Opera or Musical?

This Opera vs. Musical Theatre debate has been the bane of my existence for many a year. As a stage director and former performer (singer-actor) who has worked and continues to work extensively in both mediums, I have found a tremendous amount of high-minded judgment emanating from each side toward the other. We can certainly look back and chronicle the history of each art form and debate the true intentions of the original creators and jump through hoops and what have you ad nauseam. We can talk of forms and functions of various pieces, mentioning the through-composed recitative/aria structure of Les Miz and the habit of the Restoration theatre to call upon Mr. Purcell for song and dance to create the then popular “semi-opera” and the philosophical choice for microphones now used in some modern opera compositions (yes indeed, composers have actually stipulated in their scores the use of mics in some of their works). But at base, this distinction, this bright red dividing line between the forms, will eventually cease to exist and soon enough not matter in the slightest. Good riddance.

There is no hard and fast rule in this debate that cannot be argued in it’s opposite. There is no official agreed-upon yardstick by which a piece measures up or falls short and thereby gains its generic title. We instinctively know an opera to be so and a musical to be such because of our collective cultural knowledge based on certain explicit and implicit signs and signals. We know it somehow, even if we don’t know exactly why. It’s pure academia to try to parse out the strays. What matters most is the needs on the ground, the actuality of the situation and not the theoretical conundrums (however interesting and enjoyable the resulting ruminations may be).

In New York, both the Broadway theatres and the opera houses at Lincoln Center are thirsting for distinction and relevance, not to mention off-Broadway and off-off-Broadway and the myriad of independent chamber operatic endeavors. But how is this accomplished? How is this thirst quenched? Strangely enough, by drinking from each other’s water coolers. One finds traditional “musical theatre” fare being offered at the opera house, and playing to sold-out crowds no less. One finds shows of musical complexity and artistic seriousness being tread on the boards of traditional theatres, and these shows are highly acclaimed and are being called “operas” by the critics. It seems both mediums are trading in on the other’s core commodities. And in truth, this is exactly what must be done for either art form to continue and survive.

Musical Theatre must raise the bar on its musical integrity and further its artistic reaching beyond mere entertainment, and Opera must find itself in a more straightforward directness in its physical production and a more accessible melodic orientation in its composition. We must cease to use the terms “opera” and “musical theatre” as words of derision and separation, but rather must find a fusion of intent that allows for a synergetic growth into our collective musico-dramatic future. We must fund, develop, and support the idea of Lyric Theatre.

That is indeed what this all is at base. What we’re talking about is theatre that has as its very core a singular method of communication: the lyric, meaning simply “sung word”. All pieces under discussion are covered by this term. Chicago. Arabella. Alceste. Company. Aida (both the Verdi and the Elton John). The main mode of communication in each is musicalized speech. The focuses of these works are essentially the words that are sung and the people that sing them.

Let’s stop splitting hairs to find the differences and instead use all elements at our disposal to create the best possible whole. That’s been my mission and continues to drive me artistically forward. No difference between the one and the other, except the uniqueness that happens piece by piece by lovely lyrical piece.

"That's Entertainment"

Ah yes, but what of entertainment? Entertainment is essential in all performance art, as is also Art reflexively essential in all performance entertainment. These somewhat conflicting but more than occasionally consonant goals are aspects both "operas" and "musicals" must claim in varying degrees for their perspective futures to be made sure. Variety is the spice of life and the spice of art and entertainment as well. We definately need for all things to be themselves and allow for each thing a place, but I simply try to promote the idea of an accepting non-scornful perspective that accounts for all things and shuns any idea of exclusivity.

Certainly, origins also account for an awful lot. In fact, without them, most everything simply wouldn't exist. Not much material stuff is as Athena springing fully formed from the great Zeus. As a former Professor of Musical Theatre (I’ve had a very varied past - don't ask), I taught many a class on the development and origins of the Broadway Musical and have studied reams and reams of historical material. Really in fact, it did all come from “opera” (pace theatre-centric-ologists) but it just filtered a bit differently once it hit the New World. Minstrel shows most especially furthered the cause when the idea of the English Ballad opera failed to gain a popular public here in America. But this is all beside the point.

Lyric Theatre - where everything is something and nothing is laughed to scorn or dismissed out of hand as being without meaning. All things should have a communal place, a big tent if you will, and from there can be as uniquely unique as there are shades of grey or snowflakes. Unfortunately, along the way, Opera forgot that it was once entertainment, and the Musical Theatre forgot that it was once, or rather could be, art.

The entire 10 tome treatise will be published and distributed at a later date for all those around the world who care. I know you all can't wait. All four of you.

