Ten Rules for Stage Directors
1. DON’T STAGE THE OVERTURE. Surprise: Verdi and Rossini and Wagner Mozart actually worked in the theater most of their lives, so give them credit for knowing that the overture is there to get the audience in the mood, to ease their transition from “outside” to “inside.”
Resist the temptation to interpolate a mimed prologue. During the Siciliana to Cavalleria rusticana, we do not need to see Lola and Turridu making out in their underwear. Corollary#1A: this holds true for interludes as well — no dream ballet during Siegfried’s Funeral March.)
2. SPARE US THE OLD RAZZLE-DAZZLE. Some operas are a little weak musically or dramatically, and it’s reasonable enough to want to jazz them up a bit with clever staging. But if you feel you have to overhaul the opera completely, better let it alone. No acrobats doing backflips during Handel arias; no bands of Merry Commedia dell’Arte Players mooching for applause during Rossini. And the Tenor-with-the-Hanky gag deserved to die about 20 years ago. Think of yourself as a chef: choose the freshest, best-quality ingredients, prepare them with care, and lay off the sauces.
3. IF YOU WANT TO SEND A MESSAGE, USE E-MAIL. It’s Act 4 in some German Bohème production. Mimì is expiring downstage, while upstage (in an apartment across the street from the bohemians), a well-to-do family welcomes a well-to-do doctor who makes their little well-to-do daughter all better — just as poor indigent Mimì barfs her lungs out. Those darn inequities in the health care system! Yes, I know art is about serious issues, but when an audience realizes you’re preaching at them, they either lose interest or get angry at the director. But if you can make your points subtly and entertainingly, the public can have their entertainment and then go home and think about the issues you raised.
4. IT’S THE CHARACTERS, STUPID! Human behavior is like an analog recording: there’s an infinite amount of data there waiting to be accessed. Lighting effects, moving platforms, smoke machines and giant puppets with Ara Berberian’s voice basically are interesting only the first time, and even then not so interesting as living, breathing humans acting human. Personenregie, please. It’s not so hard as it looks, because most opera singers are pretty decent actors, if you take the time to learn what they can and cannot do. Even so notoriously inert a stage figure as Pavarotti could come to life in Bohème, delivering one of the most moving dramatic performances I have ever seen. Sure, playing with lasers is fun — but is the stage of an opera house really the proper place for boys and their toys?
5. YOU CAN’T DO MOZART WITHOUT BENCHES. A properly designed set will encourage interesting and characterful movement from the performers; a lousy set will leave them just standing there (in the dark, probably). In an opera with long reflective ensembles, it’s good to offer the performers the option of sitting now and then, if only to add a little variety to the stage picture. And doesn’t it irk you when Donna Anna or the Countess have to sit on the floor? Yes, I know those benches are “traditional”, and that’s a dirty word these days. But has it occurred to you that traditions become traditional because they WORK. Corollary #5A: You can’t do TRAVIATA without a chaise longue.
6. ONE SIZE DOESN’T FIT ALL. “That dress looked great on Scotto, but somehow it made Caballe look sort of, you know, fat…” No, costumes designed for one artist’s figure don’t always flatter another’s: and the same is true of stage movement and business. For almost 40 years, every Nedda who sings at the Met has to attempt the hyperactive staging Franco Zeffirelli devised for Teresa Stratas: you know, that aerobics routine she does during the Ballatella. But you know, that skipping and stuff looked fabulous when La Stratas did it — in fact, she needs a lot of physical activity on stage or she’ll tense up and the high A-sharp will go to hell. But other performers obviously have different needs.
7. SAD IS BAD. Of course some operas are sad. But it’s the audience who’s supposed to cry, not the performers. Sorrow is not an energizing emotion — in fact, it tends to suck the force out of anyone’s performance. Mimì when she is saying “Addio” should be brave, or bitter, or hopeful — something that will give her character some dignity and backbone. If Mimì is just feeling sorry for Mimì, then the audience needn’t bother.
