Dramatic Performance Andrea Chenier

Andrea Chenier Though Umberto Giordano's work has often been overshadowed by that of his rather more famous contemporary Giacomo Puccini, Giordano's Andrea Chenier offers the ideal site for one to engage in a critical examination of nineteenth century opera and the various thematic and stylistic strains popularized at the time, as well as the complications which arise from modern interpretation and performance.

In particular, examining the critical history of verismo alongside the historical context of Andrea Chenier serves to demonstrate how fully a modern performance of the opera seemingly subsumes and dissolves any revolutionary character that might have been present in the original text by reproducing the story of doomed love during the French Revolution in a gaudy, ahistorical performance. Before conducting an analysis of a modern performance of Andrea Chenier, there are a few key topics one must investigate further in order to place the subsequent analysis in its proper context.

Firstly, as a means of historicizing this investigation, one may note that Andrea Chenier was first performed in 1896 and was one of Giordano's earliest works, even as he was one of the "youngest composers of the generation dominated by Giacomo Puccini in Italian opera" (Holland, 2010, p. 173).

One must necessarily mention Puccini here not because of any inherent connection between the two (other than their contemporary nature), but due to the fact that Puccini's shadow looms so large over nineteenth and early-twentieth century opera that critics seemingly feel obligated to mention him at every turn, no matter how tenuous the connection.

Thus, this study will continue this tradition if only to point out its unproductive nature, because there is ultimately little to be gained from statements like "if Giordano were Puccini, with Puccini's power of writing terse, vivid, trenchant musical prose, and his still more valuable power of writing impassioned and not too subtle musical poetry, there might have been a different tale to tell" (Gilman, 1915, p. 443).

Gilman's criticism (if it can even be called that) represents the most egregious example of this tendency to examine all nineteenth and twentieth century opera, or at least Italian opera, by explicitly and exclusively comparing it Puccini, but it is worth pointing out if only as a means of exercising this specter of sycophantic adulation from what should otherwise be a critically reasoned analysis.

Thus, Andrea Chenier debuted in 1896, was likely compared to Puccini's work by those without anything more productive to say, and more interestingly, represented something of a high-water mark for the verismo movement in Italian opera.

Andrea Chenier is almost exclusively referred to as an example of verismo opera, but "verismo, a term originally applied to nineteenth-century art and literature of various degrees of realism, has been the subject of controversy when applied to opera," due to the fact that "while literary scholarship has come to measure verismo against the narrowly defined models provided by the theories, novels, and short stories of Luigi Capuana and Giovanni Verga," in the case of opera "these same theories" have simply been transferred onto "the dramatic genre of the libretto, or else operatic scholarship "has constructed concepts of questionable historical foundation" in place of these preexisting literary theories (Giger, 2007, p.

271). In either case the utility of verismo as a descriptive and analytic term is reduced, because in order for it to be deployed effectively, one must understand the historical and ideological background of the term.

Verismo may generally be interpreted as a kind of realism, but to simply equate it with realism largely misses the point, because the verismo movement began and was oriented towards an explicit rejection of and "reaction to the idealism and conventionality of earlier artworks," and in particular "Romantic Italian opera, with its conventional forms of both libretto and music" (Giger, 2007, p. 271).

In literary theory, the accepted parameters of verismo which developed over the course of the late nineteenth and early-twentieth century emphasized "the regional character and inherent pessimism of the stories; the blind passion of the protagonists; a quasi-scientific and detached approach to describing both the social, cultural, and political climate in which the characters function and their psychological thought processes; and the importance of a language appropriate to the social and geographical situation of the characters" (Giger, 2007, p. 272).

In some ways verismo may be seen as an Italian counterpart to Charles Dickens' interest in the way in which social and cultural standards serve to corrupt or otherwise destroy the individual, although "it is important to keep in mind that a focus on the weak is not equivalent to a focus on the lowest social classes," and indeed, in Andrea Chenier the lower classes, as represented by Gerard, are not generally any better than the aristocracy (Giger, 2007, p. 273).

The particular areas of emphasis mentioned above, and in particular the "meticulous observation of culture, politics, and language; logical development of the story toward a tragic ending; and impersonality," were not actually considered constituent parts of verismo art at the time of term's creation, and instead represent a definition subsequently formulated by critics over the intervening years (Giger, 2007, p. 278).

