KEITH PATCHEL'S NEW OPERA PREMIERES AT MEDICINE SHOW THEATRE

Keith Patchel's new opus, The Plain of Jars, based on a novel by the same name, premiered at The Medicine Show Theatre December 10th. This performance was a significant cultural event that should be noticed and honored, if only for the spectacular talent involved in the production that was created from scratch over a 12 day period. If Rossini remarked that it takes "about 21 days to make an opera," making this new work sets a new record. Patchel's work defies classification, as it might be described as a docudrama, musical play, or opera.  Patchel's background as a film composer is evident  as he has created a tapestry where the music flows without interruption, sometimes as the dominant feature and other times as commentary on the scenes of intrigue, exploring the motives of political characters and agents involved in the bombing of Laos during the Vietnam War.

The "Plain of Jars" is a garden-of-eden-like place in Laos that was life sustaining  for Laotians, who led a simple, peaceful life until their homeland was used by the US to test new weapons and bombing strategies during the Vietnam War.

Besides the Laotians, the cast of characters includes JFK, played by Robert E. Turner, Nixon, portrayed by Timothy McCown Reynolds, LBJ acted by Jon L. Peacock, and Henry Kissinger, depicted by John Hayden. Patchel's treatment of the characters satirizes them in the light of their criminal and covert actions, with the exception of Kennedy regarded as the hope of change for the direction for the country. Turner's stately and passionate enactment of JFK provided a stark contrast to the political trio who plot the death of Kennedy. In addition to the rich diversity of these characters, two CIA cohorts (played by Sayaka Aiba and Clare Francesca) add to the scheming and deceit, playing a critical role in persuading the politicians to use the Vietnam War to test new weapons.

The Laotians are performed by Sayaka Aiba, Clare Francesca, Jialin Li, and Xi Yang, and their opening scene of the tranquility of the Laotian natives was serenely projected with their melodic lines interweaving and overlapping, shimmeringly mystical. 

The scene shifts to the White House with JFK and the political trio in which the killing of Kennedy to prevent the withdrawal of US troops from Vietnam establishes the symbolic presence of his spirit. Patchel's conception of having JFK portrayed an an African American is an inspired gesture and Robert E. Turner brings a sense of dignity and destiny to the role. It stands in stark contrast to a CIA-directed White House and State Department intent on using the "falling domino" theory as an excuse for the war.

The trio of conspirators, provided a bitingly satirical commentary, and each actor emerged sharply etched as a caricature deeply embedded in a personal grasp of the demeanor and rhetoric of politicians caught in the web of their own deceit. Timothy McCown Reynolds was brilliant in capturing the expressions and blustering mannerisms of Nixon. John Hayden's Kissinger was covertly evil in his quest for power and posterity, a stunning range of characterization. LBJ was indeed "with heavy heart" as possibly the most powerful and reckless of the trio, but traumatized by the enormity of his transgressions against America and Vietnam. Vietnam was a force that spiraled out of control and each response only made matters worse. Peacock's characterization was accurate, revealing a troubled LBJ who could not overcome his own tragic flaws.

There are two extraordinary scenes that seem to transcend the structure: a "Death Dance" danced by Robert Turner, Cantata Fan, and Sayaka Aiba, an eloquent gesture mourning the death of Laotians. This was a powerful moment, abstract but also immediate and irrevocable.

The concluding scene of the opera is the final aria of Gaia (Yang Xi), a powerful apotheosis of the Laotian pride whose survival in the world exacts a justice, a redemption for having endured the slaughter of innocence. The pride and purity of the Laotians remain untouched. The aria begins in the symbolic demise of Kissinger, Nixon and LBJ entombed in the giant Jars of the Plains. The music celebrates triumph of Laotians over evil. In many ways, the structure of the work is a series of climaxes, each surpassing the previous. Yang Xi's musical sensibility and strength of interpretive expression uses her remarkable voice to shape each nuance and climax demanded in this powerful and expressive aria.

Patchel's music unfolds as a continuous tapestry of sound embellished by live instruments performed by Kento Iwazaki (Koto), Cantata Fan (Pipa), Alan Gruber (violin), and the keyboard manned by the composer. Their presence as a substantive texture, provided an unfolding spontaneity.

Adding to the ambiance of the evening was the wonderful set created by Alexis Kandra, simple, but enriched with the nuance of an primeval space invaded by the technology of 20th Century war... the giant jars on the Plains ultimately serving to entomb Kissinger, Nixon, and Johnson, indicted for their crimes against humanity.

