The Classical Music Scene in NY

Just thought I’d share a story.

Last night, I was present at what was probably the nadir of the New York Philharmonic’s recent career. It was a promising enough concert, on paper – Sir Neville Marriner was conducting the complete incidental music Mendelssohn wrote for Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. A group of seven actors would be reading a “sensitively abridged” version of the play for context.

There was a loud round of applause for Sir Neville. Then the actors walked out, holding their scripts in their hands. SCRIPTS! At first I thought they might be using the scripts to mock the play’s own inept thespian characters, but then one of them left his script behind on his chair and was caught, mid-speech, with no idea what to say next. (He had to run back, pick up the script, and attempt to pass the whole affair off lightly.) It was obvious that they had not rehearsed much – the first few scenes were stiff and unnatural, and the actors weren’t getting any laughs.

Then, the alcohol must have kicked in. My hypothesis is that the actors, knowing very well how ill-prepared they were for the performance, had a few stiff drinks too many beforehand. Once their initial rigidity dissolved, all the rest of their learned social inhibitions went as well. Some of the craziness was no doubt rehearsed, but much of it was obviously not. The verbal sparring between the female characters almost turned into a full-fledged catfight; judging from the echoes produced by some of last night’s slapping, the violence was at least partly genuine. All this, on the stage of the New York Phil!

The audience started laughing, especially after their alcohol consumption during the intermission had made them a little tipsy, too. Although, I thought, this laughter was directed more at the actors than with them.

With good enough reason. The actor playing Bottom made such unconvincing donkey-braying noises that any normal person’s stomach would have been turned; the man playing the character Flute had the most revolting falsetto voice I’ve ever heard. What’s more, the spectacle of a gray-haired tuxedo-wearing actor making both growling lion noises and the accompanying hand gestures was quite beyond the pale of my experience. Not to mention the fact that extreme liberties were taken with Shakespeare; good ol’ Will must be turning over in his grave right now. All in all, the whole concert seemed like a formal-dress episode of “Whose Line Is It Anyway?”, just less well executed.

The best moment of the evening came when the normally imperturbable Sir Neville, who had been standing with his back to the audience for the past half hour like a statue, turned around to dart a glance at the ruckus going on behind him. The audience burst into applause, and the orchestra itself nearly cracked up laughing.

It’s hardest to say who the joke was on – the conductor, who was upstaged; the actors, who buffooned themselves; or the audience, which was duped out of its money. Maybe the joke was on everyone – I was laughing too, by the end.

Still, I have the sneaking suspicion that my fifth grade teacher was capable of putting up a better production.

Love you guys! So long for now.