Rehearsal: Otello

Canada Opera Company (Paolo Olmi, conductor) Otello — working rehearsal

F--- S------ Centre. Tuesday, January 26, 2010.

And now for something completely different.

Opera is usually off my radar. Not even primarily for aesthetic reasons, but as something to go out and do, it's a pricey proposition, and in that that sort of "big night out" fancy dress mentality that's outside my usual terms of reference. But a season-subscribing acquaintance passed along to me one of the "extras" they couldn't use — a pass to a "working rehearsal" of Verdi's Otello.

So a nice chance to get inside the new opera house¹ and hear some music. I'd actually been inside during Doors Open last year, but it was a treat to go down to hear something there, and not just wander around the building. Although somewhat maligned for presenting three bland walls to the streetscape (especially if you're on York or Richmond — or on Queen, where it looks like a car dealership), it is quite lovely inside, and standing along the glass wall overlooking University, it's a warm and urban-feeling space, with streetcars trundling by and the city going about its business. On the stair-seats of the Richard Bradshaw Amphitheatre, we gathered for a pre-opera chat, getting a nice roundup on the opera, its background and relationship to Shakespeare's play. Also a chance to peek around at the opera crowd, which was about what you'd expect: older, well-heeled, mostly nicely-turned out.

And then in to our seats. For the rehearsal, the floor was closed off and being used by the production staff, the audience up in the overlooking rings. In fact, the whole working rehearsal format made the evening feel very much like two shows, with the performance on stage being framed by the "behind the curtain" elements. Although director Paul Curran was present, he was mostly an observer, while conductor Paolo Olmi was running the show. The backstage drama is a well-worn dramatic device on stage and screen, so it felt somewhat familiar and not unnatural to see stagehands bustling around, actors sitting down on stage during gaps in the performance, and, most entertainingly, Olmi actually stopping the action from time to time to offer a comment. At one point early on, he stopped the orchesta and pointed to a wind player, telling them something along the lines of "yes, this note is a C-sharp, but it's a C-sharp like hmmmmmmmmmmmm."² Meanwhile, the actors on stage would relax, take a seat, chat amongst themselves.³ I suppose it being opera and all, that I half-expected everyone to be full-bore, y'know, operatic, maybe sing-shouting their comments at each other, but I suppose these are professionals after all.

For this rehearsal, we were being presented with the second two acts of the opera only, so I'm glad I was at one where I knew the story going in.⁴ So we cut to the chase with the handkerchief scam already set up, and Otello losing his shit. The staging at the outset was sparse, with just a mound of boulders on the stage, all the better for hiding behind to listen in on other people's conversations. But then, at the conclusion of the third act, with the dignitaries from Venice arriving and the big presentation, it suddenly turned into a lavish and courtly production number with a (spoiler alert?) big-assed golden lion rolling onto the stage as the backdrop pulled up and suddenly opened the space. What had hitherto been a closed-in three-hander psychodrama was suddenly widescreen, with the chorus onstage and a big close to the act with Otello publicly denouncing his wife.

And then an intermission, some more time to wander around. When we got back in, it tuned out that Olmi must not have been happy with how things had worked out as the company did the whole grand finale over again. One spot proved especially troublesome, being stopped twice and the action reset before he was satisfied.⁵ And then the fourth act with that tragic inevitability, Desdemona praying that she doesn't get killed — and then getting killed. Movingly done, but I suppose I'd really prefer some sort of Angela Carter/riot-grrrl rewrite where she stops praying and spends her time sharpening her dagger. But, y'know, a nice score. Classy.

All told, a very pleasing way to spend an evening. I don't imagine that a full-out production is going to be within my means anytime soon, but regardless, I think all of the rough edges and extra-textural goings-on added to the experience for me. As I always say, it's a little bit of grit in the oyster that gives us the pearl. Heading down to the subway after — and why is it that the posh venue has direct, no-need-to-go-outside-like-the-plebes subway access? — I was feeling that heightened sensibility, almost feeling like I should sing out every mundane event ("here comes the traaaaaaaaaaain!") so I guess it rubbed off on me some.

---

¹ The opera house has a third party corporate name, but we needn't acknowledge or remember what it is.

² Given the dead-sheet-music, rigid kind of rep that rock'n'rollers tend to ascribe to orchestrated music, it's nice to remember that it's not just what notes are there, it's how you hit the notes.

³ The programme that we were given noted that the cast might not be singing full out during the rehearsal to save their voices for the actual performances, but I didn't find any of them wanting. Though, to be sure, my ability to distinguish good-enough operatic singing from very good operatic singing is underdeveloped. Technically, so far as I could tell, all three leads did a fine job singing. Their acting was, however, pleasantly relaxed — especially Clifton Forbis as Othello, who would tend to wander towards his marks and then drift around a bit, making for an amusing sight during the scenes where he was supposed to be hiding and spying on the conversations Iago was staging with Cassio.

⁴ I've always found — or at least I did when I put some more thought into these things — that Othello was one of the less compelling tragic heroes, kinda dull and one-dimensional, and when the jealousy kicks in, he kinda just falls apart in a hurry. And Desdemona, besides piety and her unrecognized faithfulness, kinda needs some more sass-back in her attitude. Truth be told, I always tend to remember the play as a lot of Iago standing up in the foreground, and going over in detail to the audience the mechanics of his schemes, and then stepping back into the action and doing all the stuff he just said. But I think my perception is also coloured by the '81 BBC production with Bob Hoskins as Iago, where he did a lot of that with wonderfully hammy, oily vigour.

⁵ Props are due to the surtitle people, who generally did a really good job at keeping up with all the lapses and re-starts on stage.