Stew’s poignant prose accompanied by Heidi’s soulful melodies create songs that encourage and make you think all at the same time. It’s not until after many listens do you fully grasp all the references within the lyrics. Notes of a Native Song is an album meant to train its listeners to analyze every situation. Songs within the album are a clarion call for activism. Stew and The Negro Problem’s performance was an illustration of how songs can shine light on social injustice and inspire a generation to take action.
Stew, feeling under the weather, started by lowering our expectations, stating that the current performance could not nearly be as good as the previous night. However, halfway through the opening song, we knew that his disclaimer was not true. Stew and The Negro Problem kicked off the performance just as their studio album does with a song titled Baldwin Country. Baldwin Country gave the audience background information about James Baldwin. Stew used the song as an appetizer to sate the audience’s initial inquiries as to what the album is about and what kind of music they were about to hear for the ensuing hour.
Stew and The Negro Problem artfully lulled the audience during Istanbul. The song acted like a palate cleanser for the ears. Istanbul was followed by the thought-provoking lyrics of Amen Corner and Proof. “Jesus ain’t no match for jazz and these police.” “When the restlessness of Jesus meets the patience of Job.” “Power is so powerful it can’t afford to pay people to speak truth to it.” “Power looking ugly, Power looking mean, but never painting power so that Power’s ever seen.” These two songs have driving melodies and powerful lyrics.
Florida, Stew jested was the only political song on the album. A song in which the band plays a laid-back Californian beat while Stew compares Florida to other states in the Union. Stew suggests that no state is better than another; each state has pros and cons. But quickly follows up with “It doesn’t matter if the weather is great if I gotta wear a bulletproof vest.” The amusing comparisons and harsh criticism of Florida, made Florida my favorite song in the performance.
I was introduced to Stew last year when SMTD performed Passing Strange. The first act is a feast full of political statements and nuggets of truth not often heard aloud. It opened my eyes to musicals that have a motive other than to entertain.
Without force feeding the audience, Stew and The Negro Problem served up a well-balanced performance—one that left me full all the while leaving me to beg for more. The insightful songs and sounds of Stew and The Negro Problem inspired me, and I am thankful they returned to the University of Michigan to once again share their mighty message of a movement.
Theatre in the round? Kind of. But, like, more than that.
The University Musical Society brought this production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream to the Michigan Theatre as a National Theatre Live streaming on Sunday, November 24.
Director Nicholas Hytner’s take on the classic is comical, enchanting, and the most entertaining Shakespeare I have seen performed. During an intermission interview Hytner stated he began work on the play with some very strong ideas. First was the use of silks and aerial performance, as well as modeling the world of Athens after that of Gilead in The Handmaid’s Tale to reinforce the contrast between the repressive culture of the city and the freedom of the forest. The most effective directorial decision made by Hytner was to switch many of Titania and Oberon’s lines, changing the usual plot so that Titania is the one to trick Oberon, instead of the other way around.
In addition to his role as director of this production Hytner is also the co-founder of Bridge Theatre, a new 900-seat performance venue in London designed with a high degree of adaptability. As director he takes great advantage of this unique space to create the magical world of the forest. Production designer Bunny Christie uses this canvas masterfully as platforms are raised, lowered, and shifted through a standing audience to create an immersive and magical world. Beds that signify actual sleeping quarters in Athens return festooned with moss, vines, and leaves to represent the trees and landscape of the forest. The fairies’ domain is made of flying aerial silks which the actors use to great effect, spinning, twisting, and posing to illustrate their prowess in magic and spellcasting.
Photo by Manuel Harlan.
