Stripped Productions and Big Blonde Vocals

Back from Ordinary Days last night at the Round House and will use this to catch up with one other previously unreported artistic experience, the concert version of A Midsummer Night's Dream by the Baltimore Symphony, performed at the Strathmore.

I'm not a fan of overproduced shows, and it's a problem in musicals, especially, when I can't hear the lyrics to the songs. In a show like Ordinary Days, which is sung through, I wouldn't have much of a chance of following the plot if it weren't for the stripped down production--in this case, a pianist (musical director William Yanesh) and the powerhouse vocals of the actors.

I was excited to see a couple of familiar names on the program: adorable Erin Weaver as quirky, neurotic graduate student Deb and the handsome Will Gartshore as man-in-love Jason. Will has been around the Round for quite a while, but I really took note of him in this season's This. And Erin was the fabulous Juliet at the Folger's R&J production earlier this season. That's a little bitty blonde with a great big voice, and she took over Ordinary, too.

Erin Weaver. Courtesy of RHT via Facebook

Will Gartshore. Courtesy of RHT via Facebook

Likewise, the stripped down production of Midsummer was a full concert with seven actors running in and out of the orchestra, changing costumes on stage, and speaking their Shakespearean lines whenever the orchestra put Mendelssohn on pause.

Again, one of the attractions for me is always a familiar name/face, in this case Katie deBuys, who played Shakespeare's Hermia and was last seen at RHT in Seminar. But in this case, the "blonde with the big vocal" and very comical presence was Kate Eastwood Norris as Helena.

Maybe they teach you this in Shakespeare Clown School, but Kate had a way of running hilariously, like Tom Story did in Winter's Tale back at Shakespeare Theatre Company. It involves the arms flapping and flailing over one's head or outstretched in front while exiting (whether chased by bear or not). Anyway, she cracked me up.

Kate Eastwood Norris, via KateEastwoodNorris.com

Levity, lightness, a deft touch and a powerful voice. That's all it takes, and it's what I go to the theater for.

That, and the confetti. ;)

ephemera collected from Ordinary Days at Round House Theatre

ephemera collected from Ordinary Days at Round House Theatre

Love, hosaa
prop stealer

It Happens When You Make Plans

"What is Life, Alex?"

Sadly, the Michael Bolton concert was canceled due to illness, but I'm not as inconvenienced as probably a lot of concert goers are since I only live 15 minutes (or three and a half Clay Aiken songs) from the venue.

Get well, Michael. Now I get to see the Oscars in my pajamas. (How they'll all fit in my pajamas, I don't know.)

I should take this opportunity to catch up, but the shows are over or ending soon, so there doesn't seem much point. But for the record, what I haven't caught up on are the following:

Chaplin's Back--a screening of The Idle Class and The Kid with Chaplin's original scores performed by the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, Marin Alsop conducting. 

An Evening with Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin--two old pros, old friends, telling the story of a relationship through concert versions of show songs.

Violet--musical journey of a young woman hoping a televangelist will heal her scarred face, and of her awakening to love without prejudice.

The Importance of Being Earnest--where the wit of Wilde is the star of the show, but the sets were gorgeous, too.

I'm a sucker for simplicity in stagecraft, but both Violet and Earnest were stunning. In the case of Violet at Ford's, the sets were evolving constantly with the journey, both geographically and temporally.

With Earnest at STC's Lansburgh venue, the stunningly beautiful works of art that were Algie's London flat (Act I) and the garden behind Jack's country house (Acts II and III) were by necessity static. Too elaborate to move, for one thing, but also it would be terribly distracting from the dialogue if there were a lot of movement on stage. The whole point of the play is to hear the aphorisms that Wilde so masterfully crafted. Put the actors on their spots and let them say the lines clearly so the audience can pay attention.

I've argued this point whenever I see dance movies that have a lot of camera movement. Drives me crazy. When the subject is in motion, keep the camera still.

