The opera itself gave a very different feel from the mood reflected in the libretto. The libretto makes the story of Don Giovanni seem more like a comedy than a tragedy, but after watching the opera, the tragic themes became more prominent. There were still many comic elements in the opera, such as the aria sung by Leporello, the quibbles between Leporello and Don Giovanni, the ruse Don Giovanni and Leporello play, and the party scene in Don Giovanni’s manor. The presence of many comedic moments makes the opera less of a tragedy than it was probably meant to be. This question was also asked in class and upon reading the libretto, I thought that it was an opera buffa rather than an opera seria. Leporello’s character made me laugh especially, even during the opera itself. I realized, however, just how tragic the story of Don Giovanni is once we saw the show. The lighting was very dim, the themes were dark, and Don Giovanni’s selfish motives were all too clear. Overall, I think of Don Giovanni as a tragedy with a multitude of comic elements mixed within it.

There were clear class differences reflected in the language of the libretto. For example, Don Giovanni took on a different tone and form of language when he talked to Zerlina or Donna Anna or Donna Elvira. He is much less formal when he talks to Zerlina than when he talks to the other two women. Even the names of characters reflect the class differences. The noblemen and noblewomen/ aristocrats have “Don” or “Donna” placed in front of their first names, whereas the working class/ peasantry are simply addressed by their names.

The music completely transforms the story. Reading the opera as it is written in the libretto and listening to it sung on stage are two completely different experiences. When I read the libretto, I adapted the mood, tone, setting, language, etc. to what I perceived them to be, whether my interpretation was accurate or not. Reading is an experience in your mind and although authors usually write their pieces with a message in mind, they often leave an opening for their readers to make their own interpretations about the plot. Listening to the opera, however, put our perceptions and interpretations at the hands of the composer, conductor, director, and opera singers. The music enhanced the story because it made it clearer that the opera is supposed to be a tragedy. The story came alive, but also overshadowed, by all of the dramatic elements that the music added. The music helped the audience understand the fully story of the characters: their inner struggles, aspirations, and desires. For example, the songs that Donna Anna sings are all very sad, angry, or full of vengeance. The music elucidates Donna Anna’s determination to avenge the murder of her father. The relationships present in Don Giovanni are quite complex, some of them more so than others. Don Giovanni and Leporello’s relationship is arguably the most important and most difficult to understand. I’m not exactly sure how the music helped me in understanding their friendship, but even now I still wonder who depends on whom to a higher degree. Would Don Giovanni be able to succeed in his undertakings without Leporello? Would Leporello be anyone if he weren’t with Don Giovanni?

The opera was very structured, unlike the contemporary performances we watched in this class. I knew what was going to happen next in the story because I had already read the libretto. The modern performances were completely unexpected and unfamiliar to me. The whole idea of modern and post-modern dance were unbeknownst to me before this class, whereas I had already heard of the opera from many, many years ago. I do, however, find that I enjoyed the contemporary performances more than I did the opera. I found the opera to be quite dry and static. The music and singing were beautiful, but I wanted to see more dynamic changes on stage and this wasn’t the case in the opera. Watching the contemporary performances kept me on my toes, because I never knew what was going to happen next. I don’t dislike the older forms of performance just because of one opera, and I would like to watch another one in order to attain a fuller, broader opinion of this form of performance before I make a ‘final’ decision.

Pina Bausch’s “…como el musguito en la piedra, ay si, si, si…” was anything but post-modern dance. It was a spectacular mix of lights, props, special effects, and countless mini-segments targeted to make the audience chuckle in amusement. Post-modern dance focuses on the expression of uninhibited, instinctual movement, without the help of costumes, lighting, props, or special effects. Pina Bausch’s dance uses all of these to add to the performance, making them the central feature of the show, rather than the other way around. The choreography of Bausch’s dance was centralized around the relationships and tensions between men and women, showing them in a comedic, romantic, and even exaggerated light. In contrast to post-modern dance, which is characterized by loose, natural movements, Bausch’s dance uses very choreographed, aesthetic movements that are pleasing to the eye.

Of course, there were visible similarities between the performance and those of post-modern dance. They might sound like arbitrary observations, but there were moments of eccentricity in the Pina Bausch piece that are analogous to the raw, equally unique moments of post-modern dance (especially with regards to contact improvisation). One such moment includes the scene in which a woman walks across the stage with a potted tree strapped to her back. She sits on the other side of the stage, sits down, and then another female dancer walks on stage with a glass of water, helps the woman carrying the tree drink it, and leaves. Not long after, the woman the tree gets up and walks off the stage the same way she came. Again, this similarity is quite arbitrary, but to the untrained mind, these eccentricities are quite prominent. The focal point of this scene in the Pina Bausch, however, is the tree that the woman carries, not the woman herself, and this is the stark difference between Pina Bausch and post-modern choreographers is most visible.

