Oberon's Grove

Guangzhou Ballet @ Lincoln Center

Above: from Guangzhou Ballet's production of Carmina Burana as performed at Lincoln Center; photo by Dmitry Beryozkin

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday August 17th, 2019 - Guangzhou, China, is the birthplace of my beloved Wei, so I arranged tickets for us to Guangzhou Ballet's performance at Lincoln Center tonight. Earlier in the day, my friend Dmitry Beryozkin photographed the dress rehearsal of the production.

Although tested by numerous audience distractions, we stayed to the end because of the impressive work of the Guangzhou Ballet's dancers, who are beautifully trained and who excel in both virtuosity and artistry.

Above: from Goddess of the Luo River; photo by Dmitry Beryozkin

Goddess of the Luo River is set to a violin concerto by the venerated Chinese composer Du Mingxin, who is now in his 90th year. The music has both rhythmic and lyrical appeal, though the Adagio begins to feel overly sweet after a while.

The program note for Goddess of the Luo River was basically incomprehensible to me, but the ballet seems to tell of a pair of young lovers yearning to be together, and of the goddess who helps make their dream come true.

Peter Quanz, a Canadian choreographer beloved by my friend Arlene Cooper, has re-staged the Du Mingxin concerto to beautiful effect. Mr. Quanz is a master of classical styling who has a gift for structure and for creating pleasing and musically-inspired combinations. The opening segment of Goddess of the Luo River, danced by an ensemble of women, was emblematic of Mr. Quanz's work, which sustained our interest for the 30-minute duration of this atmospheric piece.

Against a backdrop of a misty forest river-glade, Goddess of the Luo River unfolds like a blooming flower. If I have read the Playbill correctly, the principal dancers tonight were Fang Afang, Ma Minghao, and Huang Bairnao, and they were all simply entrancing to watch. But in fact, everyone onstage danced gorgeously, with musicality and grace.

At the end, the bow lights cam up and we looked forward to hailing the dancers in their curtain calls, but the applause dwindled away and there were no bows.

Above: from Goddess of the Luo River; Dmitry tells me they only did a brief excerpt from this ballet at the dress rehearsal. Too bad, because there were some lovely passages for the corps and the other featured dancer that I would like to have had photos of.

Following the interval, a three-act choreographic rendering by Qi Jiang of Carl Orff's Carmina Burana was presented.  The score was first performed on June 8, 1937, at Frankfurt, and is a setting of Medieval poems for three solo voices, chorus, and orchestra. This work was Orff's "greatest hit" (though he wrote some truly fascinating operas) and it became one of the best-known musical works of the 20th century thru its use in film and commercials. Carmina Burana greatly appealed to the Nazi regime, to whom its rhythms were reminders of the “stamping columns of the Third Reich”.

Guangzhou Ballet did not choose one of the many top-notch recordings of the piece for their ballet production but it was very well reproduced over the theater's sound system. The music has an irresistible emotional force. Han Jiang (scenic designer) and Chen Xiaji (lighting designer) have created a production full of impressive visuals, as you can see from Dmitry Beryozkin's photos, below.

The Company's Carmina Burana, however, did not reach the same level of involvement for either Wei or I as the evening's opening work . It's nearly an hour long, and there were stretches when the choreography seemed uninspired and repetitive. Perhaps some judicious pruning of the music would have helped make it more coherent: there are stories being told, but they become rambling after a bit.

Such striking moments as the powerful, smoky opening segment with dancers emerging from under a large blanket of fabric, and - especially - the gigantic moon that looms over some scenes kept us focused. But the constant whispering and checking of cellphones by people around us, the amorous boy in front of us who wanted to cuddle his girlfriend, and the continuous undercurrent of a whimpering child somewhere to our left (eventually taken out, with 5 minutes of music left to go) became so aggravating as the ballet progressed. If we could have made a graceful exit (some people did), we would have left midway thru.

But it was nice to see the dancers taking their bows at the end, though these were staged Broadway-style, with a reprise of music from the Orff score.

Here is a gallery of Dmitry Beryozkin's images from Carmina Burana:

~ Oberon

GAMME ~ BalaSole Dance Company

Above: dancers Caroline Sheehan, Alyssa Bar, Leigh Schanfein, and Mckenzie Mullan in the opening ensemble piece, Chapter #19, at this evening's performance by BalaSole Dance Company. Photo by Nir Arieli.  

