New York Times
Arts Beat
April 23, 2009

More From the Kurt Masur Conducting Seminar

by James R. Oestreich

Quite possibly, the finest Mendelssohn band in the city this week is the Manhattan School of Music Symphony Orchestra. Partly this excellence derives from the intensive work the dean of Mendelssohn conductors, Kurt Masur, has been doing with the players, directly and indirectly, in the Kurt Masur Conducting Seminar at the Park Avenue Armory. Whether he is addressing the players themselves or the young seminar conductors who are mostly leading the orchestra in those sessions, the players are absorbing the wisdom of a master.

But much of the excellence stems, too, from the players’ own skills. It was astonishing on Wednesday to spend a lot of time in the company of Manhattan School students, first in the seminar and then in a production of Johann Strauss’s “Fledermaus,” mounted by the Manhattan School of Music Opera Theater. Here, among other things, were two independent orchestras (86 players for the Mendelssohn, 44 for the Strauss) functioning at high levels, extremely high in the case of the Mendelssohn orchestra.

One 10-minute segment of the seminar vividly exemplified both the kind of lessons Mr. Masur was imparting and the orchestra’s virtuosity. A young conductor tore into the brilliant opening of Mendelssohn’s “Italian” Symphony (Allegro vivace) at a fast clip: so fast that it was remarkable that the student players, obviously beautifully prepared before the seminar, could execute the music at all, let alone so cleanly.

At that, the tempo wasn’t all that different from what one often hears from crack professional orchestras and conductors, but Mr. Masur was clearly not pleased. He directed the conductor to the movement’s closing pages and had him start there. “Accelerando!” he began shouting, taking his cue from a score marking, “Più animato poco a poco” (“More animated little by little”). His urging produced little result.

“I don’t blame you,” he said at the end of the movement. “No American conductor takes the accelerando at the end. They can’t, because the tempo is already too fast.”

“Mendelssohn was not only killed by the Nazis,” the always outspoken Mr. Masur added, exaggerating the effect of the Nazis’ ban on the composer’s music with considerable poetic license. “Mendelssohn was also killed by some American conductors.”

So with an awareness of the trap that lay ahead, it was back to the beginning of the movement and a considerably more moderate tempo. And here it was fascinating to hear the young steeds of the orchestra, in sprinting mode and with adrenaline flowing, stumble a bit as they settled into a more comfortable pace. But they adjusted quickly and soon sounded even better in this sunny but now more relaxed music.

New York Times
April 24, 2009

For Strauss in the Spring, Fresh Voices and Respect

by James R. Oestreich

It seemed a dubious prospect: a presentation of a bubbly holiday favorite, Johann Strauss’s “Fledermaus,” in April. Would it have the dispiriting effect of Christmas decorations left to linger into the new year?

But the bright cast that ushered in a production by the Manhattan School of Music Opera Theater on Wednesday evening brought “Die Fledermaus” to vibrant life. If the stage direction, by the theater’s artistic director, Dona D. Vaughn, perhaps overstresses the kitsch that has become central to the work’s tradition, her excesses seem harmless enough to a viewer weary of Otto Schenk’s overbroad and overboard productions at the Metropolitan Opera and the Vienna State Opera.

In any case, the young performers have fun with the concept, and their joy is infectious. Even more touching, in a way, coming from modern sophisticates, is the seriousness and respect they bring to the antiquated sentiment of a number like “Brüderlein und Schwesterlein.”

But what ultimately made this production so appealing, at least with the first cast, was its solid musical values. One fresh voice followed another, with Frederick Voegele as Alfred, Jeanine DeBique as Adele, Jaclyn Bermudez as Rosalinde, Dan Kempson as Eisenstein and Zach Altman as Falke.

Fresh is one thing: just what you hope for in a young performer. Less expected — astonishing, in fact — were the richness, maturity and genuine distinction in the mezzo-soprano sound of Jazimina MacNeil as Prince Orlofsky, clearly a singer to watch.

Erhard Rom’s sets make effective use of a small stage, especially with a simple but startling expansion of Orlofsky’s palace in the second act. Marija Djordjevic’s costumes are attractive. Kynan Johns conducts in lively fashion, at times even injecting that quintessentially Viennese nudge on the second beat of waltz rhythm.

Sensibly, the sung texts are in the familiar German; spoken texts — updated as usual with topical humor — in English. The drunken jailer Frosch, in Jason Graae’s boyishly appealing portrayal, renders chevalier as Chevrolet, “but I wouldn’t put any stock in it.”

New York Times
January 28, 2009

A School’s Students and Leader Take Flight

by Steve Smith

Preparing young musicians for orchestral careers involves considerably more than teaching them to play their instruments. A rank-and-file member of a professional ensemble needs to be both self-reliant and a team player, conversant with a variety of styles, able to work well with guests and to cope with the demands of unfamiliar music under public scrutiny. In all these areas the Manhattan School of Music Chamber Sinfonia scored high marks in its concert at Zankel Hall on Monday night.