The lighting design of Bruno Poet and sound design of Paul Arditti both work with the scenic design to create a wonderful sense of atmosphere. While the lighting in Athens is stark and monochromatic, it shifts to deep greens and ethereal purples once the story shifts to the forest. Poet also does a great job of creating focus on specific areas. While holding Titania in a spotlight, a burst of light reveals Puck, having sprung up on the opposite platform. Arditti’s well-chosen sound combines with these lighting effects to create an almost tangible magic in the air, reinforcing the omnipresent nature of the mischievous fae. His atmospheric soundscape is near perfect. The best sound atmosphere is one that goes unnoticed. It is felt but never inserts itself into the scene. The low synth chords of Athens and the lilting strings of the forest do just that. They imbue the audience with a feeling that not only fits the words of the playwright but also justify the other design elements.
Photo by Manuel Harlan.
Christina Cunningham’s designs also reinforce the director’s visions. The stark and simplistic grey dresses of the Helena and Hermia in the city, combined with their white head coverings produce a broadly dystopian impression. The plain black suits of Theseus, Egeus, Demetrius, and Lysander are a uniform of masculine power. It is in these elements that Hytner’s inspiration from TheHandmaid’s Tale is most evident. The Rude Mechanicals are costumed in jumpsuits, highly reminiscent of the party uniform of Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. However, the most striking Athenian costume is Gwendoline Christie’s first as Hippolyta. Her black gown is beautiful in its simplicity and powerful in its monastic silhouette. She is striking, posed as a stark statue in a glass cage, placed there by Theseus. The costumes of the forest characters present a more fun, whimsical image. Puck flits in and out of scenes in patchwork jeans, graphic tank, and colorful armbands. The other fairies have faces painted with glitter and look more like acrobats or fashion models than beings of nature. Oberon, cast by Hytner as a frivolous playboy, is perfectly gorgeous for most of the play in long flowing gold silk robe, often shirtless underneath.
The one pitfall in the costume design is Christie’s green gown as Titania. This dress is emerald green, silky, more than floor-length, and one-shouldered. The asymmetrical floral detail on the bust contributes to a hyper-feminine and soft picture. This picture directly contrasts the headstrong, vengeful Queen that arises with Hytner’s line arrangements. What would make sense in a traditional rendering of Midsummer just doesn’t work here.
The sheer amount of talent, wit, comedy, and spectacle in this show had me thinking back to it constantly. It made me glad to have seen it and glad to be studying theatre. If there’s one major objection I have, it’s that there’s almost too many ideas in this production. The audience participation and reaction is a riot to watch, the aerial work is amazing, the acting top-notch, and the designs gorgeous. But I at times felt lost in the concept of it. While likening Athens to the theocracy of Gilead creates a striking stage picture, the extremely heavy real-world consequences of that dystopia doesn’t seem to fit in the comedic, self-aware romp of the rest of the production. The aerial acrobatics are well-integrated until Gwendoline Christie spends her time as Titania just sitting on a silk, buckled in, drawing attention to the fact that she is not an aerial artist. The comedy is refreshing until the Rude Mechanicals’ performance near the end is so drawn out that people are checking their watches.
But don’t get me wrong- this is a fantastic production. I haven’t read Midsummer for years and my memory of the plot was fuzzy, so this was a refreshing dip back into the story. And there’s so much more I could write about. Before this my favorite Shakespeare play was Twelfth Night, but Puck may have just bewitched me into changing my mind.
