Author Archives: Mark Stone

In Need of Catharsis

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What function goes unfulfilled by a colony of seismic wooden doors? The set design of the Metropolitan Opera’s production of “Il Barbiere di Siviglia” imagines and utilizes nearly every arrangement of a collective of panel doors to demarcate the streets of Seville and the estate of Doctor Bartolo – especially the gmsreat room and Rosina’s bedroom. Bereft of inventiveness, the sets appear forced, a means of cutting corners for an otherwise prodigal production. The absence of a substantial set is overshadowed by the lukewarm acoustics and uninspired performances of the majority, apart from those of Rodion Pogossov, as Figaro, and Rob Besserer, as Ambrogio.
Perceivably fifteen feet tall, the doors dwarf the singers and are among the first of a series of aggrandized, balloon props. Extras oscillate about the stage and maneuver the doors to form either a line, to signify a room, or a zigzag, to signify the snaking streets of Seville. These inorganic movements distract from the flow of the opera and sometimes come across as clumsy or, conversely, highly-routinized and overdone. The doors prove auspicious, however, as a prudent means of entrance and escape; singers latch onto a door, twirl about for a few moments, secure the door in a new location, and promptly exit the stage.
In line with the sensationalist motif, Figaro makes his sedentary debut atop a wagon nearly twice his height. The wagon houses Figaro’s grooming supplies, hand mirrors, and sundry hairpieces. Like the wagon, Pogossov is larger than life; his animated and effervescent character enlivens the comatose crowd.
Early in the second act, Figaro adopts a new profession, interloper, and tiptoes into Bartolo’s great room where Count Almaviva (Javier Camarena) gives Rosina (Isabel Leonard) a music lesson. Unbeknownst to Bartolo (Maurizio Muraro), Figaro assumes Rosina’s place on stage. Figaro then extends his arm, much to the delight of Bartolo, who greedily smothers it with kisses. Pogossov’s facial expressions mimic those of a festive schoolgirl and his posture dips ever so slightly. Muffled laughs circle the room as Figaro allows the charade to continue, ultimately to the embarrassment of Bartolo. Undeterred by the homoerotic overtones, Pogossov delivers a charismatic burst of comedy that ripples through the audience and engenders pandemic applause.
Dimwitted and maladroit, Ambrogio challenges Figaro as the opera’s comedic headmaster. Ambrogio leisurely wheels a cart of pumpkins across stage, initially unaware of the looming and prodigious anvil. Within moments, the anvil crushes the cart and Ambrogio falters offstage like a tumbleweed in the Gobi Desert. Bessemer’s exaggerated movements heighten the hilarity of the occasion. He later falls asleep amidst a passionate duet between Bartolo and the Count. Bessemer’s bobbing head, limp posture, and buckled toes validate his pretense. A subsequent, unanticipated outcry carries a shrill, vexing tone that startles his on-stage companions, yet proves endearingly comical.
In terms of vocal intensity, each singer meets the bare minimum. Leonard fulfills her duties as Rosina, singing in pleasant pitch and sweeping across the stage effortlessly. Her arias, however, lack the impulsion of coloratura soprano Beverly Sills. Singing “Una Voce Poco Fa,” Sills embellishes the aria with fervent gestures and robust vocals, unlike mezzo-soprano Leonard, who converges on corporally expressed interpretation, yet practices a subdued, less ostentatious vocal arrangement.
Camarena also underwhelms with censored vocals throughout and a deferred, ephemeral incandescence at the opera’s close. As a tenor, Camarena’s regnant flashes are few and far between. He satisfies the role of Count Almaviva, but lacks the soul or life that the name suggests. Only in his final aria does Camarena arise from dormancy, reach an operatic climax, and deliver an impassioned rendition.
Void of vocal audacity, innovative sets, and a general symbiosis, the production marches on torpidly and unenthusiastically; it flickers like a candle without a wick. The only saving grace is Pogossov, though he cannot mobilize the relief efforts necessary to salvage the show.

Project Proposal

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We hope to examine the cultural interactions between tourists and native New Yorkers. Prevailing stereotypes suggest that New Yorkers are brash egomaniacs while tourists are cumbersome roadblocks. A palpable divide exists between the two groups and we aim to soften relations and foster a more amicable dynamic.

