The Man Behind the Curtain

Last week I watched the most fabulous show on PBS's Great Performances. It was a documentary about what it took for the Metropolitan Opera to put together new productions of all four operas in Wagner's Ring Cycle, for their 2010 - 2011 season. The emphasis was on the technical problems involved in creating and manipulating the very elaborate set that was used for all four plays.

I love shows that take you backstage, whether we're talking movies, plays or operas, which are of course singing plays. I love seeing what it takes to produce the magic we then see "out front." And this program served to remind me just how very important the technical crew is to any kind of production. I first learned this during my one semester as a drama major at the University of Texas. All acting majors were required to work on tech. crew for at least one production a year, which is an excellent idea, as it keeps those future "stars" from thinking they're the only important part of a play. I pretty much sucked at everything I had to do, during my stint on the backstage crew for Somerset Maugham's play "The Constant Wife," everything from painting flats, to helping to move the heavy sons-of-bitches from place to place, to pounding nails into them to connect one to another; but I had my eyes opened to the important role played by all the backstage folk, from lowly stage crew like me, to the people on lights, to the people on sound, to the poor assistant director who had to try to keep everybody happy and doing their jobs (the director just told people what to do).

On the Ring productions the technical crew was especially important, because of that behemoth of a set that was basically a bunch of boards side-by-side -- one reviewer said they looked like a line of piano keys; they made me think of a bunch of ice cream sticks -- that could be tilted at any angle from completely horizontal to completely vertical. So you would have part of them lying at the horizontal, serving as a raft on which Siegfried and his horse were traveling, while the boards to either side, at a tilt, and with the help of fabulous lighting, became the water. And shortly thereafter became the walls of Gunter's magnificent house. Moving those piano keys up and down -- as we learned on the documentary "Wagner's Dream" -- took a lot of unseen manpower, all wearing black from head-to-toe. And long before there were any performances the work done by these unsung backstage heroes was of enormous importance in getting the production stage-ready.

One thing that delighted me was seeing all these big, burly guys in black t-shirts and blue jeans working on an opera. And this is what these guys do for a living. They use their muscle, and mechanical know-how, not to put up a high-rise, but to put works of high art on display.

The Machine, as everybody was calling it, was incredibly complicated and expensive to produce. For one thing, it was developed and built in Quebec, then had to be transported to New York. Then they had to shore up the floors of the opera house's wings, because they couldn't handle the weight. And as I've mentioned, it took a lot of people to make it do what it was supposed to do, all of whom had to be paid. After seeing it in action in the actual performances, which were shown on successive evenings, and which I'll discuss next posting, I couldn't help agreeing with a number of first nighters -- and professional reviewers -- that The Machine was basically much ado about not very much. If nothing else, moving it from one position to another was a painfully slow process. In the documentary you saw that the singers were frequently fearful, working on it, especially when it was tilted (which it frequently was). Even in performance, they often looked clumsy as they tried to navigate on it.

In his interviews the director, Robert LePage, said he was interested in combining elements of the cinema with the usual spectacle of opera. I can't help wondering why. He also made the telling comment that "they," meaning the Met big-wigs, had naturally been wanting a different kind of take on the new productions from him, something that hadn't been done before. Well, they got it, but I for one question whether it was worth the expense, the labor-intensive effort (combined with the huge technological investment), the effect on the performers and the performances themselves. I give it a thumbs down.

But the documentary about it was splendid!

The little country on the fault line

First off I have to say that I, for one, am glad the Japanese women's soccer team won the World Cup, rather than the U.S. team. That is one country that really needed some-thing to feel happy and proud about.

I've mentioned before how much I enjoy having access to television news programs from other countries [see Note of Mar. 31, 2011]. I feel I'm learning a lot about Japan and the Japanese people, thanks to NHK World. For one thing, they still bow to one another! The news program will show some government official walking up to the lectern, to make some announcement to the Diet (parliament), and he'll bow first to whoever is on the dais, then give a little bob of his head and shoulders to the people he will be addressing. Various government officials have been visiting the emergency shelters that are still housing so many people, and they will bow, the people receiving them will bow.

Even in a segment showing how one businessman whose business had been wiped out by the disaster was making overtures to a cooperative in another prefecture, in hopes of being able to market his expertise to them, the gentlemen bowed slightly as they exchanged business cards. It was actually a fairly informal situation, everyone was in shirt sleeves, not suits, but they bowed.

This is a real cultural difference, the sort of thing that makes travel so interesting, that makes the world so interesting.

The Japanese also nod their heads a lot when they speak, but they do not wave their hands around, the way we Americans do. They generally speak softly to the camera. An amusing exception was actually a matter of a voice being recorded, rather than someone being interviewed before the camera. The prime minister, Naoto Kan, was heard castigating representatives of Tokyo Power Company (TEPCO), the company that is responsible for the Fukishima Daiichi Power Plant. This angry assault was a far cry from the super polite public utterings you generally hear from everyone, more like what you'd hear from the furious Japanese general in an old World War II movie.