Last night, Hill Auditorium hosted the Orchestre Métropolitain de Montréal with singer Joyce DiDonato. The concert started out with the overture to Mozart’s La Clemenza di Tito. They performed this work with a smaller orchestra that only took up about half the stage. The instrumentation consisted of strings, a few winds, a couple trumpets, and timpani. Once Ms. DiDonato joined the orchestra, the trumpets and timpanist left and a clarinetist made their way to the front of the stage to be featured alongside her. I had heard of Ms. DiDonato many times, but I had never actually heard her sing live. She was incredible. Her voice sounded exactly like you would expect an opera singer’s to sound. This is likely because she has set a standard in singing that others strive to match. The interplay between her and the clarinetist was fascinating the watch as they alternated similar phrases. She was able to perfectly match the articulation and timbre of the clarinet using just her voice. In addition, she mimicked the other winds flawlessly, especially in the first aria. There was a moment where she had a run of doubled notes that the flute played at a different time where she embodied the character of a flautist to a T. As an encore, she joined the orchestra for a rendition of “Voi che sapete” from The Marriage of Figaro. She used an iPad for the arias from La Clemenza, but she had this one memorized. It was clear she had performed it many times. She really took control of the stage by incorporating some acting into her performance and having some fun with Maestro Nézet-Séguin and the assistant principal first violinist. Overall, the first half of the concert was great, especially for those who are big fans of opera. On the second half, the orchestra played Anton Bruckner’s Fourth Symphony. Bruckner’s music is best known for it’s epic, massive moments and this symphony had plenty of them. The size of the orchestra seemingly doubled between the first and second halves with a full brass section, a timpanist, and about half a string section joining the chamber orchestra from the first half. I thought the orchestra performed the piece very well, overall. There were some questionable moments where the horns might have had an off night or the timpani might have been too loud for my liking, but mistakes happen in performances and everyone has their own opinion as to what sounds best. The piece seemed to follow a structure of peaks and valleys which, honestly, gets pretty old in a symphony that’s over an hour long. We’d hear a couple minutes of really loud, awesome music, followed by some softer, prettier stuff. I feel like most great symphonies have a few moments that are really special and people immediately think of them when they think of that symphony. This one had so many big moments that I can’t remember any of them because, even though they were awesome when I heard them, they all blended together. None of this is the fault of the orchestra, of course. They played it in a very convincing manner and Maestro Nézet-Séguin commanded the podium with an incredible energy. They closed the night with a really cool encore by Violet Archer, a composer I had never heard of. I really enjoyed the piece and was grateful that Maestro Nézet-Séguin exposed the audience to it. I have seen him perform twice at Hill now, and he has been fantastic both times. I will surely be going back if I see his name on the UMS schedule again next year!
Musically directed by the award-winning British violinist Daniel Hope, the Zurich Symphony Orchestra brought the Hill Auditorium to life in a stunning performance of Antonio Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons, and the UMS premiere of Max Richter’s Recomposed: Vivaldi – The Four Seasons.
Without a conductor, I was stunned to see the synchronization of this ensemble as the passages of the music would swell and subside. I observed the seamless communication of the ensemble members and the dynamics that flew to the auditorium ceiling and rolled like a broken wave to the very farthest row of the top balcony, captivating us with every note.
Upon the opening of Vivaldi: Recomposed, Daniel Hope encouraged the audience to enter in, saying “Mr. Richter’s reworking meant listening again to what is constantly new in a piece we think we are hearing when, really, we just blank it out.” From stage he shared the hopes that Richter had shared with him back in 2012: since Vivaldi’s music can be so oversaturated, he dreadfully wanted to reclaim its majesty through a new and awe-inspiring frame.
With a dreamy splash of lighting on the stage, Richter’s creative imagining of Vivaldi’s work cascaded into the audience. I caught myself almost laughing for joy in a state of sheer wonder-struck incredulity. This music lifts one up from themselves and draws them into something deep and grand. While Vivaldi’s Four Seasons was played with only one pause for applause, Richter’s Vivaldi: Composed was swept through without one. In the moments of break in between movements, you could hear thick anticipation hanging in the air.
The evening concluded with multiple standing ovations, so many, in fact, that Daniel Hope led the orchestra through three encore pieces that delighted the audience. We were given the ending of a movement from Vivaldi’s Concerto in A Minor, George Gershwin’s I’ve Got Rhythm, and a warming piece from Kurt Weill’s Knickerbocker Holiday. Each time an encore piece was finished, Hope would walk off stage, only to return with a shrug and a smile. Finally, amidst the grand applause, Daniel Hope played a charming solo rendition of Brahm’s Lullaby, delicately nudging the audience to take a hint and go home. This was a heart-warming moment, however, as each audience member began to gently hum the tune back, filling the auditorium with a wholesome glow.