What is dance? How do we define it? Who has the authority to say what is or isn’t dance? All of these questions whizzed through my head as I watched the RoseAnn Spradlin show with mouth agape (most of the time), eyes wild, and head spinning at the cacophony of movement flashing right in front of me. Even as I think back to the performance, I still cannot say that I know exactly what the choreographer was trying to say in her piece. The stage was set up in way that allowed members of the audience to sit in very close proximity to the dancers. So close, in fact, that there were times during the performance that the dancers reached out and touched some of the viewers. The surrounding stage lights were dim, the guidelines on the stage were visible, and there were mirrors all around. A feeling of uncertainty and trepidation filled the room and all of the previous elements only added to these feelings. The first thing I notice as I walk into the inner stage area is a nude woman playing a bass guitar. I am already taken aback by this because I was not expecting nudity to be such a prominent feature of the show. Donna warned us that the show was going to be very intense, but I could have never imagined its magnitude.

The show begins in a calm, but quite ominous manner. The first dancer, the woman who was playing the bass guitar, stands quietly, a look of stoic fearlessness in her eyes. She powerfully walks around the stage before she places a shoulder piece and headdress made of silver beads. These two elements change her look dramatically. She emits an aura of something close to divinity. The quiet of the room and the soft clacking of the beads send shivers down my spine as I watch her walk, bend, and stare into the eyes of the audience.

The next vivid memory I have is of the dancer with the blond ponytail laying down on the stage and convulsing in near epileptic shakes. I am so shocked by the sight of this that I have to fight bursting out into a fit of giggles. It wasn’t that I found it funny, it was just that I had never seen anyone do something so out of the ordinary. In fact, I found that the entire performance was different and well… quite strange. Of course, there were elements of familiar dance such as lifts, leaps, and spins; although they were present throughout the entire performance, their significance was overshadowed by the immense power of everything else. The music that Spradlin used in her dance reminded me of the climactic, heart pounding soundtrack of a horror film, the kind that builds up to the unfolding of the plot. For this performance, however, the climax lasted almost the entire show. I was actually frightened by the music, all of these elements compounded together made me uneasy but completely captivated at the same time.

There were two very contrasting moments in the performance. The first was when the live band played a song about self-empowerment and confidence. The song was beautiful, but it sounded a little odd when used with the dance. It was the kind of song found in a brightly lit musical, filled with flowery dresses, frolicking through fields, and colorful backdrops. As the song continued to play, however, I realized just how well it melded with the message of the performance. Despite all of my confusion, I think I understood at least part of what Spradlin was trying to say in her piece. Her message to us is to be confident in your skin; don’t be afraid of people judging you because as long as you do things with tenacity and passion, you will always come out on top. The part of the dance that starkly differed from this song came in the second half of the show. The dancers were walking across the stage in different directions. Although the stage was relatively small, they seemed to be walking with a purpose, using heavy footsteps that echoed through the resounding violins in the background. It seemed to go on forever, when all of a sudden, the women broke out in wild, uninhibited, contorted movements. I jumped in my seat in surprise, looking at Alvin with complete shock at what just happened. And then came the climax of all climaxes, the women screamed at the top of their lungs, throwing down profanities and gut wrenching, earsplitting screams that filled the room and drowned out the music. These two moments together gave a completely different feel from the melifluos song that played earlier in the show.

If someone were to ask me if I liked the show, I don’t think I would be able to give them a simple yes or no. I certainly didn’t dislike it, but I can’t say that I loved it either. It was different, interesting, wild, and in my opinion, an avant garde form of dance. It was an experience that I am glad to have had, but I don’t think I would want to go through it again.

This is a review on ‘Eclipse’ performed at the new BAM Fisher Theatre, by Jonah Bokaer and Anthony McCall.

Discuss how you feel one can apply the concepts presented by Berger in looking at the Modern Art exhibition at MOMA?

John Berger, in “Ways of Seeing”, presents several points on perspective and its distinct characteristic of centering everything on the “eye of the beholder” (Berger 16). It is a concentrated beam of light that travels inward instead of out, making the eye the “vanishing point of infinity” (16). Although a little drastic, Berger is quite accurate in describing how the general masses perceive, or at least should perceive, art. In order to get the most out of a piece of art (a painting in this case), one has to focus in on the painting, and only the painting alone. Every brush stroke, blend of color, position of foreground and background has a meaning and it is our duty as art appreciators to try and determine what those meanings are. This is no easy feat, because everyone’s mind is on a different track, and so interpretations will differ on all levels.

My visit to the MOMA with my partner and fellow classmates proved Berger’s ideas above and the idea that people think and perceive differently. As we looked at paintings together, we found ourselves taking everything in, from the colors, to the subject matter, even to the random speck of paint on the bottom right corner that may or may not have been intentional. The paintings projected themselves into our vision as we did our best to come together and make sense of what we were seeing. I will apply Berger’s method on future visits to the MOMA and to other museums in general, but I will do it with others. I think learning about art as a collective group is easier because what starts out as random snippets of thought in the corners of my mind can become fruitful discussions when put together with the ideas of others.

Jana