And speaking of Kan, well, talk about beleaguered world leaders. He had to promise to step down as soon as the nuclear crisis was well in hand, which it is still far from being. As last reported by NHK, his approval rating was at 16%. President Obama is in great shape, compared to him. The Japanese were having economic problems like every-body else, and then this staggering natural disaster strikes, followed by the crisis at Fukishima. People are feeling the government has been too slow in its reconstruction efforts, and too secretive about what has really been happening at the power plant. So naturally the head honcho has to take it on the chin.

And on a lighter note: the sport NHK regularly reports on is...sumo wrestling! They show clips of matches. A round, or bout, or whatever it's called, is incredibly short, just the few seconds it takes for one of the chubby gentlemen to maneuver his opponent out of the small circle they are wrestling in. The crowds are wildly enthusiastic. The referees wear traditional garb. I find it delightful.

There is an excellent article on NHK World at http://cima.ned.org/japan-disaster-coverage-measured-not-breathless (as usual I cannot get the link to work). The things the article says about the station -- no melodrama, just the facts, ma'm, no star anchors -- are the very things I like about it. And again, I thank Maine Public Broadcasting, for making it possible for me to view this part of the world.

Walking in the other guy's moccasins

One thing I really like about my local PBS television station is that I'm able to get not only BBC World News, but Deutsche-Welle News (in English), and just recently they've started running an English-language news program from Japan (with incredibly detailed descriptions of the various problems at the stricken power plant). I like hearing about what's happening in the world from a perspective other than American. For that matter, I like hearing about what's happening in the rest of the world! Except for disasters like major earthquakes and tsunamis, we hear very little about the rest of the world on our network news.

For example, I've been learning a lot about the German economy during the recent economic crisis. They're doing much better than we are, in terms of recovery, mainly because their economy still depends so much on exports, and the things they export -- especially cars -- have continued to sell. On the other hand, I have become familiar with how desparate the economic situation is in Spain, in Portugal, and in Ireland.

And I've been learning about German politics. Of course I knew before that Angela Merkel was Chancellor (well, actually no. I knew she headed the government, but I think I thought she was, maybe, the Prime Minister. Which she essentially is, but in Germany the position is called the Chancellor); but I doubt I would ever have known that her very popular Defense Minister, Karl Theodor zu Guttenberg, was forced to resign when it came out that he had plagiarized much of his doctoral thesis. I was somewhat surprised, but pleased, to see that so many people thought that was important enough to merit his leaving office. ("It calls into doubt his integrity," one person said). I couldn't help wondering if the same thing would happen in this country. Would people think it was that important?

The one thing I continue to have trouble with, though, is the German language. When German speakers start talking their voices are quickly muted to make way for the English translator's voice, but you still hear a few snippets. And I'm sorry, but that is just the most incredibly ugly language. Here are all these reasonable, well-meaning people espousing perfectly reasonable ideas and opinions, and they all sound like angry Nazis.

It was interesting, seeing how all the various political leaders took a real bashing from their own people as the result of the economic crisis; 'twern't just Mr. Obama. In England they actually got rid of the head guy (Gordon Brown), people have been very unhappy with Sarcozy in France, especially after his government raised the retirement age, to save money; and in Germany, Merkel's popularity has steadily slipped. People have to have someone to blame, and it's easier to zero in on the country's very visible political leaders, than on the invisible people who really caused the problems.

So anyway, I'm having my horizons expanded. Thank you, public television.

May the best voice win

The other night I watched the most wonderful show on PBS. Called "The Audition," it was a documentary that followed a group of aspiring young opera singers as they prepared to compete in the 2007 Metropolitan Opera's National Council competition. Five winners are ultimately selected, out of about 1500 hopefuls across the country. What we the audience were treated to were the excitment, the musings, the practice sessions, of the approximately-20 semi-finalists who had made it to the New York audition. Filming took place during the week preceding their final performances, which would determine the winners.

Absolutely fascinating. I love behind-the-scenes theatrical films anyway, and this one had the added benefit of all this splendid singing. Every one of those young people had a beautiful, beautifully trained voice. It was also interesting meeting the different personalities. There were three young women who were the traditional operatically-hefty -- one of them commented to the camera that she knew there was more of an emphasis these days on physically attractive singers, but she hoped the judges would be concentrating on singing ability, and not on "the weight issue" -- whereas one of the young woman who was very slender indeed, admitted that she had a problem getting the fullness of sound that some parts demanded. The oldest in the group (at 30), was a black man from Houston who had had to take time out from his training for several years because his financial situation became so desperate the sheriff was knocking on his door. Initially I was least impressed with his performance, but as the week went on, thanks to various work-shops they had for the contestants, his self-confidence seemed to increase, and his performance improved.

