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At Seattle Opera February 22 – March 7, 2014
Music and Libretto by
Gian Carlo Menotti
First Performed Philadelphia, 1950 | In English with English Captions | Marion Oliver McCaw Hall
Magda Sorel is everywoman: daughter, wife, mother, victim, and heroine.
John Sorel, her husband, is a wanted enemy of the state.
His Mother and Baby live with Magda in a shabby apartment.
The Secret Police Agent is hot on John's trail.
Assan, a glass-cutter, is John's contact in the underground.
The Secretary works for the Consul and tries not to think about all those who need her help.
Some of them include: Nika Magadoff, a vaudeville magician; Anna Gomez, a concentration camp survivor; Mr. Kofner; Vera Boronel; and an older Foreign Woman.
Where and When?
An unidentified totalitarian state, mid 20th century.
What's Going On?
John Sorel bursts into the small apartment he shares with his family. He is bleeding. The secret police broke up a meeting he was having with fellow revolutionaries, injured him, and followed him home. When they enter to search the apartment, he hides, and his wife Magda covers for him. The Sorels' only real option is to flee the country. John goes into hiding and Magda goes to the Consulate of an unidentified country, hoping to emigrate legally so they can begin a new life where there is freedom and opportunity.
The only opportunity Magda finds, however, is a chance to fill out paperwork: forms, questionnaires, and applications.
The secretary who guards the office of the unseen Consul is a nightmare: "These photos are not the right size." "This paper must be notarized." "No one is allowed to see the Consul, the Consul is busy." "I don't see how we can help you." "I can't make an exception, it would upset our system." "Next!" Magda takes her place as one of many people, all of them beset with terrible problems, lingering in the Consul's office, waiting, waiting, hoping beyond hope to hear good news.
Here she sings the climax of her great aria, “To this we’ve come.”
A DVD of the complete performance is available at vaimusic.com
Meanwhile, her life goes from bad to worse. With no money, no food, no heat in the apartment, her child grows sick and dies, as does John's old mother.
The secret police wise up to the code Magda uses to pass messages to John's friends in the underground. And the police agent who stalks Magda is seen in the Consul's office, chatting companionably with the unapproachable bureaucrat. As Magda edges closer and closer to despair, John sneaks back into the country to try and rescue her. But the secret police arrest him, at the Consul's office, and in the end, it all comes down to whether the secretary will break the rules and do the right thing...
Gian Carlo Menotti is a central figure in twentieth-century opera. His 25 operas, which include The Old Maid and the Thief, The Medium, The Consul, The Saint of Bleeker Street, and Amahl and the Night Visitors, have been performed all over the world, and not only where opera is usually played. Menotti's shows have been successful on Broadway, and he was one of the first composers to create operas intentionally for new twentieth-century media such as radio and television. Even today, seven years after his death, the arts festivals Menotti founded, in both Spoleto, Italy, and Spoleto, South Carolina, present important contemporary performers, artists, and speakers.
Menotti was born in 1911, in a mountainous village in northern Italy. He was sixth of eight children in a well-to-do family, and a bit of a child prodigy: he composed his first opera, The Death of Pierrot—like all his operas to his own libretto—at age 11. To encourage his gift, his mother moved the family to nearby Milan, the opera capital of Italy, and enrolled her teenage son at the Milan Conservatory. She also found ways of introducing him to Umberto Giordano, composer of the popular opera Andrea Chenier, and the important conductor Arturo Toscanini. When her husband died, Menotti's mother moved to Colombia to oversee the family's coffee business, and, on Toscanini's advice, sent her son to the recently established Curtis School of Music in Philadelphia, PA.
In the days when the Menotti-Barber-Horan house in Mt. Kisco was a weekend destination for New York City's leading artists and intellectuals, Menotti's star was rising as a creative artist. The Metropolitan Opera staged a brief comic opera of his and commissioned another; he wrote The Old Maid and the Thief for the NBC Radio Network (premiered on the air in 1939, and since produced hundreds of times onstage); and a couple of daring young Broadway producers organized a Menotti double-bill, The Medium, a gripping tragedy, followed by The Telephone, a comedy. The Consul premiered on Broadway (preceded by the traditional out-of-town tryout in Philadelphia) in 1950; its harrowing, ripped-from-the-headlines story and supremely theatrical blend of music and text won Menotti the Pulitzer Prize for Music and the New York Drama Critics' Circle Award for Best Musical Play. It ran for 269 performances on Broadway and, within a year, was being produced in Milan, London, Paris, Berlin, Zurich, and Vienna. Menotti's biggest audience was that for Amahl and the Night Visitors, a one-act, family-friendly Christmas-themed opera, originally broadcast on television on December 24, 1951. By the 1970s, Amahl was the most frequently performed opera in the United States, beating out La bohème and The Marriage of Figaro and inventing that television genre in which a miracle solves the problems of a poor, deserving child at Christmastime.
