To begin with, the word infinity needn’t be capitalized as I’ve done here. Infinity is everywhere―which is the key to understanding what this show is about. In the 1980’s Douglas Hostaedtler in Goedel, Escher, Bach, devoted an entire chapter to why infinity ought not be capitalized, that may be why we decided to name the show finite infinity.
North Adams owed its development into a small but important industrial city to its abundant water supply, above all, the Hoosic River. Often this reliable source of power and drainage for its factories overflowed its boundaries and flooded neighborhoods of the city with its water, which eventually became toxic from the wastes of the textile and dyeing factories. In the 1950s the US Corps of Engineers constructed concrete flood control chutes some 45 feet wide and 10-15 feet high, funneling the two branches of the Hoosic River through North Adams’ downtown. Today the factories are gone. A smaller North Adams, with slightly over half the population it enjoyed at its industrial peaks around 1900 and 1950, must now rebuild its economy and quality of life.
Like other arts institutions in the Berkshires the Williamstown Theatre Festival has had its share of ups and downs with what has been looking increasingly like a revolving door for artistic directors. The late Roger Rees, who created some especially intriguing programming, only lasted three years, Nicholas Martin, beset by illness, only two, and Jenny Gersten three. Most recently the programming seemed to be losing its luster. I for one began to find it harder and harder to find productions I was interested in seeing, much less writing about. The arrival this season of yet another new Artistic Director, Mandy Greenfield, came as a signal to start coming back. Ms. Greenfield arrives in Williamstown with a distinguished record as Artistic Producer at the Manhattan Theater Club, where her productions have been seen as favorable to rising playwrights and exciting in themselves.
Before there was texting, emails, voicemails, and answering machines, there were telephone answering services. An extension of a telephone number was connected to a switchboard in an office where it was answered by an operator. Of course, whoever took the messages learned maybe a little too much about the customers lives, loves and foibles.
s the years pass I find more and more to admire in Shakespeare and Company. At the moment, I’m thinking of the company’s vitality in carrying on with a full season and most if not all of its rich variety of educational programs intact after one more of the several financial and administrative crises that have struck in recent years. Company old-timers Jonathan Croy (twenty-ninth season) and Ariel Bock, who arrived as an acting apprentice in 1979, have taken over the artistic management on an interim basis, and another, Stephen G. Ball (twenty-seventh season), is now Interim Managing Director and General Manager. Much of this upheaval has been shrouded in mystery, but nothing could inspire one simply to let all this go and look to the future than the Shakespearean season opener, an invigorating, insightful, and moving “pocket” production of the most famous and beloved of the history plays, Henry V.
For some time now, Tanglewood has included a variety of distinguished soloists and groups specializing in historically informed performance practice to play in Seiji Ozawa Hall, which is quite well suited to the less aggressive, more subtle colors of period instruments. Some seasons are more generous than others, and I personally favor liberality in this area, although the Berkshires enjoy one of the oldest and best of the early music festivals, Aston Magna. Tanglewood early evolved into a microcosm of classical music as practiced in America—and to some degree, necessarily, internationally—and HIP has become an essential part of a wider landscape, which embraces Tyondai Braxton, John Zorn, and Bernard Haitink all together. A forum like Tanglewood allows early music to be heard in this extended context. One thing we sorely miss in this—to me most welcome—movement is the ability to hear Bach and Handel on the same program as, say, Beethoven, Brahms, Stravinsky, and Webern. Beethoven and even Brahms can indeed flourish on period instruments, but the ability to look beyond them to the twentieth and twenty-first centuries is lost. And there is one more consideration…Tanglewood’s early music concerts always sell very well. And one more question…should the TMC include an early music component in their program?
George Gershwin’s Piano Concerto overshadowed works by three other American composers in the opening Boston Symphony concert at Tanglewood on Friday night (July 3). Those included John Harbison, whose “Remembering Gatsby” began the program with its oxymoronic mixture of modern symphonic angst and ‘20’s pop enthusiasm; Aaron Copland represented by “Lincoln Portrait,” whose evocative score forms the background to a series of political utterances the contemporary signGeorge Gershwin’s Piano Concerto overshadowed works by three other American composers in the opening Boston Symphony concert at Tanglewood on Friday night (July 3). Those included John Harbison, whose “Remembering Gatsby” began the program with its oxymoronic mixture of modern symphonic angst and ‘20’s pop enthusiasm; Aaron Copland represented by “Lincoln Portrait,” whose evocative score forms the background to a series of political utterances the contemporary significance of which was underscored by the austere and effectively harsh delivery by John Douglas Thompson (replacing an indisposed Jessye Norman); and an overblown orchestral version of Duke Ellington’s tone poem “Harlem.”ificance of which was underscored by the austere and effectively harsh delivery by John Douglas Thompson (replacing an indisposed Jessye Norman); and an overblown orchestral version of Duke Ellington’s tone poem “Harlem.”