Movie Review - Heights

Hitting the 'Heights' and Lows

Subtlety in moviemaking is a difficult thing to even attempt, let alone to pull off well. Leave it to a first-time director to make a wonderful go of it. Chris Terrio’s initial foray into film has produced a very fine and emotionally moving piece of theatre that just happens to be projected onto the big screen. Characterizations are quite strong from the entire ensemble cast, and they come roaring out of the gate full-tilt from the very first scene. Each one of these actors give a uniquely detailed performance steeped in weighty backstory that can be felt with each evolving relationship and each intimate exchange. Relationships are explored from a kaleidoscope of various angles. Mother and daughter. Husband and wife. Friend and lover. Every interaction adding to the collective consciousness of a societal whole that comes clearer and clearer into focus as the film builds to a strangely wistful yet upbeat finale. The story itself doesn’t so much “twist” as simply gains in momentum and depth as we come to better know each of these interconnected individuals. It is a moving and interesting experience that I certainly appreciated. I must however mention some overripe aspects: a touch too much with the longingly knowing looks on the part of our fabulous diva mother (Glenn Close) in regards to her unresponsive philandering husband… a bit too many overly blank expressions by our sexually conflicted husband-to-be (James Marsden) when faced with any number of what-to-dos… a tad too over-the-top in the self-loathing department by third-wheel gay lover, Alec (Jesse Bradford)… the list goes on apace from there. All these things would read very well on the stage in a live performance, but seem to come off beyond the pail blown-up to cinema screen size. Odd that a director who shows so much subtlety and restraint also allows things to occasionally turn so emotionally purple. I’m sure with time and experience a balance will be found. For now, ‘Heights’ can be said to be a flawed work, but an emotionally filling one regardless, and to me, well worth the scaling.

Movie Review - Mysterious Skin

Silence Speaks

As an adult who endured sexual abuse and rape as a young adolescent, I feel that I can't be completely unbiased about this film. That said, I very much respect its aims. It faces headlong and attempts to tackle a huge issue that has quietly enveloped our culture. The sexual abuse of children is something that has gone on unannounced for many, many years. An epidemic of sorts that has touched us all in some form or another, however unbeknownst it may be to many. ‘Mysterious Skin’ shows two divergent paths children may take when confronted with such an adult violence as sex. Strange. Intriguing. Disorienting. Uncomfortable. Embarrassing. A young boy may either embrace such an act or push it away into the darkest, deepest corner of his mind. Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Brady Corbet illustrate these disparate reactions, and do so with a true depth of understanding. Gordon-Levitt’s cocksure bravado and all-knowing swagger is balanced tit for tat by Cobet’s total banality and unassuming withdrawal. Both experiences are excruciatingly painful to watch. But as these opposing forces are slowly entwined and brought closer together, it’s as if one sees two contrasting sides of pain unite in some twisted kind of mating ritual. And in this union, one can so clearly see the devastation wrought by such an extreme and invasive act. A very strong supporting cast made up of Michelle Trachtenberg, William Sage, and Elisabeth Shue imbue the boys’ journey to self-discovery with a bittersweet fullness that without, would leave the film feeling utterly flat and solely didactic. Apart from the truly great performances in the film, the viewpoint of the material presented by writer/director Gregg Araki is somewhat heavy-handed at times and seems to occasionally enjoy its own shock value. However, this particular subject matter is a tensely coiled tightrope; it’s a very hard thing to strike a perfect balance with it at all times. That this film was even written, shot, and distributed at all is a tribute to all those involved and should leave Mr. Araki with, at the very least, a feeling of accomplishment. The silence of innocence lost has been deafening and has lasted far too long. Now, it speaks.

Movie Review - Batman Begins

A Better Blockbuster by Far

Whoever heard of a summer blockbuster that didn't show the iconic hero in full action until an hour into the film? This is not your usual stock-in-trade popcorn flick you've come to expect from the kiddie-pleasing Batman enterprise. This new installment is a film that has at its core a desire to fully explore the philosophical ramifications of injustice and fear and sure-handedly takes us along for the emotional ride. This is film that is not afraid to focus on the narrative meat of social and psychological issues while still providing the action-adventure thrills summer audiences have come to expect in hero vs. villain comic book based showdowns. I whole-heartedly applaud director Christopher Nolan for his commitment to character development and plot progression, even at the expense of the traditional bang-bang-shoot-em-up spectacular opening sequence. This movie is not a series of action shots, but rather one long crescendo, a single through-line that continues from opening scene right on to the credits. Christian Bale’s superbly acted Batman is so utterly defined and motivated and shown from so truthful a place that we believe totally in his need to act exactly as he does. There is such a realism and attention to detail in his portrayal of Bruce Wayne, a character who actually invents his alter-ego Batman by trial and error, hit and miss, with lots of misses along the way. There is no gloss here; this is almost super-realism. Add to the mix the outstanding supporting cast of Morgan Freeman, Gary Oldman, Liam Neeson, and the inimitable Michael Caine, all of whom are brilliant dramatically, and even add wonderfully timed and heart-felt comedic moments throughout. The depth of talent here is almost endless. Yes, this ‘Batman’ most certainly belongs alongside Mr. Nolan’s other outstanding works: ‘Memento’, ‘Insomnia’, and ‘Following’. In truth, it should be considered very well placed within their ranks, sharing their search for a fuller humanity with a more open heart. Really, this is an indie film. It’s just disguised as a caped-crusading Hollywood blockbuster.

