Proles, Comrades, and Tenors

It seems that famed conductor Lorin Maazel has written an opera based on George Orwell's signature novel 1984.

A new opera is always time to rejoice, especially considering how few are written these days. I have great esteem for singing in general and the operatic medium in particular. You see, I've always thought of singing as a kind of vocal pornography - everything gets revealed. And opera is the hardcore variety. But unlike porn, opera can't be faked.

Anyway, this opera was dogged by controversy completely unrelated to its source material; Maazel was a compositional novice who has never written an opera before, yet he was being given a lavish premiere at the Royl Opera House at Covent Garden in London. The critical buzz was mostly negative, as these excerpts from the latest issue of OperaNews will demonstrate:

[T]he only proof of an operatic pudding is in the eating. It was with considerable interest that the capacity audience assembled to experience this new work, with a debut performance by widely acclaimed Canadian director Robert LePage and a cast including several admired singers.

A good cast is essential, of course. We wouldn't want another Traviata premiere on our hands.

1984 has a libretto by Yale English professor J.D. Mclatchy, working on this occassion in tandem with Tony Award-winning author Thomas Meehan (who also wrote such successful musicals as Annie and The Producers)

Very nice, but remember: prima la musica e poi le parole.

Orwell's political satire describes a future totalitarian state (modeled on Stalin's Soviet Union) set in a reconstituted England, its capital now reffered to as Airstrip One. War is perennial, denunciationas and executions are rife, and the presence of the great leader Big Brother is constant on television screens in every room that allow the authorities to watch what everyone is doing. The hero, Winston Smith, rebels first in thought and then in deed. He has an affair with a fellow dissident, Julia, but they are denounced, and under torture they ebtray each other. Winston ends up by declaring his sincee love for Big Brother.

Gee, thanks. I didn't know OperaNews also doubled as Cliffs Notes for Retards.

It’s a dark story with few contrasting moments, and Maazel’s first problem was to come up with some variety in the mood. He included a couple of numbers, one for Syme, Winston’s fellow-worker in the Ministry of Truth, who sings of the Newspeak, the language of political deception that has replaced English. American tenor Lawrence Brownlee shone in this punchy, cruelly high-lying piece, and won a round of applause. So did high-flying German soprano Diana Damrau, with a similarly flamboyant, off-the-peg coloratura aria for the Gym Instructress who gets the people exercising on her morning TV spot.

People are always fascinated by the difficult; though I'm inclined to think Big Brother would clamp down on such displays of individuality.

Elsewhere there are big choral scenes for the mass party rallies, relentlessly orchestrated. These are the better parts of the score, though their material, couched in a vaguely post-Britten to post-Shostakovich idiom, has none of the distinction or one-heard, never-forgotten quality of its models. The rest are largely solo vocal or dialogue scenes, with some surprisingly ineffective word settings, utterly nondescript in style and completely undistinguished in content. This made for a seriously tedious evening, leavened only by a love duet that might be pinned down as a collaboration between Puccini and Stephen Sondheim, only without their talent (let alone genius). This was one of the dreariest new operas in a while, and there’s quite some competition for that award.

Ouch. But that paragraph is revealing; it shows both Maazel's inability to write music that isn't mired in the past, as well as the critic's inability to conceive of anything new in musical style, forcing him to judge all he hears as compared to other, deader composers.

The cast did everything that could be expected of them. Simon Keelyside (Winston), Nancy Gustafson (Julia), and Richard Margison (O’Brien) engaged as much as possible with Maazel’s cold recreation of the characters, singing big and bold throughout. LePage’s production also did its best, but with such deadly musical material it must’ve been hard to generate what dramatic tension there was. Enthusiasm dissipated throughout the evening. There was the usual world premiere razzmatazz at the close. But there were also a couple of boos for Maazel, unprecedented in my experience for any other composer’s appearance on this venerable stage.

