Most people would admit they wished they used their
smart-phones less. Just last week NPR’s Fresh Air broadcasted an interview
(linked to below) about how addictive technology that at first seems like a
social boon can turn into an isolating element. The idea of technology
interfering with interpersonal relationships is not new. In 1928 Jean Cocteau
penned a monodrama “La Voix humaine” (translated to “The Human Voice”)
centering on an anonymous woman, Elle (“she” in English), by herself in a room
having the final heart-rending conversation over the telephone with her soon to
be ex-lover. Isolation pervades the piece. The audience not only never meets
the lover but never hears his voice or his side of the story. To add insult to
injury, interruptions frequently interfere with the phone line that functions
as the final, tenuous, unreliable link between the two lovers.
For Francis Poulenc, who towards the end of his life set a
reduced version of the play for orchestra and soprano, the play’s themes of isolation
and abandonment struck a personal chord. Poulenc feared that Louis Gautier, a 29-year-old
lover he had recently met, would abandon him in his final years. In a letter to
his publisher written while composing “La Voix humaine”, Poulenc wrote “Blanche
[referring to the protagonist in his masterpiece “Dialogues des Carmélites”]
was me, and Elle is me again, and Louis, by anticipation. Life will necessarily
take him from me in one way or another, that angel. He is exquisite to me and
is a tender, polite, and deferential son (except at certain moments!)”1
Elle’s outbursts, expressing Poulenc’s personal trepidation, are deeply felt
and without irony.
Billed as “A Mouth is Not for Talking: La Voix humaine”
referring to a poem entitled “Forget the World” written by the popular 13th
century mystic poet Rumi, this invigoratingly imaginative production of
Poulenc’s “La Voix humaine” mounted at National Sawdust for one night only
starred soprano Laura Bohn as Elle and pianist Mila Henry in the dual role of
Poulenc’s orchestra and Elle’s counterpart. Directed by Mary Birnbaum with projection
design by Hannah Wasileski and lighting design by Bruch Steinberg, the
production is part of the National Sawdust’s 2017 SPRING REVOLUTION Festival.
The festival is geared towards “two female attributes: empowerment, and
discourse” explored through music and conversation.
Ms. Birnbaum setup the production’s comedic point of view in
the show’s first moments. Ms. Henry entered and set a laptop in the middle of
the stage, calling to the tech crew to make sure things were ready. The
familiar sounds of a Skype conversation bubbled up and Ms. Bohn as her
real-life self was projected onto the back wall. She seemed to be in a bedroom
or hotel room and claimed that she had missed her flight from Amsterdam. They
would have to perform the opera remotely. Bohn kept her promise ripping sheets
of supertitles off a pad displayed on an easel next to her bed as she finished
each phrase or two.
Then, as anyone who has relied on Skype would expect, the video
began cutting out before dropping the call entirely. Flustered, Ms. Henry
called up to the crew. Then her cell phone rang. The opera begins with a
crossed phone line interfered with by an unwanted stranger. Ms. Henry answered the phone and sang the
opening of the piece herself as though she were trying but still failing to
connect to Elle; a deliciously layered moment of meta-drama that set the stage
for a diverting evening devoid of art-music pretension.
The drama revolves around Elle, and in a traditional
production, with the help of the orchestra, is entirely Elle. Agitated, angry,
and woeful, Laura Bohn’s Elle treaded through the thick conflict hoisted upon
her by her relentlessly untender lover. We never see the lover nor hear his
voice yet Ms. Bohn projected him clearly to the audience as an overbearing
force indifferent to her suffering. Musical passages that allow for tenderness
were delivered with venom. Hardly any affection remained between the couple.
Ms. Bohn’s Elle was driven by desperation – her lover
possesses an essential part of her that she struggles to leave behind – but she
was hardly tethered by the allure of potentially recovered sensuality. Ms. Bohn
trimmed the lush musical passages of their fat eschewing rubato in favor of a
stricter interpretation of musical time. Elle describes falling asleep after
taking too many sleeping pills, dreaming that her lover abandoned her. She
awakes glad to have merely dreamt the scene but immediately her gladness morphs
to horror as she realizes their relationship is in fact over. Poulenc summons
the forces of Verdi and Mussorgsky writing full throated passages for a voice
like Renata Tebaldi’s (for whom early on Poulenc considered writing the piece).
But Ms. Bohn and Ms. Henry pushed determinedly through the passages in strict
tempo suggesting that Elle cannot indulge an ounce of sentimentality for this
man.
A daring and impactful directorial move, Ms. Birnbaum wholly
integrated pianist Mila Henry into the dramatic structure of the work as an
essential supporting character. Ms. Henry disabled Elle’s avoidance tendencies
acting as an antagonistic spirit guide, like a best friend calling out Elle on
the hard truths to protect her long-term spiritual needs. Ms. Henry bristled
when Elle was spineless or unnecessarily self-deprecating. She related to
Elle’s nightmare, projecting tough-love sympathy as Elle exasperatedly exclaimed
“Quelle comédie”, the absurdity of it all. Ms. Henry’s character had hard edges
too, acting out violently at Elle’s self-pity, throwing Elle to the ground when
it seemed like Elle might need her most.
In an astonishing moment, Elle tackled Ms. Henry off her
piano bench halting the music. The two wrestled furiously on the ground. Ms.
Henry on her way to the floor yelped, “I’m trying to help!” eliciting from the
audience cautious laughter tempered by the genuine violence of the encounter
and the justified frustration of both women. Never approaching glibness or
ironic detachment, Ms. Henry’s character grounded Elle’s journey and
facilitated the audience’s experience.
Musically, Ms. Henry communicated the orchestration clearly
when possible. It is a shame that the piece is rarely produced with its
original instrumentation. Listen to a recording – the orchestration is
masterful.
From Ms. Bohn, one hoped for clearer phrase direction and a more
savory legato of which she is clearly capable. Her voice bloomed beautifully in
its top which, in a piece so full of limited-ranged speech rhythm, only
increased the desire for her to lean into the vocally expansive moments. The
highest note of the piece occurring in the climactic setting of “je devenais
folle!” whizzed by with a whiplash effect. With an extended accelerando
preceding the climax, the voice at its top and the piano playing a full fisted
chord buffered the next beat by extreme low bass octaves, the phrase surely
calls for expansion, the rubato written into the musical markings.
But these technicalities are often a function of comfort and
with only one performance are easily forgiven. One hopes that the production
will see more performances and continue to evolve. The staging is genuinely
inventive and the highly capable musicians, director and technical team clearly
have a close artistic and interpersonal rapport and distinctive dramatic vision.
Link to the Fresh Air interview:
Review By: Jeremy Hirsch