Movie Review - The Bridge of San Luis Rey

The Bridge is Fallen Down

With such a superb and experienced cast, one would expect a film that, if nothing else, offered well-acted and full-bodied characterizations. Unfortunately, the director at the helm of this project, Ms. Mary McGuckian, has dampened every aspect of this picture's possibilities, including the creative palettes of her onetime skillful actors. Apart from Gabriel Byrne's wonderfully introspective portrayal of the investigative priest Brother Juniper and the occasional flash of brilliance from F. Murray Abraham as the vacillating Viceroy of Peru, this film has nothing more to offer than pretty pictures. But indeed, the shots are quite well done. There is lovely visual composition in the fine-tuned cinematography of Javier Aguirresarobe and exquisite period detail in Yvonne Blake's costumes accentuated with amazingly inventive yet still realistic hair and make-up designed by Linda Devetta. Visually, this is a very appealing venture. Every other aspect, however, makes it an excruciatingly masochistic endeavor: laughable line readings, poor threadbare script, lack of any visible character development, confusing cross cutting of scenes, a disregard of clarity in the storytelling, a soundtrack that is so totally out of place as to be either a complete mistake by a musical hack or a brilliant existential commentary by a compositional genius (I can only assume the former). The most annoying element though is the potpourri of speech accents that when mixed, produced the most foul smelling sound that pervaded this film like a freezer full of gourmet beef cuts in a mid-summer kitchen that had lost its power two and a half weeks ago. I could go on, but there's no use in heaping insult upon injury. This film is simply a complete disappointment. With so much potential in having a substantial studio-backed budget, the literary source material of Thornton Wilder, and a gaggle of truly seasoned actors, Ms. McGuckian has effectively squandered any hopes of conveying the core message of this piece. She seemingly had no love for the material, and unfortunately, love is the only bridge to it.

Where are the Wild Things?

I remember identifying so much with little Max in Maurice Sendak's 1964 book - only difference was that I was a shy and reserved and polite young boy. But inside, I wanted, nay yearned, to become that cock-sure world-wise attitudinal tough guy who would strut about in an over-the-top demanding and self-deserved demeaning way. But it just never materialized. I stayed reserved and respectful. Was it right that I remained so utterly put-together? Was it a good thing that I retained appropriately unchildlike behavior? Or was I somehow stunted by not allowing myself to lash-out, break-out, act-out and go on my imagined rampage with my inner Wild Things? I sometimes wonder, these decades later, if indeed that inborn instinct to selfish hedonism is gone, or if it simply lays in wait...

Movie Review - Star Wars Episode III

Is That the Final Answer?

We, the fans of Star Wars past, have longed many years for the answers to the nagging questions that, replacing recalcitrant sugarplums, constantly filled our adolescent heads at bedtime - questions like: How could Darth Vader be Luke's father? Where did all the Jedi go? and Why did Vader turn to the Dark Side in the first place? Well, the waiting is over and all is now revealed. Purported to be the best of the "new" Episodes, 'Sith' certainly answered my many questions, and did so with some sense of satisfaction. But not as completely as I had hoped. 'Sith' falters where one expects it to. The acting isn't its strong suit - that hasn't been the case since New Hope and Empire began with dim acting hopes themselves, and it has far deteriorated since. The performers are a bit stiff having to work with virtual "fill in the scene later with computers" green-screens. The script isn't what one might call a literary classic. All the usual criticisms. But it's a massive accomplishment, too. The action is great, of course - that's a virtual given. The visuals are truly beyond belief. The story is all wrapped up, each loose end being carefully tied, including stunning visual connections to Episode IV near the end of the film. But something feels missing. The heart of things, the humanity of the drama is somehow lost in all the modern technological advance. I don't know, maybe it's me, but the thing that drew me with such Force to Star Wars in those early impressionable years was wonderful over-the-top characters immersed in an utterly involving story. Sure, it happened to take place in outer space. It happened to have incredible action sequences and mind-blowing battle scenes. But beyond all that, it had tremendous heart. Luke, Leia, Han, the lovable Larel and Hardy droids. They are what you remember above all else. The connection you feel to the people on the screen, not the lifeless effects that surround them. Unfortunately, the beating heart has been somehow lost along the way. Now don't get me wrong, 'Sith' is a very good film. Certainly better than installments I and II. But it exists in this era. An era that has more respect and fascination for lightsaber fight scenes and blinding speed and the blaring sounds of C.G.I. battle than for the actual human elements that happen to bring all that technological razzle-dazzle together. There is a surreal moment in this film when Darth Vader finally dons his infamous suit and looks like the villain we know from years ago, and in that moment, the sound goes out. It's completely quiet. All you hear is the pumping of blood and then that particular breathing we all remember sending a shiver up our collective teenage spines. In that moment, I felt a glimmer of the unique connection that has kept Jedi questions dancing in my head all these many years. Yes, answered my questions have been. My mind knows that. I wish, however, that my heart felt it as well.