This is not to say that many of these features are not present in verismo works, because, for example, one could easily identify these traits in Andrea Chenier, but rather that this focus on the particular "checklist" of necessary elements risks reducing verismo to the very thing it was reacting against.

Verismo was not a movement focused necessarily on "low" characters and themes or a dispassionate, "scientific" conception of society, but instead was oriented "against idealism, classicism, and - most importantly for our purposes - conventional content, form, and language" (Giger, 2007, p. 283).

Thus, the thematic or stylistic consistencies which arose from verismo works (and which were subsequently seized upon by critics in order to produce a simple, comfortable definition of the term) can in many ways be seen as mere afterthoughts, or at least representing nothing more than the fact that enough people all rebelling from the same thing will therefore produce roughly similar acts of rebellion.

This fact is crucial to recognize because it serves to explain not only the apparent motivation behind Andrea Chenier, but also the conflict which arises due the fact that a rebellious artistic movement was almost paradoxically encoded in something as traditional as opera, "inscrib[ing] the difficulty of a tradition-bound, "irrational," art form entering a self-consciously objective aesthetic order" (Schwartz, 2008, p. 231).

Furthermore, appreciating how much verismo as a concept depends on what previous aesthetics is it oriented against leads one to a crucial question which must be answered in any analysis of a modern production of Andrea Chenier; can this opera, having been so fully integrated into a stable of popular productions, actually cease to be verismo, as its performance is no longer oriented against an earlier movement but is rather contextualized within the larger corpus of "verismo" art by a modern audience? Put another way, has criticism, inaccurate use of the term "verismo," and popular reception rendered inert any of Andrea Chenier's rebellious or revolutionary movements? While Andrea Chenier undoubtedly represents "a nostalgia for revolutionary heroism," this nostalgia does not come in the form one might expect (Schwartz, 2008, p.

738). Chenier's revolutionary inclinations serve to highlight a dichotomy seemingly missed by the violent vanguards of the French Revolution, because in much the same way that verismo opera sought to reject traditional notions of the ideal in favor of a more accurate representation of human experience, so too does Chenier reject the use of violence and brutality in the service of political aims, instead opting to use his artistic ability in the service of the powerless.

If one regards the history of human experience as a continual opposition between the powerless and the powerful, with the powerful deploying coercive violence in order to remain so, then the revolutionary movement must always be towards equality and the rejection of violence in favor of intellectual or artistic power.

If one considers Andrea Chenier to be a verismo text, interested in rejecting earlier artistic standards and aesthetics, then one may view its nostalgia for revolutionary heroism not as a nostalgia for the violent revolution which characterized much of the French experience, but rather the kind of artistic and intellectual revolution made possible when, in 1791, the revolutionary government "abolished the traditional legal associations between particular opera houses and particular operatic genres; composers and librettists were now free to combine the effects of the opera series and the boulevard theaters in a single work" (Meyer, 2002, p.

481). This strain of revolutionary thought celebrated by Andrea Chenier rejects the constraints of generic or stylistic convention, ultimately providing the critic with a means by which to judge any performance of Andrea Chenier on its own terms.

Thus, when conducting an analysis of a particular performance, which in this case will be a September, 2011, production put on by the Grand Theatre de Geneve and starring Zoran Todorovich in the titular role, one may examine the way in which the performance serves to reinforce or undermine the particular revolutionary ideology professed within and by the opera itself, without spending undue time attempting to describe "the variety of stagings between the first performances of an opera and recent years" (Kreuzer, 2006, p. 152).

In this way, one may claim that Andrea Chenier sets a revolutionary standard for itself that nonetheless allows for different interpretations and enactments, as this revolutionary standard is in each production "realized in a unique combination of dramaturgy, musical style, costumes, and staging" (Giger, 2008, p. 433).

In general, the Grand Theatre's production of Andrea Chenier fails to live up to the potential of its libretto, and this failure seems to stem from a fundamental misunderstanding of the opera's ideological position, coupled with a relatively pedestrian interpretation of the possibilities of the space of the stage in the modern world.

Because there are numerous details contributing to the altogether mundane production of Andrea Chenier put on the Grand Theatre, one may simply begin with the most obvious failures before noting those areas in which the performance at least succeeded in the bare minimum. Thus, the first aspect of the Grand Theatre's production to strike the audience is likely the appearance of the costumes and makeup.

Judging by the makeup and the choice of colors and fabrics, the visual appearance of the characters was generally ignored as a possible location of artistic innovation.