The same conscience that inspired The Consul also drove Menotti to create the Spoleto Festival, first in Italy in 1958, then in South Carolina 20 years later. "The Festival satisfied a very selfish need," Menotti told his biographer. "I became so completely disenchanted with the role of the artist in contemporary society. I felt useless. Art had become what Sam Barber calls 'the after-dinner mint of the rich.' I felt that the artist should become part of society—a needed member of society rather than just an ornament. That's why I started Spoleto."
Though more popular in his day than any other twentieth-century composer of operas, Menotti was never the darling of the critics or the musical intelligensia. But despite the controversy his name has always provoked, his legacy lives on in a handful of his operas and in the festivals he created. The 2014 performances of The Consul will be the first Menotti opera performed at Seattle Opera. In 1999, Seattle Opera produced Vanessa, an opera with music by Samuel Barber to a libretto by Menotti.
The Quotable Menotti
"Too many people...approach art armed to the teeth with all sorts of belligerent attitudes...symbolized by the very strange expressions that have entered our daily vocabulary. One of them is that contemporary music must be 'modern,' thus implying that art should be subjected to fashion, and that whatever is not 'modern' is inevitably old-fashioned.... One of the essential ingredients for music to sound modern, for example, is the constant and unrelieved use of dissonances. I don't know why dissonance per se should be more exciting or interesting than consonance.... There are composers who insist that they are writing for the future, and only then will their music be understood, with the implication that art is a sort of commercial product which automatically improves as the years go by. Actually...all indications point to the fact that our audiences are getting duller and duller. The passage of time does not improve art, nor develop it...Art should be an act of love and not a form of masturbation...it takes the courage of a genius to face one's public in complete nakedness."
"The wrong thing young composers often do is to think there is a formula for a good libretto, so they always try to find a subject that they think is operatic. No subject is operatic per se. A good libretto is what suits the composer. Madama Butterfly would have been a horrible libretto for Wagner, and imagine Puccini setting Götterdämmerung! It is up to the composer to find the subject that will make him burst into music."
"Just as a drop of water is created by an exact proportion of hydrogen and oxygen, so in creating a lyrical phrase you must have an equally exact proportion between words and music. As water is not merely hydrogen and oxygen, so must the composer of opera strive to create something which is neither a play with added music nor a symphony with words, but a new indissoluble organism."
"To criticize a theater piece as too theatrical is as senseless as to criticize a piece of music for being too musical.... Modern dramatists are much too timid about 'theater,' and such timidity is fatal to an opera composer, for music intensifies feeling so quickly that, unless a situation is symbolically strong enough to bear this intensity, it becomes ludicrous by contrast."
Origins of The Consul
Gian Carlo Menotti invented the stories, wrote the libretti, composed the music, and stage directed all his own operas. Often he generated stories out of characters and situations from his own life. For example, Menotti based Amahl on his own experience as a child when his injured leg returned to health after what appeared to be divine intervention. With The Consul, however, Menotti was writing less about himself and more about current events.
During World War II, a group of 25 Austrian refugees fled into Hungary. But because they didn't have passports they were trapped for a week on a bridge between the two countries: neither Austria nor Hungary would admit them. Menotti, who was courted shortly after the war by Hollywood, wrote a script on this story for MGM. But the subject was deemed too depressing for the American movie-goer, and Menotti and Hollywood parted ways.
