Saturday, November 22, 2008

Recital as séance: Pianist seeks new paths for old music

By Paul Horsley

Konstantin Lifschitz, the Ukrainian-born pianist, is one of those restless musical spirits who sails uncharted waters seeking ever-elusive truths behind musical masterpieces. There was a mystical, almost séance-like atmosphere to his Friends of Chamber Music recital on Friday, the 31-year-old pianist’s only appearance in the United States this season.

Expectations were high for this program of Beethoven, Bach and Frescobaldi: As a teenager, Lifschitz caused a minor sensation with a recording of Bach’s Goldberg Variations, which was nominated for a Grammy, and a more recent recording of Bach’s Musical Offering is similarly spectacular. So it was with some surprise that I left the Folly Theater after this 2 ½-hour recital with mixed emotions — awe and fascination mingling with bafflement and frustration.

Lifschitz uses the music of the masters for his own deeply personal explorations. But there is sometimes a fine line between freshness and self-indulgence, between revealing new truths about Beethoven and stretching a phrase so wantonly that it ceases to be musical. At his best, Lifschitz can shed fresh light on music that you thought you were familiar with, making it sound strangely foreign. That’s not always a comfortable feeling — it’s like getting outside of your musical “comfort zone” — but in a world of interpretive sameness it’s something we could all use more of. I liked his puckish approach to Beethoven’s E-flat major Sonata (Op. 31, No. 3), which was architectural in design with nutty gargoyles accenting the structure. Lifschitz is attuned to Beethoven’s obsessive nature, but he sometimes exaggerates quirks and repetitions in a way that makes you despair for one single un-gussied phrase. The sweet little descending motif that permeates the first movement (DEE—da-dum), for instance, was less like a melody than a “special effect.”

He took these eccentricities to maddening extremes in the loopy first sonata of Beethoven’s Op. 31 (in G major), putting us into an impressionistic trance for nearly 40 minutes. You had to admire his relentless poise through this ethereal romp, even in the slow movement where the energy slowly drained into over-pedaled oblivion. The finale was barely this side of coherent, more like Boulez than Beethoven. Fortunately the D-minor Sonata (The Tempest) was saner and more grounded, even though one could have taken a coffee break during the fermata pauses in the opening theme.

The recital opened with three toccatas by Frescobaldi, a rarity on a piano recital and quite a novelty except that they were so inward that they bordered on preciousness. It closed with the two Ricercars from the Musical Offering, played with far more pedal and tempo-stretching than on the pianist’s own recorded versions, again suggesting that Lifschitz views a recital as a special event unrelated to any recording he might have made (and there’s nothing wrong with that). Notable among the encores were Bartok’s Rumanian Folk Dances and the Gigue from Bach’s G-major French Suite.

To reach Paul Horsley, send email to phorsley@sbcglobal.net

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Ailey endlessly rocking: Company commissions bold choreographic mini-drama from one of its own dancers

By Paul Horsley

There’s a part of each of us that wants to believe in the legend of the happy American family. Hope Boykin wants to believe in it, but she seems to know its perils. Family is the subject of the choreographer and Ailey dancer’s remarkable Go in Grace, a new work that formed the heart of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Company’s program on Friday at the Midland Theatre. Featuring the gospel vocal sextet Sweet Honey in the Rock — who were onstage throughout, moving about and interacting with the dancers like some funky Greek chorus — it was like nothing I’d ever seen.

Every two years the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater brings to Kansas City several programs of classic Ailey choreography and newly commissioned works. These commissions often spark bold works that Kansas Citians get to see here before they go to their “official” world premiere in New York. (The Ailey company is celebrating its 50th anniversary this season, as the Kansas City Friends of Alvin Ailey who present them locally celebrates its 25th year. On Thursday the residence had opened with a program of excerpts from Ailey classics.)

Boykin’s piece is like a mini-musical, with gospel-tinged songs composed by the singers of Sweet Honey, who perform them live as they interact with the dancers onstage in an unusually organic fashion. They provide rhythm, harmony and melody using only their voices (and occasional commentary, like “Hmm, I don’t know about that” or “Keep your legs closed tight”), which leaves them free to serve as what Boykin calls the Community. They’re like a group of “church ladies” who support and encourage good behavior. Boykin’s costumes and Al Crawford’s lighting design help delineate singers from dancers, with the former dressed in cooler green hues and the latter in “hotter” orange hues.

Boykin’s drama centers on a nuclear family of four, and she shrewdly introduces us first to Father and Mother (Amos J. Machanic, Jr. and Renee Robinson), whose over-the-top love for each other finds expression in a pas de deux of passionate jitterbug energy. Along come Brother (Matthew Rushing) and Little Girl (Rosalyn Deshauteurs), and the rest of the drama shows the struggle between family love and the temptations of the world, represented by two hoodie-sporting “Boyz” (Boykin’s term) from the street. A series of vignettes follows that will be familiar to any parent: Little Girl dances on Father’s feet, then as she grows older she is tempted to dress provocatively but warned against its dangers; meanwhile Brother is wooed to join the Boyz (Antonio Douthit and Kirven J. Boyd), whose flailing, near-hip-hop movements contrast sharply to the family’s more balletic tone.

The drama comes to a climax when Father becomes so overcome with the struggle to keep the family together that he engages in a passionate sort of dance of death — explosive, sorrow-tinged, Ailey-inspired. Brother returns to the fold, remorseful: Rushing dances his own moving lament. (“Say ‘Yes’ to the Spirit of Jesus, Brother, Say ‘Yes,’” sing the ladies.) Little Girl realizes that innocence lost is no picnic. She’s on her own now, but not entirely: The Community is there to guide, and it concludes with the title song, “Go in Grace."

