Impressions from Montreal: Opera

Le Vaisseau Fantôme (The Haunted Vessel) is better known to me as Wagner's The Flying Dutchman, one of my favourite operas, and last week Montreal Opera was presenting it in one of my favourite productions (from the Canadian Opera Company). I was already planning a weekend there, so figured the timing would be excellent, and it was.

Cursed to sail the seas unendingly, only able to come ashore once every seven years for one day in which he must find a woman to love him unto death in order to release him from his curse, the Dutchman's lot is a rough one. This tale of the ultimate outsider who can only be redeemed by the necessarily blind and unquestioning love of a woman is rife with neurotic possibility. The music is sublime, of course, and the ending always poignant.

This Christopher Alden production luckily works in massive barn-like theatres like the Salle Wilfrid-Pelletier, as well as purpose-built opera houses. The slanted box-on-its-side, lined with rough wooden floors and chair pegs, has a Shaker feel to it and pushes the action and the sound out into the auditorium. The only set pieces within the set are a large wheel and a spiral wrought-iron staircase that comes up through the floor and disappears into the ceiling. The one set plays all parts and it works perfectly to portray an insular society, into which a mysterious sailor is likely not to be welcomed. The lighting by Anne Militello is creepy and glorious. One minute the stage is flooded with blood red, another with an acid yellow.

The Dutchman and his Senta are intensely sympathetic. Daland, Senta's greedy father, and the rest of her village, are suspicious and tribal in their attitudes to outsiders. When the villagers celebrate the return of their men, the rowdy Steuermann chorus is eerily disciplined in its barely contained rage. The villagers' costumes denote a 1930s Fascistic feel, with the Dutchman and his ghostly crew in what looks to be concentration-camp garb. The women are dressed in bilious green stoles, and all the characters bear raccoon-like eye makeup.

I wasn't blown away by the singing so the least said, the better. But I was here to witness again a thoughtful and potent production. And that's what I got.

Montreal Impressions: Art

ONCE UPON A TIME... IMPRESSIONISM (although on the website they spell it with two "n"s)
October 13, 2012 to January 20, 2013

In a long line of fabulously wealthy Americans amassing art, Sterling Clark and his French actress wife, Francine, amassed a remarkable collection, and - while their Art Institute in Williamstown, Massachussetts undergoes expansion work - 74 of the paintings are touring Asia, Europe and, in its only Canadian stop, Montreal, at the Museum of Fine Art.

I'm not a particular fan of Impressionism, nor of the big shows, but my last experience here was so excellent, I thought I'd give it a go.

From the website:

"Seventy-four paintings by Bonnard, Corot, Degas, Gauguin, Manet, Millet, Monet, Morisot, Pissarro, Sisley and Toulouse-Lautrec, including a selection of twenty-one outstanding canvases by Renoir, and the Degas sculpture Little Dancer Aged Fourteen (on view exclusively in Montreal) will be shown at the MMFA. The inclusion of academic works by Bouguereau, Gérôme and Stevens, among others, will enable visitors to see how the new ‘modernism’ challenged official painting.”
I was a bit taken aback when I got into the ticket line when a friendly volunteer informed me that there were no timed tickets, so there seemed to be no control as to how many people toured the venue at any one time. I don't know if it's a Montreal thing, but everything seemed to flow well. I still spentt most of the time ducking, bobbing, weaving, and apologizing as I listened to the excellent audio guide. But the exhibit was excellent.

The canvasses were stunning. There is that faint surprise when you see a picture you've viewed many times or on tea towels or postcards suddenly loom large and in living colour before you. It was Rousseau's Farm in the Landes (1844 - 67) that brought tears to my eyes. Of course, it's riddled with trees, which are pretty much my favourite thing in the whole world. The life in the painting and the obvious devotion he poured into it over 20 years is palpable.
















Anything with trees in it captivated me, like Monet's Geese in the Brook (1874).

I learned that Renoir's A Box at the Theater (At the Concert) (1880) originally had a male figure standing to the right behind the young ladies. Apparently you can still see his form somewhat in the red curtain backdrop. I can't.























But I love the contrasts in black and white, in sauciness and demureness, and how the younger girl's nose seems to be coming in dangerous collision with the other lady's elbow.

The rebellious Impressionists are now achingly mainstream. But an exhibition like this, excellently laid out, lit, paced... dispells the chocolate box overkill and instilled in me a renewed awe for some of our greatest artists.

June Trip: Montreal

The eating, she ees so easy in Montreal... It was student protest time (how French), Grand Prix weekend, and street festivals abounded.

M and I met up at the station and headed out to Le Chien Fumant (the smoking dog). This was an M and D recommendation - thanks guys! Great calamari, but all ridiculously huge portions. We took doggie bags home, er I mean, sacs de chiens (do I?)

Ah, L'Express Bistro... home of the single truffle (thank you!), the most exquisite calf liver, the hottest waiter (rrrrrrowwrrrrr...)

 

 

On the Friday night we attended the vocal gala of the Montreal International Music Competition at the new symphony hall (gorgeous). The Montreal Symphony kicked things off with the Meistersinger overture. My weakness for deep male voices was sharpened by performances from Philippe Sly (who cleaned up the awards) and the Americans John Brancy and Sidney Outlaw (what a name!). The Swiss soprano Olga Kindler gave me chills with her aria from The Consul. What an actress. Sir Thomas Allen was on the jury among other luminaries, including Joseph Rouleau, who was in the very first opera my dad ever saw, the performance that turned him into an opera lover, well before I was born. Rouleau pops up everywhere. I`ve seen him at Covent Garden and at Opera Hamilton. What a force of nature.

Here's the gorgeous repertoire (no idea why this event wasn't sold out, but suspect it was the whole Grand Prix/protest thing).

Overture, Die Meistersinger (Wagner)
"Postoite na odno mgnovenye!" Pique Dame (Tchaikovsky) - John Brancy
"Pleurez mes yeux", El Cid (Massenet) - Olga Kindler
"Mache dich, meine Herze, rein", St. Matthew Passion (Bach) - Philippe Sly
Sempre libera", La Traviata (Verdi) - Emily Duncan-Brown, Yuri Gorodetski
"Daybreak" (Estacio) - Philippe Sly
Flower Duet, Lakmé (Delibes) - Andréanne Paquin and Olga Kindler
Pearl Fishers Duet, Lakmé (Delibes) - Won Whi Choi, Sidney Outlaw
"Largo al factotum", The Barber of Seville (Rossini) - John Brancy
"To this we've come", The Consul (Menotti) - Olga Kindler
"Madamina", Don Giovanni (Mozart) - Philippe Sly

Beforehand we ate at Place des Arts.... mussels for M, lobster sliders for me. Deelish.

































Last time I was at Place des Arts, I saw a production of Turandot, then came out to find myself in the middle of the jazz festival and James Brown in concert. What a night.

This time we came out and the Lotus team party was going on. The car outside was stunning. The music was deafening. I mean it, I think I lost some hearing!

In between more shopping, I visited my favourite Olive et Gourmando, the only safe haven in the otherwise über-touristy old part of Montreal.

How touristy? This was the conversation in one of the adjoining stores.

Me: How much?

Shop-keeper: Er... $32. No, I mean $37. I mean $43!

Blimey.

Here are some more pictures from walking around Montreal...