The program opened with a premiere, “A Rush of Wings,” by Robert Sirota, the school’s president. In an explanatory note, Mr. Sirota described a recent preoccupation with sensations of flying, saying that the new piece was an effort to evoke “the wings of the wind” as cited in several passages from Psalms.

Even without that, Mr. Sirota’s goal would surely have been evident in the energetic swoops and airy plummets of his seven-minute piece, fashioned with the clean, angular melodies, tart harmonies, lively syncopations and punchy accents of American Neo-Classicism. Fidgeting strings conveyed a nervy energy under sustained woodwind and brass tones, with glockenspiel, vibraphone and cymbals providing a shimmering patina. As if buffeted by a breeze, the music frequently changed course without losing momentum.

An excellent curtain raiser, the music also sounded useful in the best sense: you could imagine it being fitted to a wind symphony or marching band equally well. Kenneth Kiesler, the conductor, led a clean, animated account, with fine contributions from Yoonshin Song, the concertmaster, and the brass and percussion sections.

The rest of the program was devoted to Romantic visions of Baroque forms and styles. Performing without a conductor, the strings brought a rich, warm, finely blended sound to Grieg’s charming Holberg Suite. A few entrances were slightly smudged, but Daniel Andai, the concertmaster, proved an exemplary leader.

After intermission Mr. Kiesler returned to lead Richard Strauss’s “Bourgeois Gentilhomme” Suite, a luxurious gloss on French Baroque music, created for a German production of a Molière comedy originally scored by Jean-Baptiste Lully. For this, the ensemble was augmented by illustrious faculty members.

Glenn Dicterow, the New York Philharmonic concertmaster, performed that function here; other players from the Philharmonic and the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra filled principal roles. The ensemble playing, while not pristine, had abundant spirit and style, and the benefit to the student musicians was surely substantial.

MusicalAmerica.com
December 12, 2008

A New Opera, an Encouraging Sign

by Peter G. Davis

Does John Musto's "Later the Same Evening" indicate some sort of trend? I hope so. Here for once is an American opera freshly imagined by both composer and librettist rather than cobbled from a famous movie, novel or play. It’s a daring gesture in these days when instant name recognition seems crucial for a new opera to get noticed. First produced last year at the University of Maryland’s Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center, the 90-minute one-acter arrived at the Manhattan School of Music Opera Theater on Dec. 10 for three performances, and gave every indication that, with proper encouragement and a production as snappy as this one, it could very well become a useful repertory piece.

The opera's genesis is surely unique. Since the National Gallery was planning a 2007 retrospection of paintings by Edward Hopper, why not commission an opera inspired by the artist's work? Librettist and lyricist Mark Campbell accepted the challenge, scotch-taped thirty Hopper reproductions on the walls of a rented room in Provincetown (not far Hopper's own house), and stared at them for over a week until he found five that suggested the kernel of a narrative. The links seem tenuous at first --each picture is set in New York City at night, and each portrays one or more figures -- but anyone with a strong imagination would have no trouble devising all sorts of scenarios about those strangely forlorn Hopper-esque characters who seem to tell a story simply in the way they sit in a chair at home, drink a cup of coffee at the Automat, or idly read a program at the theater.

The text that finally emerges recounts the interactions of 11 people (eight from the paintings themselves, with three others invented by Campbell) as they move from one venue to another, eventually gathering as part of the audience for a performance of a fictitious Broadway musical, "Tell Me Tomorrow." An estranged married couple, an aging widow on a first date, a young couple working things out -- they are all presented in swift, economical strokes, ordinary folk recreated with terse verbal wit, compassion and a sure sense of theatrical presence. After being brought together for a brief time to act out their fears and insecurities as they watch the show, they disperse in the rain as Thelma, a theater usher, waxes philosophical about New York and its unpredictable inhabitants: "Where else can you be happy, perfectly happy, being lonely?"

Musto captures the bittersweet aura of the piece perfectly in a score that never wastes a note or a moment of the audience's time. His accessible but sophisticated style has many roots in American musical theater -- which makes the passing references to the hit show the characters are presumably watching all the more delicious -- but the flow of conversation and mood is elegantly captured in a score that combines an unerring feel for smart text setting and pointed instrumental commentary that is both melodically graceful and harmonically pungent. Musto's many songs are treasures of the American repertory, and here he establishes himself with even more distinction as a skilled opera composer.

The entire idea for the piece actually originated with the director Leon Major, who also devised this ingenious production. The basic set (designed by Erhard Rom) is an art gallery with the five Hopper paintings displayed. Props and furniture in the foreground suggest the various changes in scenes, while an enlargement of the painting of the moment is projected on the back wall of the stage so that the audience may fully savor the visual inspiration of each dramatic sequence. There is a potential here for confusion, with so many characters presented in a short time, but Major's direction is a model of clarity and fluid order, and the stage is consistently alive with theatrical personality.

