Symphonic drama

Music and theater. Not “music theater,” but theater and music. This genre—the serious play paired with serious music where both are equal—has fallen out of favor in modern times. Indeed, you may not even be aware that there was a time, particularly in Europe, when the combining of these elements was not only an accepted convention but an important part of creating live performance. I bring it up because music and theater are the two arts that are closest to my heart. Music is my first career as an administrator for the Minnesota Orchestra; theater is my second career as a freelance director in the Twin Cities and around the country. I’m lucky to have been educated in both (followed by a grad degree in music from Juilliard). While at Juilliard, I was also lucky to be hired by its Theater Division to coach its actors in the art of singing. (I know for a fact that Val Kilmer can sing!) Because of these backgrounds, I’ve always been particularly attuned to how music is used in plays, and I’ve always been interested in how the two worlds can be melded. As they were melded in Kneehigh Theatre’s Brief Encounter at the Guthrie this past February, March, and April. What a remarkable and moving experience! From Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto to period and folk songs, the use of music in this work didn’t just comment on the action and wasn’t simply used as underscoring, it sometimes became the narrative. It sometimes spoke for the characters. It sometimes served as comic relief. Brief Encounter showed how these two art forms can be married in a way where they each rely on the other to tell the story.

Music, empathy, and complexity

A couple of years ago, I realized a long-held dream of adapting and staging Peer Gynt using portions of Ibsen’s play and all the incidental music that Edvard Grieg wrote at Ibsen’s request for the premiere of the play. Mother Ase’s death and Peer’s grieving are more poignant when coupled with Grieg’s mournful underscoring. The Mountain King is understood better when paired with the appropriate satirical music. Peer’s final reconciliation with Solveig is incredibly moving when she sings a final lullaby to him. The music provides insight into the characters and, as a result, offers a more immediate sense of empathy with characters whose complexities might otherwise be off-putting. Ibsen’s instructions to Grieg regarding the type of music and the placement of the music were very explicit, clearly indicating that Ibsen wanted and intended this complex play to be done with music. People might argue that the combining of the two was simply an accepted convention of the time, that neither part of the production is essential to the individual author’s work (music or words), that Ibsen just had his eye on popular appeal and the box office receipts. But I believe that Ibsen understood that Peer Gynt would be a challenge to audiences—the far-flung locales, the huge number of characters, the dense philosophical, sociological and political themes, the sheer length—and he understood that music as a partner in storytelling would help him achieve his goals. Peer Gynt is not an isolated curiosity. There is a fascinating collection of music that was written by Sibelius for a 1925 production of The Tempest at the Copenhagen Royal Theatre. The music ranges from large-scale tone poems designed to occur between acts to tiny fragments of melody whose placement is carefully noted in the score tied to particular lines of dialogue in the script. Obviously, this music wasn’t composed at the behest of the playwright, but rather, at the request of an imaginative producer. To Sibelius’ credit (since he wasn’t an active collaborator with the author), he created music that is subservient to Shakepeare’s text. In other words, in contrast to Grieg’s Peer Gynt which is performed in the concert hall with regularity, very little of Sibelius’ music stands on its own outside the play.

Stoppard, Previn, McKellen, and Stewart

There are also modern examples: Every Good Boy Deserves Favour is a drama that Tom Stoppard and composer Andre Previn wrote together in 1977. It’s a disturbing story of a Russian dissident who is imprisoned in a Soviet mental hospital. In the hospital, he shares a cell with a schizophrenic who believes himself to have a symphony orchestra under his command. This unique piece—a full-length play with an orchestra as one of the characters—has only been staged a handful of times. It premiered in London’s Royal Festival Hall, starring Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart and featuring the London Symphony Orchestra. In the U.S., the Wilma Theater in Philadelphia presented the work in collaboration with the Philadelphia Orchestra in 2002. Back in London, the National Theatre mounted a production last season. Every Good Boy Deserves Favour is the most integrated example of this genre. The music is too specific to the play to stand on its own and because the orchestra itself is a character, the play itself doesn’t stand without the music. It’s an ideal synthesis of what serious music and serious theater can create in tandem. There’s no question that the high cost of combining both elements is one of the main reasons the genre has all but disappeared. Who of us has an orchestra and a theater company at our disposal? But somewhere out there is a playwright—and a composer—who love both art forms and who have a dramatic and musical story to tell. I would hope that the sometimes necessary, sometimes infuriating silo-ing of American art forms and institutions will not discourage him or her from the attempt. In fact, let me tell that playwright—and composer—when you’ve got yourself a draft, give me a call!