tells Annina that Violetta will not live long because her tuberculosis has worsened. Alone in her room, Violetta reads a letter from Alfredo’s father telling her that the Baron was only wounded in his duel with Alfredo; that he has informed Alfredo of the sacrifice she has made for him and his sister; and that he is sending his son to see her as quickly as possible to ask for her forgiveness.

But Violetta senses it is too late (Violetta: “Addio del passato”—So closes my sad story). Annina rushes into the room to tell Violetta of Alfredo’s arrival. The lovers are reunited and Alfredo suggests that they leave Paris (Alfredo, Violetta: “Parigi, o cara , noi lasceremo”—Dearest, we’ll leave Paris).

But it is too late. Violetta knows her time is up (Alfredo, Violetta: “Gran Dio! morir si giovane”—O, God! to die so young). Alfredo's father enters with the doctor, regretting what he has done. Very soon, Violetta dies in Alfredo’s arms.

—Courtesy of Wikipedia

-Top Of Page-

December 12, 2009 

HOLIDAY MAGIC
Program notes by Zeke Hecker

One of the holiday season ’s greatest gifts is music. No other time of the year offers more musical riches. And today we’ve wrapped that present in ribbons of ballet shoes.

We begin by celebrating winter. Chris Van Allsburg’s magical book The Polar Express became an equally magical movie in 2004, not just for its beautiful images but for its evocative score. Tchaikovsky’s First Symphony, “Winter Dreams,” is less well known than his later ones, but certainly no less colorful and melodic. The opening movement, subtitled “Dreams of a Winter Journey,” takes us for a vigorous ride. In both these pieces you can feel the crisp chill of winter air, at the north pole or in Saint Petersburg with its famous “White Nights.”

The next two pieces celebrate the holidays themselves. In his “Hannukah Festival Overture” Lucas Richman brings together most of the favorite songs of this Festival of Lights, including “Ma’oz Tzur” (“Rock of Ages”), “Mi Yimalel,” and the Dreidel Song, with a taste of klezmer along the way. Leroy Anderson, our greatest composer of light orchestra music, served for over half a century as chief arranger for the Boston Pops. His “Christmas Festival” is perhaps the finest orchestral medley of traditional Christmas hymns and carols. The first half of our program ends with “Sleigh Ride,” Anderson's best-loved original composition.

For the second half, the orchestra yields the stage to the dancers of the Amherst Ballet Theatre. Tchaikovsky’s three full-length story ballets, “Swan Lake,” “Sleeping Beauty,” and “The Nutcracker,” constitute the core of the classical dance repertory. The plot of the latter comes from the Romantic German writer E.T.A. Hoffmann’s story “The Nutcracker and the Mouse King.” (His works were also the source for another great story ballet, “Coppelia” by Leo Delibes, and Offenbach’s opera “The Tales of Hoffmann.”) Despite the Christmas setting, “The Nutcracker” did not become the seasonal staple it is today until choreographer George Balanchine staged it with the New York City Ballet in 1954; Balanchine’s version remains the most popular. Like other classical ballets, “The Nutcracker” disposes of most of its plot early on, leaving the second act as a “divertissement” in which the little girl Clara — and we — are treated to a series of “character” dances, which also make up most of the familiar suite the composer devised. Here you’ll see the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, the Dance of the Mirlitons (reed flutes), and the Arabian, Chinese, and Russian dances.

While the dancers regroup, we’ll serve a seasonal sorbet between courses. The best-known English folk melody, “Greensleeves,” has been sung to a variety of texts, one of which is the Christmas lyric “What Child Is This.” Ralph Vaughan Williams was the leading twentieth century English “nationalist” composer. He collected over 800 folk songs, edited the Anglican hymnal, and composed many now-standard hymns. His works breathe the air of the English countryside, none more so than this Fantasia on “Greensleeves.” It was originally composed as an interlude in his opera Sir John in Love, based on Shakespeare’s The Merry Wives of Windsor, and alternates the title tune with another folksong called “Lovely Joan.”

“Les Sylphides” is a plotless ballet, probably the first ever, set to orchestral arrangements of piano pieces by Frederic Chopin. Its origins are complicated, but the first time it appeared under that title was on June 2, 1909 in Paris, danced by Serge Diaghilev’s spectacular Ballets Russes (Russian Ballet) with choreography by Fokine and starring, among other luminaries, Anna Pavlova and Vaslav Nijinsky. Each number for that production had a different orchestrator, one of whom was the young Igor Stravinsky. The version introduced by American Ballet Theatre in 1940, The version introduced by American Ballet Theatre in 1940 is the one you’re seeing today. “Les Sylphides” is a dream ballet. A group of sylphs dressed in white dance in the moonlight, surrounding the young poet who has presumably conjured them up.