8. UPDATED IS OUTDATED. Exactly what is gained by resetting, say, The Rake’s Progress in the 1920s? Are today’s audiences really all that better acquainted with the habits and that mores of that period than the 18th century? Very often, it seems like a director changes the period of a piece simply because he can’t think of anything else to do that looks “different.” (See Rule #2.) Besides, updating risks distortion of the social background of the piece. What employer in 1985 New York would dare hassle such hard-working, smart, and (let’s face it) white servants as Figaro and Susanna? The best bet is to stick to the original period (without turning the opera into a historical costume parade) or else to use simple, non-specific garb suggesting no period in particular: what Dr. Repertoire likes to call Star Trek Clothes.
9. LET THE GAMES NOT BEGIN. Creation in the theater is a collaborative process, with no room for dictators. Keep in mind that when a singer questions one of your ideas, he may not really intend a power struggle: in fact, he may just think it’s a lousy idea. Bend. Compromise. Discuss. And for God’s sake, stop sniping at that poor girl who’s singing Zerlina. She’s doing the best she can. If you’re directing because you’re into the whole power trip, do us all a favor and go to an S&M club instead.
10. SAFETY LAST. (And first and always.) No effect, no matter how spectacular, is worth injuring an artist — not even a chorister. It’s your job to make the production as safe as humanly possible. Be there when the blank pistol is loaded. Walk the set and make sure it’s solid. Do a fall on the rake and see if you end up in the orchestra pit. And take a nice big lungful of that Roscofog and then try to sing Wotan’s Farewell. If you survive, then you can give the cast a try. And if ever they refuse to do anything on grounds of danger, it’s not fair to whine, to bully, or, worst of all, to threaten, “If you don’t do it, we’ll find another singer who will.” Better they should find another director — one with some regard for human life.
[Originally published in parterre box #21.]
Thanks for the YouTube link, that made my day. I got all nostalgic for the mid-90’s when I would go boot-scootin’ with my ex-boyfriend Gregg.
Chairs? You want chairs? Well, here you go! (Cut and paste the URL below, it should open a PDF, adjust the size to see CHAIRS IN ALL THEIR GLORY).
http://www.schott-music.com/shop/resources/657786.pdf
How nice of Our Doyenne to have links automatically be clickable!
But you talk about a composers original intentions like they are made out of stone and they would have not approved of anything else but. In that case, the original intentions of, say, Puccini in Tosca are confined to that 1st set of productions and anything beyond Puccini’s death is not respecting his intentions because he didn’t oversee the production.
That is the problem with the phrase respecting the composers intentions, those are open for interpretation. We do not know if Puccini would not have approved of a Tosca set during Mussolini because he didn’t live through that. I could continue but you get my drift.
Opera is a recreation and as a recreation is always open to reinterpretation. We might or might not like a persons recreation or reinterpretation, but that doesn’t make them all invalid or all disrespectful of the composers intentions.
I have found that, even when I am the one doing the criticizing, the moment the phrase the composers intentions is uttered, that is code for my own interpretation of what I believe should happen here and what I believe the composer would say if I was the composer
Lindoro – I am actually answering your point at 13.2.1.5 which does not seem to have a clickable link.
I do concede your point about such comments as “the composer’s intentions” being entirely subjective, but could you perhaps comment on whether it would be OK to interfere with the music as well? Some might feel that the orchestration is outmoded and could do with jazzing up – or be performed on electronic instruments. Would you be happy with this kind of updating?
My original comment was about my “bete noire” which is to read surtitles that do not fit the text – does this mean that say Italian or French speakers are allowed to hear the original, whilst those reading the titles get a different purpose-built meaning? I do agree with many of the others who ask that the translation be faithful whatever is happening on the stage. We are all able to make our own judgements.
I am sure that we are all in agreement that these rules can be bent if it actually works. A good example of a recent staged overture was the Iphigenie a couple of seasons back at the Met where Stephen Wadsworth gives you a little “back story” when Diana rescues Iphigenie during her sacrifice. It bookended the deus ex machina at the end of the opera quite well, but then again this was apparently well thought out. Considering that there are quite a few people out there that don’t know there history or their mythology for that matter, a little explaining goes a long way. Kids certainly are not being taught the classics these days and for the most part can place little historical reference points most of the goings on in a lot of operas.