The same strategy worked for the Patti and Mandy show. It was about their relationship, and what they brought out of the music to tell that story. They were accompanied by Paul Ford, Mandy's pianist/musical director, and a bass (didn't catch the name and it's not in the program. Sorry). The simplicity of this arrangement kept the focus squarely on Patti and Mandy. My favorite part was when Mandy introduced the Evita section by telling the story of their both auditioning for what would become their iconic and career-making roles and how nervous they were before the first preview performance. Mandy reassured Patti then that he would be her friend--and they still are. Definitely an awww moment, and very touching, no matter how often they tell the exact same story to other audiences.

Working backwards to the Chaplin show--what a great way to see a movie. The music is often my favorite thing about a film (see, for instance, my comments about The Right Stuff), and if it's done right, it doesn't draw attention to itself. The Baltimore Symphony Orchestra gorgeously played this music, which Chaplin, astonishingly, composed 50 years after the films were made.

Which is another point I've argued before: that art evolves and lives to inspire other artists.

Love, hosaa
stuffing Oscars into my pajamas.... or something

Papa, Wolfie, and Ludwig

The Baltimore Symphony's program at the Strathmore last night (which repeats tonight and tomorrow in Baltimore) advertised Mozart and Beethoven, omitting the opening presentation of a bright little symphony by Franz Joseph "Papa" Haydn.

And of course the headliner for the program was pianist Jeremy Denk on Mozart's 25th Piano Concerto. Jeremy stayed to sign CDs during intermission, but he didn't seem to have any with Mozart on them. It looks like he is more of a Bach specialist, which I thought curious for a Mozart moment.

Jeremy Denk signs CDs and chats with audience following his performance.
Credit: Photo by C. G. Wagner

But what I saw was a man wonderfully at home on the keyboard. He played Mozart like a toy! What a thrill!

Before the show, since I had a lot of time after making some ticket exchanges (OMG MICHAEL BOLTON!!!), I was reading the notes describing the program selections. There was so much anthropomorphizing, I thought there has to be a better way to describe it. But truthfully, music is a human art, it evokes emotions, so I guess it's only natural to describe notes that trip and chase and march and do other humanly things. I visualize country scenes, grand ballrooms, children or animals running around and what-not. It's like running a ballet in my mind.

Sample grab from the Program Notes for the Haydn piece (Symphony No. 30 in C Major, "Alleluia"):

In G major, movement two is a stately, well-bred charmer, prancing on dainty dotted-rhythm shoes.

Yeah, I guess this writer saw dancing, too. "Dainty"?

Anyway, since I don't really share that kind of vocabulary, I don't have too much to say about the program. I loved the Hadyn piece because it was so bright and joyful. Mozart was continued after the intermission with the Bassoon Concerto in B-flat Major, featuring one of BSO's own musicians, Fei Xie. I loved that the guy had fans (probably family) in the audience--when he came out for his bow, a mommy carried a little bouquet-bearing tyke up to the front of the stage to present to the bassoon soloist. It was such an awww moment.

The evening concluded with a Beethoven symphony. I forgot the number--not fifth or ninth, that's all I know. [It was No. 8 in F Major. ~h.] Not a Beethoven fan here. The evening's selections seemed to be in chronological order, going from Papa Haydn's bright grandeur, flowing to Mozart's bright complexity, and ending with pre-Romantic heaviosity. It was well-played, but I preferred my music brightly lit.

Love, hosaa
will fill in gaps later - I'm on my lunch break.

eta, later that same day ... adding a few graphic and descriptive embellishments. ~h

The Right Planets, and Stuff

Back from last night's "Off the Cuff" program at the Strathmore, wherein Baltimore Symphony Orchestra conductor Marin Alsop was joined by astrophysicist Mario Livio (her good buddy, she delighted to inform us!) to reflect on Gustav Holst's masterpiece, The Planets. The chat and slideshow went on about 20 minutes, followed by the BSO's thrilling execution of the work. The program repeats tonight at the Meyerhoff in Baltimore.

