"Irish Pleasures"
John Alexander Singers
Samueli Theater
March 15, 2007
Free beer? No wonder the concert was sold out. A Guinness-drenched evening of Celtic folk music (and choral arrangements of said tunes) from the John Alexander Singers. See my review for the Orange County Register here.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Indiana Giovanni and the Palazzo of Doom
Mozart’s “Don Giovanni”
Opera Pacific
Orange County Performing Arts Center
Costa Mesa, CA.
January 21, 2007
By this time, more than 200 years after Mozart’s Don Giovanni first saw the light, I think it’s fair to say that mentioning that Don Giovanni ends up in hell by the end of the show doesn’t really require a spoiler alert.
When this murderer and serial seducer finally gets what-for, courtesy of a menacing marble statue come to life, well, personally, I want to see him dragged screaming, flames licking at his feet, terror in his eyes.
Opera Pacific’s production, the second opera of the 2006-2007, has the Don armed with a pistol, which he grabs on his way to Hades. Rather than kicking and screaming, this Don leaps into the chasm like Indiana Jones, fully looking like he was expecting to kick some demon ass. I expected him to come back:
“Hi, it’s me, just been to hell, where I shot everyone dead and turned the heat off. It’s pretty much a vacant lot now. So there’s no more going to hell for anyone. You’re welcome. Now, Donna Anna, where were we?”
The ridiculous end set aside, a very admirable production. Deep crimson sets that seemed to have a life of their own (the production borrowed from Santa Fe Opera), some hilariously goofy rimshot-worthy business (heavy on the “giocoso” here, and thank god for that), and stellar performances from the Don (Wayne Tigges) and the Leporello (Andrew Gangestad), and the hot Ellie Dehn as Donna Anna (She sang too? I didn’t notice. I’ll have to pay more attention next time….) A sexy, menacing, engaging production. That is, until the silly end, which degenerated into sort of a morbid farce, complete with slamming doors, 5 different Commendatores on stage (not worth explaining. Just treasure the image), and the Don’s enthusiastic and, you have to say, overly optimistic and self-confident leap into hell.
Opera Pacific
Orange County Performing Arts Center
Costa Mesa, CA.
January 21, 2007
By this time, more than 200 years after Mozart’s Don Giovanni first saw the light, I think it’s fair to say that mentioning that Don Giovanni ends up in hell by the end of the show doesn’t really require a spoiler alert.
When this murderer and serial seducer finally gets what-for, courtesy of a menacing marble statue come to life, well, personally, I want to see him dragged screaming, flames licking at his feet, terror in his eyes.
Opera Pacific’s production, the second opera of the 2006-2007, has the Don armed with a pistol, which he grabs on his way to Hades. Rather than kicking and screaming, this Don leaps into the chasm like Indiana Jones, fully looking like he was expecting to kick some demon ass. I expected him to come back:
“Hi, it’s me, just been to hell, where I shot everyone dead and turned the heat off. It’s pretty much a vacant lot now. So there’s no more going to hell for anyone. You’re welcome. Now, Donna Anna, where were we?”
The ridiculous end set aside, a very admirable production. Deep crimson sets that seemed to have a life of their own (the production borrowed from Santa Fe Opera), some hilariously goofy rimshot-worthy business (heavy on the “giocoso” here, and thank god for that), and stellar performances from the Don (Wayne Tigges) and the Leporello (Andrew Gangestad), and the hot Ellie Dehn as Donna Anna (She sang too? I didn’t notice. I’ll have to pay more attention next time….) A sexy, menacing, engaging production. That is, until the silly end, which degenerated into sort of a morbid farce, complete with slamming doors, 5 different Commendatores on stage (not worth explaining. Just treasure the image), and the Don’s enthusiastic and, you have to say, overly optimistic and self-confident leap into hell.
And How About That Erma Bombeck…
The Capitol Steps
1/15/07
Redondo Beach Peforming Arts Center
For the most part, political comedy is the kind that you mentally categorize as humor, but not the kind that actually makes you laugh. There are exceptions. Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. Mark Twain. That might be it.
But think of the comedians that try to do the political thing, or the political writers who attempt comedy. The cringe-worthy results have leeched onto the national consciousness without our capability to do anything about them. Art Buchwald. Dave Barry. P. J. O’Rourke. All formerly hilarious writers who not only rested on their laurels, but built condos on them. O’Rourke’s recent book is about Adam Smith. He’s like Robin Williams now; done with the funny stuff and determined to be taken seriously.
