And then there’s the music. The music is simple. I mean, like, really simple. Almost everything is I-IV-V. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that singer/rhythm guitar player Justin Young only knew the chords C, F, and G, and just moved a capo around to change keys. But you’d be wrong. Because that’s the point. Oh, Justin Young knows plenty of other chords, he just chooses not to utilize them – because those are the only chords he needs.
Chicago Opera Theater offers us, with this concert, a chance to see two stunning chamber pieces, one composed by Romantic Robert Schumann, the other composed by the more modern, Czech composer Leo Janáček. The only accompaniment is a piano, and the only set is a screen with projections. And they are intimate and beautiful – even when the overall production asks the audience to draw comparisons between the pieces that seem a stretch.
This material could be really vital, really brutal, heart wrenching stuff. But instead it’s just entertainment. It doesn’t really grapple with the issues, you don’t leave the theater thinking about how our school systems need to be changed, updated, for the times.
This presents an interesting dichotomy with the music: the Baroque orchestration is so refined and meticulously structured, following strict guidelines; yet the action on stage is immense, tragic, emotional. There is an incredible marriage here between the Apollonian music and the Dionysian story.
What is perhaps most enticing about this show is the issues it deals with: death foremost amongst them, of course, but the questions of what is nature, what is natural, and what is human are also vital in the libretto. Miranda, when she is struggling with whether or not she should join those she loves in the System (a question that remains unanswered), says that she does not want to go, because it is death that defines us; a sentiment shared by Solon, when he told Croesus that he cannot tell if someone has lived a happy life or not until he knows how they died.
It is clear, with a piece as rich as this, why Carmen has endured. And the Lyric puts on a stellar production, with everything you could ask for: every single performer is impeccable; the musicians and conductor are top-notch; the sets, costumes, and other technical aspects are all magnificent. A very traditional, and very talented, production of one of the great operas, it would be foolhardy to let this one pass by unnoticed.
The cast of six: Dana Tretta, Jeremy Trager, Sara Schoch, Danni Smith, Evan Tyrone Martin and pianist/ music director Austin Cook each had their moments warbling the iconic R & H tunes. Much of the credit for mounting such a well sung revue goes to the sharp casting by Fred Anzevino who always seems to find new talent to populate his shows. But it is the stellar music direction and deft musicianship by Chicago newbie Austin Cook that made a difference.
The music is quintessential Handel: Baroque, ornamental, beautiful. He often riffs on a single textual line for minutes on end, like an Enlightenment-era MC5, which is aurally impressive, but does occasionally leave those on stage looking for ways to act around the repetition. Sellers often gives them actions representing certain lines, which are repeated with them.
The story is in many ways a typical Knight of the Swan tale from the Middle Ages: a mysterious stranger (Lohengrin, in this production excellently portrayed by the South African tenor Johan Botha) appears, on a boat pulled by a swan, to save a troubled damsel (Elsa, the soprano Emily Magee); he then leaves, once a promise is broken, often that of not requesting the name and lineage of the hero
As the show starts, they play some 50s commercials on the two side-stage screens, including a commercial where Flintstones characters sell cigarettes; this got a big laugh. I guess I missed how cartoon characters selling cigarettes to children is funny. Anyway, the screen then cuts to an Ed Sullivan impersonator, who introduces the band.