The contestant we saw the most of was easily the most neurotically bent on winning; his ambition was palpable and his paranoia that "politics" would interfere with honest judging rather sad. When the five winners were announced at the end, his name was the last to be called, and there was a lengthy pause before it was -- indeed, some-one in the group still waiting in the wings muttered "Is that all?" -- and when his name was called you had to breath a sigh of relief, as he gave a great cry of exultation, and strode onto the stage. For my goodness, if he hadn't won, what would he have done?

In an earlier Note (Oct. 24, 2009) I had wondered aloud what made some men want to sing for a living. You really have to wonder that about men who want to be opera singers. If nothing else, how many boys are even exposed to opera? One of the Metropolitan Opera people who gave a pep talk to the contestants mentioned the fact that a recent survey had shown that the average age of opera goers was 65. "Twenty years ago it was 45," he said. "Our audience is aging on us." In your typical American family opera is just not part of the musical scene, to the extent that there is a musical scene. So the pool of opera lovers -- people who would expose their children to opera -- is very small. And from that small pool come this group of boys who like it enough, and like singing that way, to try to make a career of it. To me, amazing.

I was so pleased at the end, when we were told where the winners and the other finalists were one year on. One of the hefty women, Amber Wagner, had signed with the Lyric Opera of Chicago. Angela Meade, the hefty, but actually quite beautiful, woman who had been con-cerned that her weight would be held against her, had stepped in as understudy at the Metropolitan itself. Our rabidly driven Michael Fabiano, had appeared at Teatro alla Scala, more commonly referred to as La Scala. You can actually catch Fabiano singing on YouTube (I tried to insert a link here but had no luck -- but an Internet search under his name will bring up several videos of him singing.) He really has a fabulous voice, and when he won in 2007 was only 22 years old, which both his fellow contestants and the judges commented on with disbelieving admiration.

The news that made me happiest was that Ryan Smith, he of all the financial woes, had had his debut at the Metropolitan Opera.

And then, I was devastated by the dedication at the close of the program -- to Ryan Smith, who died of lymphatic cancer in Nov. 2008. No question that Fate has a twisted sense of the ironic. The only thing you can feel good about is that at least Smith had his 15 minutes of glory. He was on top of the world, the world he had chosen, for only a moment. But for a moment.

America's Best Idea

Like many of you, I've been enjoying Ken Burns' latest opus, The National Parks. Part II was especially inspiring, with its tales of those who fought to preserve our natural (and later, ancient cultural) wonders, against the relentless, single-minded commercial urge of the nation. I stand in awe of people like John Muir, who can fight year after year for a cause they believe in -- in his case, the preservation of the Yosemite Valley, and of all the land that eventually became Yosemite National Park -- despite setbacks, despite being up against powerful, moneyed opponents, despite simply not being successful, for so long a time. I consider it one of my character flaws that I am too easily discouraged; had I been in Muir's place, I fear I would have given up long before the moments of success could arrive.

But then, Muir's successes were often not quite complete -- as when he succeeded in having the high country around Yosemite Valley declared a national park, but not in getting the valley itself trans-ferred from the (indifferent) care of the state of California, to the federal government -- or they weren't permanent, as when the city of San Francisco managed to persuade the federal government to allow the Tuolumne River in the Hetch Hetchy Valley to be dammed, to form a reservoir for the Bay Area. But he plugged on, he never gave up, which is of course what They always say: you must Never Give Up.

I've certainly learned lots of fascinating facts, thanks to Mr. Burns & Co. For one thing, I hadn't realized how far in the past John Muir lived, worked, wrote! I thought he was active, making his travels (to Alaska, among other places) and writing his books, in approximately the late 1940s to the early 1960s. Undoubtedly a shameful thing for a librarian to be admitting, but I also have to admit that I've never read any of his books. I simply knew they were considered classics in the realm of environmental literature, books one did not discard from the collection, even if no one had checked them out in a long time.

But good lord, the fellow stumbled onto Yosemite -- which he promptly fell in love with, and which soon became his life's obsession (something else I didn't know) -- way back in the 1850s. And I didn't know that it was because of him that the Sierra Club came into existence, for the express purpose of protecting Yosemite. I also had no idea that that organization went back as far as it does (1892). Just as I didn't know the Audubon Society was originally started by someone named George Bird Grinnell, who worked tirelessly in the late 1800s to preserve natural habitats and their wildlife. One of the most satisfying moments of Part II was when it described his publishing in the magazine Forest and Stream, of which he was editor, an article on the slaughter by poachers of buffalo in Yellow-stone National Park, which so outraged people that Congress in short order passed the National Park Protective Act, thereby saving the buffalo of the park, and animals throughout all the parks. Yes! The power of the press!