Shortly thereafter, the composer read another news item in the New York Times:
"IMMIGRANT A SUICIDE. WOMAN DENIED ENTRY TO U.S. HANGS HERSELF ON ELLIS ISLAND. Mrs. Sofia Feldy, a 38-year-old Polish immigrant, who was refused admission to the United States by a board of special inquiry at Ellis Island, Febr. 6, committed suicide by hanging at the Ellis Island detention room, the Immigrant and Naturalization Service announced yesterday. Mrs. Feldy was denied admission to the country, after her husband, Antoni Feldy of Chicago, testified that he had divorced her in November, 1940, on grounds of desertion. Mrs. Feldy, who came here January 19 with her daughter, declared she had received no notice of the divorce which her husband claimed he sent to her in Poland. Mr. Feldy agreed to accept his daughter, who was admitted on that basis, but his former wife was excluded by a vote of the board."
Menotti changed the details, but dramatized the despair of the immigrant who has risked and lost everything. He also created for The Consul the small role of Anna Gomez, inspired by a young woman Menotti had seen in an Italian hotel room, who kept interrupting her own conversation with her father with intermittent shouts of 'No' as she nervously ran her hand through long dark hair with a white streak. And as for the old Italian peasant woman, Menotti met her on a plane from Italy to New York: "She was tiny, like some shriveled child, and her wrinkled skin, the heritage of peasant ancestors, was the color of earth.... Her papers were not in order and no one could understand her naïve explanations which she murmured in her strange accent. I did all I could to assist her but was finally obliged to leave her to the authorities."
New York City was a nine-newspaper town in 1950, and all of them raved about The Consul. (Patricia Neway, left, sang Magda at the out of town premiere in Philly and also in NYC.) Olin Downes of the New York Times led the pack, calling the new work "an opera of eloquence, momentousness, and intensity of expression...this opera is written from the heart, with a blazing sincerity and a passion of human understanding. It is as contemporary as the cold war, surrealism, television, the atom bomb. It is torn out of the life of the present-day world, and poses an issue which mercilessly confronts humanity today. And this is done with a new wedding of the English language with music in a way which is singable, intensely dramatic and poetic by turns, and always of beauty."
The great stumbling-block for American opera composers has always been getting that wedding to work, that marriage between words and music. Like the perfect vinaigrette, it easily falls out of balance if these partners fail to achieve the right proportions. Menotti has structured his opera so that scenes of nerve-wracking tension, which rely more on orchestra, words, and acting, alternate with passages of lyrical effusion, in which the voices get to soar. In each scene, the drama tightens the screws until we can't bear any more—at which point the characters' emotions escape in song: in the trio "Now, o lips, say goodbye," the quintet "In endless waiting rooms," or the lullaby "I shall find for you shells and stars."
Unlike the other characters, the Secret Police Agent and the Secretary seem incapable of expressing their inner selves lyrically. The Secretary, who seems to have no human emotions left, instead uses an irritatingly cheery waltz as her motif, plus the incessant sound of her typewriter. As for the auxiliary characters, they give Menotti the opportunity to keep varying the opera's tone: he writes a pastiche of Puccini at his most emotional for his old Italian woman (the impact of her music undercut, however, by Mr. Kofner, who translates her words but not her emotions) and a chipper yet eerie patter song for the strange humbug magician, Nika Magadoff.
Menotti composed The Consul for a small orchestra by the standards of grand opera, one that prominently features the dry, brittle sound of the piano. Yet the orchestral interludes linking the scenes feature powerful music, such as the death march for Magda's baby, which continue to tell the story and explore its powerful emotions. The greatest aria in The Consul is without doubt "To this we've come" (also known as "Papers!"), Magda's breakdown before the Secretary at the end of the second act. At its conclusion, the soprano must ride the waves of a huge, almost Wagnerian orchestral sound; the orchestra plays a soaring melody as Magda cries out the words: "The day will come, I know, when our hearts aflame will burn your paper chains! Warn the Consul, Secretary, warn him: that day neither ink nor seal shall cage our souls. That day will come, that day will come."
Chandos / Conductor: Richard Hickox
Magda Sorel: Susan Bullock
Secretary: Victoria Livengood
Mother: Jacalyn Kreitzer
John Sorel: Louis Otey
Magda Sorel: Beverly O'Regan Thiele
Secretary: Emily Golden
Mother: Joyce Castle
John Sorel: Michael Chioldi
Magda Sorel: Patricia Neway
Secretary: Regina Sarfaty
Mother: Evelyn Sachs
John Sorel: Chester Ludgin