‘A feat of spectacle’
Review by Guest Critic: Rebecca Ritzel
Oh, the early musicians. They are the nerds, outliers and Comic-Con goers of the classical music world, dedicated to preserving the art of playing ancient instruments with funny sounding names like shawms, vielles and sackbuts. And yet, add a troupe of these dedicated artists to any otherwise traditional classical music performance and, like merry wandering minstrels, they bring the concert to life.
Carmina Burana, this year’s inter-arts collaboration, was very much enlivened by 10 early-music specialists (generally defined as people who focus of on the music and instruments of late Middle Ages, Renaissance and early Baroque eras). They were the smallest of eight arts groups who participated in Carmina on Saturday night, but perhaps the most integral ensemble, providing musical segues and entertaining monologues between composer Carl Orff’s massive chorales and showstopper arias, which allowed various other dancers and singers to smoothly sneak on and off stage.
The only problems with making the early music ensemble quite so integral to the performance — and sadly there were problems — are that replicas of ancient instruments can scarcely project in any outdoor setting, much less the 4,000-seat Amphitheater, and there weren’t enough mobile microphones to go around. Credit the audience with silently paying rapt attention, but a lone fortissimo chirper of a cicada up at Bestor Plaza could compete with a solo recorder.
Also, the slightly cheesy monologues recited by several musicians in the troupe cannot be compared to the narrative passages so memorably performed last year during the inter-arts performance of Go West!
That was, it is fair to say, a more cohesive and artistically superior collaborative performance. Carmina Burana was more a feat of spectacle, although it opened with an inauspicious entrance. The costumed ensemble of early musicians, led by arranger Wayne Hankin, began the performance with a quiet procession of monks, minstrels and courtly ladies. If this seemed antithetical to the bombastic first movement of Carmina, it was, but there was historical method to Hankin’s madness. As a young composer studying Munich after being wounded during World War I, Orff dedicated himself to learning 16th- and 17th-century music, particularly compositions by Claudio Monteverdi and William Byrd. Many of the shorter Orff pieces that Hankin arranged for the collaboration reflected those influences. And then, of course, there is the text of Carmina Burana itself: poems written in German and Latin by 13th-century monks.
So about those poems. Although Carmina Burana, which premiered at the Frankfurt Opera in 1937, remains popular as a choral and symphonic work, it is nearly impossible for contemporary audiences to read English translations of many of the poems and not cringe. For example, “In winter man is patient, the breath of spring makes him lascivious,” sounds more like a flowering warning to sorority girls heading to a frat party than the romantic pronouncement that Orff intended. Hide your daughters and your wives, these were some randy, heteronormative monks!
Throughout the performance, the three soloists hired to perform with the Chautauqua Symphony Orchestra and three area choruses (Buffalo Philharmonic, Rochester Oratorio Society and Pittsburgh Youth Choruses) acquitted themselves well. Soprano Leah Wietig and baritone Philip Cutlip were both committed actors as well as practiced singers, and Andrey Nemzer squawked appropriately during the infamous countertenor aria sung in the persona of a dying swan roasting on a rotisserie.
The choruses also handled the massive works well, though they often struggled with some of Orff’s more staccato passages. What should have been the crowning feature of the collaborative performance — appearances by members of the Charlotte Ballet and Chautauqua Festival Dancers throughout the performance — was somewhat disappointing. Jean-Pierre Bonnefoux’s choreography was mostly rather bland and predictable, reflecting the influence of 19th-century Russian story ballets rather than either courtly dance or contemporary vocabulary. (John Butler’s erotic 1959 version remains more popular.) The dancers were also in need of more rehearsals on the almost too-small stage, and frequently struggled with spacing issues. It was also apparent the company has yet to recover from the recent loss of four star dancers who Chautauqua audiences are accustomed to seeing in solo roles: Melissa Anduiza, Anna Gerberich, Jordan Leeper and Pete Leo Walker. (All four are moving on to higher-profile companies.)
Exceptions to the balletic letdown included the “Day, Night and Everything” pas de deux by Sarah Hayes Harkins and David Morse, Joshua Hall’s “In My Heart” solos and the very impressive nine-man rotating lift executed during both the opening and closing “O Fortuna” refrains.