Author: Oberon

Friday August 16th, 2019 - Roberto Villanueva's BalaSole Dance Company celebrated their 19th New York production this evening at Ailey Citigroup Theater. Ever true to his mission to provide a setting for artists to present solo dance works across a panorama of styles, performed by dancers who embody the rich diversity of the dance world, Roberto brought together guest artist Stephanie Rae Williams of the celebrated Dance Theatre of Harlem and a group of solo dancers selected thru an audition process.

"Gamme" means range in French, and the evening offered a range of dances and dancers that is emblematic of BalaSole's artistic commitment.

Above: dancers Alex Bar, Yu Fujiwara, Caroline Sheehan, and Jonalyn Bradshaw in the opening ensemble piece, Chapter #19, at the evening's performance. Photo by Nir Arieli. 

The program opened and closed with ensemble works staged by Teal Darkenwald. Created in a very brief time frame, these dances give a feeling of Company to the participating dancers. Emerging artist Sarah Olsen took part in these works, including a featured duet passage in the finale. 

The parade of soloists then commenced. Photographer Nir Arieli has produced photos from each work on the program:

Kat Bark (above) opened the series of solos with a very personal dancework, Not Good at Goodbyes. To music by Ólafur Arnalds, this solo was pensive and grounded, eventually becoming more expansive. Every moment of the dance expressed the woman's feelings of uncertainty, and Ms. Bark's dancing showed assured musicality (and beautiful use of hands) in her search for answers to the questions we all want to ask when relationships go awry.

Above: Kat Bark

Alex Bar (above) made a touching impression as a young veteran suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and trying to come to grips with living his life after his tour of duty in a war zone. He cannot help but relive his memories, and they are his undoing. A fragmented musical track from Samuel Barber's poignant Adagio for Strings provided a promise of the peace that eludes the boy. Jittering from unrelieved shellshock, Alex staggers nervously about as memories of battle play in his mind. In his final collapse, his connection to reality is severed. At a point in time when our president has made fun of a decorated veteran who served his country with honor, and has also diverted money from a veterans' pension fund to build a wall, Mr. Bar's solo, Remembrance, is disturbingly timely. 

Above: Alex Bar

Nina Simone's achingly beautiful rendering of You'll Never Walk Alone provides the framework for Jonalyn Bradshaw (above) in her solo Beyond the Thick of It. Rising from the floor, the dancer's richly emotional performance showcased her gorgeous movement style, which seemed to bloom from within. Moving from thoughtfulness to thankfulness, Ms. Bradshaw dips at the end of her dance into a gorgeous back-bend, then walks away with the serene expression of a soul at peace. Captivating. 

Above: Jonalyn Bradshaw

I loved seeing Leigh Schanfein (above) again; it's been a while since I watched this tall dancer performing with Brian Carey Chung's DanceLab. For her solo tonight, entitled The Underlying Hum, Leigh turned to the music of J S Bach. She seemed to be portraying a ballerina beset with by injury or insecurity: something of a broken Black Swan. Between passages of upright classicism...

...the dancer's body would momentarily betray her, and her poise threatened to crumble (above). Successfully recovering her strength, she danced on in this distinctive - and unsettling - solo.

Above: Leigh Schanfein

Caroline Sheehan (above), dancing to vocal music of Bon Iver, gave a lovely performance in Worried Among Roses. An uncertain young woman alternates between adagio movement and bursts of animation, and the music - harmonizing - seems to find its echo in her dancing.

A lyrical arabesque is the crowning touch to Ms. Sheehan's Worried Among Roses (above).

Above: Caroline Sheehan

Ezra Goh (above), lithe of form and striking of visage, was a poet of movement in his solo Space, performed to music by Kangding Ray. In a pool of light, Mr. Goh's body is an expressive vessel, the fluidity of movement fascinating in its sense of compelling grace. As the music looms large, pounding away, the dancer becomes one with the sound. Later, elements of breakdance are cunningly evoked, and the solo seems destined for an ecstatic ending when the dancer suddenly pounds his chest and collapses. Truly a thrilling performance.

