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Ivana Ng (Music TRaC, Spring 06) Ivana Reviews Cassandre at Carnegie Hall  Everyone has heard of the Trojan War, but have they heard of Cassandre -- the Trojan princess who could have prevented the epic battle? She predicted the downfall of her people, and when they were welcoming in the infamous Trojan horse, she was there, warning them. Obviously, no one listened to her. However, on Friday, March 31st, at Carnegie Hall's Zankel Hall, a captivated audience gathered at the New York premiere of Cassandre to hear her untold tale of prophecy and neglect. Set to Swiss composer Michael Jarrell's original score, Cassandre, skillfully and convincingly portrayed by Barbara Sukowa, retold her terrible ordeal in a harrowing sixty minutes. Considering that it was a one-hour monologue, she acted with natural fluency that, for the most part, went well with the music. Or did the music go well with her words? In the first half-hour, it didn't seem to matter as the two sectionsÑorchestra and actressÑworked together to create harmony and synchronization, but the combination undeniably began to lose its appeal by the second half-hour. The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra played commendably with David Robertson at the helm as Cassandre spoke. Robertson created a playful atmosphere, which was evident in the way the instrumentalists laughed and conversed freely while tuning; when it came down to business though, they knew the significance of every hand signal and fleeting look Robertson gave. Together, conductor and orchestra performed almost flawlessly with gusto while still listening intently to Sukowa, who certainly did enthrall. Dressed in a dark, frilly evening gown and clunky heels and wearing a messy bird's nest of a hairdo, Sukowa did indeed look the part of a woman who had lost her family, her fatherland, and her virtue -- all because she rejected a god's affection. Based on Kassandra, a short novel written by German writer Krista Wolf in 1983, the story began with Cassandre murmuring in a constrained voice, recalling her childhood. Unluckily for her, she caught the eye of Apollo, the Greek sun god, and when she rejected the god's advances, she was given the curse of prophecy but having no one believe her. Nevermind why she didn't want to be loved by a god; instead, we were invariably compelled to know what happened to her next as she recounted her royal life as a daughter among twelve sons of the Trojan king Priam. When she told us of the sibling rivalries, of her being favored by Priam and of her parents' power relationship, her voice was etched with sarcasm and she seemed like a forgotten child actor all grown upÑa spoiled child who grew up to find out the world was not her oyster. She was clearly restraining herself from blurting out "I told you so" after every prediction. The most intriguing premonitions were revealed when Cassandre spoke about her austere, dominating mother and her sister Polyxena's role in Achilles' and her own consequent death. As Sukowa spoke about her mother, she was able to convey to us the damage and awe caused in her character, and though she was always overemotional, her theatrical performance was fitting. After all, what can you expect from a woman who had spent her life as an outcast of the most extreme fiber? Just as the acting was exaggerated, the music also rode on the ebb and flow of emotions. Jarrell's opus sounded much like a cinematic endeavor, but this may have simply been a result of it being played while Sukowa, a great stage presence, acted out her part. He employed unusual playing techniques in the composition, especially for the strings. At one point or another, the violinists and the bassists tapped the necks of their instruments either with their bows or their fingers, producing hollow sounds that did not add much to the score. The percussion section was most unusual though; metal corkscrews hung from an aluminum frame, but as much as they wanted to be heard, the only truly prominent percussion was the cymbals. The rest of the instruments were stifled by Sukowa's towering voice, which, willingly or not, consumed the attention of the whole audience and left little room for awareness of the music. Perhaps the music blended so well with Sukowa's voice that the two became a single entity. Though, this may have been true for the first half of the concert, in the latter part, everyone was visibly worn out. There were times when Cassandre spoke tensely and paused every so often, and the orchestra would chime in much too late; and as the hour came winding down, the audience grew restless under the glaring madwoman that Sukowa was embodying and the inherent confliction of orchestra and actress became overwhelming. During the climax, the orchestra became raucous and chaotic, which was fitting for the words but unpleasant to the ears, and the monologue grew hasty and artificial as Cassandre rushed about tying up loose ends. One of the liberties Wolf took with Cassandre's story involved a romantic relationship between her and Aeneas (of Virgil's Aeneid), but when the concert ended with them bidding farewell to one another, it felt like a loose end that did not need typing up. In theory, a "spoken opera" is a powerful idea, but the concert demonstrated that the two components could never fully connect. Despite Jarrell's admirable efforts to compose a passionate piece of music to accompany Cassandre's melodramatic soliloquy, the two elements will never be appreciated within the same production. |