Scotch-Snaps a Syncopated Music Blog
Jean-Francois-Desagnes - Photographer, Jacque Olivier Chartier - Christopher Dunham
Zemir et Azor - Les Violons du Roi - 2015
April 2nd 2021 - 7 min.
Beads of sweat tumble down my brow. I reach absentmindedly for a tissue to wipe the caustic effect of makeup and sweat from my eyes. I’m panting, trying to regain my composure, while maintaining absolute focus on an old tube style TV that’s atop a rolling stand attached to a CCTV. You know the kind - The ones that used to roll gleefully from classroom to classroom in the 90s indicating the teacher was about to pop in those Government heritage videos, Bill Nye, or The Magic School Bus to keep us educated?
Unlike those nostalgic moments from my childhood, I am watching the TV with the focus of a large savannah cat, (take your pick, I like cheetahs) waiting for that perfect moment when the conductor’s baton drops. He looks into the camera and points at me. I am about to sing from off-stage.
The fact that I am backstage waiting for a cue while using a CCTV for coordination means there will be a delay. Microseconds. I prepare – breathe, visualize, anticipate. I stay ahead of the beat which leaves me with a sense that I’m singing a syncopated rhythm. I fight the instinct telling me that this is incorrect. The conductor looks into the camera, smiles and winks. My scene is over. I hear from the stage manager “Merci Chris, vous avez quatre minutes avant votre dernier scène.”
Opera is obsessed with time.
In an average production, most of the singers receive a contract approximately 18 months in advance of the performance date. The contract will state the expectations, the compensation, and of course the repertoire. When the date finally arrives, a musical rehearsal is typically the icebreaking event for the whole production, a sort of “Trial By Fire”. Large musical / theatrical discrepancies and ideas are often noted by the artistic heads of the project, namely, the conductor and the director. For me, this is the most terrifying part of the experience, as I’ve seen people unceremoniously fired from shows for not coming to the first rehearsal with the same expectations of preparation as the rest of the cast.
From this “giraffe birth”-esque event, there are usually two and a half weeks of staging where the architecture of the piece are laid into place. Motions, gestures, choreography, etc., are all defined in this stage of the process by the director and their team. While this is happening, the conductor controls the musical ideas and gestures, establishing how we will collectively make music.
The final week up to the show, is all a hurricane of energy known widely in the performing arts as “tech week”. Anything, and I mean anything, can happen in tech week. Like, say if a tenor eats too much pizza the night before dress rehearsal and gets acid reflux so badly that they must be replaced.
We, the performers, will have costumes, props, lights, a raked stage, audience and an orchestra all thrown at us within a window of about 48 hours. The piece is now set. All we can do is aim for excellence and consistency. Right? It sounds as though we enjoy a sadomasochistic relationship with the career. This strange crunch for time we routinely find ourselves in. The expectation that, “this is how its done.” Does this kind of stress bring about the best results? Can we produce the same art without frying our sympathetic nervous systems?
While in Montréal, I had two experiences working with directors who disagreed with this operatic expectation of time. Both, were film directors.
The first production was Zemir et Azor by Gretry, in collaboration with Les Violons du Roi and the academy award winning director Denys Arcand. The second was a production of Bizet’s Carmen with l'Opéra de Montréal, Orchestre Métropolitain and the great Charles Biname, directing.
Both directors began working with their performers many months in advance of the performance date. M. Arcand began working with us in September for a performance that was not until May of the following year - that is almost 9 months.
M. Biname had been working with the performers a full year and a half before the performances in May of 2019. In both instances, intense work on the project would happen with various members of the cast over a couple of days, every three to four weeks.
The result of this approach? Well, on the surface not much. If you are curious, go check out the reviews. You can even go see the production of Carmen here:
https://www.operademontreal.com/en/shows/carmen.
Eli Maksoudian - Photographer, Christopher Dunham
Carmen - l’Opera de Montreal 2019
Fair and mixed reviews, excellent ticket sales, strong media presence, and fully staged opera productions.
What isn’t quantifiable in the same way was my experience during film-style opera rehearsals. I found it easier to ask questions. I found it easier to make mistakes and not feel the pressure of success. It was easier to discover, to be vulnerable, and to explore different approaches to my art. The incredible pressure of correctness and deadlines was no longer there. Without that suffocating obsession of time, there was space for human connection.
Rehearsals often began with a big welcoming hug and genuine conversation. There was time to practice my linguistic faux pas and have colleagues correct them and laugh with me.
“What do you think, Christopher?” “Would you like to try it again?” “How did that feel, mon beau?”
I felt heard. I felt like an artist. I was enough.
It seems that we have been presented with an opportunity to be critical of the current systems and expectations. Before we rush headlong into the world that was, let us consider how and why we do things. Let us consider the space we hold and the pressures we suffer.
What do you think? Drop me a line on social media. Links below.
