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OPERA A Merry Mishmash September 9, 2002
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By Stephanie Friedman
Ariadne auf Naxos, the scintillating confection of composer Richard
Strauss and librettist/poet/philosopher Hugo von Hofmannstahl, is about
contrasts. No, it is about life. No, it is a spoof on tragedy. Philosophy
vs. camp. Life vs. art. Fidelity vs. fickleness. Stop! It is about all of
the above, and more. It is the "and more" that director John Cox and
company of designers, conductor Jun Märkl and his band of
chamber musicians (37 in all) manage to capture in their production of
this bewildering, irresistible opera.
A stagehand or someone else (super? actor/singer warming up? someone off
the street?) juggles balls during the Prologue (40 minutes of life
backstage before the opera-within-the-opera, also called Ariadne auf
Naxos, takes place) drawing the eye briefly from more relevant
action. Perfect! A group of three young women are doing nothing but
looking at everyone else; they will return during the "opera" as three
nymphs attending Ariadne. Good theatrical touch. Four young men dart in
and out of the "set", first in street clothes then in their Commedia
costumes: Arlecchino, Scaramuccio, Brughella, Truffaldino. Splendid
directorial touches are everywhere.
And in the midst of the hubbub, the young Composer of the "opera" — an
idealistic, volatile character who rhapsodizes one minute about "pure"
music and tears his hair out the next at the prospect of having to pollute
his high art with low comedy — manages to fall in love with the coquette
Zerbinetta (Strauss's favorite character in his opera) and learns about
everything that matters. At one point we hear a spate of heavenly
Straussian lyricism in the orchestra, followed immediately by the
ludicrous sight of the vain tenor angrily booting the hapless wig-maker
out of his dressing room, followed in turn by the Composer joyfully
informing his Music Teacher that the sight has just given him an idea for
a heavenly melodic idea. A person can get dizzy.
But that's the point. Inspiration, like laughter, comes unbidden, and from unlikely sources. One would think there is nothing more tragic, more impervious to humor, than the Greek myth of the abandoned Ariadne grieving for Theseus and longing for death. Yet here is Zerbinetta telling us that, really, Ariadne does go on too long. What the woman actually wants, says Zerbinetta, is a new lover, not death. She uses her Commedia troupe's antics and every coloratura wile at her disposal to persuade Ariadne, who is deaf to her. The outrageous comics sneak onstage with buckets of red paint and brushes, to paint their preferred title for the opera across the foot of Ariadne's stage: "Zerbinetta und ihre 4 Liebhaber" (Zerbinetta and her 4 lovers). Bliss! The opera's "philosophy" is: to be fully human you must change. Laughter can erupt unexpectedly, undermining grief. Profound truths sometimes arrive gently on the wings of comedy. Tolerate them. Bend with them. Change. More delights: Ariadne, sung by Deborah Voigt in an outpouring of lyrical beauty, reclines on her rock set in the middle of a reproduction 17th-century stage, complete with multiple flats denoting her desolate grotto, and a cloud machine where the nymph Echo sits but which Zerbinetta and Arlecchino later use for their airy getaway. Zerbinetta, confidently sung for the first time by Laura Claycomb (who has chased Ariadne from the stage with her own outpouring of roulades and trills to woo her away from pining), reclines on that same rock in quite a different manner, propounding not pointless fidelity but joyous abandon. A directorial touch no less effective for its obviousness.
Longing for Hermes, the gods' messenger, to deliver her to death, Ariadne is instead confronted by Bacchus, the splendid young god of the Composer's conception, whom we see first offstage wearing glasses (sigh of delight), reading his part, aided by a stagehand with a pinpoint light as he sings to Ariadne, who he thinks is Circe, the enchantress from whose clutches he has just escaped. (It's OK: Ariadne thinks he's Hermes. They never quite get it straight but fall in love anyway.) Later, he achieves his complete transformation from bumptious tenor in the Prologue to shining god, with the help of onstage costume additions and a lovely roseate light that suffuses the entire stage. By then Ariadne is also transformed by a regal robe and is carried offstage in a godlike ship (which has been spoofed earlier by the irrepressible comedians, Arlecchino paddling the company across the stage, ramrod-straight, smiling fixedly at the audience; Daniel Belcher deserves special mention for a brilliant piece of miming). Ariadne is translated further into a starry constellation by Bacchus so he can keep her forever from the death she yearned for. Zerbinetta, coquette-philosopher, comes on in the mock ship once more to sing, "Kommt der neue Gott gegangen / hingegeben sind wir stumm." ("When a new god comes to woo us / captive are we, helpless, dumb"), only one of many possible mottos for this dizzying, delectable work, made all the more enjoyable not only by the excellent direction but also by the addition by Ms. Rosenberg of a dramaturge. Deborah Voigt proved herself a comedienne extraordinaire as the Prima Donna of the Prologue, as well as a first-class Straussian singer. Laura Claycomb demonstrated balletic grace for Zerbinetta's pirouettes, a bawdy physicality, and a knowing take on life. She accomplished her star number masterfully. Claudia Mahnke, in her company debut, brought the Composer vividly to life with clean, forthright tone and a winning manner. Jonathan Green sang and acted the Ballet Master with clarity and aplomb. Thomas Moser looked and sounded every inch the god, but strained a bit at the top. Frank Hoffmann was appropriately infuriating in the speaking role of the tasteless patron's Major-Domo. The three nymphs sang well, though their ensemble was out of sync with the conductor on opening night, and they need clearer characterization to counterbalance their minor importance on the stage. All in all, the choice of this marvelous production from the Lyric Opera of Chicago augurs well for the reign of Pamela Rosenberg at the San Francisco Opera.
(Stephanie Friedman, mezzo-soprano, has performed in this country and abroad,
in opera and recital. She teaches singing at U.C. Davis and Holy Names College.)
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Deborah Voigt (Ariadne)
Deborah Voigt (Ariadne)