A highlight that must be noted is Clara Francesca's solo "This is the only war we've got..." Her performance was powerful, Brechtian, yet bitterly poignant, confirming the opera's pervasive tone as satire. Perhaps the strength of libretto is the tension between the gentle presence of the Laotians and the sharp, caustic satire enacted with such brilliant individuality by Reynolds, Peacock and Hayden. 

The Plain of Jars theatrical premiere created an unforgettable quality for New York City on December 10, and 11 by bringing to our attention a regrettable and shameful time in American history.  The opera focuses on the violence in Vietnam and the culpability of the United States. Even though video footage of the bombing and violence in Laos was included in scenes, the libretto did not explore the atmosphere in this country that was violent, explosive and cruel, with riots, demonstrations and killings of innocent protestors.

Patchel is to be commended on creating a work that reminds us that Time does not erase such moments, but elevates them to renewed significance as we discover new meaning ifrom events of the past.

SEVEN FOR NINE ELEVEN

Songs of Sorrow,

      Songs of Hope

       Seven for Nine Eleven

                I.

September morning---

 Clear and calm …

 Streaking, screaming jets

 Collide with the crisp serenity,

 Crushing the dreams of thousands

 Of world citizens

 In one prolonged

 Agonizing instant---

 Altering perceptions and events

 In a tangle

 Of terror,

 Toppling towers,

 And barbaric entombment

              II.

 All the fallen heroes

 Rushing to rescue

 Innocent victims of violence…

 Trapped between their selfless bravery

 And fanatic hatred

 Focused on annihilation

 Of all hope and happiness…

Gone in the momentous collapse

 Of monuments and unsung miracles…

 All the fallen heroes,

 Mourned and remembered,

 Forevermore.

             III.

Bewildered with rage 

 And weeping,

 We gather and huddle

 In streets and parks,

 Embracing strangers, 

 Posting our private grief

 On walls and chain-link fences…

 Coming together in the spirit 

 Of ourselves

 As though this magnitude

 Of love

 Could stifle and smother

 The animosity,

 The atrocity,

 That has befallen us.

            IV.

Weep, world…

 Many lost their lives today.

Weep for clashing cultures

 Exploding on the world.

 The eleventh of September

 Collides with human destiny…

 Ending all innocence

 And immunity.

Weep, world,

 Weep in sorrow…

 Many lost their lives today…

 Yet, beneath the smoldering debris,

 A new spirit struggles to erupt.

              V.

 A fragile experiment,

 Begun in a time

 When humanity defied tyranny

 And sought a sanctuary

 Of liberty…

Once begun,

 There was no assurance

 It would survive…

Even now

 Tyrants and barbarians

 Threaten the frangible frame of freedom.

             VI.

 We will not die---

 There is a gentle presence

 That gathers strength 

 In our awareness---

 Through all the adversity,

 Through all the tears,

 Through all that perished

 On that frail September day,

 We find the substance

 Of ourselves

 Embedded in all who have gone

 Before us…

 Grasping intangible threads 

 Binding us...  

 

            VII.

 Celebrate the loved ones

 We have lost…

 Celebrate the right to sing

 Of one another…

 Cherish the links

 Connecting us…

 To dare to dream,

 To seek to hope,

 To make festivals

 Of images and sounds

 Leaping like magic

 Across an electric consciousness

 Like shooting stars

 Across the cosmos 

 Confronting chaos 

 With the simple song of ourselves.

© Copyright John Gilbert, September 12, 2011, 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

AUTUMN IN NEW YORK--- A YEAR LATER

September, another Autumn in New York. Jerome had started walking north from Washington Square Park. He had started around 4 p.m. after meeting his friend George in the park. They sat in the park where George had seen his "butterfly girl"and the whole experience seem as vivid as a year ago when he became obsessed about finding her. Suddenly seeing her at the ferry had bolstered George's spirits, but his hopes were dashed when he saw her on the dock as the ferry was pulling away. So near and yet never meeting.

Jerome felt George's angst. George could not let go of the vision of the stranger in the park as a butterfly flew around her head and landed as if by command on the book the woman was reading. He felt that karma had teased him and cheated him.

Jerome found himself in Chelsea and suddenly felt a tinge of Déjà vu. A year ago he had walked this area, strains of Autumn in New York playing in his head:

Glimmering crowds
And shimmering clouds
In canyons of steel
They're making me feel, I'm home...

But this year it was different. There was no celebrating of first-nighting--- only the bittersweet feeling of joys past and emptiness ahead. No more renaissances he thought... You've gone to the well too often, and now Time betrays you.

Even so, there were new melodies that lingered, and lyrics that tried to penetrate the hard veneer that clung to him. For Jerome, September was always the end and the beginning.