About that famous refrain: Over the past 10 years, it has become a staple of college football marching bands. “O Fortune, like the moon you are changeable, ever waxing and waning.” In-the-know drum majors play it when the offense lines up for a crucial third down, but more often the fanfare is just exploited for high drama, and the piece has more-or-less become one big bombastic cliché.
Would Orff mind? That’s hard to say. It’s important to remember, that while Carmina Burana is most often performed in concert halls sans costumes and staging, Orff always considered it a theatrical work. This is the composer who once arranged for a “St. Luke Passion” to be performed accompanied by slides way back in 1932. So while Carmina’s relegation to a football fanfare is lamentable, it’s celebratory performance in Chautauqua is not.
Rebecca J. Ritzel is a freelance writer based in Alexandria, Virginia, who writes about music, theater and dance for The Washington Post. She holds a master’s degree in arts journalism from Syracuse University and teaches at the University of Maryland.
‘Orff would have loved it’
Review by Guest Critic: Jane Vranish
Carl Orff knew that he had written his masterpiece in Carmina Burana and told his publisher to discard all of his earlier works. However, as the contemporary of such composers as post-Romantic Richard Strauss, modernist Charles Ives, Impressionist Claude Debussy and 20th-century icon Igor Stravinsky, he didn’t know that this work would surpass them in popularity and morph into a trendy cult favorite.
In other words, if you produce it, they will come.
There was definitely a buzz of anticipation in a packed Amphitheater Satruday night for the last program in Chautauqua’s three-year inter-arts collaboration initiative, the others being The Romeo & Juliet Project and last year’s Go West! Unlike those two, Carmina was, in part, a repeat from its 1992 premiere and subsequent encore in 1999.
The original infrastructure was still there — 24 songs gleaned from 250 poems written by 13th-century monks, the Chautauqua Symphony Orchestra (this time directed by guest conductor Timothy Muffitt), Don Kimes’ mural (stretched across the stage, but mostly hidden by the orchestra members in front of it), Jean-Pierre Bonnefoux’s choreography and Marty Merkley’s direction (certainly a major part of the Chautauqua vice president’s continuing swan song here).
But this tale of love, lust, sloth, sorrow and gluttony was altered with the addition of medieval art and a range of flora, all splendidly projected by designer Christopher Ash on the ceiling — a first at Chautauqua.
Text, both humorous and insightful, was rendered by a trio of monks and added to the ambience: “…rejoice ye lads. In winter man is patient; the breath of spring makes him lascivious.”
In nine olios, or musical inserts, the Early Musicians Ensemble used instruments like alto sackbut, rauschpfeife, bowed psaltery and trumps (not the politician, but more like Jew’s harps, engagingly played by Wayne Hankin). An early music specialist, he also composed the extra music himself, careful to create a relationship with varying Orff themes, yet provide a counterbalance to the dominating nature of Carmina.
This approach changed the character of the piece, which can often be relentlessly commanding and demanding, to one focused on the overall vitality of life by injecting a sense of wonder, awe and, yes, even beauty.
You have to think that Orff would have loved it.
It all worked surprisingly well, not only expanding the composer’s vision by placing equal emphasis on music, dance and speech, but giving audience members a historical framework for it all. As it turned out, the new components didn’t break the flow of the work, as they easily might have, but instead served to cleanse the artistic palate for more.
Having seen two different and successful approaches by choreographers Dwight Rhoden, also the resident choreographer for Charlotte Ballet, and Kent Stowell, formerly of Pacific Northwest Ballet, plus assorted concert versions, this production kept closest to the Orff-ian philosophy.
But with over 500 Chautauquan participants (other productions ranged from 150-300), a question popped into mind: Instead of the artistic axiom of “less is more,” would “more” by itself set the standard when it comes to Carmina Burana?
There were a few issues — choral diction was adequate, but not great. Some of the group transitions caused the production to lag momentarily, primarily with entrances and exits of the Early Musicians. And several musical sections passed before the viewer could incorporate the projections without losing the ongoing visual impact of the overall staging.
But, on the whole, this was a vivid and enticing portrayal of Carmina Burana, and now ranks as my personal favorite.
From the start, Orff ascertained that Carmina should be staged, and Merkley managed the disparate elements with a disciplined finesse, although it was important that the participants maintained their own sense of responsibility.