But what of those two arias you mentioned earlier? A single good number is enough to support a composer's reputation for the rest of his life and beyond.

I persoanlly haven't heard a single note of this work, so I can't say whether it's a surprise masterpiece or as bad as they say. Still, I think too much is being asked of poor Signor Maazel; this is, after all, his first opera. Classical music isn't the same as pop music; not every piece has to be a hit for a composer to maintain his reputation. Rossini, after all, wrote 70 operas, Handel at least 50, and Scarlatti over 100. Even Verdi and Wagner needed three operas to hit their stride. Agonizing endlesly over your first opera is a bad idea; best to shut your eyes and get it over with.

Besides, 1984 isn't the most obvious choice for an operatic setting. Orwell was a fantastic writer who was masterful in creating characters and atmosphere, but he had an admitted weakness, which he described as the tendency "[to] take a good story and turn it into journalism or political science." Fitting something like 1984 into the structure of an opera is no mean feat. It would mean extreme truncation of the story, for the ultra-oppressive world of 1984 is not just a distopia; it is a distopia with a purpose, a history, and a philosophy. It would take a certain kind of genuis to turn 'The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism' into a singable aria.

This is not to say, of course, that complex political and social protest cannot be articulated through opera; Nabucco and Fidelio should be proof enough for that. Yet the limitations of opera as an art form are of detail, and not of expression. Also, most kinds of theatrical performance require a 'personal' focus of the story, diverting attention onto a one person's thoughts and emotions instead of the universal subject at hand. Even so, the effects of the various forms of music or literature are undeniable in that they are not frozen in the same way that other kinds of art are; the notes and words have a way of entering into people's consciousness in a way that would be impossible using any other artistic genre. It is for these reason that I believe words and music will always stand above visual art forms such as sculpture and painting. A picture is worth a thousand words? Then paint me the Gettysburg Adress.


P.S. Oh, and Bush's speech last night? A tepid pep talk from a mediocre coach. Nothing new; not even a sound bite.

On the Value of Symbols

At some point in the fairly distant past, I recall reading a philosophical parable which impressed me greatly. As best I can remember, it went like this:

The Devil has convened a meeting in Hell of all the lesser demons. He demands that all of them come forward and explain what progress is being made for the corruption of mankind. All his minions talk excitedly of the wars that have been started, the unnatural acts committed, the cruelties, the injustices of man against man. The The Devil finds this all unsatisfactory; this is the same tired routine he's been hearing since the dawn of time. Finally, the last demon stands up and says "My lord, i believe we have failed to dehumanize people because we have focused so much on crimes against God and Nature. We have failed to alienate Man against things."

The Devil is confused. "But in a modern society, Man has more things than ever. Are you suggesting we deprive him of them?"

The demon shakes his head. "No, sir. What I mean is that we should replace his things with a series of abstractions, outlines, and spirituality. Man must see objects as symbols; he must learn to use them for effect. They should never be given value in themselves. And, of course, the door to joy must always be firmly shut."

At that, Satan leaned back and smiled. "Brilliant." He said. "Let the work go foreward."


This little story has stayed with me for some time. Ever since reading it, I've been increasingly aware of the way people latch on to tiny, significance-laden fragments of larger beliefs and enlarge these fragments beyond anything reasonable or healthy.

I don't mean worthles slogans that are repeated over and over again; I mean when a 'slogan' of any type becomes more important in people's minds than what that slogan was originally supposed to embody.

Take the recent House approval of a bill to ban flag-burning. To those who support it, the American flag is supposed to represent the freedom and promise of America. Maybe it does, but in the end it's still only a piece of cloth. To sacrifice our civil liberties for the sake of a cloth is lunacy, no matter what mystical properties you ascribe to it.