Go in Grace is a remarkable piece, and on Friday it touched a nerve in the audience, which gave it an energetic standing ovation. At times it felt a bit episodic, perhaps, even disjointed: I would have preferred to hear whole songs rather than a sequence of what felt like bits of songs. Moreover, it felt odd to me that the Community focused its whole energy on Little Girl’s struggle while letting Brother take to the streets virtually without comment. Nevertheless I believe this could become a repertoire standard — as long as Sweet Honey in the Rock is around to perform it.

The program opened with Maurice Béjart’s Firebird from 1970, a politicized version of the 1910 original with a new story line: Nine dourly clad dancers in bowling-pin formation (minus one) are united to action against an enemy by a crimson-clad firebird (the remarkable, personable Clifton Brown, instead of the feather-clad ballerina of the original). He inspires the others, and at the end of his vigorous dance of death he’s replaced by another red-clad revolutionary angel. Removed from its original context of the radical 1960s, today Béjart’s vision almost looks like a love story.

George Faison’s appealing Suite Otis (1971) to songs of Otis Redding provided an uplifting if vaguely melancholic conclusion to the evening. Faison has tapped keenly into these songs’ emotional content, especially in the battle-of-the-sexes of “Can’t Turn You Loose,” the heavy-hearted pairing of “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long” and the bittersweet comedy of “My Lover’s Prayer,” the latter like an entire, complex history of a relationship in miniature.

The Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater performs again at 2 p.m. and 7:30 p.m. Saturday, November 15 and at 2 p.m. Sunday, November 16, at the Midland Theatre, 13th and Main.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Great Caesar’s ghost: Lyric Opera struggles heroically with its first-ever Baroque opera


By Paul Horsley

Handel operas are a bit like Shakespeare plays: The stilted conventions governing their language make for hard work, not just for performers but for modern audiences. Yet the power of their drama and poetry keeps us coming back.

It is possible, of course, to create a breathless dramatic experience from a Handel opera, and the Lyric Opera’s current production of Julius Caesar makes a valiant effort. Running three hours despite rather liberal cuts, it features several leading Baroque-specialist singers (including two countertenors, or “guys who sing high”), a mad, glittering array of new costumes designed by Mary Traylor and a starkly architectural set formerly used at the New York City Opera.

But something felt off-kilter to me when I saw the production on Wednesday. Mark Streshinsky’s stage direction takes a laissez-faire approach, which throws much of the weight onto Handel’s music. As the 1724 opera contains some of the composer’s finest music, it can withstand such a burden under the right circumstances. But this production lacked high finish: Despite some fine efforts from the orchestra pit under Ward Holmquist’s musical direction, it needed more polish in the ensemble between singers and orchestra, and more forethought onstage into motivations and movements. And frankly it was a mixed affair vocally, good on the whole but seldom outstanding.

Leading the cast was Christine Brandes, whom Lyric audiences admired in the role of the Governess in The Turn of the Screw in 2005. She is a sure-footed Baroque singer, with penetrating vocal control and the ability to draw your eyes to her slightest movements. After establishing her vocal dominance in “Non disperar, chi sa?” she showed her stylistic expertise in arias like the ravishing Act 2 “Se pietà di me non senti,” embellishing the repeated da capo section with taste, virtuosity and even playfulness. She made the Act 2 love scene convincing when Caesar could not.

Likewise Gloria Parker as Cornelia — despite a public announcement that she was “partially incapacitated” but would perform anyway — sang her numerous lament arias with pathos and stylishness. Her duet with Sextus, “Son nata a logrimar,” achieved a musical and dramatic intimacy that rivaled that between Caesar and Cornelia.

David Walker’s Caesar was a more complex affair, sung with stylistic command but not always what I’d call vocal mastery. Looking more frat boy than emperor, he sang with a smallish voice that struggled to produce a consistently flowing melodic line. He was in fine form in the famous “Se in fiorito ameno prato,” which featured violin soloist Kanako Ito in the orchestra pit, who sometimes delivered the imitative phrases more musically than he did.

Christine Abraham as Sextus completely captivated me with her Act 1 “Cara speme, questo core,” delivered with beauty of phrasing and command, both of which characterized her performance through the evening. But I felt she overplayed the awkward-boy movements throughout, and her ungainly costumes were more pageboy than royalty.

José Lemos played Ptolemy as a wanton, oversexed adolescent, perhaps appropriate considering that the historical figure is thought to have been in his early teens. His diminutive frame lent credence to the bizarre portrayal, though only in Act 3 did he wear something regal enough to support Ptolemy’s status. Despite a lack of agility in rapid passages, his countertenor has a silky, melodious upper range, which he used to great effect at the beginning of Act 3.

The stage direction barely provided enough to keep the eye busy during the longish arias, which is one of the reasons we spent so much time pondering individual vocal qualities. But there were ample directing gaffes, too, like the slow-mo battle scene in silhouette. And Cleopatra’s attendants (the “Muses of Parnassus”), who sometimes echoed her gestures in unison with her, made me think of those over-the-top TV commercials for Calvin Klein’s “Obsession.”

Two performances of Julius Caesar remain, on Friday, November 14 and Sunday, November 16. Call 816-471-7344 or go to www.kcopera.org.

To reach Paul Horsley, send email to
phorsley@sbcglobal.net.