In particular, because the entire aesthetic of French aristocracy has been so thoroughly investigated and adapted by any number of films and plays with varying degrees of novelty or mundanity, one cannot help but be disappointed at the way in which the Grand Theatre chose to essentially color within the lines of accepted representation, such that the aristocracy appears to the modern audience largely as caricature, lacking any of the very real power and threat they would have held even at the dawn of the French Revolution.

Put another way, through the boring reiteration of standard representations of French aristocracy, the production blunts the opera's revolutionary emphasis, because the entrenched authority Chenier rails against appear as nothing more than a collection of scandalized clowns. While one might argue that the choice of costumes was made with an eye towards historical reality, a look at the areas in which the production is decidedly "modern" reveals that this is no excuse.

Following Chenier's initial entreaty against the aristocracy, the stage actually begins to move, tilting to one side in a kind of lazy representation of the tumult produced by the revolution. This effect, of having the stage move via hydraulic lifts, is the kind of thing that might have been considered interesting or novel twenty years ago.

Now, however, when hundreds of thousands of tourists can flock to Las Vegas every year in order to see Cirque du Soleil stages moving with quite the same grace and fluidity of their acrobats, the choice to move the stage feels contrived and lazy, because it essentially attempts to generate extra meaning without bothering to earn it.

The moving stage is essentially a gimmick intended to "wow" the audience by ostensibly showing how the Revolution has altered the state of affairs so much that even the ground itself is no longer stable, but it never achieves this level of impressiveness. Instead, it hovers on the line between impressive and unremarkable, falling squarely into the "annoying" category, because while it does not move nearly enough to justify its inclusion, but does move just enough so as to disrupt the experience of the performances.

Like the costumes, the use of the stage in this way ultimately serves to undermine any revolutionary impetus of the opera, because it demonstrates how fully Andrea Chenier, like nearly all revolutionary or else rebellious texts, has been commodified and essentialized so that it may be reproduced in a way that pretends to offer criticism of power or authority but which in fact implicitly reinforces that authority through the lazy reiteration of assumptions regarding performance and the stage.

However, this should not be taken to mean that any production of Andrea Chenier must hold to a single ideal, but rather the opposite; the revolutionary, verismo ideology of the opera demands that its production be oriented against previous, stagnated forms of representation.

The halfhearted use of a moving stage is precisely this kind of stagnated representation, made obvious by the fact that one may easily point out an entire series of franchised stage performances which have used a moving stage to far greater effect, such that this "particular mechanical process" only serves to reinforce the idea that this production is merely that; a mechanized, commodified, and ultimately rote performance of an opera whose ideology and meaning are largely secondary to its ability to sell tickets due to an ever-present fascination with the French Revolution (Looby, 1995, p.

109). The Grand Theatre's production only becomes more embarrassing as it goes on, with perhaps the laziest attempt at grandeur coming from the inclusion of a giant statue of Jean-Paul Marat's head. At best, the use of the giant head reminds one of Pina Bausch's elaborate work with sets and set pieces, but only enough that one wishes Bausch had been brought back to life in order to direct the production, instead of John Fiore.

At worst, it represents another instance of this production's choice to attempt only the most obvious, trite, and ultimately boring means of telling the story. Up until now this analysis has not mentioned the direction specifically, because the largest failures seem to be on the part of the entire company, rather than any one person. Furthermore, the performances themselves are generally admirable considering the context in which the performers find themselves.

In fact, the only criticism one might make of them is that they perform their roles, meaning simply that their contribution ultimately gives the entire production more respect and legitimacy than it deserves, in the same way that crowds cheering at a politician's speech, while admirably demonstrating their engagement in civic life, also serve to reinforce the power and authority of that politician.

In fact, considering how fully the Grand Theatre botched its production of Andrea Chenier, one might go so far as to say that it would have been more in line with the opera's political and aesthetic ideology for the performers to perform out of costume and off-stage.

The analysis of the Grand Theatre of Geneve's production of Andrea Chenier provided here may seem unduly harsh and more concerned with the visual and physical aspects of the production than the performance itself, and to this one may reply that the latter is true while the former is not.

The focus on the visual and physical aspects of the production is necessary, because despite the claims of critics and fans alike, the individual performance of any given performer has much less to do in the creation of meaning than those attributes which remain consistent across performances, especially in instances where the show is running for an extended period of time. Aside from a few of the most famous performers, what ultimately influences the current and future reception of a text are the most obvious features, meaning.