Musical America Blogs

by Cathy Barbash

I had coffee recently with a new acquaintance, Linda Lee. A Hong Kong native and former Director at Burson Marsteller and Shanghai correspondent for CNBC Asia, Lee now hosts a weekly informal professional workshop in Chinese improv in Beijing as an adjunct to her professional training consultancy. Traditionally, verbal communication, both business and personal, is highly premeditated and structured. “Chinese people doesn’t open their mouths, even to speak to family members, unless they have mentally played out the ramifications of their statements several moves out, like a chess game,” explained one of my closest Chinese friends in my early days working in China. (This was the Chinese way of telling me to keep my big mouth shut…) At conferences, Chinese speakers invariably read from prepared remarks that participants will find already included in their folders. Chinese comedy still tends to the structured; the cross-talk routines remind me of Abbott and Costello’s “Who’s on First?”

The Monday evening classes are strictly Chinese language, and aimed at both human resource professionals and low and mid-level employees wishing to improve their self-confidence. Participants now include bank and government employees and others attracted through postings on Chinese social networking websites. They aim to hold their first workshop performance this fall to coincide with the 60th anniversary of the foundation of the People’s Republic of China, and hope eventually to expand the program into Chinese schools.

“People’s initial reaction was “What is improv?” explained Lee. “The Chinese mind is indirect, so this is an education in stretching them. Improv is direct, you must learn to be confident with each other, and this provides a safe and spontaneous way to learn.”

Thus another art form very foreign, even anathema to the Chinese ethos, seeps in. Will aspiring Chinese professionals take to improv as ambitious Chinese youth first took to piano lessons? Last year’s first annual Improv Festival at the Penghao Theatre (see July 7 post) attracted 300 people with little publicity. Look for the second installment in Spring 2010. However, in a society that prefers predictability and control, I wouldn’t bet that we’ll enjoy Second City-style improv on the CCTV Chinese New Year’s Show in our lifetime.

By Andy Hertz
   
Saturday night, as I was music directing the opening night production of The Fully Monty for ReVision Theater in Asbury Park, I (along with everyone in the theater) was reminded about the dangers of live performance: not a flubbed line, not a missed lyric, not a wrong note.  The power went out.
   
It occurred in the midst of a song. The band has two guitars, one keyboard, a drummer, two horns and two reeds. Naturally, when we lost power, the non-electric instruments kept playing. And they, in fact, finished the song quite well despite losing the bottom half of the orchestra and nearly all of the rhythm section.
   
At first it seemed like it was just the band that lost power. Then the stage microphones went out and the lights went last (theater lights contain residual power that can keep them going for a little longer before they shut off). After emergency crews tried unsuccessfully to remedy the situation, we assumed the show was done for the evening.  Fortunately, someone ultimately found a box with a switch (yes, one switch) that restored all power to the theater.

A remarkable thing occurred as the show continued: It was better than it ever had been.
   
Why? I believe that everyone realized that the worst thing that could possibly happen in live theater (save injury) had happened and that somehow we all lived through it. So it took the pressure off all of us, including myself, to move forward with a freedom and confidence we hadn’t had before.

So, what could have been a financial and artistic disaster—the need to refund thousands of dollars, to sooth bruised egos, apologize to patrons, etc.—turned into a positive and artistically affirming experience for all.  

Janice L. Mayer

Over the weekend I visited my elderly uncle in his nursing home in Massachusetts. It’s a pleasant place – as these facilities go – in Duxbury. Uncle Dick is Red Sox baseball fanatic who was recruited by the minor league in his day. I purchase a Baseball Hall of Fame Inductee T-shirt for him every year when I visit Glimmerglass Opera in Cooperstown and the presentation of the shirt with the new autographs, along with a review of ‘the greats,’ has become a family tradition. Uncle Dick has advanced Alzheimer’s disease now and his days of reciting the scores of legendary ballgames is behind him. He often asks, “What happened?” That question can baffle a visitor. Does it refer to the wide-ranging question of how did he land in this predicament, or more simply what happened to breakfast? Either is possible.