Marin Alsop. Credit: Grant Leighton, via WGBH

Mario Livio. Courtesy of MarioLivio.com

This was my first experience with the "Off the Cuff" program, which is designed to educate audiences a bit before immersing them into the music. It speaks to the interdisciplinarians among us, the liberal-arts majors who like to know everything about everything. Marin took us on a tour of the musical and mythical stories that Holst told through his seven planetary movements; Mario tutored us on the physical matters of planetary fact, including that one of the planets (Neptune, "the Mystic") was discovered purely through mathematics.

The performance was followed by a question and answer period, but we didn't stay for that. I did have a great question all prepared, but it turned out that the performance itself answered my question:

Why was the grandest, most awesomely stirring movement, "Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity," stuck in the fourth position and not used as the ending of the suite? The very natural impulse of anyone experiencing this music (especially performed live in person by real human musicians) is to burst into loud, prolonged joyful cheers. Instead, Holst ends the suite with faint murmurings from the farthest rock from our Sun, "Neptune, the Mystic." The suite thus quietly fades out in the echoes of a celestial chorus (in this instance, the Women of the Baltimore Choral Arts Society).

Mario Livio contributed high-def images of our dramatis planetae, projected on a screen above the orchestra during the program. These included a caption shown toward the end of the "Neptune" movement reminding us that our own messenger to the cosmos, Voyager 1, has left our solar neighborhood. It carries our humanity with it into the unknown. Its next "stop," the nearest star system, is 10,000 years away.

Now the music makes sense: We are left with our innate wonder, awe, and imagination. Holst is a genius.

Prescient, too, Mario reminded the audience. Pluto was discovered some four years before Holst died, and he was asked if he would like to add a Pluto movement to the suite. He refused, and Pluto was later demoted anyway.

Another interesting point that Marin made about Holst's work was how evocative it was to later movie music makers like John Williams. She had her orchestra pull comparative samples from the opening of "Mars, the Bringer of War" and from the soundtrack of the original Star Wars. 

And of course, anyone who knows me knows my favorite movie in life is The Right Stuff, which captured my imagination aurally through the Academy Award winning soundtrack composed by Bill Conti. So here's my story:

About thirty years ago, my favorite movie in life became The Right Stuff, largely because of the glorious and inspiring music in the soundtrack. (Of course, Sam Shepard as Chuck Yeager was sexy as hell, so that didn't hurt, either.)

Sam Shepard, Barbara Hershey in The Right Stuff. Courtesy of PhilipKaufman.com

After the movie ran an abbreviated course in theaters, largely considered a failure (whether the movie killed John Glenn's presidential hopes or Glenn's politics killed audience interest in the movie can be debated by others), I went on a mission to find the soundtrack. It won an Oscar, demmit! It should be out there for me to buy!! No dice. I heard or read somewhere that Bill Conti was not satisfied with the score. Color me mystified.

Then one night, while falling asleep with the radio still tuned to my favorite classical music station, I sat bolt upright in bed when the theme from The Right Stuff started playing! OMG, Conti's soundtrack on classical music radio!

The rousing finish of the movement came and, yes, I probably did jump up and burst into a loud, prolonged, joyful cheer. That's what Bringers of Jollity do to you. The announcer then informed me that I'd been listening to a selection from Holst's The Planets.

Now, I always smile when, in the opening credits of Casablanca, Max Steiner's composer credential is accompanied by a quick theme from "La Marseillaise" in the soundtrack. We know Max Steiner is a movie musical genius, but he did not compose the French national anthem. Nor did Bill Conti compose any of the Holst themes--Jupiter, Venus, Mars--that were so seamlessly integrated into his Right Stuff score (rumor has it that this was not Conti's decision, but the producers'--probably explaining his dissatisfaction). 

Several years later, I did come across a symphonic rendition of themes from The Right Stuff paired with music from Conti's work for the TV miniseries North and South. I do recommend this 1990 disc. But I now learn that, just this year, a limited edition CD was released without the N/S tether, but with an exceptionally odd and disconcerting addition--a dance mix of the "Right Stuff" theme (see track 12). A single? Seriously? They were releasing this to radio? Pardon my WTF moment here.