Autumn in New York
Is often mingled with pain

Jerome felt the pain. That was the yin and yang of September, the sad/happy, bitter/sweet reservoir of feeling and perception, the ultimate quest that gave him the energy to overcome impediments to his work. 

His work. What was that exactly? Some cryptic destiny. He could think of his action only as process, a means of engaging Time to make something tangible, authentic...wonderful. It could be anything, as long as it was wrought from emptiness of Time and Space and placed in the continuum of so-called reality, whatever that is. It could be a poem, music, painting, a chair, a feast, an equation, a story, or just anything that might be pulled from the empty terrain through an encounter with Time. Something created in and through Time became something substantive, something that might endure, a somethingness as opposed to nothingness.

There had been decades of triumphs and defeats. His road was always rough, with terrain that at times seemed impassible. He felt the despair of emptiness, and wondered if the Muse had deserted him. In some ways, his life had been in pursuit of THE MUSE. He remembered the many lost works as the result of such carelessness and disregard for history. Now decades had passed, and his sense of loss overwhelmed him into silence.

Not this far. . .I never knew I would surviveBeyond a barrierSelf conceived and self imposedSo long agoThat empty pages found a wayTo mock my delusion,Imitating the nothingnessOf anticipated emptiness.Now these words . . .I never knew I could reviveAn unknown continentRemembered, yet emergingSo far awayThat silent chambers now resoundTo shape a new perception,Celebrating the resonance . . .Restoring such abundant songs!

Now as he walked north the Chelsea, the creative energy seemed to drain from him, and he was confronted by a sense of doom. The very thought of impending disaster seemed too melodramatic for him. He knew that he just needed to engage. But he also was plagued by the fear that his mental capacity would dissolve into anonymity... a new malady of the twenty-first century. He smiled as he thought whatever work might survive would be anonymous.

MULTIMEDIA OPERA ROTATION BEGINS A NEW LIFE WITH OFF BROADWAY PRODUCTION

ROTATION performed its final Off Broadway tryout in BlackBox Theatre on Washington Square on Sunday, August 9.  This multimedia opera by John Gilbert was premiered in 1969 and was included in Stewart Kranz's epic 1971 book Science and Technology in the Arts. The work is decidedly contemporary in tone, eclectic, but also distinctive in achieving a personal style in Gilbert's libretto as well as his music. Besides the convincing and expressive musical performance, perhaps the most distinctive element is the extraordinary production directed by Clare Hammoor and choreographed by Lisa Naugle, with media created and mounted by installation artist Diarmid Flately, including special images by Evelyn Walker.

ROTATION features an extraordinary cast of five singers and two dancers. According to his Manifesto written in 1968, one of Gilbert's goals for this work was to achieve independent theaters of text, music, action, media, and dance which interact in a dynamic fluctuating context. In his program notes, Gilbert notes that the setting is something like Greenwich Village in a distant or timeless future. As one of the characters, Julia, observes, "This is a very strange place."

The work begins with a quiet opening in which the dancers create the space that is quiet and contemplative or comic and dazzling, a magical but ordinary setting that seems to be waiting for something. The Critic, sung convincingly by baritone Suchan Kim, lays the groundwork for what is to follow by sharing with the audience that he knows everything and he will guide them with his keenly analytic mind.

As the Critic exits, Merculian, played by veteran opera performer and song stylist, Ulrich Hartung introduces himself to the audience as Merculian the Merchant selling his "odds, and ends." Hartung possesses a strong classic presence, and he communicates a wisdom always couched in a sense of humor that he shares with the audience.

Lost and seeming to wander into the space is Julia, a runaway who first is at odds with Merculian, but accepts him as merely an old man with a cart of junk. Played by Julie Song, Julia is an innocent who searches for some meaning for her life by discarding her past. Ms. Song has a very clear voice that  is sometimes quite intimate, but also often projected a commanding and strong resonance.

With commotion and screams of "Merculian, what have you done with it!"  renowned opera diva Oksana Krovytska,  erupts upon the stage as Cassandra, the Witch, and Merculian's companion and collaborator.  Ms. Krovytska's voice is rich and vibrant. Although she usually plays the more dramatic diva roles, her experience and insight fashions a comic role that could become classic. The collaboration of Hartung and Krovytska create Merculian and Cassandra as a quintessential paradigm, vintage and primal. At times, Hartung achieves a Hans Sachs grandeur, while Krovytska creates the realm of a witch with compassion, humor, and understanding. They perform some remarkable duet passages and imbue the setting with a sense of mystery and discovery.