Above: Ezra Goh

Above: the end of Ezra Goh's Space

Following an unnecessary intermission, Mckenzie Mullan (above) found her solo Version 2 somewhat compromised by audience distractions as some people had not really settled in when the lights came up on the white-clad dancer. Not to be deterred, Ms. Mullan danced to a hesitant song Hayden Cainin and maintained her composure; in fact, she seemed wonderfully self-assured.

As her solo progressed, Ms. Mullan's hair became a part of the choreography (above). Version 2 seemed highly personal, and the vocal harmonics to the song were effective. The dancing becomes animated before ending in stillness. 

Above: Mckenzie Mullan 

Yu Fujiwara (above) took the evening's prize for outstanding choice of music: Franz Liszt's marvelous Liebesträume set the stage for her hypnotic performance of her solo of the same title. A beauty, Ms. Fujuwara let the music carry her on its wings thru a lush and very musical choreographic journey. We do not often see women executing barrel turns, but this dancer made them look perfectly right. Later there's a moment of repose before she rises to swirl towards an inevitable finish...but then, suddenly, the dancer waxes poetic and leaves us wishing Liebesträume was longer.

Above: Yu Fujiwara

Tyreel Simpson (above) enters to stuttering music for his gender-bending solo, Beneath the Instinct. With his white-blonde shock of hair, midriff outfit, and chunky heels, the dancer seizes control of the stage, the hall, and - seemingly - all of Gotham with his resplendent, free-flowing  moves and his unbounded charisma. After fanning the flames, and then continuing in silhouette against a blood-red backdrop, Mr. Simpson's ended his solo to an avalanche of applause.

Above: Tyreel Simpson

Above: Tyreel in silhouette

Alyssa Bar (above), in her solo Rescue (to music from the Mozart Requiem), was a perfect contrast to the preceding work. Commencing with a lamenting quality, the dance becomes more spacious. Pausing to look about, the dancer then responds to the music with a floor-based solo that conveys a sense of urgent seeking. She rises, only to fall.  

Above: Alyssa Bar

Following a layoff due to injury, Roberto Villanueva (above) took his accustomed place tonight in the line-up of soloists. His solo, Shed, danced to music of Yungchen Lhamo, had an improvisational quality. 

With the dancer at first seen in silhouette (above), and seemingly shrouded, the dance evolves in a circle of light with Roberto executing sinuous and entrancing port be bras, his hands mesmerizing.

Shed climaxes with one of Roberto's luxuriant arabesques (above).

Above: Roberto Villanueva

A guest artist, Dance Theatre of Harlem's scintillating Stephanie Rae Williams (above) brought down the house with her solo, Verdant, to music by Six Toys.  Brilliantly costumed as a Folies Bergère showgirl, right down to the garter belt, Ms. Williams dazzled with her effortless pointe work and provocative stage presence. The dancer's come-hither glances and enticing smiles lit up the stage...

...and when she curled up on the floor (above), she was simply delectable.

Ms. Williams can shake and shimmy with the best of them, and she can also boogie-woogie on pointe. Her solo was a delicious treat, and the audience wend wild for her when it ended.

Above: Stephanie Rae Williams

Nearing the end of the closing ensemble work, Ms. Williams reappeared for a bit of an encore. During the curtain calls, she stepped forward for a solo bow, and the audience went crazy.

All photography by Nir Arieli.

~ Oberon

Marion Matthäus

There are plenty of opera singers I've never heard, but far fewer that I've never heard of. One such name came up recently: that of Marion Matthäus, a mezzo-soprano who sings Fricka on a recording of WALKURE I recently acquired. The performance, from Montevideo, dates from 1959. 

Ms. Matthäus was born in Germany in 1896. She studied with - among others - Lilli Lehmann - and in 1913 made her debut in operetta. She appeared at several German opera houses before the rise of Nazism decided her to accept a contract at Basel, Switzerland. After a season there, Ms. Matthäus relocated to Rio di Janiero where she remained until 1949, singing with the local opera company. She returned to Germany, continuing to appear in opera and concert whilst also teaching voice. She passed away in 1980.

Marion Matthäus's repertory included Amneris, Azucena, Ulcria, Fricka, Brangaene, Annina in ROSENKAVALIER, and Klytemnestra. She seems to have made some studio recordings, but I cannot locate them. Her Fricka has an Olde World feeling of grandeur; if the date of the recording is accurate, she would have been in her 60s at the time. 