Now back to Holst. You may notice that I didn't include a link to a recording of The Planets. This is where I pitch the live human musical experience as the only way it all makes sense. If you want to listen to it on your own, find some nice pictures of real live planets to look at. Enjoy, with awe and wonder, what your fellow humans create with their awe and wonder.

Courtesy of NASA.

Love, hosaa
awed, wondering

eta (Nov. 10): I couldn't resist - I purchased the digital album of Conti's The Right Stuff. It has more tracks than the version with North and South. I'm listening now. It's interesting how little there is on Conti's version of the score that is recognizable to someone who has seen the movie well over 25 times (probably closer to 50). This is like a "director's cut" of a movie--it's the artist's original conception.

Even the "Tango" cut on this was replaced in the movie. I didn't remember where it was used until I watched the movie again. It's in the last scene at the clinic where the astronaut prospects are undergoing medical tests. Tough Navy aviator Alan Shepard has just had some balloon inserted in his bladder and needs to get to the john before it is released and makes a mess. Very funny scene, because he's at the mercy of nursing aide Gonzales, whom Shepard had offended with his Jose Jimenez imitations.

Anyway, I think it would be fun to montage the scenes from the movie with Conti's music. (What, another non-Clay, non-futurist video project??? Can I have more hours, Madame Clock?) ~h

etaa - The "single" is still bizarre. I guess Conti thought they needed something to sell the album to MTV in 1983. Without liner notes, though, it's hard to tell.

Musical Landscapes (Baltimore Symphony Orchestra)

Back from the BSO's performance at Strathmore. The pieces under the authority of conductor Marin Alsop's robustly light touch were:

1. "Doctor Atomic Symphony" by John Adams.
2. Violin Concerto in E Minor by Felix Mendelssohn, with guest violinist Stefan Jackiw.
3. Symphony No. 9 in E Minor, "From the New World," by Antonin Dvorak.

It was for the third piece in the program that my friend particularly wanted to go out on a schoolnight, in the rain, to hear. I agreed to go because her husband would not, and after all the Sunday "family" dinners she's had me over for, I figured my companionship was the least I could offer.

"New World" is a good draw and a great end to an evening out. It'll keep all us oldsters awake. But more than that, the piece is an exploration of a landscape in musical tones, shades and contours, lights and earthy darks.

It was the second piece that got the biggest applause, though, thanks to the pyrotechnics of the guest hunk. Oh yeah, baby, the 25-year-old Korean-German wunderkind looked about 15, so it seemed to me the enthusiastic standing ovation may have been on the patronizing side. Maybe not. He really was quite fantastic.

For me, the first piece was worth the price of admission, though my friend said it was too "modern" for her taste.

Here is where I remind myself not to call this stuff "classical music." When you tell your friends you're going to a concert and it's not Lady Gaga or even Coldplay, you can usually just get away with saying it's classical music. But I guess the correct term is "symphonic" or "orchestral" concert. Anyway, the "Doctor Atomic Symphony" ain't "classical" no-way, no-how.

Having spent the afternoon listening to my CD of Philip Glass symphonies (conducted by above mentioned Alsop, that dinky little force of nature), I was probably in a better mental position to accept the less-melodically inclined Adams piece than my friend was.

Typically when at an orchestral concert, given little else to look at besides the clarinetists cleaning out their instruments every chance they can, I visualize dance, movement, and even a narrative. That was not the case with Adams. Instead, I was visualizing the landscapes of the dread, barren Southwest, and rhythms of dawn and decay. It was both fracturing and refreshing.

Because my friend and I had been yammering away before the program began, I didn't get to read about what I would be hearing this evening. So in the interval before the orchestra and hunky guest launched into the Mendelssohn, I glanced at the program and saw that "Doctor Atomic Symphony" was actually inspired by Robert Oppenheimer, dirctor of the Manhattan Project, which of course was set in the New Mexico desert and, according to the program notes, was "ripe for mythic treatment."

For some reason that made me very happy. That I "got" it. Listening to something I knew nothing about, not exactly prepared for, and feeling what the artist wanted me to (I think).

Love, hosaa,
getting it (I think)