Christopher Sanfilippo, tenor, suddenly interrupts the mystique of the moment as he struggles with the Critic who has stolen one of Brian's poems, and begins to read it mechanically. Brian grabs the poem from the Critic who sneers, "Can You Do Better?" Deliberately reminiscent of the scene in Wager's Die Meistersinger when Walther sings the prize song,  Brian sings perhaps what might be regarded as the only full-length aria in this chamber opera.  Sanfilippo's passionate delivery reveals a voice with rich texture that includes elements of contemporary musical theatre. His sense of pace and shaping the climax was impressive. Sanfilippo revealed strong acting background in manifesting a deep sense of humor while in the midst of extremely dramatic moments. His comedic work helped reinforce Hartung's tragicomic eloquence.

In general, the musical scenes, ensembles, solos are truncated and interwoven in an intensely intimate tapestry of interaction with dancers, and media directly engaged in the action or sometimes commenting, or entering and leaving in contrapuntal fashion.  Every character has distinct moments, but the work is rich with miniature duos, trios, quartets, double duo's laced throughout the work.

Flatley's media is abstract and painterly, but often with a stunning presence of a "universe uninvolved with us."  Evelyn Walker's added images are evocative.  Flately has created a multiscreen texture requiring precise image projection and timing. Into the abstractions, Flately captures the action unfolding onstage and projects it to different screens in the theatre, an extraordinary technical effect.

Hammoor's direction is deft and pragmatic, creating moments for characters to grow into the action and blocking.  His setting is functional and comedic, allowing ample space for the media while maintaining a careful balance with the physical presence of objects and set pieces. An added touch is The Young Boy played by Nathan who mysteriously moves in and out of the fantasy.

Naugle's choreography is evocative, and perhaps the most critical and difficult of the separate theaters acting independently. Dance is the one constant that never changes in terms of presence and requires continual attention to details of consonance and dissonance. Theoretically, this presence can interact with the actors and action, and with more time they might have achieved greater cohesion. The dancers, Tal Etedgi and Jacqueline Shannon, weave a tapestry of mystery and coherence, as they establish their identity as the gatekeepers.

There are several highlights worth mentioning: a masquerade scene led by Cassandra and Merculian to seduce and persuade the hapless young couple ending with the explosion of a perpetual motion machine, and a stunning climax to the opera in which the characters sing the quintet "We Require the Masks." In this moment this disparate group of characters bond into an ensemble powerful, eloquent, and memorable.

The star of this opera is the music. Musical Director and Pianist Stella Chiashan Cheng led an inspired ensemble of Zack Hicks (fl/cl), Jordi Nus (vln), and Jiafan Shi (vc).  The original score included analog tape cues which have vanished. Synthesist and Audio Engineer, Tate Gregor recreated the tape cues in consultation with the composer.  The instrumental score was arranged by John Russell Gilbert, assisted by Sean Shiwon Kim and the participating instrumentalists.

Stella Cheng's musical direction was rich and insightful and extremely responsive to the many changes in tempo, dynamics, and emotional range. Given the context and limits of this Off Broadway trial run, the result was a rich and powerful musical event.

ROTATION explores the meaning of life with humor and skepticism, but also with passion and verve. It is highly compressed with all the elements of grand opera on an intimate scale. The work is also about energy and recycling, and the adventure of discovering who we are and who we might become.

                                                                                           ... George Grisham

Recovering

After a long drouth, I wonder where I lost the way. As I awake, so many things are going on that I am bewildered by the activity. I hear myself saying things as though I was overhearing me from the next room.

There is so much activity. There is so much energy from around the world, gathered into this place. When I was last here, in the shadows of Wizard Ways , I was writing stories that had begun a year ago after IMPACT 2015 started to dissolve, and I recovered from a deep silence inspired by the vision of a new discovery, a new awareness. In that space, I felt the connection to the source of all creating, coming out of the silence, from the zero state to indescribably incandescent decibels of beauty.

But then I started to disappear. Becoming invisible was a slow journey out of myself. Although I had many stories in my head, none of them could find their way to my fingers and the keyboard. As I looked in the mirror I noticed I was fading. There were the poems that called to be published and I had a favorable experiment on FaceBook, creating poems in the fiery chaos of a rhythmic shift that reverberated with a deep and infinite shudder, an echo of the universe erupting into being.

Phaedrus stood in the shadows and watched, he strode the corridors of silence and listened.

There was the miracle of concinnity, the mingling of gathering energy that would propel an emerging vision of our immediacy in this moment of the world.  In the fading days of summer, our intuition seemed to engage a new awareness of who we are and how we make the quality of discovery become a shared reality.