The Lady of Camellias- The Story vs. The Opera

I just finished Alexandre Dumas, Jr's book The Lady Of Camellias, published in 1848. This book not only inspired Verdi to compose an opera, but numerous film makers and actresses coveted to tell her story (so I am not alone!). But...with all this fuss...the book was just ok. Here's how:

The librettist for La Traviata (meaning- the fallen woman) was Francesco Maria Piave. Although, based on the very very little research I found on him, it can be discerned that Verdi probably had a lot to due with it's absolute GENIUS-NESS!

This is why it's Genius-ness:
1. POV: The book is told in the eyes of the man, Armand (Alfredo, in the opera). The opera is told in the eyes of the woman, Violetta (Marguerite, in the book). This 360 degree turn is especially effective because of the climax of both story and opera- the reason Violetta/Marguerite leaves Alfredo/Armand. In the opera the audience witnesses the duet in Act II when Violetta and Alfredo's father, Mr. Germont, have the heartbreaking exchange revealing that in order for Alfredo's sister to have a good life (i.e marry well), Violetta must save the Germont name and leave Alfredo. In the book, you have no idea why Marguerite left- only that she did in the middle of the night, and went back to another rich lover. But, in the opera, by the audience seeing Violetta's heartbreak, both with Mr. Germont, and later with her reaction to Alfredo's utter contempt for her existence, the audience experiences a bottomless pit of compassion for this woman. She can never marry well, she gave up that long long ago - but because she was close to having all she wanted and knowing she made choices in her life that cannot expect her to have the life she wants (i.e living as a wife in the country with Alfredo), she clearly sees that her only choice is to give a younger girl something that is actually within this young girl's grasp by giving this young girl the life Violetta covets. But, in the book, you know that there is a good reason Marguerite left Armand because 50 pages prior, Armand feels so guilty for not being at her death bed. Therefore, the drama is dragged out with the ending already told at the beginning (perhaps because people wouldn't be so shocked in reading the first few chapters and therefore, sympathy needed to be felt from the reader immediately).

2. Tension. Tension! Tension!!
In Act I of the opera, Violetta and Alfredo meet and he declares her love for him. She says, basically, thanks but no thanks...and then quickly (and alone) reveals that maybe she really is in love with this guy. Act II starts a few months later with the happy couple living in country-life bliss. Then, Alfredo's father, Mr. Germont, pops in on Violetta alone and asks her to leave Alfredo to keep the family name pure so his daughter can marry. Alfredo returns to the house with Violetta in distress, they sing of love and she then leaves unexpectedly leaving him a Dear John note. He also finds an invitation to a ball that evening. He thinks she left for a richer suitor and goes to the ball enraged. At the ball, he embarrasses her (we're talking extreme Jersey Shore drama for the 1850s) and she faints. In the book, they meet very similarly and then for 20 pages are madly in love with each other with jealously added in for spice. He goes to Paris to see his father, who tells him he must leave her. He says no and goes home to find Marguerite gone. He then finds her next in Paris with a rich suitor and he is consumed with jealousy. What makes the opera work is that Act II describes the outside events surrounding the climax. We don't see the love scenes (or just one, knowing Violetta is about to leave) and we don't need to because the drama is played out with Violetta's reaction to being asked to leave Alfredo and Alfredo's behavior at the ball. It's this tension that makes the drama and not the constant need to explain to an audience how one should feel.

3. The ending/beginning.
In the book, you know the ending. You know she dies and dies poor. You see that she is in debt, the reason that Armand can't ask her to leave her profession, and this debt consumes her to the end. In the opera, you don't know any of this- till the end- and I prefer it. Zeffirelli, a very famous Italian director who made the opera into an award winning movie and continues to have his adored production at the Met going on now for 20 years plus, prefers to add this beginning to the overture. I never liked this and the book made me like this approach even less. The book and Z's production start at an auction at Violetta's house after her death, with all her furniture covered in sheets. Once the overture concludes, you are immediately transported back in time with the lifting of the sheets on the furniture and voila, the opera written by Verdi continues. The book continues at the auction for several pages and reveals what I think is the best part of the book- the mingling of classes to look at Marguerite's stuff! Here, as told in the book, ladies are seeing what this scandalous person possessed and their reactions and "minglings" are described in delicious detail. As in our day with the Lohans and the Hiltons, people love scandal and gossip! But, back to the opera- in Z's production, the ending is told at the beginning, albeit accurately and beautifully, and the audience knows very consciously what happens and how. Yes, you could say- everyone knows what happens!- but I don't necessarily need to be reminded right as the curtain goes up...unless someone writes a one act about it for another evening!

AH vowel - It's VERY NICE to meet you!

I don't know what I did. Did I eat something different? Was my exercise regime perfectly balanced? Did I have a more restful sleep then usual? Was it the weather? My outfit? Because reader(s)...the ah vowel finally introduced itself to me.

