Reflections on “The Staging of Opera”

            I am relatively confident that this section of the Oxford text could be re-titled “The Staging of Theatre, in General” as many of the aspects discussed (often jokingly) could easily be applied to any production.  In order to really understand staging, I think it is important to understand a decisive moment in the history of theatre; that being the stepping away of Thespis from the Greek chorus (this could also be seen as an overall metaphor for the development of stagecraft). Prior to Thespis asserting himself as an “actor” the chorus was little more than an amplified story-telling group. In this respect there is little difference between the classical Greek chorus and listening around a campfire. With Thespis stepping away, there is a far different demand on the audience, no longer are we hearing a story we are witness to it. From that standpoint, nothing is more important than maintaining the illusion of seeing a reality happen, in real time, on stage and everything that cast, crew, director and stage manager must do to maintain that illusion.

           The author of chapter 10 in the Oxford text, Robert Savage, cites a number of dramaturgical works in order to explain the science of effective staging, focusing primarily on the directions for Othello and Dafne. These two operas span over 200 years between them and therefore a directional look at both of them provides some notion of the evolution of the art form.  These documents include ingenious means of getting around problems that might arise in the course of a production, such as a battle scene that is followed by an aria, where the singer might be out of breath. This could be solved by having an extra actor for the battle where the singer can wait patiently in the wings. Another example is given for the murder scene in Othello, the dramaturges recommends that Desdemona powder her face while the pillow hides her from the audience so that she can appear ghost-white when Othello retracts the suffocating device.  There are also illustrations of minor suggestions for getting an onstage choir to be able to act together and not obstruct the principal characters and for scenery to be set up and painted with continuity and realism. Of course some of these aspects change as theatre evolves, for instance, in the 20^th century avant-garde pieces, the issue of realism is not what it is for an opera such as Othello, however; I think it is safe to say that for the majority of opera’s history, the emphasis has been consistently representational of an identifiable world on stage.

  

          Perhaps the most amusing aspect of this chapter was the section that cited Benedetto Marcello, who was “a Venetian Lawyer, administrator, poet and composer who felt he was a cut above the personnel of most of the companies.” Savage quotes him at length giving ironic advice to various members of a production stating such things as:  allowing actors to gesture and make entrances wherever and whenever they like, that painters should arrange the stage with no idea of perspective or horizon, singers should sing with their mouths half-closed and muffled, and that divas should be concerned with their outfits and looking pleasing rather than acting and singing well.  Of course this is a “what not to do” type tirade, however; I myself have been to a number of productions where I could cite at least one of these theatrical fallacies.

            I believe I mentioned this a long time ago, but I grew up doing community theatre which involved mostly musicals. Except for the music director (who was also my private piano teacher) all the cast and crew were volunteers, some were students hoping to learn necessary skills for a professional career after graduation, others were working adults who enjoyed acting/singing as a way of spending their free time and all manner of  people in-between these two extremes. I was particularly amused while reading this chapter because I tended to flash back to all of the back-stage antics and ill-prepared performers, the set that wasn’t completed until 3 hours before dress rehearsal, the director who shouted constantly and the number late-entrances, forgotten lyrics and out-of-tune orchestral cues.  I started to think to myself that I am so glad there were no on-stage fires (the type of which discussed in the text) because I can’t say for certain that the whole theatre wouldn’t have burned down. What’s amazing, is that through all of its potential faults, involving stage and crew, that incredible performances can and frequently do happen on stage, which I suppose wraps back around to my initial point about Thespis, things do go wrong in the staging of theatre, but those are not the things the audience is privy to, what the audience sees is a real-time story, and when it works, it is an incredible thing to see.