Indeed, again and again in this series we are learning about individuals -- many of whom I personally had never heard of -- whose passion and dedication were given over to protecting and preserving the natural wonders of this country, for the enjoyment of all of us. These men -- and early on they were all men -- are as much an in-spiration as the parks themselves. And certainly the many gorgeous views of the various parks is an inspiration to get out there and experience some wilderness.

It reminds me of the time I went camping with my Aunt Kittisue in Alaska. My lovable aunt's idea of camping was to put Pavarotti on the cassette player, pour a glass of wine and wait for the steaks to cook on the habachi. While she and her friend Mary were doing that, and enjoying a good gab fest, I made the short walk from our campsite out to the road. Straight ahead reared that awesome sight, Mt. McKinley, completely white though it was the end of May. It was ten o'clock at night but the sun was still shining, and all the birds were still singing (I wondered fleetingly if they dropped dead from exhaustion because they never knew when to go to bed). I stood there in the middle of that two-lane highway for a good ten minutes, and no car passed, there was no sound but birdsong. And I realized that there was virtually no touch of humankind for many miles in all directions; we were surrounded by true wilderness. And I was forcefully struck, for the first time in my life, by how valuable that fact was, the fact of wilderness, of land untrampled, undeveloped, uncommercialized. Just nature, doing its thing.

The National Parks, America's Best Idea, is reminding me of that moment, and that conviction.

Pathetic

I'm afraid that's my word for Maine Public Television. Throughout nearly all of March they were doing the pledge drive thing. A whole month! An endless cycle of the same old shows – Celtic Women at Slane Castle in Ireland, Yanni at the Forum in Acapulco, Bob Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival, My Music, My Generation, the 60s-- endlessly interrupted by lengthy pleas for money. Mind you all of these are good programs, but you can derive pleasure from watching them only so many times, and they were all repeats as it was. And do the folks at MPBN really think people sit there patiently while they beg, during each of those interruptions? Of course not. Most people flip the channel – and if what they find they like, they don't come back. I myself, having no alternative viewing (I do not have cable or satellite, and the only station my rabbit ears pick up is MPBN), I hit the mute button, and go back to reading or working on the computer or whatever, until I notice out of the corner of my eye that the program has started again. Eventually, of course, I got to where I just left the television off.

And here's the thing. We just went through this in December. Not for a whole month, but for about two weeks. And then there was the pledge drive in August. And now, at the end of April/beginning of May there will be the annual auction, when there will be nothing on from 8 p.m. until midnight, for a total of ten days, but these eager folks trying to convince you to place a bid on all sorts of items various businesses and individuals have donated.

Of course, I do realize that what all this begging means is that Maine Public Television is desperate for money. And I guess that's a sad commentary on the state of Maine, that its citizens do not do a better job of supporting what is unquestionably a stimulating and refreshing alternative to awful, awful network television. On the other hand, it's also possible that many people, like me, have given what they can; and for them, there's an end to it.

An article in the Bangor Daily News last month mentioned that employees of MPBN agreed to a pay cut last winter, and 10% of staffing was cut. The Network also considered deactivating a transmission tower in the north of the state, to save money. How-ever, there was a real public outcry about that last move, and it was shelved. (The article made the point that for many people in the sparsely populated northernmost part of the state, MPBN is the only American station viewers are able to get. As one person said, we know more about Canada than what's happening in our own state.) Yes, it's plain they need money badly.

Quite possibly other public television stations across the country are suffering similar drops in public support, just as so many other charitable organizations are. I don't know what the solution is, for these beleaguered stations, but I don't believe it is constant begging. It is especially annoying once you have given. Eventually you want to yell at the screen – exactly as I did one night – I gave already! I don't believe keeping after them and keeping after them is going to make more people feel guilty. If you can give, and you want to, you will; if you can't or don't want to, you won't.

Do you suppose these stations would qualify for some of the stimulus package money? Put some of those people who lost their jobs back to work? And insure that I am able to watch Jim Leher and the News Hour, Bill Moyer's Journal, the NOW New Magazine, Masterpiece Theatre, the occasional nature or music program (the first time it's aired), without having to listen to endless reminders that I'm lucky I have access to all these fine programs, and should therefore send money? It's doubtful, since the arts in general seem to have been an area sorely neglected by The Plan. But some form of government subsidy, as they have in other countries, may indeed be what is needed.

Of course, all those people (like my friend Clifford) who are appalled at how much money the government has already committed itself to spending, are undoubtedly even more appalled at my suggestion. Let 'em sink or swim, may be the attitude. Public television may indeed be in the process of sinking.