Almost 50 Million tourists visit New York annually and the number is poised to rise. By facilitating tourist-native relations, we may ensure the mutual satisfaction of both parties and promote a kinder, more gregarious city.

Our group will visit three tourist hotspots: Rockefeller Center, Times Square, and Fifth Avenue, and film both tourists and natives to examine their modes of behavior. We will conduct interactive workshops designed to introduce tourists and natives; commonality of location will prompt conversation and establish common interests.

Group Members: Sharon Lin, Mark Stone, Camille Studer, Abhinaya Swaminathan

Over The Rainbow

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“Wearing pantyhose, three-inch heels and a dark-brown wig,” Tommy Femia defies socially prescribed gender roles to portray Judy Garland in the Off Off Broadway cabaret “Don’t Tell Mama.” His performance reflects the diversity of the New York cultural scene and reinforces the notion that a given role can always be reinterpreted in an innovative, sensational manner. Writer of “The Boy Who Became Judy Garland,” Dan Barry chronicles the measures taken by the Femia family to establish the clan’s cooperative spirit and support for Tommy.
Tommy’s older brother, Bobby, does anything necessary to accommodate his sibling, whether it be fixing his back zipper or helping him onto the stage. Barry lucidly communicates Bobby’s altruistic demeanor and illustrates how his actions unify the family. From an early age, he knew of Tommy’s homosexuality and “ occasionally gave Tommy a ride to one of the gay bars in Greenwich Village.” Now, in anticipation of Tommy’s showcases, Bobby feels a sense of “joyful anticipation and a certain air of responsibility.” Prior to each performance, Bobby works “24 of the previous 32 hours,” drives home in his 1998 tan Toyota Camry — bought used — gets cleaned up, and then collects his parents in Dyker Heights.” Tommy’s parents, Cosmo, 83, and Ann, 80, “both have some trouble moving around but they never miss a show.” Originally repulsed by Tommy’s sexuality, Ann has matured to become her son’s biggest supporter and critic. The family, in effect, is as much a part of the cabaret as Tommy; its presence both, literal and emotional, propel Tommy to deliver his best as Judy Garland.
The male portrayal of an iconic female singer also suggests a relaxation in cultural bigotry. “Juggling gigs around the country,” Tommy has acquired a national following with hoards of people eagerly anticipating each performance. While some may write Tommy off as a “drag queen,” an overwhelming majority salutes him, none more proudly than his own family.

 

Culturally Relevant

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In spite of arguable legislative efforts to erase racial and ethnic inequalities and promote a safe and accepting society, the United States, like most countries, breeds its fair share of cultural prejudice. Directed by M. Night Shyamalan and starring Noah Ringer, “The Last Airbender”, for example, released a casting notice looking for “Caucasians and other ethnicities.” The latter part of the phrase maintains the illusion of equal opportunity for actors of different ethnic origins, yet implicitly identifies Caucasians as fit for the role. Playwright David Henry Hwang attempts to “blur the lines of these categories we have for race” and, according to Patrick Healy, “consider internationalism today, specifically the frustrations experienced by Americans and Chinese who are united in capitalist greed but divided by their cultural sensibilities.”
In order to carry out this objective, Hwang has written “Chinglish,” a New York based production with soaring production costs and risky Mandarin dialogues (with English supertitles). The play appeals to the assumed relatability of an English speaker in a foreign country. It exposes a type of affection far more mature than love, “qingyi”. This sentiment is typical of a Chinese marital partnership “and sets up a surprising clash” between Daniel, a newcomer, and Xi, “a cagey, attractive bureaucrat whom Daniel falls for.”
The miscommunication and misgivings between the pair reveal an intrinsic divide among members of distinct cultures. The play draws attention to the cultural expectancies and behaviors of ethnically and racially diverse individuals. It also dispels racial stereotypes, such as Asian women working as manicurists. The actuality of Chinglish sets it apart from other Broadway productions and hopefully resonates with audiences who seek equal parts truth and comedy in theatre. Although I have experienced a minimal sense of cultural dissonance, I anticipate Chinglish and the realism that it brings to cultural interaction.