In the furor over Mel Gibson's 'The Passion', the line was drawn with liberals protesting anti-Semitism and religious conservatives denying it, while neither side at all understood the concerns of the other. The reason is that, to the film's detractors, the murderous, jeering, vile Jews of the 'The Passion' were just who they appeared to be, and this translated to a certain hostility against Jews today. To Gibson's devotees, nobody in the film was a real person and it didn't matter if what was shown in the movie never happened. It was all symbolic, showing the cruelty suffered by Jesus before his death. Quite possibly that's how it was intended, but it never even occurred to them how anyone could be upset at the sight of hook-nosed Pharisees mingling with the Devil or little curly-haired Jerusalem boys suddenly becoming red-eyed vampires. The disconnect between symbolism and reality was complete.

The examples of this type of thing are endless, whether one uses icons (the cross, the flag), verbal or written mantras (the Ten Commandments), honorifics ('Greetings, Comrade'), pieces of clothing (headscarves) or even political systems ('democracy' or 'communism' as the answer to all ills).

What we end up with is a society where nothing matters in itself. I think we're all poorer for it, and should endeavor as best we can to rid ourselves of attachments to things that cloud our ability to see the country behind the flag, or the meaning behind the chants.

Edit: I remember now that I came across that fable in an essay entitled Enjoying this So-Called Iced Cream: Mr. Burns, Satan, and Happiness. Don't ask.

This Just Made Me Laugh

There are doubtless very few people who be seriously amused by these comics . I'm proud to be one of them.

You're A Better Chairman Than I Am, Howard Dean

In most right-wing forums, DNC chairman Howard Dean is rarely, if ever taken seriously. This isn’t something for Democrats to worry about; when tapping into a major political movement, it is sometimes better to start off as a bit of a joke. Reagan and Clinton certainly did, to name just two.

Still, the flippant dismissal of the strength of Dean’s message rather annoys. The people who are so casual to label Dean a ‘nut’ haven’t spent days, weeks, and months talking to members of the Democratic Party in an effort to determine where they stand. I have, and I can tell you that the core of the party feels furious and betrayed over the endless efforts to compromise towards a ‘center’ that seems much further toward the right than should be possible for anyone calling him or herself a Democrat. This ‘core is bigger than you’d think; I’ve met plenty of people who described themselves as ‘not interested in politics’ who began fuming when asked if the Dems were moving to far to the right. For ten years, we tried to fight the GOP slime machine by seeking solutions to make everyone happy. We should’ve known that the more we offered, they greater the demands.

Now and then, Dean says a number of things that are impolitic, in that they are true, but it would be embarrassing for people to admit it. Take his statement about the GOP being a ‘white, Christian party’. Well, is he wrong? The most stunning development in non-white voting in 2004 – much touted in conservative circles – was that Bush managed to gain a majority of the Hispanic vote in one state, while still losing the Latino vote by 9 points nationally. By ‘Christian’, it can be assumed that dean is referring to hard-line evangelicals, who have more or less total control of the GOP at all levels.

Following his ‘gaffes’, some foolish Democrats (say, Lieberman and Biden) will try and earn points among their Republican buddies by condemning Dean. Silly rabbit, Republicans aren’t going to vote for you. Attacking your own party just makes it weaker.

Of course, Dean isn’t perfect; he recently announced that we ought to ‘stay into Iraq until the job is done’, whenever that is. I wish he hadn’t embraced the spectacularly unpopular and defeatist attitude shared by the White House. But that’s a different story…

V for Victory

WE WON!

Byrne, Bolling Take Lt. Governor's Races

Virginia voters yesterday chose two nominees with strong appeal for core loyalists in their respective parties as candidates for lieutenant governor this November.

State Sen. Bill Bolling (R-Hanover), a veteran state lawmaker and a leader of the legislature's antitax contingent, convincingly defeated a well-funded challenge from Prince William Board of County Supervisors Chairman Sean T. Connaughton to win the Republican Party nomination.

