Thursday, November 5, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
The Habits of the Rich and Thin
I think many writers write what we want to learn. Hence my latest piece on the Habits of the Rich and Thin.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Another Day, Another Dollar Store
Dollar Stores. Bargain bonanza or schemy marketing ploy? You decide.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Finale Ultimo
Spoiler alert - Mimi died. Again. I keep hoping it'll work out differently for her.
Watching Boheme I continue to marvel at Puccini's genius. His ability to capture the effervescence of youth, as well as its heartbreak - so masterful. It made me think about the interpretation of Father Own Lee, the opera expert often heard on the Metropolitan Opera Quiz. For Puccini chooses to end the opera with the melody from Colline's "coat aria," a seemingly odd choice given that he's a secondary character. But what Puccini seems to be saying is that the sacrifice Colline makes, the maturity that he exhibits, is the experience of all of the characters. That these young people are facing mortality for the first time, and they will never be the same again.
It's a quality I thought a lot about when I wrote Attack of the Theater People. Indeed, I often played my recording of Boheme when I was writing it. My work hasn't achieved anywhere near the depth, of course, but it's something to aspire to.
Addio, senza rancor.
Watching Boheme I continue to marvel at Puccini's genius. His ability to capture the effervescence of youth, as well as its heartbreak - so masterful. It made me think about the interpretation of Father Own Lee, the opera expert often heard on the Metropolitan Opera Quiz. For Puccini chooses to end the opera with the melody from Colline's "coat aria," a seemingly odd choice given that he's a secondary character. But what Puccini seems to be saying is that the sacrifice Colline makes, the maturity that he exhibits, is the experience of all of the characters. That these young people are facing mortality for the first time, and they will never be the same again.
It's a quality I thought a lot about when I wrote Attack of the Theater People. Indeed, I often played my recording of Boheme when I was writing it. My work hasn't achieved anywhere near the depth, of course, but it's something to aspire to.
Addio, senza rancor.
Act Three
Puccini is a friggin' genius. Not only is the music sublime, but he's sense of dramaturgy is so unerring. PLUS he has the good sense to write really short acts. Love that.
My two favorite moments in Act Three - one is interpretative, the other the work itself. The first was so simple. Mimi (Kelly Kaduce - got to get in the habit of using the singer's name - I'm typing too fast) is leaving. Weak with consumption, she reached for the gate, but misjudged the distance, faltering for a microsecond. I don't know if it was by accident or design, but it was so touching, so real, so human. It really broke my heart.
This is what I love about art. The tiniest detail can pack such a punch and be so eloquent. It reminded me of seeing Veronica Villaroel as Violetta at the Met. I don't remember a thing about her singing, but I'll never forget her tiny white feet hanging lifeless from beneath her nightgown. If you amortize the memory of those moments over a lifetime, the cost of one's theater ticket actually turns a profit.
The second moment was actually the libretto - three simple words. "Addio, senza rancor." Goodbye, without rancor. The dignity in that farewell, the courage and compassion. It brings tears to my eyes. This is what I'm striving for in my own work - to dig deeper into human behavior. To see that accomplished so simply, in just three words. That's poetry.
Lastly, as much as I'm appreciating the show, I also find myself thinking about Rent a lot and what an amazing job Jonathan Larsen did adapting Boheme.
My two favorite moments in Act Three - one is interpretative, the other the work itself. The first was so simple. Mimi (Kelly Kaduce - got to get in the habit of using the singer's name - I'm typing too fast) is leaving. Weak with consumption, she reached for the gate, but misjudged the distance, faltering for a microsecond. I don't know if it was by accident or design, but it was so touching, so real, so human. It really broke my heart.
This is what I love about art. The tiniest detail can pack such a punch and be so eloquent. It reminded me of seeing Veronica Villaroel as Violetta at the Met. I don't remember a thing about her singing, but I'll never forget her tiny white feet hanging lifeless from beneath her nightgown. If you amortize the memory of those moments over a lifetime, the cost of one's theater ticket actually turns a profit.
The second moment was actually the libretto - three simple words. "Addio, senza rancor." Goodbye, without rancor. The dignity in that farewell, the courage and compassion. It brings tears to my eyes. This is what I'm striving for in my own work - to dig deeper into human behavior. To see that accomplished so simply, in just three words. That's poetry.