Artists historically have challenged us to make sense of ‘what happened?’ Think of folk singer Pete Seeger, now celebrating his 90^th year, challenging us all to deal with ‘what happened’ to the Hudson River and how to revitalize the environment in his folk songs aboard the The Clearwater. Think of Joan Baez reacting to ‘what happened’ in Vietnam and fueling the peace movement of the 1960s with Cambodia and her other heartfelt anti-war songs. And who can forget the late, soulful singer Odetta whose rendition of I’m On My Way moved the crowd to action at the 1963 Civil Rights March on Washington? We know ‘what happened’ in our Nation’s capital, and across the South, as a result. Recently I saw two productions whose creators were trying to make sense of ‘what happened’ in Louisiana in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.

Jacob’s Pillow in Becket, Massachusetts is sacred ground to dancers in the modern dance tradition. Male modern dance originated there under choreographer Ted Shawn, and Ruth St. Denis, Agnes DeMille, Martha Graham, Twyla Tharp and almost any important female modern dancer one can think of had her creative spirit nurtured on the rambling grounds of what was originally a farm in the 1700s.  Interestingly, Jacob’s Pillow was recently designated a historical landmark for its life-saving role as a sanctuary for the Underground Railroad. David Roussève and his diverse dance company, Reality, explored the effect of Katrina in his moving multi-dimensional, evening-length work Saudade. Violent movement subjugating the slighter more fragile dancers alternated with strapping company members heroically lifting up their partners in other sections of the piece. Movement was interspersed with spoken dialogue recited by the triple threat choreographer/ writer/performer, Mr. Roussève. A native son of Louisiana, he connected the dots beginning with the slave movement from Africa to the degradation of the inhabitants of 9^th Ward in New Orleans  post-Katrina – literally punctuating his progression with markers at each stopping point. This was not a linear story; rather one with advances and retreats in which he personified the see-saw of progress as he haltingly traveled a diagonal path across the stage. There was no clear, straight path to understanding here. Was it tough to watch? At some points, yes. Was the verbal and movement language rough? Yes, in that it reflected the brutality he was exposing. Clearly a gifted artist who is close to the subject, Roussève was grappling with major issues and might have been served by a second eye on the project. But then again, with the world’s eye on Katrina, the country sat bewildered and dazed in the aftermath of the storm. Should, we expect more of Roussève?

The Consul, courtesy of Glimmerglass Opera

At Glimmerglass Opera in Cooperstown, I attended the dress rehearsal and opening performance of Gian Carlo Menotti’s The Consul. It is a story teaming with despair as dejected characters face bureaucraticinsensitivity as they plead for asylum. American director Sam Helfrich chose to set the action in Louisiana post-Katrina. While the set was non-site-specific in its industrial tone, Sam envisioned the movement of the characters into the consulate as like the relocation of the Katrina survivors into the Astrodome. By Act II they were carrying their personal effects – here symbolized by unlit lamps – and literally moving into the consulate. With little hope of escaping their miserable circumstances, the lights symbolically never illuminated their path to freedom.

It was interesting to me that in 2009 we have two creators working in different mediums trying to make sense of ‘what happened’ in 2005. Do we need to reflect on the actions, or perhaps inaction at that time? I would suggest that we do, in order to prevent this dehumanizing treatment leveled upon human beings from occurring again. Is it truly as Magda sings in The Consul (Nonesuch recording: NPD85645/2) ?

“To this we’ve come:
That men withhold the world from men.
No ship no shore for him who drowns at sea,
no grave for him who dies on land…”

I came away from both performances appreciating the motivation of the directors, but wishing for more clarity in the telling of ‘what happened’. Although perhaps it was their intention to overwhelm their audiences in the same way that the 14-foot waters inundated the community of New Orleans.

by Cathy Barbash

Just received word that Julia Colman and Ludovic Bois have shuttered their 13-year old Chinese Contemporary galleries in Beijing, London and New York. They could not get the right stock anymore, because “The Chinese were finally taking over their market with museum curators, galleries and strong influence in the best art fairs.” Per Chinese contemporary art maven Phil Tinari, they are being “cut out by Chinese galleries who have access to the better artists, and these Chinese galleries have become the ones to sell works to foreigners. . . . There is less and less of a position to be held by Western galleries with little real authority to wield in the actual Chinese sphere.”