On the Democratic side, former state delegate, senator and U.S. representative Leslie L. Byrne beat back three competitors, including Del. J. Chapman Petersen of Fairfax, for her party's nomination. Byrne, 58, has long been known for her outspoken style in support of abortion rights and gay rights, as well as expanded health care and the environment. Yesterday's win represented the first step of a political comeback for Byrne, who lost her state Senate seat in 2002 when district lines were redrawn.

"We put together a grass-roots effort, and it paid off," Byrne said. "We won in places like Staunton, in places like Winchester, not just in Northern Virginia."

Byrne had perhaps the best name recognition in her party from more than two decades in politics. Voters at several polls said they felt comfortable with her long record.

"I know her -- she's a woman and she's been good for Fairfax," said county resident Elyse Galik, 51.

I knew all those hours stuffing envelopes, scanning data, and making phone calls - hundreds, thousands of phone calls - would pay off. The margin isn't as wide as I would like, but in a four-way competitive race you can't expect too much. Especially when turnout was as abysmal - 8 percent, by some counts - as it was.

The victory party was held at an Italian restaurant which served us all the bruschetta and priscuitto we could ask for, with a big dry-erase board on one wall to tally up the vote returns as they came in. Leslie was in the lead from the very beggining, and never fell less than six points ahead.

When it became clear that victory was imminent, attorney general candidate Creigh Deeds and gubernatorial candidate Tim Kaine showed up to offer their congratulations. Deeds is a personable guy who greeted me by name (we had met before at the Memorial Day parade) while Kaine simply shook hands and made what I assume is the standard what-a-great-team-we're-gonna-move-(this state)-forward speech. Leslie then got up and began to thank all of her supporters who were crowding the room, but quickly had to retire lest she start crying. It was an illuminating moment.

Now, on to the general. It'll be a battle of polar opposites - or, at least, as far apart as two mainstream American politicians can get. But that's the primary system for you, even though Virginia has an open primary.

Unfortunately, I won't be involved with the campaign anymore - they're moving the office to Mclean, Virginia, and I have no way of getting there. Ah, well, it's nice to be part, and I wish her all the bets in November.

Aux Armes, Citoyens

We have not eternal allies and we have not perpetual enemies. Our interests are eternal and perpetual and those interests it is out duty to follow.

- Lord Palmerston

Something that's been troubling me lately is the widespread notion that being born in a country makes you a representation of everything that country has ever done, and able to call in 'debts' from other countries for past services. And I cannot for the life of me understand the rage that occurs from the more jingoistic when another country fails to follow that idea.

That's not very well put. I'll use a current example to illustrate what I mean: the relationship between the US and France. Who gave us vital military and strategic support during the Revolutionary War? The French. Who lost over a million men in the trenches before the US decided to step in? They did. Who fought the Nazis while America was too scared to face reality or too selfish to think that Hitler concerned them? You guessed it.

And yet, you can barely spend five minutes in a 'patriotic American' crowd without hearing the French described as the most cowardly, contemptible, surrender-happy people in the world who owe the US eternal obedience for the liberation of Paris.

But let's look at what else happened in WWII. The country that sacrificed the most, suffered the most, and fought the longest against the most overwhelming odds, was the Soviet Union. The Red Army suffered losses on a scale that would've set the US Army in full retreat before the slaughter was 1/10 over. Could Vladmir Putin today stride into Poland or East Germany and declare "We saved you from the Nazis. Now do as we say!"? I doubt it.

In the end, it's all fairly irrelevant. Even if the French (or any other country) had passively sat by and it was the US alone who had fought Hitler, what does that mean for Americans today? Most of the people who fought in WWII are dead. Brave deeds aren't inheritable.

Further, the constant whine of "Those socialist wimps hate us now, but just wait till they need us again!" belies a basic misunderstanding of the situation on all levels. First of all, the Europeans do not 'hate us'. They despise the reckless and arrogant behavior of the current administration. And yes, there are some cultural snobberies, but we make up for them with out own. Second, it's not as if the EU has trade sanctions on us; we still trade, visit, and embark on international aid ventures together. And finally, 'we' need 'them' as much as the other way around, both economically and in terms of much of our shared cultural and philosophical heritage. This marriage can yet be saved.

