I have seen Dido several times, but just when Morris was still dancing Dido/the Sorceress;
sometimes it is division of a double-bill and sometimes it`s on its own. Both methods work; it certainly is a deep enough hour on its own, but it worked strangely well linked with the company`s shortened edition of 4 Saints in 3 Acts (though I suppose they did 4 Saints first; I would have reversed the order, so that you had earthly suffering followed by heavenly joy). The start time I saw Dido it was a stand-alone and it must have been soon afterward the Belgian premiere.
I mean the most recent time was likewise a season opener for Cal Performances. I saw it double in that run, and it was fascinating to see how Morris adjusted his execution for the second night - the 1st night there had been a pre-performance party for donors and perhaps people had too much wine, since there was some laughter at what were seen as Morris`s more flamboyant gestures (I liked having a man dancing Dido and the Sorceress because of the tie to ancient Greek tragic theater, but I am relentlessly aesthetic and high-minded and there`s always the danger some people are leaving to bear it`s meant purely as camp, if you can describe camp as "pure"). The following night, all the gestures that evoked laughter were made sharper and more angular and there was no laughter.
Morris has transitioned to director of the piece, shaping an alive and well-paced performance from Philharmonia Baroque (though for some argue the pauses between scenes struck me as held just a bit too long; as always, though, I can`t find out that I was merely being weird). The piece survives and triumphes with its second multiplication of dancers. Domingo Estrada Jr was a virile and sensitive Aeneas, expressing both a lover`s suffering at abandoning Dido and a leader`s recognition that he must go on with his troops (it`s rather an achievement, particularly in this short and Dido-centered opera, to produce Aeneas this sympathetic; we are empire-dwellers but similar to profess that jazz is the obvious choice over duty).
Amber Star Merkens was a stark alternative to get over Morris`s role; in fact she somewhat resembles the younger Morris (particularly in her flowing tangle of black curls, which she ties back for Dido and loosens for the Sorceress, just as Morris did), though I suppose she`s taller, leaner, and more sinewy. (Maile Okamura was nicely contrasted as a daintier, sympathetic Belinda. Merkens makes little gestures count for a lot, as in her final showdown with Aeneas, as the tender slight motion of her hand (to "by all that`s good") gives way to the injured dignity of "it`s enough that once you thinking of leaving me." Her Dido is purple and moving. Her Sorceress is cynical and nihilistic and amused. She`s dazzling in both roles.
Stephanie Blythe certainly provided the vocal equivalent, with a beautiful, hall-filling voice, so expressively used, particularly in the suicide aria at the end, when Blythe and Merkens together indelibly expressed Dido`s sorrow and dignity and beauty. Philip Cutlip was distinguished as Aeneas, but had a few slight vocal bobbles. The other soloists (Yulia Van Doren as Belinda, and the First Witch Celine Ricci as the Second Woman and the Second Witch, and Brian Thorsett as the Sailor) were all strong. The refrain was really well and actually enunciated more clearly than around of the soloists (of course, I was sitting right in face of them, my opinion of the degree slightly blocked by the rising wave of the cello; such are the hazards of preferring the front row).
When Dido and Aeneas touch, it is briefly, and frequently at a length from each other (arms extended, space between). The Sorceress is isolated, even from her attendants (Noah Vinson and Dallas McMurray), except for one moment, when she reaches the coming of her evil design to destroy Dido, and they rise up on her, one on either side, and rest for a bit of glee. Usually she disdains even them, and is clear and amusingly bored by their baroque repetitions and repulsed when they or any of her attendants come too stuffy to her. We see Dido and Aeneas make love, but we see the Sorceress masturbate alone while her attendants scamper behind her; afterwards she wipes her finger with a bored "well, that`s over" expression. It's profoundly moving to see royal Dido's suicide brought around by this solitary hater of human joy, and a deep connection to make one dancer play both parts.
The scene is stripped down, with a faint blue and gray map of the Mediterranean glowing palely as background to the Carthage scenes, reminding us that Aeneas has to go off and found Rome, and with black banners streaming down for the Sorceress. The dancers' movements are frieze-like and angular and often resemble classical Greek vase paintings. Even many of the movements in a line proceed at an angle. But so there are odd jittery moments thrown in, or little crude jokes, reminding us that more is passing on here than an effort to repair the vanished (and partly unknowable) style of the Greek tragedies.
The gender ambiguity continues, with the corps, both men and women, portraying female attendants, male sailors, and in-between witches. (The Sailor`s solo is jauntily danced by Lauren Grant. They do this by switching their black skirts to black pantaloons (I don't know if they just hitch them up or whip them off; their tank tops are invariably black). Some of the men have slightly crimsoned lips and gold hoop earrings. Dido has glittery silver nails and Aeneas`s nails are black.
At the end the leg slowly darkens as the attendants slip off in pairs through the curtain center stage, behind the dead queen prone on the bench facing us, her head bowed down towards us and arms extended out on either side. Belinda remains and takes a place on the proper position of the bench near her dead sister, and bows her mind as the level reaches almost total darkness.
No comments:
Post a Comment