What greater gifts than music and dance? Enjoy them with us, and have a wonderful holiday season!

March 21, 2010 

Celebrating J.S. Bach's 325th Birthday!
?THE PASSION ACCORDING TO SAINT JOHN, BWV 245
Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750)
Program notes by Zeke Hecker

?Dramatized musical versions of the story of Jesus, with roles distributed among various voices, stretch back at least to the Middle Ages.  They reached their artistic apogee in the North German baroque, with the “oratorio passions” of Heinrich Schuetz and the “opera passions” of Johann Sebastian Bach.  The latter operate on multiple levels:  biblical narrative assigned to a narrator, biblical dialogue to singers representing the characters, crowd scenes to the chorus, solo arias in verse reflecting on the action, and chorale interludes based on Lutheran hymn tunes.

There are two surviving Bach passions, one each based on the gospels of Matthew and John.  (He may have composed a couple of others, now lost.)  The Saint Matthew Passion (first version 1727) is much longer, scored for larger forces, and better known.  The earlier Saint John Passion (first version 1724) is more intimate, intense, and dramatic, partly attributable to the differences between the gospels themselves.  Drawing on chapters 18 and 19 of John, it chronicles the last days of Jesus from capture to crucifixion and entombment, dwelling mainly on the confrontation with Pilate.  For dramatic reasons, Bach incorporates two episodes from Matthew:  Peter crying bitterly after denying his association with Jesus, and the earthquake which follows Jesus’s death.  (The music for these interpolations is especially vivid.)  

Bach’s gospel narrative uses Martin Luther’s German translation.  The arias are set to verses by the Hamburg councillor Brockes, whose rendering of the story was also taken up by such eminent composers as Handel and Telemann.  Orchestral forces are limited to flutes, oboes, strings, and continuo, with highly expressive obbligato use of instrumental solos and duets in the arias.  Although the hymns on which Bach based his chorales were familiar to his listeners, they probably were not expected to sing along; the harmonizations are unusually inventive and difficult. After the initial performances Bach revised the work three times -- one chorus migrated to the Saint Matthew Passion -- but the final revision returned substantially to the 1724 edition.

Bach’s works are architecturally conceived.  The distribution of choruses in the Saint John Passion, for example, is symmetrical, with the central point reached in #22.  The chorales are paired (that is, the same tune used twice for different texts):  #3 with #17, #14 with #28, and so on.  (If, as Goethe famously said, architecture is frozen music, Bach’s music may be called fluid architecture.)  Bach was also obsessed with numerological symbolism.  When Jesus first appears with his twelve disciples, the number thirteen shows up in the score in various ways (notes or measures in a phrase, for instance).  After Judas’s death, the number twelve dominates, and after the crucifixion, the number eleven.  In the fugal chorus about fulfilling the law, the fugue subject enters ten times to represent the Ten Commandments.  The work's forty movements symbolize the forty days of Lent.

One problem modern audiences face is the text’s demonization of the Jews who vehemently demand Jesus’s death.  Bach, of course, didn’t invent this; it’s in the gospel, and particularly virulent in the chapters on which he drew.  For centuries, Western civilization has suffered the horrific consequences of this protrayal:  ghettos, pogroms, Inquisitions, mass expulsions, mass murder.  Does great music justify a repellent text?  Some performances sidestep the issue by substituting “Leute” (people) for “Juden” (Jews).  Some commentators have pointed out that the verses for the arias are less bloodthirsty than the biblical text, and more sorrowful; the recurrent first person pronoun implies accepting universal personal responsibility for the crucifixion, instead of evading it by fixing the blame on the Jew as Other.  In any case, evasion seems like a bad idea.  Better to address the work as it comes to us, in full awareness of its artistic and historical context -- an approach we might also wisely take with Shakespeare, Wagner, T. S. Eliot, Shostakovich, and other important artists whose work is closely aligned with dubious ideologies.

Consider the Saint John Passion a music drama, a masterful retelling of one of the central stories of our civilization -- for many people, including Bach himself and the community that constituted his audience, THE central story.  Today is Bach’s 325th birthday, and the beginning of spring:  a day doubly worth celebrating.  (“Bach” is German for “brook” or “spring,” making the name a complex bilingual pun.)  Many musicians and listeners consider him the greatest composer the European tradition has produced.  The Saint John Passion, if not precisely Exhibit A, certainly makes a strong case for that view.

May 8, 2010 

MUSICAL TWINS
Program notes not available at this time - please check back     

-Top Of Page-