Preamble

It’s possible that big repertory institutions are finished. They require two things, first, a large collection of works that audiences will return to again and again over a lifetime of seasons and, second, a company of artists capable of revivifying those works for those audiences. They are institutions of continuity more than of disruption, and we’re in a disruptive time. Without them, opera would surely find a way to nibble at the culture in an ad hoc fashion, as classical theatre does now. But while the startover freshness of such efforts can yield occasional excitements, such a development would constitute a grievous net loss. Without the “deep state” of assembled forces dedicated to the canon, opera would lose what cultural authority it still retains.

So I’ll be writing a lot about how the canonical masterworks are faring. Two problem areas cry out for special attention–singing, which is our artform’s central means of expression, and production, which is its mode of presentation. With respect to singing, the crux of the matter is easily, if baldly, stated: there is a worldwide dearth of voices of sufficient calibre and coloristic span to enable even basically satisfactory renderings of many of the greatest classical works, most obviously those of Verdi and Wagner, but extending to most of what still makes up the standard repertory. There are plenty of other issues to address (of language and dramatic expression; of musical guidance and the cultural comprehension we call style, and the physical behavior we call acting, etc.), but they all cluster around that one. We have reached the point whereat some of the heavier operas not only cannot be well cast by any single company, but could not be so by drawing on the resources of all companies. (I)

Perhaps the best way I can summarize the calamitous situation in regard to “production” (by which I mean the work of director/designers, as distinct from that of singers, conductors, and orchestras) is to ask you to think about a few questions before we begin to consider specific examples. For instance (always bearing in mind that we are dealing with the canonical masterworks and others written in emulation of them):

¶ Do you believe that a director should be considered the co-creator of the performed work, fully the equal of the operawright?

¶ If not, how far do you believe the operawright’s prerogatives should extend? Most people would agree that they reach as far as the rendition of the notes in the score, but how much farther? As far as, for instance, the close observance of all musical articulations? As far as specifying the time and place of the action, and the progression of the action? If not, why not? Who decides, and on what basis?

¶ Do you believe that all the elements of a performance—the physical production, the acting, the singing, conducting, and playing—should agree with one another in pursuit of a common interpretive goal? Or do you believe that it is acceptable, or even preferable, for the elements to be separated, each pursuing an independent intent and aesthetic?

¶ Do you believe that a production may embrace criticism of the aesthetic, social, or philosophical attitudes inherent in the work, or that interpreters should seek to advocate those attitudes, insofar as they come to understand them?

¶ Do you believe that a production’s design elements should mean something in and of themselves, or attempt to symbolize the theme(s) of the work? Or should they restrict themselves to trying to create, either through direct representation or some stylized means, the world of the work as indicated by the operawright?

In a sense, the answers to all these questions follow from the answer to the first. Not too many years ago, most devotees would have deemed the questions hardly worth asking, and one or two of them would have been considered frivolous (“the elements separate? the production critical of the work?”). But they are now raised in one form or another by almost every new undertaking. For this reason, in writing about an event I will sometimes slight, or pass over entirely, “production.”  The litany becomes too tiresome when, time after time, it reduces itself to the same underlying objection.

Footnotes

Footnotes
I This isn’t a crank perception. It’s mainstream professional opinion. For some corroboration, see: Andrew Moravçsik: “Twilight of the Gods,” Opera, Nov., 2013. Moravçsik led a team of arts and social science researchers at Princeton to explore precisely this impression of an across-the-board decline in voices of dramatic and spinto calibre. Their research methods, which are described in Moravçsik’s article, included interviews with 125 opera professionals in nine countries–singers, managers, teachers and coaches, critics, et al. (full disclosure: I was one of the 125). The consensus was overwhelming: over 95% agreed that there has been such a decline since the 1960s. And most did not believe that this was fundamentally a question of interpretive insight, but rather that such insight “requires that singers possess a sounder basic voice.” The article elaborates at some length on these findings. I don’t know whether or not Moravçsik’s project has advanced since this publication.