As I was leaving the auditorium, I overheard an audience member beckon another to exit first as he jokingly remarked, “That’s what Vivaldi does to me.” This nearly imperceivable moment demonstrates exactly how the beauty of music strengthens the benevolence of our souls and encourages the virtues of the heart. My spirit was absolutely lifted by the music of Vivaldi and Richter, reminding me of exactly what a showcase of the arts should be about.
On Wednesday November 20th at 7:30, Hill Auditorium will play host to the Orchestre Métropolitain de Montréal, featuring Music Director Yannick Nézet-Séguin and superstar Mezzo-Soprano, Joyce DiDonato. This is not the first appearance at Hill for either Nézet-Séguin or DiDonato. They performed a collaborative recital last year with Maestro Nézet-Séguin accompanying Ms. DiDonato on piano. Maestro Nézet-Séguin is also the music director of the Philadelphia Orchestra and he conducted them here last fall. On this concert, Ms. DiDonato will perform arias from Mozart’s La Clemenza di Tito, one of the last operas he ever worked on. They will follow the Mozart up with Anton Bruckner’s 4th symphony in E flat Major. Bruckner’s works have become more widely recorded as of late. Maestro Nézet-Séguin and this orchestra actually released a recording of his 4th symphony in 2011. This concert promises to be a great night of serious music making with some of the best musicians in the business right now. Tickets are still available and can be purchased on the UMS website or from the ticket office in the League.
Michael Keegan-Dolan’s Loch na hEala opens with the spectacle of a nearly-nude man roped to a cinder block at the stage’s center. The man bleats like goat as he circles his anchorage. From this moment, the audience finds itself gripped with a foreboding curiosity as we are introduced to a small ensemble who guides us through a layered and winding three-pronged retelling of Swan Lake.
Included in the bulletin is a piece written by Keegan-Dolan himself as he reflects on the nature of change, “No matter how unwelcome, [change] is an inevitable part of life: nature’s forces are constantly moving, seeking balance so that life can continue to endlessly unfold.” The spirit of this excerpt was something I observed to be an underlying current in this narrative of moving parts; ultimately, a commentary on the sickness of depression that brings imbalance to life.
The formlessness of this performance keeps one on the edge of their seat, for the troupe distracts and enchants through technical proficiency and the dissonance of chaos that rings consistently. We are told that the darkness in any story is there to teach us something, and that lesson from Swan Lake is that the inability to will change and a failure to know one’s deeper hungers can ultimately lead to the corruption of your spirit. The dark tone of this show left a poor taste in my mouth, but I still felt uplifted by the music and choreography that could be found amidst a show that ultimately seems to appeal to more depraved inclinations.
The choreographed numbers weaved throughout this piece proved to be crafted and technically stunning. I found myself drawn in by these sweeping movements up against a backdrop of potential demise held at bay. Another great highlight was the musical score provided by Slow Moving Clouds, a Dublin-based folk band that combines Nordic and Irish traditional music with minimalist and experimental influences. Often their music was a prominent influence of a scene yet remained well-hidden, otherwise providing tension or joviality to a dynamic.
The evening ended in a standing ovation, and as I rose to join them mid-clap, I paused and asked myself, exactly what are we celebrating here tonight? While Teaċ Daṁsa pours itself out to express the reality of depression and a life’s potential for tragedy, is praising a work that frames dread as the true reality something that deserves to be called beautiful? While it is true that stories that focus simply on the light often do not fully express what it means to be human, it is not enough to celebrate the darkness without conceding that light does outshine it. A praise-worthy work of art should be something that not only acknowledges darkness and pain, but shows us its true value, to point us to the light.
It was a privilege to attend Teaċ Daṁsa’s crafted work, for few performances have truly invited me to enter into such deep reflection of art and form such as Loch na hEala, an experience that I will not soon forget.