In the music world, international agents still control the cultivation and management of Chinese classical music stars. The usual pattern sees the young Chinese making their way to the premiere educational institutions in the U.S. or Europe, then being snapped up by the big dogs of the management world. Some say this won’t change until there is a strong domestic Chinese market for classical music. My guess is that it has to do with the amount of money to be made. I suspect that even Lang Lang in his best year would not make as much for his agent as Zhang Xiaogang, Yue Minjun or Zeng Fanzhi would make for theirs. When the money to be made seems worth the effort, we’ll see the rise of Chinese management companies.

by Janice L. Mayer

The Makropulos Case conjures up tales of phenomenal designer shoes as well as miraculous longevity in its heroine. In my last blog, Cheryl Barker spoke of stunning heels that helped her achieve a stately presence on stage. Stephanie Sundine, soprano turned in-demand opera stage director, recalls a more down-to-earth moment in this astounding opera by Janáček. “When I sang Emilia Marty in The Makropulos Case at Canadian Opera, I had several quick changes during the run of the show. In one of them, I had to change from gold slippers to black shoes. During one of the performances, the quick change went a little too fast, and I unknowingly ended up with one gold slipper and one black shoe. As soon as I came back onstage, I was blocked to throw myself down on a chaise and put my feet up, with great flair, as only Emilia Marty can do! As I did that, I looked at my feet and realized what had happened. As soon as possible, I put my feet back on the floor and did everything I could to keep them covered with my long black dress. Apparently, I wasn’t entirely successful, because the costumer Suzanne Mess (of whom I had heard for years, but never met) came to my dressing room after the show to playfully scold me for wearing mismatched shoes! That would have to happen on the night an important costumer was in the audience.”

Stephanie’s was a harmless mishap, but this week in the news—both the national news and cultural reporting—pictured leading ladies in a cast. Front page coverage in The New York Times explained that the walking cast on Judge Sonia Sotomayor’s ankle was the result of a tumble while sprinting through New York’s Laguardia Airport earlier this summer. Ironically the judge, who is engaged in Senate confirmation hearings as the first female Latino nominee to the U.S. Supreme Court, is being challenged by the Republican member of the Judiciary Committee as being too empathetic. Watching her hobble into the hearing room and taking the ‘hot seat’ surely brings out my sympathy! Then the Royal Opera’s Il barbieri of Siviglia which featured a notable ensemble was spotlighted. Joyce DiDonato, their effervescent Rosina, bubbled-over and ended up in a plaster cast caused by a spill on stage during Act 1. Ever the trouper, she completed the opera on crutches. The popular mezzo-soprano is expected to finish the ‘run’ of performances in a cast and on crutches, but the shows will go on!  

Marjorie Mussman, former soloist with the José Limón and Joffrey Dance Companies, said that she empathizes with singers dealing with raked and uneven surfaces.  Marjorie explained that “ballet dancers have to deal with a rake even on flat surfaces because it’s built into their toe shoes; the heel is already a little lower than the balls of the feet in pointe shoes.” She recalled her most challenging moment was on a State Department tour of Central and South America with the highly regarded First Chamber Dance Company of New York.  She had a solo in Sir Anton Dolin’s work Pas de Quartre “which featured a sequence of jumps traveling upstage.  The movement was challenging in and of itself, and then to perform it in Mexico City where the altitude is over a mile-high was extremely tiring!”

And then there is the adjustment of footwear—or lack thereof—from her time with the Limòn company which customarily dances barefoot to the Joffrey which dances in pointe shoes. Toe shoes lift your arch and I had to get used that again. Also my feet shrank in size and my shoes were actually falling down be cause I had gone down a half size. To keep them in place I started using good old Elmer’s© glue to affix my shoes to my heels during performances!” Today Marjorie teaches the professional advanced class at choreographer Mark Morris’s Dance Center in Brooklyn completing a cycle which began in a Seattle workshop when she taught a 13-year old Mark Morris. “Mark has always been bright and interesting—and fun!  People have always gravitated to him, like a pied piper. And he knows music like crazy! He has created a wonderful atmosphere at his dance center; it’s spotless, the floors are all sprung, and we all feel so supported without suffering interference in how we teach from the administration—I can really teach how I teach. They’ve been great to me.” It sounds like the Mark Morris Dance Group has it all in-balance, in Brooklyn!