Others? Maybe Whoopie Goldberg? Who to my mind, has achieved the paradoxical accomplishment of becoming a famous comedian without actually ever having been funny? Mark Russell? Ann Coulter?
Which takes us to The Capitol Steps, who continued their 25-year odyssey through the politcal wasteland on Monday night at the Redondo Beach Performing Arts Center.
Sold out house. My wife and I were, by 15 years, the youngest there. And I’ve got a teenage daughter and a lot of gray.
My reservations were largely justified. Opening number, a take on Mel Brooks’ “Springtime for Hitler” from The Producers, except here, it was “Springtime for Liberals.” Ah-ha ha ha. Ah-Hah. Ahem… And “Everything’s Coming Up Roses,” except it was “Everything’s Run by Pelosi.”
Oh. My sides. Really. Stop it.
My guess is that it’s tough to do political humor when you’re performing for an audience of mixed political persuasion. You have to be honest, but non-threatening enough to keep everyone laughing. Result, making lots of hay with the easy targets. Bush is stupid, Gore is dull, the Kennedys drink, airport security is bad, and Rush Limbaugh takes Viagra. For goodness sake, there were THREE Chappaquddick jokes. There’s nothing like topical humor, and this was nothing like topical humor. I was expecting a Teapot Dome gag. Maybe a moratorium ought to be placed on joking about political events, say, 40 years after they happen? Is that fair? 40 years? OK?
A monologue near the end of the show ransomed a lot of it….one of the performers (who deliberately remained anonymous) performed a speech in which the first letters of word parings were switched. Thus, a “smart feller” became….it sounds much worse than it was.
But for the most part, the easy targets and the poor lyric-writing (most seems done on the fly, scans badly, doesn’t build) proved drab, uninspiring, limp. Then again, the house loved it. Ate it up. Huge laughs all evening. We were on the young side, though, so maybe in 20 years we’ll go back and see them again, and laugh more. Maybe I’ll finally find some humor in the Chappaquiddick jokes.
1/15/07
Redondo Beach Peforming Arts Center
For the most part, political comedy is the kind that you mentally categorize as humor, but not the kind that actually makes you laugh. There are exceptions. Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. Mark Twain. That might be it.
But think of the comedians that try to do the political thing, or the political writers who attempt comedy. The cringe-worthy results have leeched onto the national consciousness without our capability to do anything about them. Art Buchwald. Dave Barry. P. J. O’Rourke. All formerly hilarious writers who not only rested on their laurels, but built condos on them. O’Rourke’s recent book is about Adam Smith. He’s like Robin Williams now; done with the funny stuff and determined to be taken seriously.
Others? Maybe Whoopie Goldberg? Who to my mind, has achieved the paradoxical accomplishment of becoming a famous comedian without actually ever having been funny? Mark Russell? Ann Coulter?
Which takes us to The Capitol Steps, who continued their 25-year odyssey through the politcal wasteland on Monday night at the Redondo Beach Performing Arts Center.
Sold out house. My wife and I were, by 15 years, the youngest there. And I’ve got a teenage daughter and a lot of gray.
My reservations were largely justified. Opening number, a take on Mel Brooks’ “Springtime for Hitler” from The Producers, except here, it was “Springtime for Liberals.” Ah-ha ha ha. Ah-Hah. Ahem
Oh. My sides. Really. Stop it.
My guess is that it’s tough to do political humor when you’re performing for an audience of mixed political persuasion. You have to be honest, but non-threatening enough to keep everyone laughing. Result, making lots of hay with the easy targets. Bush is stupid, Gore is dull, the Kennedys drink, airport security is bad, and Rush Limbaugh takes Viagra. For goodness sake, there were THREE Chappaquddick jokes. There’s nothing like topical humor, and this was nothing like topical humor. I was expecting a Teapot Dome gag. Maybe a moratorium ought to be placed on joking about political events, say, 40 years after they happen? Is that fair? 40 years? OK?
A monologue near the end of the show ransomed a lot of it….one of the performers (who deliberately remained anonymous) performed a speech in which the first letters of word parings were switched. Thus, a “smart feller” became….it sounds much worse than it was.
But for the most part, the easy targets and the poor lyric-writing (most seems done on the fly, scans badly, doesn’t build) proved drab, uninspiring, limp. Then again, the house loved it. Ate it up. Huge laughs all evening. We were on the young side, though, so maybe in 20 years we’ll go back and see them again, and laugh more. Maybe I’ll finally find some humor in the Chappaquiddick jokes.