“O Fortuna” began and ended Carmina and its ongoing balancing act — not too fast for the choir to articulate and not too slow for the dancers. Muffitt kept things under control, an achievement in itself given the short rehearsal period. The orchestra was able to bring its own drama to the score and the three featured soloists, soprano Leah Wietig, countertenor Andrey Nemzer and baritone Philip Cutlip, handled their assignments with aplomb.
Bonnefoux’s choreography benefitted from the larger stage, which projected the artists further into the audience. There they could see choreography that moved easily from the all-male and powerful “O Fortuna” to a breezy sense of joy in “Springtime.” Likewise, the dancers could be earthy and seductive during the tavern’s ultimate drinking song or acrobatic and airborne in “Round Dance.” And dance they did, their abandon tempered just enough with a finely-tuned sense of control.
It might take a village to raise a child, but Chautauqua raised the rafters with this large scale, juicy slice of life in all of its excesses. Carmina Burana not only drew the audience into a vortex of the imagination, it engulfed them, as it should, much to their delight.
Jane Vranish is a former dance critic for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and continues there as a contributing writer. Her stories can be read on the dance blog “Cross Currents” at pittsburghcrosscurrents.com.
Text, both humorous and insightful, was rendered by a trio of monks and added to the ambience: “…rejoice ye lads. In winter man is patient; the breath of spring makes him lascivious.”
In nine olios, or musical inserts, the Early Musicians Ensemble used instruments like alto sackbut, rauschpfeife, bowed psaltery and trumps (not the politician, but more like Jew’s harps, engagingly played by Wayne Hankin). An early music specialist, he also composed the extra music himself, careful to create a relationship with varying Orff themes, yet provide a counterbalance to the dominating nature of Carmina.
This approach changed the character of the piece, which can often be relentlessly commanding and demanding, to one focused on the overall vitality of life by injecting a sense of wonder, awe and, yes, even beauty.
You have to think that Orff would have loved it.
It all worked surprisingly well, not only expanding the composer’s vision by placing equal emphasis on music, dance and speech, but giving audience members a historical framework for it all. As it turned out, the new components didn’t break the flow of the work, as they easily might have, but instead served to cleanse the artistic palate for more.
Having seen two different and successful approaches by choreographers Dwight Rhoden, also the resident choreographer for Charlotte Ballet, and Kent Stowell, formerly of Pacific Northwest Ballet, plus assorted concert versions, this production kept closest to the Orff-ian philosophy.
But with over 500 Chautauquan participants (other productions ranged from 150-300), a question popped into mind: Instead of the artistic axiom of “less is more,” would “more” by itself set the standard when it comes to Carmina Burana?
There were a few issues — choral diction was adequate, but not great. Some of the group transitions caused the production to lag momentarily, primarily with entrances and exits of the Early Musicians. And several musical sections passed before the viewer could incorporate the projections without losing the ongoing visual impact of the overall staging.
But, on the whole, this was a vivid and enticing portrayal of Carmina Burana, and now ranks as my personal favorite.
From the start, Orff ascertained that Carmina should be staged, and Merkley managed the disparate elements with a disciplined finesse, although it was important that the participants maintained their own sense of responsibility.
“O Fortuna” began and ended Carmina and its ongoing balancing act — not too fast for the choir to articulate and not too slow for the dancers. Muffitt kept things under control, an achievement in itself given the short rehearsal period. The orchestra was able to bring its own drama to the score and the three featured soloists, soprano Leah Wietig, countertenor Andrey Nemzer and baritone Philip Cutlip, handled their assignments with aplomb.
Bonnefoux’s choreography benefitted from the larger stage, which projected the artists further into the audience. There they could see choreography that moved easily from the all-male and powerful “O Fortuna” to a breezy sense of joy in “Springtime.” Likewise, the dancers could be earthy and seductive during the tavern’s ultimate drinking song or acrobatic and airborne in “Round Dance.” And dance they did, their abandon tempered just enough with a finely-tuned sense of control.
It might take a village to raise a child, but Chautauqua raised the rafters with this large scale, juicy slice of life in all of its excesses. Carmina Burana not only drew the audience into a vortex of the imagination, it engulfed them, as it should, much to their delight.
Jane Vranish is a former dance critic for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and continues there as a contributing writer. Her stories can be read on the dance blog “Cross Currents” at pittsburghcrosscurrents.com.
The Chautauquan Daily 