Lastly, as much as I'm appreciating the show, I also find myself thinking about Rent a lot and what an amazing job Jonathan Larsen did adapting Boheme.
A word about the audience
I'm pleased to see the majority of the audience dressed up for opening night. I'm not saying you need to show up in a top hat in an opera cape, but there are people who show up for the theater in clothes I wouldn't wear to wash my car. That's so not okay with me.
Phew!
The opera told us we could "wear what you want, say what you want," but I must confess I was kinda worried what would happen if they show bit. Hey, it happens. With so many variable components, even the best opera companies can serve up a loser.
Well, no worries here. Not only is this Boheme utterly charming and dynamic, it's the best production of an Italian opera I've seen at Portland Opera. You see, these "spaghetti operas" are tough to cast. The fact is, guttural German or liquid French can hide a multitude of sins, as can modern music. But there's nothing to hide behind in Italian - you're wide open. And you've got to deliver the vocal goods.
And these singers do - in spades. When the Rodolfo held onto his high C it was like that Bugs Bunny cartoon where the singer holds the note forever. Except this guy didn't turn plaid.
Adding to the experience is the utterly disarming production. The singers all appear convincingly young and capture the frivolity of La Vie Boheme. I found myself grinning for much of the first two acts, except when I was tearing up. And I was especially happy that the Mimi played the role a little slutty. As a grisette, or seamstress, she would have been a woman of questionable reputation. But all too often she's portrayed as a simpering innocent twit. So it's an enormous relief to see this Mimi play the entire range of the character.
My only complaint thus far is that Maestro Allemandi allowed the tenor to take the optional offstage high C at the end of the act. As much as I enjoyed his high notes, I find the choice to be vulgar artistically. You could argue that Mimi and Rodolfo are ecstatic, but the spareness of the orchestra calls for tenderness, with her floating her high note while he harmonizes.
More at the next intermission...
Well, no worries here. Not only is this Boheme utterly charming and dynamic, it's the best production of an Italian opera I've seen at Portland Opera. You see, these "spaghetti operas" are tough to cast. The fact is, guttural German or liquid French can hide a multitude of sins, as can modern music. But there's nothing to hide behind in Italian - you're wide open. And you've got to deliver the vocal goods.
And these singers do - in spades. When the Rodolfo held onto his high C it was like that Bugs Bunny cartoon where the singer holds the note forever. Except this guy didn't turn plaid.
Adding to the experience is the utterly disarming production. The singers all appear convincingly young and capture the frivolity of La Vie Boheme. I found myself grinning for much of the first two acts, except when I was tearing up. And I was especially happy that the Mimi played the role a little slutty. As a grisette, or seamstress, she would have been a woman of questionable reputation. But all too often she's portrayed as a simpering innocent twit. So it's an enormous relief to see this Mimi play the entire range of the character.
My only complaint thus far is that Maestro Allemandi allowed the tenor to take the optional offstage high C at the end of the act. As much as I enjoyed his high notes, I find the choice to be vulgar artistically. You could argue that Mimi and Rodolfo are ecstatic, but the spareness of the orchestra calls for tenderness, with her floating her high note while he harmonizes.
More at the next intermission...
More fun facts
Just met a woman whose mother was a friend of Maria Callas's. Her mother kept candy bars in the freezer for when Callas visited. At first I thought she said Three Musketeers, which worried me because I was afraid I'd lose all respect for Callas. I mean, Three Musketeers? Those suckers are made of plastic and air.
But it turned out to Milky Ways, so it's okay.
But it turned out to Milky Ways, so it's okay.
Upcoming Opera News
I'm especially excited to be here tonight because, after a six year absence, I will actually be treading the boards in an opera once again, performing the role of the Glazier in the West Coast premiere of Philip Glass's Orphee.
I still don't know why Portland Opera asked me, but it's going to be totally fun and, frankly, the pay is excellent, particularly when you consider that I will sing a whopping six measures. Here's the crazy part - it's actually quite hard to sing. But I only have to learn one word, which I sing three times.
But I won't tell you what it is. For that you'll have to come to the opera.
I still don't know why Portland Opera asked me, but it's going to be totally fun and, frankly, the pay is excellent, particularly when you consider that I will sing a whopping six measures. Here's the crazy part - it's actually quite hard to sing. But I only have to learn one word, which I sing three times.
But I won't tell you what it is. For that you'll have to come to the opera.