Speaking of on point, dancer, choreographer and stage director Nicola Bowie shared her experience as beginning dancer with me. “I wanted to be a Classical Ballet Dancer from the age of four,” she said. And for those of us who are privileged to know Nicky as a very gregarious, outgoing adult transplant from the U.K., it may be hard to believe why she started lessons. “I began ballet classes at this early age as my mother felt that I suffered badly from shyness and needed more contact with children of my own age. From the first class I attended I was totally hooked, possessed, obsessed and it was absolutely clear that the world of dance was to be my destiny.  I took as many classes as my mother could drive me to and afford to pay for, passed all the relevant exams with honors and at the age of eleven, attended The Legat School of Russian Ballet (a vocational boarding school where academic studies took somewhat of a backseat and you danced from morning until night…bliss). At the age of sixteen I went on to The Royal Ballet Upper School in London. The premises were shared with the Royal Ballet Company.  We saw Rudolf Nureyev, Sir Anthony Dowell, Dame Antoinette Sibley and Dame Margot Fonteyn in the canteen on a daily basis (not that anyone was consuming anything other than black coffee, cottage cheese and, of course, the obligatory cigarette).”

And as I’m beginning to believe, every ballerina remembers her first toe shoes and has her own way of customizing them. “Being ahead of the game in terms of my age and stage, I received my first pair of pointe shoes at nine. They were a beautiful pink satin with matching ribbons which my mother painstakingly sewed on. She also darned the toe of the block in order to make them last longer.  I have to confess that they never felt completely comfortable to me. (Some of my colleagues later said that it was like putting on a pair of comfortable slippers, alas, not for me I am afraid.)  Part of the problem was if you naturally developed hard skin on your feet, you were much better protected.  Unfortunately, I was not blessed in that regard. In those days there was a recommend insert of “animal wool” into the toe cap. (One was never sure which animal it came from, and at that time I was so obsessed with putting the shoes on and getting on with the business of dancing, I didn’t care.) The animal wool was supposed to relieve some of the pressure but sometimes it would get hard and lumpy and become counter-productive.  With such soft skin I was at high risk of blisters and corn plasters were a frequent purchase from the pharmacy.  We were advised to dab our toes with surgical alcohol every night in order to encourage the toughening of the skin but I don’t honestly think that it ever did much for me.

In 1974 my dream came true and I was accepted into the London Festival Ballet (now English National Ballet) a full time classical ballet company presenting the classics such as Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty, Giselle, Coppelia, Cinderella, and  Romeo and Juliet. We would do three major seasons in London and toured both regionally and internationally for the rest of the year.  As far as I can remember, I had once week’s rehearsal in London prior to going out on my first tour.  In that week I had to learn the corps de ballet roles in Cinderella, Swan Lake and Les Sylphides! This was utterly terrifying and meant many, many hours ‘en pointe’… I somehow kept going and had to soak my feet in Epsom salts each night when I got home. I can still remember the joy at the end of the first week when I received my first pay check of 19 pounds 50 pence (about $30US!).  I couldn’t actually believe that I was earning money for something that I loved so much and had been doing for so long.”

Then she headed out on the road and the story takes a turn. “Our first tour date was in Eastbourne, a seaside town on the Sussex coast about 80 miles from London. Unfortunately, I managed to contract the worst cold that I can remember the weekend before we were due to leave. I took everything that I could possibly buy from the pharmacy but it was proceding down to my chest with alarming speed… not a great condition to be in when anticipating extensive cardio activity.  Swan Lake has the most dancing within the classical ballet repertoire for a corps de ballet member.  There are usually 32 swans and you are onstage throughout Acts II and IV (“the white acts”) with some appearances playing other characters in Acts I and III. There were eight performances scheduled for the first week with matinee and evening performances on Wednesdays and Saturdays. There was considerably more concentrated dancing than I had experienced before, and as you can imagine there was terrific pressure to ‘achieve,’ and to impress the Artistic Director, Dame Beryl Grey.  By the time I hit the evening performance on Wednesday my cold was so bad that I was having to inhale steam in the dressing room between acts and stick Kleenex© up my nose in order not to ‘drip’ on the floor during the long stands (not a pretty sight)!” One can only imagine that the rest of the flock were trying to keep their distance and health, an ironic twist since her mother started her in dance to make friends as you recall!