Updating or moving an opera forward a few decades isn’t always a bad thing. It’s when the concept is half-assed or half-baked is when it doesn’t work. I find baroque operas can work no matter what time period they are placed in as long as the concept is not idiotic. Come on people opera requires a suspension of belief to work to begin with.
I completely agree about the “show within a show” rule unless it’s in the libretto. We all remember that hideous Sonnambula?
We can also mention “Don’t Change the Ending.”
How about the Ariadne I saw in Houston where the Composer comes rushing out during the final seconds and shoots himself in the head? That sort of goes against the comedic grain of what has gone before.
How about the Puritani I saw in San Francisco where Riccardo runs up to Arturo and stabs him fatally in the back (at the end of the happy ending cabaletta) to explain why we have been seeing a crazy Elvira in flashback?
Did Puccini really okay the alternative ending of Magda drowning herself in Rondine?
Do we want Amneris to commit suicide like Cio-Cio-San?
Should Azucena stab di Luna in the chest?
Should we put Octavian in a WW I uniform and send him off to fight in the trenches?
Is Ulrica really supposed to come out and cackle victoriously over the corpse of Riccardo?
This changed ending game is almost as maddening as “Perform Opera X in the Sets of Opera Y.” (Aida in the Rosenkavalier sets. Billy Budd in the Turandot sets. Fanciulla del West in the Adriana Lecouvreur sets.)
Well, if you’re tired of Old Verdi and his reunification ideas, and are so tired of any non-delusional take on his work (by that I mean on-deconstructivist take on the work, where you can make ANYTHING out of ANYTHING if you suspend your rational mind long enough), well then *write* a new work, focus on new works exclusively that contain all the nudity, sex, jigglies and heavy-handed unsubtle symbolism. Then satiate to your heart’s contents… but yes, do leave Verdi alone.
I don’t actually hate the idea of Amneris committing suicide. I wouldn’t do it if I were directing the opera, but it doesn’t seem a particularly horrendous interpretation of ‘pace t’imploro’ to me.
I guess the point here is that it’s possible to interpret the text and the music that a composer or librettist has written in an infinite number of ways, and to do so while having ultimate respect for the work they have created. Look at the end of ‘Cosi’- the C Major and Da Ponte’s words tell us unequivocally that this is a joyously happy ending. But ‘Fra Gli Amplessi’, ‘Per Pieta’ and ‘Il Core vi dono’ tell us equally unequivocally that there is some pretty powerful sexual and emotional energy pinging around between the four central characters. A ‘Cosi’ where Fiordiligi and Ferrando give each other a telling look in the finale (or indeed leave together) is, in that sense, very faithful to what Mozart and Da Ponte have done in the course of the opera, while being diametrically opposed to what the music and the words of the finale say. If anything is insulting to composers and librettists, it’s the suggestion that the works of genius they have produced are so flimsy and one-dimensional as to be able to survive only one possible interpretation.
Sorry for double post, but I’ve just noticed the reference to the Komponist shooting himself in a production of ‘Ariadne’. Again, it’s perfectly arguable as an interpretation of the work: his last words, roughly translated, are ‘Who has dragged me into this world, let me die in my own’. It may ‘go against the comic grain’ but bringing a tragic moment into a comedy, or a comic one into a tragedy, is the oldest trick in the book.
This is the kid of tirade that is non sensical. Why spew this much poison when Daggle is actually right on the comment.
If we were to take Verdi’s comment literraly, then the new cause would have been the Unification of Europe and the fact that more and more countries choose to join the union and the fact that in a future, distant or not, the countries of the EU will find that some of their differences are strong enough to have one of them threaten with leaving the union.
These self appointed overseers of the composers intentions are getting tiresome.
How many times have composers set the words morir mi sento, or the more poetic mi sento morir, or sento la morte per me avanzar to music and yet the women do not drop dead?
I agree with you that it can be argued, but taking those words that literally seems shortsighted.
OK, take that back. Damn!