Yet this I think is a problem with the personification of countries; the idea that each nation is, in effect, a single person, transferring the words, deeds, sins and virtues of each citizen of that nation into every citizen of said nation, and making the people who happen to be born in one place somehow the heirs of those who lived in the same place over half a century ago. For a writer of travelouges, this might be a charming literary device. As a way to decide foriegn policy, it is sentimental nonsense at best.

But don't let that stop you from ordering your freedom fries. Getting heart disease is as American as hot dogs and apple pie (both of which probably also cause heart disease).

'Blog Tag' and Randomness..

Apparently Seth the theophile has decided to afflict me with 'blog tag', which is kind of like a chain letter, but more annoying. I'll play along, but I'll do part in ending it by not tagging anyone else:

Number of books I Own: What a stupid question! Maybe hundreds, maybe thousands. I have no idea. Moving on.

Last Book I Bought (For Myself): Good-Bye to All That by Robert Graves. I always liked I Claudius, and the generation of British writers who came of age after WWI (Graves, Orwell, Dahl) have always been my favorites, and their lives are impossibly interesting.

Last Book I Read: The Luzhin Defense by Vladmir Nabakov. It took a while to become interested in a dialouge-less novel about a frankly boring chess maniac, but it draws you in little by little.

Books that Mean Alot to Me: Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell. A clear-eyed look at the better world that's possible. The Sword in the Stone by T. H. White. The first book I ever read that made real people out of all its characters; heroes, villians, fools, and sages.

I'll expand on this if I feel like it.



Oh Tom Tomorrow, sometimes you just have to do the talking for me.

Campaign Update: Chap Peterson is offering temporary tattoos. Get'em while they're hot.

Memorial Day

Yesterday was Memorial Day, and I for one spent my time walking in the Falls Church Memorial Day Parade next to Leslie Byrne, being driven in a convertible. As she waved to the crowd I had a packet of brochures in one hand and a basket of candy in the other, and I distributed campaign literature and sweets to all who wanted them. Guess which was more popular.

But they event made me think. Memorial Day is supposed to be a time to gather together and remember those who gave their lives to protect us from those who wished to do us harm. But do we really understand how those servicemen really lived and died? Did we and the military give them so much consideration when they were alive? And did we give their deaths the honor of truth that every person deserves? Even if you subscribe to the idea that war is necessary sometimes, the sheer disregard for US servicemen and women displayed by our own government and their own commanding officers (I mean the ones on top, not the ones in the field) is something unbelievable.

At the start of 2005, at least a quarter of US deaths in Iraq were in non-combat situations. This is fairly typical for an occupying army. Yet what is the family of those servicemen told? That the fallen was 'fighting for freedom' is popular, as is 'defending America'. And I'm sure that people believe those things when they hear them. They have to. Who among us could face the idea that your son, your daughter, your husband, or anyone else you loved dearly, died in vain and for no purpose at all? Who has the heart to tell someone that? What commander or politician has the courage to admit it?

No, better that the soothing balm of heroism and patriotism be applied to the whole painful affair. No one needs to know about the orders that went wrong, or the jeep that hit a pothole and rolled over, or (God forbid) the friendly fire. Thus responsibility is avoided, and the truth of war remains where most people can handle it: out of sight.

And what if the war itself was nothing but a waste and a sham built on lies and false hopes?. Not surprisingly, many veterans lash out at that idea, especially if they lost friends. Their sacrifice has to mean something, and all those America-haters who opposed the war must be wrong. In a way, they're right: their friends' deaths do mean something. Just not what they dearly hoped it would.

Pardon me for being inarticulate. I did my best.