Showing posts with label Glass. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Glass. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 17, 2026

La Belle et la Bête at Opera Parallèle


Chea Kang as Beauty, Hadleigh Adams as the Beast
Photo: Stefan Cohen
Opera Parallèle, March, 2026


A spectacular presentation of Philip Glass's amalgam of film and opera.

Saturday, July 16, 2022

La Belle et la Bête, Opera Parallèle

I've filed a rave review of Opera Parallèle's current production of Philip Glass's opera La Belle et la Bête. Move fast and you might be able to get tickets to the two remaining performances, which are tonight (Saturday, July 16) at 7:30 pm and tomorrow (Sunday, July 17) at 3 pm, at SFJazz, 201 Franklin St. in San Francisco. (Update: Tomorrow is sold out, so you would need to get a return.) It is really wonderful; a great film, terrific performers, great music, and a wildly imaginative production.

My rave doesn't include one small reservation, which in no way should keep you from going: there could be less amplification; it's just a bit too loud for me. And there's one aspect of the original that just cannot be matched because the original audio is completely gone. That's Jean Marais's instantly-recognizable, slightly-raspy voice. It's one of two things I remembered from seeing this film as a child. The other is the sconces in the hallway.

Previous reviews:

Wednesday, November 21, 2018

A Trip to LA

I visited LA the other week, to see Sibelius's incidental music to Shakespeare's The Tempest at the LA Phil, and to see Philip Glass's Satyagraha at the LA Opera. I also ate a fair amount of excellent Korean food and saw friends, sometimes at the same time.

So, worst first: somebody made some bad decisions about The Tempest. I see what they had in mind, a theatrical and musical extravaganza, but they didn't get the best of either side of the production. The orchestra, led by the wonderful Susanna Mälkki, played the incidental music in its entirety, while a troupe of actors from San Diego's Old Globe Theater performed excerpts from the play.

Bad decision no. 1: amplifying the actors. There they were, in possibly the greatest concert hall in the country, where you can hear unamplified footsteps 50 yards away, as I recall from seeing Esa-Pekka Salonen's Wing on Wing at WDCH in 2007, but nobody trusted that the actors would project enough to be heard. Therefore, the actors were amplified to the extent that if they were speaking when the orchestra was playing, the actors - or actor - were louder than the 70-piece orchestra behind them.

This not only completely distorted the balances, but it was mighty tiring for the listeners, who had to adjust their ears about every three minutes, depending on whether the music was allowed to come to the fore or not. It was just awful.

Bad decision no. 2: cutting the play to ribbons. I don't know this play well, although I have seen two operas based on it. I know, I should have read it before my trip! But I didn't. The play was trimmed badly enough that it was nearly impossible to follow; see, also, the difficult of seeing a play where the voices are too damn loud and the sound comes from speakers; this really kills the sense of live theater with actors moving on a stage.

Bad decision no. 3: doing this at all. Of the three friends I spoke to about the show, two were disappointed with the acting and one more or less liked it. I'm somewhere in between; I thought the acting pretty good and the production utterly misguided. Yeah, the visuals were...mostly pretty nice. One friend thought the conception and acting of Ariel the best he had seen.

All of us were unhappy about how the orchestra was pushed to the background. I think it would have been so much better if the incidental music had been the first half of a program whose second half was, I don't know, a Sibelius or Nielsen or Aho or Rautavaara symphony.

(Alex Ross mentions the production in his New Yorker article about the LA Phil at 100. He's more measured than I am.)

Meanwhile, there was splendor to burn across the street at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, where the opera presented Phelim McDermott's ENO/Met production of Satyagraha. SF Opera performed the opera back in the 1989-90 season, during my operatic hiatus. However, back when I was on the Glass beat at SFCV, I picked up the original cast recording, which I liked a lot. So I was curious to see the piece live.

Satyagraha is an idiosyncratic work; its libretto is in Sanskrit, about 900 lines from the Bhagavad Gita, and it does not relate directly to the stage action. This production, which is quite beautiful (link is to a Google Image search), doesn't supertitle the entire text, either, just suggestive excerpts. I can't imagine how the singers learn the text -- wait, actually, I can, by rote -- and it must be disconcerting to sing in a language that, let me guess, they don't understand.

In the end, though, it doesn't matter. The music is gorgeous, perhaps my favorite Glass score; it's brilliant and exciting and energetic. And it got a really fine performance all around, though I had moments of wanting to goose conductor Grant Gershon a bit in Act I, which I thought moved a little slowly.

Perhaps that was deliberate, in keeping with the production. There isn't that much incident in the opera, and as is typical of Glass, there's a lot of repetition. The singers' movements tend to be slow and ritualistic. Occasionally, the production calls unnecessary attention to itself, as when giant bands of tape are stretched slowly across the stage....for no apparent reason, to be removed by five (!) extras and performers. Other than that, I can't fault much. The final image in the production is also marvelous and very moving, with Martin Luther King, Jr. and Gandhi facing each other.