The score, too, springs vibrantly to life under the musical direction of Michael Barrett, whose appreciation, understanding, and championship of Musto's music is perhaps unparalleled. With all these good things at work, along with the traditional high vocal standards of the Manhattan School's Opera Theater in full play, the entire performance was close to perfection. Singling out singers for individual praise in such a tightly knit ensemble piece would be unfair, so I propose a group cheer for them all: Jaclyn Bermudez, Spencer Dorn, Margaret Peterson, Blake Friedman, Min Won Shin, Dan Kempson, Rogelio Peñaverde, Jr., Meredith Mecum, Carla Jablonski, Lindsay Rider, and Zach Altman.

The New York Times
February 2, 2008

A Symphonic Homage to Manhattan

by Anthony Tommasini

“Manhattan Takes Manhattan” is the slogan of the Manhattan School of Music’s celebration of its 90th anniversary this year. What better way to assert that theme than the premiere of “212,” a symphony in homage to Manhattan by the composer and native New Yorker Robert Sirota? The piece, which takes its title from the borough’s area code, was played impressively on Thursday by the Manhattan School of Music Symphony, with Kenneth Kiesler conducting, at the John C. Borden Auditorium, where it shared a program with Mahler’s Symphony No. 1 in D.

For a relatively short work (25 minutes), “212” has high ambitions: to portray Manhattan, Mr. Sirota — who has been president of the Manhattan School since 2005 — writes in a program note, as a “place of incomparable majesty, vitality, tragedy and hope.”

If directness can be considered a New York character trait, that quality comes through in Mr. Sirota’s symphony. Complexity for its own sake and expressive obfuscation are not for this energetic and highly professional composer. Although the overall musical language of this score recalls the American Neo-Classicists, Mr. Sirota’s compositional voice has a distinctive tartness and rhythmic bite. Thick, astringent chromatic harmonies come in tightly bound chords to create nervous sonorities. Yet the textures are always lucid; details come through.

The first movement, “Approaches,” is meant to evoke the impact of seeing the Manhattan skyline on nearing the city. A steady, low pulse in the timpani incites some fidgety riffs in the strings and winds. Brassy, skittish flourishes are enforced by clattering percussion and assertive piano. I’m not sure what this has to do with approaching Manhattan from, say, the Long Island Expressway. But the music was punchy and smart. In a climactic episode the movement ends amid Stravinsky-like frenzy: Mr. Sirota having his “Dance to the Earth” moment.

I wish that in the second movement, “Do Not Hold Doors” (named after the ubiquitous warning on subway cars), Mr. Sirota had made his evocation of big-band jazz more indirect and original. Eventually, though, the jazz riffs splinter, and the music grows bolder. “Lamentation,” the slow movement, scored for strings, is an elegy to victims of 9/11, a subject many composers would be loath to take on. But the modesty of Mr. Sirota’s lament, with its open-hearted harmonies and audible contrapuntal writing, wins you over.

The finale, “O Manhattan,” begins with beckoning offstage horn calls, then segues into a hymnal passage for melting strings. Hokey? Maybe. But artfully done. Soon the finale turns frenetic, building to a shamelessly surging tune, amid brassy glitter and boisterous energy.

Mr. Kiesler drew an assured, colorful performance, winning a prolonged ovation for the players and Mr. Sirota. The account of Mahler’s “Titan” Symphony was solid and winning, if a little scrappy. Still, it was inspiring to hear this youthful work played by young, gifted and palpably enthusiastic musicians.

• To download a printable version of the above review, complete with photo, click here.

OperaNews Online
February 2008

IN REVIEW
Griffelkin, Manhattan School of Music
by John W. Freeman

On December 5, forty-two years after its premiere on NBC-TV, Lukas Foss's fantasy opera Griffelkin was performed by Manhattan School of Music (itself marking its ninetieth anniversary) in honor of the composer's eighty-fifth birthday, last August. The composer, who was present and took a bow, had started the work literally as a children's opera, when he was eight, to a story written by his mother. Decades later, with a new libretto by Alastair Reid, Griffelkin turned out to be a sly, sophisticated work for audiences of all ages. In that respect it honors its descent from such European prototypes as Humperdinck's Hänsel und Gretel (1893), Dvorák's Cert a Kaca (The Devil and Kate, 1899) and Jaromir Weinberger's hit Švanda Dudák (Schwanda the Bagpiper, 1927). In musical idiom, however, Griffelkin today sounds positively postmodern.

Griffelkin's title character, a young devil (literally), receives from his hellish cohorts a tenth-birthday present of a whole day upstairs on earth, with license to commit mayhem. He wields his magic powers to bring to life a Fountain Statue in Central Park, two Lions guarding the Public Library, a Letterbox, later a shopful of toys. But, befriended by a Girl and her family, he commits the crime (by devil standards) of using his magic to save the dying Mother's life, and this gets him thrown out of Hell. Instead of punishment, he finds joy in his newfound human status.

