My weekend has been dominated by children, their thoughts, and my thoughts about them. Charles Dickens, a passionate admirer of little ones, finds his most searing location for them in his beloved A Christmas Carol. Even the death of Little Dorrit lacks the resonance that this short novella has shown. The attachment with Christmas is clearly one reason, but the theatrical bent of the writing, reflecting Dickens’ passionate interest in acting, begs for a physical realization. Version after version has hardened us to the difficulty of undertaking such a task. Prose on the page is very different from words on the stage. Dickens cushions speech in each of his novels with plenty of before and after richness, passionate in its empathy for their plight.
The wise have shown us down the generations that beautiful spirits can hold two contrary ideas in the mind, carrying their weight and feeling their lightness. Through some kind of serendipity these last weeks have asked this of me. First, motion and music. I am thinking of the suave Stéphane Denève and the awe-inspiring performance of Debussy’s Jeux he conducted with the orchestral Fellows at Tanglewood. He conjures shapes which in turn conjure sounds. Rythymic complexity becomes ease.
Alixina and Jason have done it again.
The Hubbard Hall Opera Theater Resident Artists La Bohème played to a sizeable crowd in the Dorset Playhouse last night, and the audience departed well-pleased. Each opera that I have seen Jason Dolmetsch stage has had the benefit of his excellent ear. Just one example: in Act 3 of La Bohème, where Mimi usually listens off, or nearly off, to the dire pronouncements, Vedrana Kalas walked haltingly across the space way upstage, a few steps at a time, as if what she was overhearing made it difficult for her to continue. Her progress touched the heart. In this abbreviated production (75 minutes with no intermission), Act 3 was given most fully. This is important.