Guest conductor Manfred Honeck and pianist Till Fellner

Strauss: Overture to Die Fledermaus
Beethoven: Piano Concerto No 1 in C Major, Op 15 (Till Fellner, piano)
Dvorak: Symphony No 8 in G Major, Op 88
Haydn: Sinfonia Concertante in B-Flat Major (Eugene Izotov, oboe; David McGill, bassoon: Robert Chen, violin; John Sharp; cello; Bernard Haitink, conductor)
Beethoven: Overture to Fidelio, Op 72b

Here’s the thing–I RARELY ever get calls on my phone.  Very few people have the number, and everyone who knows me knows that I often don’t even bother answering it, and never when I’m driving.  I don’t even answer my home phone.  That’s what voice mail is for.  If I recognize a number and know the number, I’ll take the call, otherwise, talk to the machine.

So, I don’t get a lot of calls, and, while I’m at work, I keep the phone turned off, to avoid the possibility (however slight) of a phone ringing while I’m on the air.  So why am I in such a panic about not having it with me? I remember (in the olden days) driving cross country with my wife and young son in an old car with just about every square inch of space packed with personal belongings, including a luggage rack with suitcases and boxes tied down and tarpped over.  East coast to West coast (Navy days) with no cell phone.  Somehow we muddled through.  Now, the thought of leaving the house without the stupid thing gets me nervous.  I know I’m not alone in this.

What has happened to us?  We have become slaves of our technology. Over the years, through clever (and often very entertaining) marketing strategies, we have been convinced that not only can we not live without these innovations, but that having them actually makes us better people.   I cite the one “smartphone” ad that says, “don’t upgrade your phone–upgrade yourself.”  That’s a bit sinister, don’t you think?  The commercial (I’m sure you’ve seen it) shows a man in a chair with a cell phone connected to his body.  Actually, it’s not sinister–it’s kind of scary.  Do I sound paranoid?  Maybe it’s because I am.  We (humanity) have gone from making tools to fill a need to adjusting our lifestyles to meet the demands of our technology.  Shouldn’t we be telling IT what to do, and not the other way around? Oh, I hear you–you think you’re in complete control.  Right.  Remember that, next time you leave the house and realize you’re not “connected.”

Already some of the complications of the later romantic comedies are creeping in with the storyline of Malvolio, robbing it of its innocence, and I think that makes this play the turning point towards his later, darker comedies. Malvolio, it is true, is a pompous, self-righteous kill-joy with airs above his station, but for me the joke of his being put in his place is taken too far, and that always leaves me with a pang that casts a slight shadow over the pure enchantment of the ending. In the Folger production, Malvolio is played by the Stratford-upon-Avon born actor, Richard Sheridan Willis. With his baleful eyes, his impossibly crimped hair and rigidly mincing walk he plays him to perfection, getting every ounce out of exaggerated fastidiousness of the character. The letter scene is sheer delicious delight. By contrast, Willis brings an aching poignancy to Malvolio’s downfall at the end.

I have often raved about the intensely creative and inventive productions in the intimate Folger Theatre, and this one is right up there with the very best of them. Robert Richmond has set it in the early 1900’s – interestingly, I have seen a couple of other productions of “Twelfth Night” set around that period; the play seems to lend itself to that era of pre-war grace. (In one such production I saw Malvolio take out his pocket watch and correct the time on the sundial!) It is Viola’s play, and Emily Trask holds it together beautifully. William Vaughan, who is so new on the scene that he is not yet a member of Actors’ Equity, is integrated into the play much more than Sebastian usually is, which helps to build the believability of their twinship. Michael Brusasco’s Orsino is astoundingly handsome (he’s played Mr. Darcy in a couple of productions of “Pride and Prejudice” and one can see why!) and Olivia (played by Rachel Pickup, who is the daughter of the English actor, Ronald Pickup) is ethereally beautiful in every way. It hardly seems fair to single out particular actors, though, because it is the wonderful ensemble work that makes the production so successful – that and the ingenious use of music. Viola plays the cello surprisingly, Feste (Louis Butelli) plays ukulele, and Joshua Morgan, who plays Valentine and is also billed the music director, is a remarkably talented pianist, performing everything from Satie and Debussy to part of Beethoven’s Emperor Concerto and even some ragtime. The music, as is often the case with Folger productions, is integral, and lifts the play to a whole other level, conjuring up the era and the lightness – as well as the darkness – of the play.

CONDUCTOR: Masaaki Suzuki

SOLOISTS: Sherezade Panthaki, Soprano; Joélle Harvey, Soprano; Iestyn Davies, Countertenor; Nicholas Phan, Tenor; Tyler Duncan, Baritone; Bach Collegium Japan, chorus; Yale Schola Cantorum, chorus

BACH: Motet, Singet dem Hern
MENDELSSOHN: Magnificat in D major
MENDELSSOHN: Christus
BACH: Magnificat

Werther by Jules Massenet

Sung in French.

WERTHER - Matthew Polenzani
CHARLOTTE - Sophie Koch
SOPHIE - Kiri Deonarine
ALBERT - Craig Verm
BAILIFF - Philip Kraus

Also Featuring
David Govertsen, Cecelia Hall, John Irvin, Will Liverman

Conductor - Sir Andrew Davis
Director - Francisco Negrin

photo credits: Dan Rest

Simon Boccanegra by Giuseppe Verdi

Sung in Italian.

SIMON BOCCANEGRA - Thomas Hampson
FIESCO - Ferruccio Furlanetto
AMELIA - Krassimira Stoyanova
ADORNO - Frank Lopardo
PAOLO - Quinn Kelsey

Also Featuring
Evan Boyer, J’nai Bridges, Bernard Holcomb

Conductor - Sir Andrew Davis
Director - Elijah Moshinsky
Chorus Master - Martin Wright

Simon Boccanegra (Photo credits: Dan Rest)