Fun La Boheme Facts
There are a hundred people in the actual show - 48 in the chorus, 20 supers, 16 kids and 8 principals - plus the 68 in the orchestra and several dozen on the crew. What's known in math circles as a shitload of people.
Since Act Two takes place on the streets of Paris, every person onstage is either a seller or a buyer, meaning hundreds of props change hands and have to find their way back for the next performance.
I also learned that the used (or "dirty snow") gets reused on the ground so that only new, clean snow falls on the heads of the performers. And, no, there's no yellow snow. I asked.
We bloggers sit in the lobby before and after the show and during the intermissions, which is great because it means we don't have to make small talk.
Plus we get free drinks and cookies.
Since Act Two takes place on the streets of Paris, every person onstage is either a seller or a buyer, meaning hundreds of props change hands and have to find their way back for the next performance.
I also learned that the used (or "dirty snow") gets reused on the ground so that only new, clean snow falls on the heads of the performers. And, no, there's no yellow snow. I asked.
We bloggers sit in the lobby before and after the show and during the intermissions, which is great because it means we don't have to make small talk.
Plus we get free drinks and cookies.
A Night at the Opera
I'll be honest - I didn't think I'd ever need to see La Boheme ever again. I mean, I'm the guy who did something new every day for a year. But when Portland Opera asked me if I'd blog live from the performance, I couldn't turn them down. Mostly because of those comps. Oh yeah, and my love of the arts and whatnot.
So Floyd - who's blogging at justout.com - and I got a backstage tour. You'd think that since I was an opera singer and Floyd a frequent supernumerary, it wouldn't be interesting, but I never tire of going backstage. It's like being between two worlds.
So here's Floyd in the Parisian garret:
And me looking inappropriately happy by the bed where Mimi will expire of consumption.
Then the fake snow balls:
And Floyd working the stage manager booth:
So Floyd - who's blogging at justout.com - and I got a backstage tour. You'd think that since I was an opera singer and Floyd a frequent supernumerary, it wouldn't be interesting, but I never tire of going backstage. It's like being between two worlds.
So here's Floyd in the Parisian garret:
And me looking inappropriately happy by the bed where Mimi will expire of consumption.
Then the fake snow balls:
And Floyd working the stage manager booth:
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Creative Funding for the Arts
The artsy fartsy among you might be interested to learn about these sources I wrote about at Walletpop.com.
That's Doctor Acito to you
A few weeks ago I returned to my alma mater, Colorado College, to receive an honorary doctorate. I'll be honest (what does that phrase mean? That I'm usually full of shit?), the honor weirded me out. I mean, I'm currently underemployed and hustling to figure out how to stay in the game, yet I'm worthy of a doctorate? Aren't those given as the academic equivalent of the lifetime achievement award? But of course I went, musing at yet another sympton of my bi-polar career: in some situations I'm a rock star, other times it's like "Marc who?"
As with most things, my anxiety laid to rest once I got there. What I didn't know is the CC gives out doctorates every year at Freshman Convocation to distinguished alumni in mid-career "as examples of what students can aspire to when they graduate." And I was one of three, including Krista Smith, the west coast editor of Vanity Fair who, among other responsibilities, throws the VF Oscar party, and T.J. Cole, a juvenile and family court judge in Boulder who already has four actual degrees.
But it was yours doctorally who gave the keynote address, which I was really proud of until I listened to it here. You see, I've been making an effort to concentrate on breathing in a calm, yogafied manner. What I didn't realize was how much I was making truly noisy nasal inhalations. I sound like I'm snorting cocaine. Which is maybe why the kids liked it so much.
As with most things, my anxiety laid to rest once I got there. What I didn't know is the CC gives out doctorates every year at Freshman Convocation to distinguished alumni in mid-career "as examples of what students can aspire to when they graduate." And I was one of three, including Krista Smith, the west coast editor of Vanity Fair who, among other responsibilities, throws the VF Oscar party, and T.J. Cole, a juvenile and family court judge in Boulder who already has four actual degrees.
But it was yours doctorally who gave the keynote address, which I was really proud of until I listened to it here. You see, I've been making an effort to concentrate on breathing in a calm, yogafied manner. What I didn't realize was how much I was making truly noisy nasal inhalations. I sound like I'm snorting cocaine. Which is maybe why the kids liked it so much.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
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