The Anti-Diva
Deborah Voigt, soprano
Brian Zeger, piano
Music of Verdi, Richard Strauss, Beach, Bernstein
January 14, 2007
Dorothy Chandler Pavillion
Los Angeles, CA.
Q: What’s the difference between a soprano and a terrorist?
A: You can negotiate with a terrorist.
If you had to come up with a few adjectives describing the stereotypical opera star, wallflowers like Maria Callas and Kathleen Battle, what would they be? Arrogant? Imperious? Demanding? As someone who has spent more than a few hours hunched over a piano with a soprano wheedling me to take it from Bar 32, but just a touch louder/softer/faster/slower/happier/sadder, I would add a few others: words that I won’t use on this site because I expect my kids to see it.
Which brings us to the anti-diva, Debbie Voigt. Is there a less pretentious operatic star out there? Someone as gifted and as self-deprecating? She’s a graduate of Cal State Fullerton (a far cry from the Juilliards and Eastmans) and close friends with Desperate Housewives creator Mark Cherry, and if that isn’t testament to her lack of pretentiousness, I don’t know what is.
She brought an unpredictable program to the Dorothy Chandler Pavillion in January—Verdi, R. Strauss, Beach, Bernstein, presented in recital by Los Angeles Opera—and as serious, or serene, as things got, the appeal of the program lay in the pauses between the songs. After a thundering, pealing, luxuriant rendition of Beach’s “The year’s at the spring,” a song that goes from Zero-to-80 in 16 bars, she stepped back during the wild applause, and when things got quiet, offered this comment while looking at her shoetips: “I always liked that one.” And now we do, too.
My daughter was with me. After the last number (Gershwin’s“I love a piano,” with Voigt singing the first two verses, and then sitting at the piano bench next to Brian Zeger, her able accompanist, and pounding a ragtime solo herself to close it out), I looked at my girl and told her: “See…she’s proof that you can be one of the world’s greatest opera singers, and still be a decent person.”
Brian Zeger, piano
Music of Verdi, Richard Strauss, Beach, Bernstein
January 14, 2007
Dorothy Chandler Pavillion
Los Angeles, CA.
Q: What’s the difference between a soprano and a terrorist?
A: You can negotiate with a terrorist.
If you had to come up with a few adjectives describing the stereotypical opera star, wallflowers like Maria Callas and Kathleen Battle, what would they be? Arrogant? Imperious? Demanding? As someone who has spent more than a few hours hunched over a piano with a soprano wheedling me to take it from Bar 32, but just a touch louder/softer/faster/slower/happier/sadder, I would add a few others: words that I won’t use on this site because I expect my kids to see it.
Which brings us to the anti-diva, Debbie Voigt. Is there a less pretentious operatic star out there? Someone as gifted and as self-deprecating? She’s a graduate of Cal State Fullerton (a far cry from the Juilliards and Eastmans) and close friends with Desperate Housewives creator Mark Cherry, and if that isn’t testament to her lack of pretentiousness, I don’t know what is.
She brought an unpredictable program to the Dorothy Chandler Pavillion in January—Verdi, R. Strauss, Beach, Bernstein, presented in recital by Los Angeles Opera—and as serious, or serene, as things got, the appeal of the program lay in the pauses between the songs. After a thundering, pealing, luxuriant rendition of Beach’s “The year’s at the spring,” a song that goes from Zero-to-80 in 16 bars, she stepped back during the wild applause, and when things got quiet, offered this comment while looking at her shoetips: “I always liked that one.” And now we do, too.
My daughter was with me. After the last number (Gershwin’s“I love a piano,” with Voigt singing the first two verses, and then sitting at the piano bench next to Brian Zeger, her able accompanist, and pounding a ragtime solo herself to close it out), I looked at my girl and told her: “See…she’s proof that you can be one of the world’s greatest opera singers, and still be a decent person.”
Mild Man Blues
Woody Allen and His New Orleans Jazz Band
December 18, 2006
Segerstrom Concert Hall
Costa Mesa, California
The program for Woody Allen’s performance of Dixieland music at Segerstrom Hall included bios of every member of the band EXCEPT for Mr. Allen. A brief notice that Allen skipped the 1977 Oscars because he didn’t want to miss his Monday night gig is the only indication you’ll find that he has a career outside of the music world.