Foss's crafty score weaves allusions to styles current in the mid-twentieth century, notably Stravinsky, Prokofiev and Shostakovich, but its comic aesthetics incline more toward Falstaff, Gianni Schicchi and Broadway. Above all, one senses the composer having enormous fun with a subject that in less adept hands might have taken a sentimental turn: his intricate, riotous finales to Acts II and III clear the air of this risk. MSM's forty-two-piece orchestra, under the firm, flexible guidance of Steven Osgood, appeared to enjoy its assignment immensely, as did the production team, headed by director Linda Brovsky, set designer Erhard Rom, costume designer Elizabeth Hope Clancy and choreographer Tom Gold, working with a cast of thirty-eight. Rom's vivid backdrop projections, including New York City subways (for the Hell scenes), the Public Library, Lincoln Center Plaza and the like, filled the stage without overpowering it, evoking memories of the film On the Town.

While MSM's troupe included five junior members in bit parts, it entrusted the principal youth roles to young adults. The title role, which calls for dancing and acrobatics as well as strenuous singing, had more than a match in Anthony Roth Costanzo, a countertenor of assurance, spirit and expressive dynamic range. His characterization held the stage more effectively than ever in the last two scenes, where his cry of "One word, please!" emerged a good deal louder than one usually hears from a countertenor. The devils were a street-tough crew. As the human family with whom Griffelkin forms a bond, Kristen DiNinno as the Girl, Shelly Wade (Boy) and Andrea Martin (Mother) performed their roles (borderline Menotti tearjerkers) with nice simplicity. Griffelkin's Grandmother had an improbably glamorous protagonist in mezzo Margaret Peterson, spoofing a Hollywood femme fatale of the "Whatever Lola Wants, Lola Gets" variety.

The other singers, and the composer too, made capital of the abundant genre roles. The voluble Letterbox and philosophical Policeman (Scott England, Benjamin Bloomfield) brought familiar urban accents, while the Fountain Statue (Nicole Percifield), something of a scold, gently recalled Susan B. Anthony in Thomson's The Mother of Us All. The Lions (Zachary Altman, Matthew Anchel) stole the show from time to time, though elaborate costumes kept them from sharing in the general animation.

The New York Times
December 8, 2007

Do Something Decent, and Satan Gets Mad

by Allan Kozinn

It may seem odd that the composer of contemporary classics like “Time Cycle,” “Echoi” and “Baroque Variations” lists a children’s opera as one of his favorites among his own scores. But Lukas Foss has always had a soft spot for “Griffelkin,” his tale of a child devil who spends his 10th birthday walking among mortals and ends up banished from hell for the twin crimes of shedding a tear of compassion and doing a good deed. Granted, the deed is major: Seeing two children grieving over their mother’s death, he brings her back to life.

Mr. Foss wrote the work for NBC television, which broadcast the premiere in 1955. It has occasionally turned up since then, and Mr. Foss revised it for a New York City Opera production in 1993. Now the Manhattan School of Music is staging a fresh production by Linda Brovsky, with elegantly simple sets and projections by Erhard Rom and bright-hued costumes by Elizabeth Hope Clancy.

The production, which opened on Wednesday evening, makes the most of the work’s ample charms and points up its disguised sophistication. If Mr. Foss’s musical language is straightforward and consonant enough for a 1950s television audience, allusions to Stravinsky, Mozart, Verdi and others peek through arias, vocal ensembles and instrumental interludes. Mr. Foss was an eclectic long before it became the style of the day, and while so much 1950s avant-gardism now sounds dated and quaint, “Griffelkin” sounds like what composers are writing now. Who’d have thought it?

The production mines the work for its comedy — a good thing, given that this redemptive story could as easily have slid into mawkishness. Updated touches, like devils with punk hairstyles, images of the New York subway system as the portal between earth and hell, and crowd scenes complete with multicultural touches (and at least one cellphone user) wrench the piece from its 1950s roots.

Vocally, the only substantive role is Griffelkin, sung with a perfectly childlike mixture of mischievousness and wonder by Anthony Roth Costanzo, a countertenor with a pure timbre and plenty of power. Margaret Peterson sings attractively and projects a sense of easy authority as Griffelkin’s grandmother, and Kristen DiNinno, as the girl who has a humanizing effect on Griffelkin, contributes a directness and simplicity that makes her as persuasively childlike as Mr. Costanzo.

The supporting cast is enormous. During his visit to earth Griffelkin animates a few statues, a mailbox and the contents of a toy store, all of which have singing or dancing roles, as do a policeman, an ice cream vendor, quite a few passers-by and Griffelkin’s family, which includes a grandmother and six siblings.

The Manhattan School’s opera department easily meets the demands, and Tom Gold’s choreography makes the most of the story’s inherent mayhem. The singers are supported ably (and only occasionally overpowered) by the finely polished student orchestra, led by Steven Osgood.