 

82-Year-Old Broadway Starlet

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Once playing Rosina in “Barbiere di Siviglia,” Rosalind Elias has sampled quite a few roles in her prolific operatic career. Elias’ newest role, however, takes place on a radically different stage, that of the Marquis Theater on Broadway. The 82-year-old mezzo-soprano has received critical acclaim for her “small, poignant role” as Heidi Schiller in the freshly produced revue. In “Broadway Debut After a Life of Opera,” Anthony Tomnasini chronicles Elias’ career as an opera veteran and her subsequent foray into Broadway; albeit longwinded, the piece effectively acquaints readers with Elias and relates the backstory of her rise to Broadway prominence.
Tomnasini spares little time in divulging Elias’ prior performances, citing her roles as Mrs. Lovett “in the New York City Opera’s 1984 production of Sweeney Todd” and her appearance as the “sardonic grandmother Madame Armfeldt in a production of “A Little Night Music” in Hawaii.” He expeditiously shifts to Follies and explains how Elias came to acquire the role of Ms. Schiller. Her agent, Michael Rosen, believed that “One More Kiss,” “a waltzing avowal of love and farewell,” fit Elias’ musical repertoire. Elias “adores” the song and wows Follies director Eric Schaeffer with her rendition, leaving him “literally in tears.” Needless to say, Elias was cast shortly thereafter.
As a review, “Broadway Debut After a Life of Opera” succeeds in illustrating the tale of Elias’ Broadway transition. Tomnasini overextends, however, by delving into Elias’ childhood, yet the anecdotes prove entertaining. Tomnasini compels attention by leveraging the pathetic appeal of an aging opera magnate who dips her foot into a foreign industry. He goes beyond stating that Elias won the role, he depicts her willingness to explore new fields and recounts the sequence of action that preceded her decision. An underlying motif spans the article: you can teach an 82-year-old mezzo-soprano new tricks.

 

Rooftop.

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For years, I operated without thinking. Every action has a specific reaction, but I was only concerned with the former. One day, I foolishly decided to throw rocks from the roof of my apartment building in a contest to determine if I had better accuracy than my friend. My actions could have induced a concussion for an innocent passerby! From then on, I learned to anticipate the repercussions of my decisions and accordantly weigh them (the decisions) to avoid wrongdoing or impropriety.

Opera/Play Distinctions

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Maintaining a general parity of plot, the play and opera versions of the Barber of Seville greatly differ in terms of character detail, whether dispositional, behavioral or occupational. Said details are heightened or expounded on by Figaro, who often characterizes others (as well as himself).
In the opera, Figaro introduces Don Basilo as “A famous, intriguing matchmaker, a hypocrite, a good-for-nothing, with never a penny in his pocket” (48). This description proves infinitely more thorough than that of the literary complement, where Figaro describes Don Basile (not Basilo) as a “scoundrel,” “an even bigger fool” (63).  This insubstantial representation leaves Rosine with a general distaste for Basile, yet lacks evidence of Basile’s rogue demeanor.  In the play, Figaro’s contempt for Basilo bears some warrant, as Figaro exposes Basilo’s destitution; in order to provide for himself and essentially survive, Basilo has little choice but to deceive and manipulate those more fortunate.
Further disputes exist between Figaro’s duties in the two mediums. In the play, Figaro declares that he plays “barber to anyone who needed me” (44). While the work hints at minor medicinal responsibilities, Figaro concerns himself with Bartholo’s grooming and similar practices. In the opera, Figaro asserts that, “In this house I am barber, surgeon, botanist, apothecary, veterinary” (44); he boldly affirms that “I run the house” (44). Here Figaro appears not only hubristic, but also invaluable to the completion of the quotidian functions of Bartholo’s estate. He aggrandizes his self-worth to a point of incredulity, casting doubt on his otherwise veracious nature.
At their epicenters, both works relate the same tale, the same struggle for love, and the same outcome. Minor distinctions affect audience perception, yet both maintain a similar sense of excitement and humor.