It was probably a brief glimpse of something so illusive as couples being mindful of you walking behind them on a narrow NY city sidewalk. But it happened! The "ah" vowel acknowledged my existence and said, sure, go ahead, I won't get in your way...right after you.

This is what I did:
My warmup--
1. hum small penta-scales (1-5) on "mm"
2. sing "hung" on an octave, opened to "ah" on top and continued back down the scale in a slide (1-8-1)
3. 1 set of stacatto on oo, octave, arpeggio down (1-8-5-3-1)
4. 3 sets of above exercise in a row in my passaggio section (B-F above middle C)
5. Sang "e" on an octave, to a 9 note scale back down (1-8-7,8,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1)
6. In my passaggio range (B-F above middle c), 7 (leading tone) to octave (8), on e (7) to 00 (8), back down the scale (oo) and reverse (oo to ee); ah/oo; oo/oh; ay/e. So each vowel pours into the next.

Then... I sang Schumann (trumpets calling!). Glorious fantastically rich Schumann with a perfectly enhanced poem by Goethe (Wie, mit innigstem Behagen). Where each vowel matters and each phrase is crafted for perfect comprehension- so the singer doesn't have to "do" anything but sing the words. At first I was "SINGING" and then I told myself, what does each phrase and word mean? What are you trying to say...and I just sang it, as if I was speaking. Each vowel in it's place, gently caressed by each loving consonant.

And then I went to Handel. I don't like Handel..or, let me reverse that statement. Handel doesn't like me. I think he writes gorgeous music. And I love hearing his arias in concerts and at home on my CD player. But, for me to sing all those crazy long cadenzas, most in the middle of my range...it's absolute torture. It's like taking a 14 wheeler truck and trying to put it through a mouse- hole, it just never "fits". And I think it was because I didn't have any expectations...and I had such a wonderful warm-up with Schumann and really paying attention to each sound I make in my middle register (the Schumann piece is all within the staff, not usually where I like to sing). And, the fact I didn't "SING" it but just sang it. So, when it was time to sing "Qual Farfalletta" it was as if the ah vowel just showed up and we danced! We laughed! I ran around like a crazy women waving her arms for imaginary friends! And NO ONE was around! And I didn't have my computer with me to tape it! And I put it away..thinking, no, "Ah" is flirting with me. But, I coyly returned to Handel and I still sang with perfect ease. NO work! NO breathiness! NO mac-trucks! Perfect light easy phrases! It was magical and probably one of the best, if not BEST, practices I have ever had.

So, my family was in town for 2 days, so I haven't been able to reintroduce myself. I am crossing my fingers we will meet again. Because without "Ah"by my side, I won't even get Violetta to come to my door!

Matisse: The Art is the Process

Today I went to the Matisse Exhibit at the MOMA. I am not a big Matisse fan. His works of art always seemed plain, flat and pretty. But, as I left the exhibit, I had a bit of an "ah ha" moment. What I saw as flat, plain and pretty, was actually exact, deep and colorful. It seemed that in order for Matisse to express himself, he had to strip away the layers. And, what seemed like flat lines, were actually exact strokes that took him years to make look effortless. His "pretty" colors were all carefully chosen and illustrated in a beautifully symmetrical manner that allowed the viewer to see the congruity of the entire piece while simultaneously seeing each individual panel and angle.

Whenever I see an art exhibit, see a sporting event, listen to a concert, etc., I try to find a way to see how I can fit it in with music and singing. Never had I found a more resonant parallel: strip down. Take away all the "stuff"- the added unnecessary schmaltz. Breathe, pick a vowel, and let go. Of course, it's not that easy. Of course, it takes years to master. But isn't it fun (that will be another blog posting!) and isn't it worth it in the end? It's amazing how much extra stuff we have all been taught. Not by teachers necessarily, but by life and what you see and hear in your daily travels. Which only means it takes that much more work to simplify and get to the bare basics. Find your sound. Not your friend's, not your voice teacher's or your coach's, not Maria Callas's, not Renee Fleming's...yours.

As most artists, Matisse was worried his work would be labeled and specifically Picasso's cubism. After going to see Picasso's paintings on the 4th floor immediately after seeing the Matisse exhibit, I thought: Yes, he was doing the same thing- stripping down and flattening out; after all, they are contemporaries and reacting to the world around them. But, Matisse and Picasso can't be compared to each other (according to this amateur art fan!). Matisse has his own unique brush-strokes, his own unique color palate and his own unique way at looking at a room, a person, a statement.

So why can't I have that confidence? Instead of worrying I don't sound like anyone, why don't I turn the angle to finding a way to sound like myself? Is the bare stripped Courtenay enough to meet Violetta? The most indulgent role in the soprano repertoire? Something tells me that it's probably the only way to meet her. And maybe it will be plain and pretty (hopefully not flat!), but just maybe it will be exact, deep and colorful because it will be my own.