OnStage.com
December 6, 2007

Manhattan School Scores with Foss' "Griffelkin" for Devilishly Fun Holiday Fare

by Bruce-Michael Gelbert

As part of Manhattan School of Music's (MSM) 90th anniversary celebration, "Manhattan Takes Manhattan," paying tribute to compositions created on the island of Manhattan, its Opera Theatre has--as it did in 2003, with a charming "A Midsummer Night's Dream," of Benjamin Britten--come up with the perfect, and perfectly unusual, holiday fare, an alternative to the usual "Nutcracker," "Hansel und Gretel" ("H&G"), "Messiah," and "Amahl and the Night Visitors," in Lukas Foss' engaging opera "for children from 8 to 80," "Griffelkin." The German-born American composer, conductor, pianist and teacher, marking his 85th birthday this year, was present at the opening performance, the December 5 one considered here.

With the sound of Broadway-meets-Mozart (and "H&G" and so on), "Griffelkin," with libretto by Alastair Reid, was given its world premiere on television by the NBC Opera Theater on November 6, 1955 and had its first stage performance at the Tanglewood Festival in Massachusetts on August 6, 1956. The New York City Opera offered the premiere of a revised version on October 7, 1993.

In "Griffelkin," the eponymous little devil, reaching his 10th birthday, is given a day on earth to make as much mischief as possible. Turned loose in New York City, but incapable of evil, he pulls a few relatively harmless pranks and does a good deed, the enormity of which, along with shedding a tear, gets him cast irrevocably out of Hell.

In the MSM production, conducted by Steven Osgood, directed by Linda Brovsky, designed by Erhard Rom (sets and projections), Elizabeth Hope Clancy (costumes) and Peter West (lighting), and choreographed by Tom Gold, the title role, usually sung by a soprano, is assumed by countertenor Anthony Ross Costanzo, who boasts one of the two strongest voices here, heard to great effect in his lament, "Dark winds will haunt me," when relieved of his magic. The other singer taking high honors is soprano Andrea Martin as the fretting, fatally ailing Mother, whom Griffelkin, in his unforgivable deed, brings back to life.

The production team's Hell is a punk encampment in a subway tunnel, adorned with trash bags and huge rat corpses. Lyric mezzo-soprano Margaret Peterson as the Devils' Grandmother, a glamorous devil here, who definitely wears Prada, whips up a magic elixir for Griffelkin atop a green metal, New York City garbage can. Playing the "subway tunnel demonz," her other colorful charges, are Laura Bohn, Jazimina MacNeil, Rashard Deleston, Art Miller, Karen Stansifer, Leslie Tay, Madyson Page, Deborah Rosengaus, Carolyn Amaradio and Catherine Meyers, who hurl a harsh charge of "Good, good, good" at Griffelkin, before stripping him of his red garb and diabolical powers. Spencer Philip Dorn, singing in a solid bass, plays the oldest devil, who keeps tabs on Griffelkin's capers on earth and becomes his chief accuser at his trial.

Mezzos Kristen DiNinno and Shelly Wade, as the Girl and Boy who befriend Griffelkin and first experience his sorcery, join voices for a plaintive lament when their Mother dies and collaborate with Costanzo and Martin on an exultant quartet, when the little imp resurrects the dead woman.

Brought chattering, pattering and dancing to life by Griffelkin, mezzo Nicole Percifield as a Central Park statue, tenor Scott England as a mailbox, and baritone Zachary Altman and bass Matthew Anchel as the library lions, make the most of their star turns. Soprano Katrina Saporsantos plays a vendor of ices and Blue Bunny ice cream. Bass-baritone Benjamin Bloomfield plays a dim-witted policeman, charged with restoring order once the adults, led by sopranos Jaclyn Bermudez and Robin Idestrom and mezzo Shirin Eskandani, calling in the emergency on their cell phones, actually notice Griffelkin's pranks and experience the havoc they cause. At the start of Act Two, mulling over the merry chase that ends Act One, the company sings a comic/melodramatic ensemble, "Disaster! Catastrophe!" in front of-what else?-a slide of the Metropolitan Opera House.

Celebrating our city, the action is set against a backdrop of projections of such landmarks as Central Park and Bryant Park, main branches of the U.S. Post Office and New York Public Library, the Empire State Building, Saks Fifth Avenue and Bergdorf Goodman, Rockefeller Center and Radio City Music Hall, Grand Central Station, FAO Schwarz, where Griffelkin brings the toys to life, the Plaza, Times Square, Chinatown and, grimly, Ground Zero, with a detour to Flushing Meadow Park and the Unisphere for the joyous finale. Stage hands in hardhats and work vests move set pieces on and off. New York City also serves as setting for MSM Opera Theater's spring production, Kurt Weill, Langston Hughes and Elmer Rice's "Street Scene," due on April 30 and May 2 at 7:30 pm and May 4 at 2:30 pm.

MusicalAmerica.com
December 12, 2007

A Little Devil Rises to Greet the World

by Susan Elliott

The genesis of the libretto for Lukas Foss’s “Griffelkin,” which recently completed a three-performance run at the Manhattan School of Music Opera Theater, is almost as charming as the work itself. As an eight-year-old boy, Foss was captivated by a story his mother used to tell him called “The Little Devil’s Birthday.” So captivated, he writes in a program note, that he began to set it to music, with Mom writing the libretto. “By the time I got to Act II, I was nine, and Act I seemed childish to me, so I abandoned the project.”