Marion Matthäus as Fricka ~ WALKURE - with L Synek and Wilhelm Schirp - Montevideo 1959

Waiting for Elisabeth Grümmer

{Reviving this frequently-read 2008 article about one of my most memorable stage-door experiences.}

In 1967 the Metropolitan Opera held its first June Festival. Having just opened the 'New Met' in September 1966, ticket demand for the premiere season at Lincoln Center had been phenomenal and the Company seized the opportunity to add several performances in the month of June. This was a bonanza for the fans and also provided the general public, who were curious to see the interior of the new opera house, expanded possibilities. The Met offered some very fine casting that June, and topping the list of exciting events (at least from the fans' point of view) was the belated Met debut of the German soprano Elisabeth Grummer. 

Grümmer was 57 at the time, and had already had a very successful career in Europe and had made several top-class recordings, working with Europe's finest conductors. She had made her debut with the Met on tour in Boston earlier that Spring and was now coming to the House in the role of Elsa in Wieland Wagner's production of LOHENGRIN.

This was my first chance to see this opera; Sandor Konya was at that time the leading exponent of the title role, and my beloved Irene Dalis was singing her venomous Ortrud. Stalwarts Walter Cassel, John Macurdy and William Walker completed the cast. Andre Cluytens, who was to have conducted this production of LOHENGRIN, had died the previous summer and so Joseph Rosenstock was on the podium. I suppose by international standards that Rosenstock was considered a routinier but - inexperienced as I was - I was simply thrilled to be there.

Grümmer made her entrance, and I recall the entire phalanx of Family Circle standees were waiting with collectively bated breath for her first line, which she deployed with a silvery pianissimo: "Mein armer bruder!"  We were under her spell immediately and she went on to sing a really thrilling Elsa and to win a very warm acclaim from the packed house. Although nearing the end of her career, Grümmer had maintained her clarity of sound; the voice had a lyrical feeling but she was able to ride the ensembles  with a bit of metallic thrust. It was an exciting debut but after repeating the role once, she never sang at the Met again. (She did appear as the Marschallin at the New York City Opera the following season.)

A large contingent of fans gathered at the stage door. Sandor Konya came out and was so kind; aside from signing my programme he gave me a beautiful photo of himself as Lohengrin. Irene Dalis  appeared and she even remembered me and thanked me for coming. Then the crowd began to drift away. I knew Grümmer hadn't left yet and I couldn't imagine why no one wanted her autograph after such an exciting debut.

After a few moments only a half-dozen of us remained. A chorister walked out and someone asked him if Miss Grümmer was coming out soon: "Oh, she doesn't sign autographs!" Someone else emerged and saw us: "You waiting for Grümmer? She won't sign." The other fans left. I figured at least I would get a glimpse of her. It had been an hour since the curtain had fallen, and I was exhausted. But something kept me there.

A car pulled up; the driver got out. He looked at me and said, "If you're waiting for Elisabeth Grümmer, you're wasting your time.  She doesn't like giving autographs."  I shrugged, trying to pretend that I WASN'T waiting for Elisabeth Grümmer.

Finally the stage door opened and Ms. Grümmer walked out with a gentleman. They got in the car and closed the doors. But they didn't leave. I stood by the stage door holding my program and pen, looking as forlorn as I could. I was 19 but looked younger, and I hoped she would take pity on me. The driver was pointing at me and the soprano looked my way hesitantly. Then she suddenly rolled down her window and gestured to me. Neither of us spoke, but I handed her the program. She briskly wrote her name and handed it back to me with just a trace of a smile. I thanked her and made a little bow; she rolled up the window and the car pulled away.

A brief sampling, from one of the tour performances:

Elisabeth Grummer & Irene Dalis - scene from LOHENGRIN - Met in Philadelphia 1967

Simon Estes sings Hagen's Watch

Simon Estes (above) was a renowned Amfortas, Dutchman, and Wotan, but I had never realized (til now) that he also sang Hagen in GOTTERDAMMERUNG. This audio of Hagen's Watch (in English) has just come my way. It's really impressive.

Simon Estes - Hagen's Watch ~ TWILIGHT OF THE GODS - in English - 1977 (live)