Lindoro- per your post below, which I can’t for some reason reply to, I utterly agree. That, I hoped, was my point- that there are endless possible interpretations for what the libretto is saying (and even more for what the music is) therefore to say ‘this is wrong’ is a sterile approach.
Help! Confusing positioning of posts. I think we’re on the same page.
This comment should’ve been in the elektra chat. I have several pages of parterre open at the same time.
More like 1 out a 100 in my experience.
The commedia dell’arte staging within a staging cliche is the worst of the worst. I would have killed everyone around me and myself if I’d had to do a production like that, ESPECIALLY of Giovanni, which doesn’t need that kind of bullshit.
More like never.
If you truly do live in the southwest (?) then I highly recommend you find yourself in Santa Fe next summer for some “professional” and, in my opinion, mostly wonderful opera.
I vote never for Traviata. It’s one of the few I really know well, and I want to hear all the subtleties of the conductor’s interpretation without distractions. I think I feel the same way about Mozart overtures as well. All of them.
OK …maybe…more like never.
Wee you involved in it in any way? Did you see the performance?
If not, then you are criticizing sight unseen and you have criticized people for doing just that.
I posed this question about Verdi and the reunification here some months and commenters then could only identify a handful of his operas where the Risorgimento was a factor. Not all of the Verdi operas are about reunification, people.
I meant that I posed the question here some months ago …
‘Struth, these self appointed overseers of the Derrida approach- where there is never any original intention but only what you want to see – are getting tiresome.
I have to disagree that it is at all a good idea for directors to try being “new” by taking some expression in the libretto literally.
Somebody correct me if I am wrong* but didn’t Renata Scotto direct a Traviata for City Opera with a staged prelude?
Well, maybe staged is the wrong word. But I seem to recall a tableaux vivant where the curtain rose on the scene as soon as the music began.
I do love me a tableaux vivant.
*like you have to ask for that around here.
It’s a Stephen Wadsworth trademark not just to stage the overture but sometimes to begin the stage action before the music has even started at all (or continue it after the final notes of the opera).
Yes, sight unseen I criticize it because in the eternity it seems I’ve been performing and sitting in an audience I have never once seen this amateur, eye-rolling cliche work. Based on what you described, I’m fairly sure it’s easy to make that assessment.
Lindoro, you are attempting a reductio ad absurdum here. You are trying to prove that there is no such thing as a composer/librettist’s intention because what the characters *say* do not seem to happen in a literal sense.
Therefore, I must assume that every time you have said you felt blue, your skin has literally turned cerulean – or when you have said you have felt light-hearted, your heart has literally lost significant amounts of blood and thus it feels lighter in your chest. When someone says they are so hungry they could eat a horse, do you dial the humane society to report a possible case of animal brutality?
It is the only explanation for someone to come up with the kind of reply you tried to pass as an argument. Either that, or in your cynicism you *are* defending Derrida’s approach here which, let’s be frank, is ridiculous to begin with (how Derrida was ever considered a philosopher is beyond me).
Wrong name in the post. This will teach me.
Was that aimed at my post, then? Because it most certainly isn’t what I was saying. I never suggested that there was no such thing as a composer’s intention, nor did I argue in favour of total literalism. My point, which I would have thought was clearly enough made, was that great works of art can stand many and various interpretations, and to say ‘this is what the composer intended’ is a very dangerous thing indeed.
So sorry Cassy, I forgot that among us you are the only one with any stage experience and the knowledge to make any such judgments.
Fact is that even if it was directed at me, I have been saying the same thing. So either one of us would have given you the same answer
Of course this was before surtitles, but I’ve been told that in Steber performances, a change was made for “Tosca blonda.”
“Hard” and “fast” were two words that came to mind when I saw the pic at the top of this page.
I was once in London during a stagehands’ strike and all the plays had to be performed in whatever set had been left on the stage. Was quite thrilling in its way.
Cassandra,
To be fair to Lindoro, La Cieca did tell us to stop criticizing productions “sight unseen.”
La Cieca can only dream of a time when her writers were simultaneously top-notch and stable.