by Guest on 11 Mar 2006 05:32
Stewart Copeland has written one opera. Inspired by his childhood in the Middle East, the percussionist has created "Holy Blood and Crescent Moon," an epic set in the era of the Crusades.
Wall Street Journal. (Eastern edition). New York, N.Y.: Oct 3, 1989.
The story is this:
"Holy Blood" traces the historical conflict between Christians and Moslems, implying equal responsibility for the mutual hostility that endures into the present. The bloody tale starts with Edmund, Prince of the Franks, who arrives in the Holy Land to marry Eleanor, daughter of the Christian King Tancred. He is set upon and wounded by an assassin hired by the fanatical Imam and rescued by Dahlia, daughter of the Moslem Wazir. In the Wazir's palace (the Wazir's library is a beautifully realized room of colored marble and Arabist tracery) Edmund and the Wazir discover a shared love of learning, but any rapprochement is thwarted by Edmund's Christian allies, who storm the castle and slaughter its inhabitants. In Act II, as the Christian forces are about to execute the captured Dahlia, the Moslems, embarked upon jihad, return the favor. It seems that the cycle will continue indefinitely.
But then Dahlia, who is in love with Edmund, suggests a highly unorthodox alternative, and the Wazir agrees: Edmund will marry Dahlia and become King of Jerusalem. But the Imam and his equally fanatical Christian counterpart, the Monk, who is outraged not only by the idea but also by the heresy of Edmund's purported status as a descendant of Christ and Mary Magdalene (the "holy blood" of the title), will have none of it. He and the Imam manage between them to assassinate Edmund.
On paper, the libretto (written by Susan Shirwen) reads like "'Il Trovatore' Goes to Lebanon," and the first act plays that way, but without the musical blood and thunder that would make the absurdities credible. Mr. Copeland, who had never heard an opera before he was asked to write one, reportedly found his inspiration in Verdi and Wagner, and has fallen into many of his models' stock grand opera dramatic cliches. Characters announce their intentions, albeit with excellent diction (the supertitles proved quite unnecessary), and violent shifts of intention come out of nowhere. Dahlia, for instance, falls instantly in love with the Christian stranger and decides she has to marry him and adopt his religion. The text often lapses into doggerel ("My sweet child, this day gives me pleasure/For you are my hope and my treasure"). Mr. Copeland's film writing also doubtless contributed to the unsubtle use of musical motives that announce personality traits a mile off: a softly lyrical tune for Dahlia; pugnacious ostinatos for the religious fanatics. One questionable choice was that of a countertenor for the Imam: the high, remarkably piercing voice of Tom Emlyn Williams made the villain sound more like a drag queen than a menace.
Mr. Copeland's rock roots are most evident in his melodic structures. While quite tuneful, his melodies are based on riffs -- repeated short motifs -- rather than long lines, so a moment that calls for a big aria frustratingly falls back on a recurring phrase rather than developing into something grander. His more linear arias, like Eleanor's "I can't wait to get married"-style song of Act I, tend toward the insipid. The percussion undercurrent, however, particularly in entrances and entractes, gives the music a jaunty lift.
In Act II, set in the Christian court, the libretto gathers some dramatic momentum as Moslems and Christians confront each other. Mr. Copeland's best work is in the choruses (such as the women's plea for peace), and in some well-set juxtapositions between principal characters and ensemble in the events culminating in Edmund's murder, when the Copeland score finally becomes urgent and touching, and ends on a tragic note of irresolution.
To make sure this neophyte's composition got professional treatment, Cleveland assembled a cast and production team with serious credentials. John Garrison sang solidly and affectingly as Edmund; Gloria Parker, as Dahlia, was the other cast standout; Marla Berg, as Eleanor, was an adept actress if a somewhat thin and colorless soprano, and Imre Pallo conducted the rough-and-ready-sounding Ohio Chamber Orchestra. David Bamberger's directing was effective, though no subtler than the libretto.
Everyone seemed to have a fine time with the elaborate fight scenes, which featured rape, murder, surprise leaps through windows and hand-to-hand combat worthy of the best B-movie. But the high jinks went on just a bit too long.
The handsome, representational sets are by Douglas W. Schmidt, and Lewis Brown did the sumptuous costumes.
Cleveland's gamble paid off, if not with deathless art, then certainly by displaying the company's ability to put on a good show without turning a media event into an artistic circus.
Ms. Waleson is a New York-based freelance writer.