At least her bronchitis distracted her from her feet, she said as she continued her memorable shoe story. “Whilst all this was going on I was trying not to think about my poor feet which were in total shock. Suffice to say that when I came off stage that night wheezing like a warthog, pulling the Kleenex © from my nose, I looked down at my feet to see that a great amount of blood from my toes had seeped through my pointe shoes and thus gave a whole new meaning to ‘The Red Shoes’!  I can’t honestly remember how I managed to get through that first week performing as a professional ballet dancer but I guess it happened with a lot of prayer and possibly just a few misgivings as to whether I had ultimately made the best career choice!” Well we’re glad that she made the choice because she has enriched productions with her movement knowledge from coast-to-coast in America—literally from Glimmerglass Opera to Los Angeles Opera—and has encouraged countless emerging performers along the way.

By Andy Hertz

Whatever happened to the overture? For years, musicals opened with the lush sounds of a 30+ piece orchestra that entertained the audience for a few minutes before the show officially started. Today, fewer and fewer shows use overtures, and even fewer (if any) contain entr’actes. Has contemporary musical theater decided that overtures have become passe? Or are there other things that are more important than the aural opening of a show that contains no action onstage, when every minute costs money?

Perhaps authors and producers have determined that the preview of musical themes in the overture is not worth revealing. Perhaps orchestra size which has dwindled tremendously (but increased in the number of electronic and synthesized sounds), would make an overture unappealing. Perhaps there is not enough time to remind people to shut off their cell phones AND play an overture. Perhaps the cell phone announcement is today’s overture.

I have always loved the overture, often more than the songs in a show. When I went to see the Patti Lupone revival of Gypsy last year, and the overture began, played by a large orchestra and fully visible on the stage, I got chills. Not only was it a relief to hear the show the way the author originally intended it, but the music got me excited to see the rest of the show. The show was wonderful, but if it weren’t, I would have at least been enjoyed it for quite some time after hearing such a rousing piece of music.

by Cathy Barbash

Understanding that while there is no more “iron rice bowl” for performers in government-run ensembles there is now relative creative freedom, the more ambitious and savvy students in China’s major performing arts schools are beginning to take their futures into their own hands.

Beijing Dance Academy student Han Xu and a team of classmates organized a day-long forum last month on engagement in the performing arts, with a focus on musicals and hip-hop. However, she had the acumen to hold it at Beijing University, in order to reach out into the mainstream university community and benefit from identification with the nation’s leading institution of higher learning. She convinced her own department to pay all expenses, and to allow her to invite both foreign and Chinese speakers.

Tony Stimac, director of Beijing’s new private Reignwood Theater, spoke about Broadway musicals, Chen Jixin, CEO of the Oriental Broadway International Theater Co. and sometime collaborator with the Nederlander’s China enterprise, lectured on Chinese Musicals.

Xiao Chuan and the Audience

Xiao Chuan, one of China’s foremost hip-hop artists, gave a lecture demonstration on hip-hop’s history and practice, including some audience participation (see picture). Han Xu herself discussed why she had created arts leagues at Beijing’s universities, and exhorted the students to make their own musicals.

After the talking heads, excerpts from her team’s current musical were performed and critiqued by the participants, and students from the various university art leagues gave showcase performances, including rock bands, dance, and even cross-talk (a very traditional Chinese 2-person humorous dialogue-think Abbot and Costello “Who’s On First”). After this first success, Han Xu and colleagues hope to create an alliance of arts leagues at Beijing’s universities in order to further outreach efforts, cultivate leadership in the arts and begin creative and production activities.

My note to ISPA, Arts Presenters, and the Major University Presenters consortium: let’s engage in some cultural diplomacy and reach out to this nascent independent initiative.

A quick post—a reminder to those friends and colleagues who troll the internet for political and cultural news from China, that in addition to fascinating insights, one can also pick up nasty viruses not susceptible to our normal protective software. A few nights ago I was the victim—hence my delay in posting while my computer is being cleaned by experts much more skillful than I.
Cathy