Fast-forward to 1953, when the success of Menotti’s “Amahl and the Night Visitors” had NBC convinced that there was a future for opera on television and so commissioned Foss, at the time in a Neo-classical frame of mind, to write one. He enlisted poet and writer Alastair Reid to handle the libretto and the work had its premiere broadcast on Nov. 6, 1955.

In the intervening years, “Griffelkin” has received intermittent attention -- the New York City Opera mounted it in 1993 and the Boston Modern Orchestra Project recorded it ten years after that. The Manhattan School’s production, viewed Dec. 9, differed from any previous in a number of ways, the biggest being that the title role – a ten-year-old ‘little devil’-- was sung by a countertenor rather than a soprano. Bouncing Tigger-like about the stage in his red-leather shorts, suspenders, long curly tail and tiny pointy ears atop a mop of red hair, Anthony Roth Costanzo epitomized the playfully naughty boy. It’s hard to imagine a soprano being as convincing a little devil.

The story begins as an assortment of evil characters young and old cavort about in Hell describing their naughty escapades. As a tenth birthday present, Griffelkin is given “a day in the world” by the evil Grandmother, who sends him off with instructions to be “nasty.” In Linda Brovsky’s delightful production, the “world” is New York City, compliments of designer Erhard Rom’s assortment of projections – a subway station, Central Park, Times Square, the New York Public Library, etc.

Armed with Grandmother’s magic bottle of elixir (updated to palm-sized, high functioning spray can), Griffelkin explores his new above-ground realm in search of opportunities for mischief. He encounters a talking statue, a chatterbox letterbox, a trio of housewives, a policeman, toys, lions and other assorted dramatis personae, including a young girl, whom he rather favors. He ultimately discovers that he’s a better human than he is a devil and so, in the harmonically spikiest and most intriguing part of the score, is banished from Hell by Grandmother and her rat pack and forced to live in the world. After some initial loneliness in his new environment, Griffelkin is accepted by his fellow earthlings and everyone lives happily ever after.

The score is mostly tight, clever, harmonically pungent and rhythmically restless, with lots of high wind-and-string coupling, bringing to mind Stravinsky, Weill and even Bernstein. More lyrical passages, as when Griffelkin is attempting to learn the emotion “sad,” evoke Copland’s pastoral Americana style. The menacing or chaotic scenes bring out Foss’s pithiest and most interesting voice; the sunny ending apparently did little to inspire him.

But that’s OK, because by that time this charming little opera – about two hours with a 20-minute pause – has pretty much won us over. Brovsky’s production is light-footed and bare-boned, making its impact from witty characterization as splendidly realized in Elizabeth Hope Clancy’s imaginative costumes. Costanzo is indeed the real item, occasional under-pitch high notes not withstanding, and was here surrounded by an enthusiastic supporting cast. As Grandmother, mezzo-soprano Margaret Peterson was wonderfully wicked and sexy in her blonde wig and spike heels, easily finessing wide-ranging vocal lines and sounding especially commanding in the upper registers.

She was not the only one whose lower register was covered by the orchestra – the blessing and the curse of a relatively large ensemble in a small auditorium – and were it not for supertitles, Reid’s words would have been mostly lost. The bass and baritone of the two lions were barely audible.

Tenor Scott England sang well and moved nimbly inside his Letterbox and soprano Andrea Martin as the Girl’s Mother indicated a promising career in the making. Bass-baritone Benjamin Bloomfield approached the role of the Policeman as buffo hero and the trio of housewives blended beautifully as they yelped for help. Volume issues aside, Steven Osgood kept up an appropriately brisk pace from the pit.

According to Manhattan School officials, the City Opera production of “Griffelkin” put many of the singers in the pit, leaving such characters as the lions, clown, teddy bear, mailbox etc. -- to mime their parts onstage. Here, everyone did everything; and the students (graduate and undergraduate) were as strong movers and actors as they were vocalists. So it looks as if the Manhattan School has the right idea for training opera singers in the 21st century.

American Record Guide
March/April 2004
[This review appeared in the American Record Guide in exactly the following form.]

December Comedies (Some admired some emphatically not)

by Richard Traubner

The production of Benjamin Britten's "Midsummer Night's Dream" at the Manhattan School of Music in December was one of the loveliest Christmas shows I have ever seen. A simple but hugely effective forest set (by Raoul Abrego) with a moveable mushroom that enshrouded various characters, and strung with holiday-like lights (Jane Cox), spectacular costumes (Austin K. Sanderson), especially for Oberon and the other forest fairies — these were some of the visual fancies to delight visitors to the Borden Auditiorium.

Dona D. Vaughn's staging was fleet and amusing, and the student orchestra was, as always, spectacular, under the direction of David Gilbert. The student singers were almost entirely excellent, led by a fantastic Adam Alexander as Puck. He was surely one of the most striking Robin Goodfellow I have seen since the young Mickey Rooney played the part in the famous Max Reinhardt film.