The performers were all excellent, lead by a great performance from tenor Sean Panikkar as Gandhi. If you live in the Bay Area, you might remember him from the Adler program. Well, since then, his voice has gotten bigger, darker, and more burnished; a friend who'd seen him then and now said something about an "exponential" growth in size. Maybe! I certainly took notice when he opened his mouth the first time. (He has also been working out a lot. I doubt Gandhi had pecs like that.) He sang beautifully throughout, finishing with an astonishing string of repetitions of the same phrase. He earned that standing ovation.

The rest of the cast was excellent, including So Young Park as Miss Schlesen, Erica Petrocelli as Mrs. Naidoo, J'Nai Bridges as Kasturbai, Niru Liu as Mrs. Alexander, Theo Hoffman as Mr. Kallenbach, Patrick Blackwell as Krishna, and Morris Robinson as Parsi Rustomji. A special bow of respect to the LA Opera Chorus, which had some extremely difficult music to sing and was terrific. I'm just sorry that I couldn't time this trip to see Satyagraha twice.

Monday, May 29, 2017

Les Enfants Terribles at Opera Parallele

Opera Parallele's Les Enfants Terribles was so damn good that I would have seen it again had I not had events scheduled for both Saturday and Sunday. (Or maybe I would have gone to SFS to see Matthias Goerne, the big miss of the weekend.) In any event, it was fabulous; Glass's score is simply gorgeous and the staging is apt, haunting, and spot-on. Must admit, of course, that I have a weakness for multi-piano works, as would anyone who turned pages for the first pianist in Les noces at an early age.

I'll also tell you right off that the Glass is a huge improvement over the 1950 Cocteau film, which is not only badly dated, but sunk by the fact that the actors, playing teens, are clearly in their mid-20s. There's just more suspension of disbelief when operatic voices are on stage.

A few things that I could not squeeze into the review:

  • There was a point where baritone Hadleigh Adams and dancer Brett Conway looked just like Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch.
  • Opera Parallele patron Betty Wallerstein donated the use of her beautiful home for the film shoot. She gets a big credit and a nice write-up in the program. Thanks from here as well!
  • That ending? I think Glass needs a musical coda of some kind.

Reviews I know of:

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Surrender

Appomattox reviews are appearing all over the net; more to come:
  • Jon Carroll in the Chronicle, not exactly a review

  • Updated, obviously, Oct. 11.

    Wednesday, September 26, 2007

    On Order

    Saariaho: Château De L'âme, Etc / Salonen
    Grisey: Les Espaces Acoustiques / Stefan
    Lindberg: Clarinet Concerto, Gran Duo /
    Saariaho: L'amour De Loin / Finley, Upshaw
    Saariaho: Du Cristal, ...à La Fumé
    Glass: Satyagraha / Keene, Reeve, Perry,

    Friday, September 21, 2007

    Readings for a New Opera 4

    I bought a ticket to the opening night of Appomattox as soon as San Francisco Opera started accepted single-ticket orders. The fall opera reviews had not yet been assigned by SFCV, and I wanted to see the opening regardless. By the time the assignments rolled around, I had plans to attend the Sibelius Festival in Los Angeles, and it looked as though I'd be heading south on October 6, the day after the premiere, so I took Appomattox off my list of operas I'd like to review.

    As things have turned out, I inherited the Appomattox assignment from the original writer. I will use the reviewer's ticket and my partner will use the ticket I purchased. (For some reason, SFO is giving reviewers a single seat. I understand this when it's Music@Menlo, which performs in venues seating 200 and 350, but War Memorial Opera House, with its 3200 seats, is an order of magnitude bigger. Color me puzzled.)

    I have not studied American history in any organized fashion since I was in high school, a shocking number of years ago, so you can guess the state of my knowledge of the Civil War. I asked around and cruised the downtown San Francisco Borders Books, then purchased these at Cody's in Berkeley:
    • The Civil War, by Bruce Catton. I've now finished this concise and extremely readable history of the war. The length makes the tale it tells no less moving, and perhaps even heightens the intensity. I liked it very much, and yet I'm all too aware that it was published in 1960 and is thus nearly 50 years behind current research into the turmoil.

    • Battle Cry of Freedom, by James McPherson. Unlike Catton, McPherson is a professional historian, and brings all of the historian's tools to bear in this 900-page 1988 Pulitzer Prize winner. He spends 50 pages just providing an overview of the economic and social state of the United States in mid-century; the footnotes could provide me with years of reading. (A vast survey of the 19th century transportation revolution: just my thing.) I'm only 20 pages in, but loving it so far.

    • Memoirs, by Ulysses S. Grant. A friend reminded me that I could read very directly about one important participant's experience of the war and Appomattox. I plan to at least skim this before the day.

    • The Civil War, by Ken Burns. Okay, not a reading. I missed this in its PBS incarnation; thank goodness for Netflix.
    I'll still be at the Sibelius Festival, by the way - but I'll be filing my Appomattox review from Santa Monica.