One can write that off to modesty, to a desire for the musicians to get a little time in the spotlight. The more cynical of us would dare to suggest that Allen’s band is a group of anonymous and gifted professionals (banjoist Eddy Davis, the first among equals) surrounding a world-famous amateur, and that there would be no way they’d be performing a nationwide tour without the name recognition of their enthusiastic but marginally-talented clarinetist.
Allen calls his group the “New Orleans Jazz Band.” I was fortunate enough to attend the show with a friend of mine who for many years hosted a blues and jazz radio show at WWOZ in New Orleans. He hosted it, in fact, until Katrina drove him out. His take?
“That….tone….” and he says the word “tone” as if he just found a caterpillar in a salad. We agreed that Woody made some great movies. And hope that, one day, when we’ve written 50 movies and won a few Oscars ourselves, we can indulge ourselves in a vanity project that will draw as large and enthusiastic crowds as Woody. Could it have been worse? Sure. It also could have been Nicholas Payton, or Preservation Hall, or the Night Blooming Jazzmen, or…or…or….
December 18, 2006
Segerstrom Concert Hall
Costa Mesa, California
The program for Woody Allen’s performance of Dixieland music at Segerstrom Hall included bios of every member of the band EXCEPT for Mr. Allen. A brief notice that Allen skipped the 1977 Oscars because he didn’t want to miss his Monday night gig is the only indication you’ll find that he has a career outside of the music world.
One can write that off to modesty, to a desire for the musicians to get a little time in the spotlight. The more cynical of us would dare to suggest that Allen’s band is a group of anonymous and gifted professionals (banjoist Eddy Davis, the first among equals) surrounding a world-famous amateur, and that there would be no way they’d be performing a nationwide tour without the name recognition of their enthusiastic but marginally-talented clarinetist.
Allen calls his group the “New Orleans Jazz Band.” I was fortunate enough to attend the show with a friend of mine who for many years hosted a blues and jazz radio show at WWOZ in New Orleans. He hosted it, in fact, until Katrina drove him out. His take?
“That….tone….” and he says the word “tone” as if he just found a caterpillar in a salad. We agreed that Woody made some great movies. And hope that, one day, when we’ve written 50 movies and won a few Oscars ourselves, we can indulge ourselves in a vanity project that will draw as large and enthusiastic crowds as Woody. Could it have been worse? Sure. It also could have been Nicholas Payton, or Preservation Hall, or the Night Blooming Jazzmen, or…or…or….
Monday, March 12, 2007
"Carmen" at Opera Pacific
Orange County Performing Arts Center
March 10, 2007
Milena Kitic, Yugoslavian soprano, has had a baby boy. Said child has prompted her to leave her successful career mid-stride, and seek the quieter job (!?) of full-time mom. Saturday night I heard her last performance for the forseeable future, in her signature role, Carmen.
As superficial as this sounds, I have always maintained that the actress playing Carmen has to be the kind of woman that could (in the words of Raymond Chandler) "cause a Bishop to kick in a stained glass window."
Kitic passed the Chandler test easily: a very steamy, sultry, seductive performance. Maybe a bit over-the-top, but the occasional hackneyed gesture has its attractions too. The last Carmen I saw, Catherine Malfitano (Los Angeles Opera in 2004) had the range but not the steam. Close your eyes and think of Seville...
Kitic has been a fixture at OpPacific, most recently as Amneris in last season's Aida, and she'll be missed. The warm and extended applause said as much.
Chad Shelton was the puppy-dog-like Don Jose, Luis Ledesma the vocally vibrant, but physically restrained Escamillio.
March 10, 2007
Milena Kitic, Yugoslavian soprano, has had a baby boy. Said child has prompted her to leave her successful career mid-stride, and seek the quieter job (!?) of full-time mom. Saturday night I heard her last performance for the forseeable future, in her signature role, Carmen.
As superficial as this sounds, I have always maintained that the actress playing Carmen has to be the kind of woman that could (in the words of Raymond Chandler) "cause a Bishop to kick in a stained glass window."
Kitic passed the Chandler test easily: a very steamy, sultry, seductive performance. Maybe a bit over-the-top, but the occasional hackneyed gesture has its attractions too. The last Carmen I saw, Catherine Malfitano (Los Angeles Opera in 2004) had the range but not the steam. Close your eyes and think of Seville...
Kitic has been a fixture at OpPacific, most recently as Amneris in last season's Aida, and she'll be missed. The warm and extended applause said as much.
Chad Shelton was the puppy-dog-like Don Jose, Luis Ledesma the vocally vibrant, but physically restrained Escamillio.
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