Had I been seeing the Shakespeare play, it would have been a perfect performance. Too bad Dona Vaughn wasn't staging that with her obvious flair. Unfortunately for me, I had to suffer through Britten's score, yet again a desecration of a cherished British theatrical treasure — Britten's obnoxious version of "The Beggar's Opera" is another pretentious blunder.

Yes, I do hear the sophistication and delicacy of Britten's scoring, his astute definition of the "Midsummer" fairies and mortals, his occasional soaring melody snippet. So why is it that I relished every moment that Puck actually spoke his lines? I'll take Shakespeare plus Mendelssohn any day over this dulled, downsized version of a very great play.

The New York Times
Friday, December 12, 2003

Shakespeare’s Lovers, Lost in a Musical Forest

by Allan Kozinn

The opera departments at both the Juilliard School and the Manhattan School of Music present only a handful of productions every year, but they are often among the most vital stagings of the season. Both schools tend to favor unusual or contemporary works over standard fare, and although there are differences in budgets and facilities (Juilliard is the better endowed), both offer productions that are fully staged and costumed, thoughtfully lighted and directed by experienced hands. Although the singers and orchestral musicians are students, no excuses need be made for them.

Benjamin Britten’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” which the Manhattan School of Music Opera Theater performed on Wednesday evening (and which can be heard again tonight and on Sunday afternoon), is in some ways ideal for a conservatory program. This deft, singable adaptation of the Shakespeare play, by Britten and Peter Pears, preserves the spirit, character and in many cases the specific language of the original.

Britten’s score, though conservative in its day, turns out to be well within the mostly tonal, eclectic mainstream that prevails today. That said, it could be a primer on characterization for a modern opera composer: the music of the fairies is full of sliding string lines and percussion touches that create a magical effect, with distinctions between the flighty music for Puck and the more elegantly turned lines for Oberon. Distinct musical accents portray the rustics and the Athenians as well.

The large cast the work demands is perfect for a conservatory intent on giving its young singers experience, but it poses challenges as well, not least the casting of Oberon, a role written for the great countertenor of Britten’s day, Alfred Deller. On Wednesday John Gaston sang the role with both a velvety tone and a regal serenity in a performance that was one of the highlights of the production.

But the casting was remarkably even: Sarah Heltzel as Hermia and Emily Ford Dirks as Helena each produced a lovely, focused sound and seemed comfortable dramatically. Their suitors, Christian Reinert as Lysander and Brandon Poor as Demetrius, were dramatically a bit stiffer but sang with an appealing smoothness and assurance.

Hadley Combs’s portrayal of Tytania sounded strident at first, but she settled into the role in the second act. And if Puck doesn’t afford many opportunities for great singing, Adam Alexander inhabited the role with such a superb physicality that included punkishly spiky red hair, a suitable slinkiness and the skill to move across the stage in a series of cartwheels.

Among the rustics, Charles Temkey played the blustery Bottom magnificently and displayed a bass that is likely to be useful in more serious capacities. Isaac Grier as Quince and Trey Cassels as Flute made important contributions as well.

The staging, directed with smart comic timing by Dona D. Vaughn, occurs in a single attractive woodland set by Raul Abrego, lighted thoughtfully (if with a few too many strobe effects in the transitions to the fairies’ reality) by James Cox. Austin K. Sanderson’s costumes and Jennifer Mooney’s wigs and makeup are bright and colorful, even garish, although the work supports that. David Gilbert conducted and drew a beautifully nuanced performance from the orchestra.

Opera World
December 20, 2003

by Patrick J. Smith

An enchanting performance of Benjamin Britten’s A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM at the Manhattan School of Music recently set me thinking about opera in schools. Opera in schools of music may consist of much the same repertory as professional opera does, but its demands are I think quite different, and not always met by the choices made.

In the first place, aside from familiarizing students with the central core repertory operas (which can also be done by scene- and act-study), school opera can serve to widen the repertory with pieces, old and new, that because of economics would not likely be considered by professional companies. Either that means fringe, works, which have some qualities but would never “sell” at the box office, or works with large casts which are expensive to produce.

This latter is a good test for music school performance, as it gives a number of students that chance to sing (and understudy) a variety of roles, and to learn stage interaction. Needless to add, a work like Britten’s is close to ideal for this purpose.

There are roles for four couples (including two pairs of young lovers), plus a whole troupe of workers (known as “mechanicals”) who are putting on a play. Secondarily, there are roles for several woodland sprites, all individualized, and a small chorus of fairies. All these factors are combined in a rapidly shifting story (not to mention an acrobatic Puck) which ends with a play-within-a-play: the rustics’ performance of Pyramus and Thisby. Among the many felicities of the evening, by the way, was that performance, since I have never before being particularly struck by that scene, finding it heavy-handed and badly parodied in the music. But the blithe innocence of the young singers completely captivated me, so that even the slapstick antics were funny. In short, it worked as Britten had intended.

Operas such as Britten’s MIDSUMMER are exactly right for school productions, and done as well as the Manhattan School did this one can give as much pleasure as those on a far more professional level of accomplishment.

The Westsider
Jan 8 – Jan 14, 2003

Conservatory Cast Yields Up a Great Britten

by Bill Zakariasen

Benjamin Britten’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”, once called a cult item, received a notable revival just before the turn of the year. Once seldom produced because of its demands upon a huge cast of characters forced to perform some of the most arcane vocal feats, Manhattan School of Music’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream” proved it could actually be performed.

Manhattan’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream” was a fortuitous choice for this conservatory. The mammoth cast requirements make it ideal for a bunch of kids, barely out of puberty, to strut their stuff, and strut they surely did.

I must go on record to state this production and performance in every way matched any I have witnessed – including the fabled one by Walter Felsenstein at the Berlin Komische Opera, and the most recent (and excellent) mounting at New York’s Met.

Britten’s magical opera scores, not just because of its fabulous expose of a fairyland, but also because it gives in its huge lineup of characters a chance for young singers to prove themselves budding major artists. Surely this marvelous sequence for talent became a marvelous showcase for this group of youngsters. Not one was anything less than totally attuned to the character and music the composer provided.

The lion’s share of credit should go to David Gilbert, whose revelatory conducting of Britten’s evocative orchestration left nothing to the imagination. What about the huge cast? In a plane of excellence, top honors go to John Gaston, an amazing countertenor who essayed the crucial role of Oberon definitively, surpassing even Alfred Deller, who created the role.

Space doesn’t permit everything I’d like to credit in this multitudinous presentation, but I must mention the iridescent production by Dona Vaughn, Raul Abrego and Austin K. Sanderson. Meanwhile, everyone in the cast – including Hadley Combs (Tytania), Christian Reinert (Lysander), Sarah Heltzel (Hermia), Emily Ford Dirks (Helena) and Brandon Poor (Demetrius) – was beyond criticism. In the riotous parts of the traveling players, Trey Cassels gave plenty of belly laughs as the transsexual Flute, while Charles Temkey was likewise a hoot as the “translated” Bottom. Though Adam Alexander’s Puck was taller than most of his on-stage colleagues, his acrobatics were a source of wonderment.

TheatreScene.net
December 11, 2003

Manhattan School of Music Opera Theater: A Midsummer Night’s Dream

by Bruce-Michael Gelbert

At Manhattan School of Music’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Benjamin Britten’s opera after Shakespeare, on December 10, conductor David Gilbert, director Dona D. Vaughn, set designer Raul Abrego, and the singers, musicians, and the rest conspired to create an enchanting evening in a fairyland forest. It could easily have been billed as the school’s answer to the “Nutcrackers,” “Messiahs,” “Hansel und Gretel”s and “Amahl”s that generally mark the holiday season. The whole effort, set amidst columns of flowers and lights, flowery bowers, and oversized magic mushroom and poppies, did not cease to charm and the rustics’ play-within-the-play, “Pyramus and Thisbe,” a parody of bel canto opera, staged by Vaughn with no holds barred, was as side-splitting as one would want.

Two performers in particular stood out in a generally high-level cast. John Gaston made a regal Oberon, King of the Fairies, garbed in glittery armor and purple-and-black opalescent cape and singing in a smooth, seamless liquid countertenor. Bass Charles Temkey was a scene-stealing, buffo Bottom and he and soprano Hadley Combs, as Fairy Queen Tytania, reveled in the amorous scene following his transformation into an ass. Mention must also be made of Tenor Trey Cassels’s Flute, dismayed when he first realized he would be playing a woman, Thisbe, in the rustics’ performance, but soon warming to his assignment.

Costumer Austin K. Sanderson dressed the fairies in Tytania’s train in a riot of rainbow colors, with the only male, countertenor David Korn as Cobweb, sporting a spiky green Mohawk and black harness and chaps. Oberon’s faithful and athletic Puck, baritone Adam Alexander in a speaking part, also boasted a punk look. The mortals wore contemporary attire. Lysander (tenor Christian Reinert, less than comfortable in his music) and Demetrius (baritone Brandon Poor) were in beige leisure suits and Hermia (mezzo-soprano Sarah Heltzel) and Helena (soprano Emily Ford Dirks) in filmy variations on Victoria’s Secret slips. The rustics, bumbling and shuffling, wore work clothes. If some of the production team’s decisions raised questions in light of the text – Bottom addressed fairies, clearly female, as “sir” and “monsieur” and Puck spoke of Lysander’s “weeds [clothes] of Athens,” which were nothing of the kind – the discrepancies were noticed, but not jarring.

Isaac Greer, Michael Anthony McGee, Christopher Clayton and Edwin Cahill were the remaining “rude mechanicals”; Ji-Young Yang, Vivian Krich-Brinton and Victoria Baker the other solo fairies; and Kwang-Mo Goo and Sarah Langbein, Duke Theseus and his Amazon bride, Hippolyta. Lighting designer Jane Cox, Jennifer Mooney, responsible for wigs and makeup, and choreographer Francis Patrelle helped create the magic.