"A group of friends got together and put on a show."
That is how the tale is told of the Mark Morris Dance Group's beginnings by its founder's biographer, Joan Acocella (a condensed version of that history is on his own company's website at mmdg.org).
In more words or less, that is how I also describe what the singers and his dancers were doing onstage for his production of King Arthur, which closed this evening at City Opera here in New York City. The co-production, which premiered at English National Opera as the main operatic event during the Mark Morris Dance Group's 25th anniversary season in 2006, is exactly what he would have done with that epic score even back in 1980, I'm certain. Men grow and change, evolve and settle, but some things are constant. Because music can be anything but constant, it's fascinating to have among us a genius that has it in him to produce so much, and be so ecclectic and masterful in execution, small or large, every time.
His timing turned out much more impeccable than expected. Those that know him or were around during the first several years of a first attempt at this production may want to quickly be harsh at a directors note in the program scoffing at the Dryden text of Purcell's semi-opera. Morris did just that, leaving only a pageant for the music, which leaves the audience with 110-minutes of good fun of which to feel proud.
But not everyone is a fan forever. I saw such a person in the audience this evening. I could tell he wasn't enjoying it. The best parts, for both lovers of dance and opera, come in the 2nd half of music, which make up the last two of five acts. It's better music, and seems to add up to more as the dramatick opera continued. This fellow I saw stormed out of the theater at intermission, probably so as not to run into anyone who might keep him there longer. I couldn't have caught up to him to tell him Part Two offered more, as I said, in terms of dance and music. And one can't know what one has missed if one never saw it through. I can't imagine he'll ever know, or care, what he missed but it was a magic moment of theater.
It's a shame when one leaves a theater, even more when they judge a work before even attempting to sit through it. To stay, this man would have seen a secure group of dancers, strong and technically sound throughout. I grew to love this dance more and more as the performances went on. Less was more, in fact.
And so the magic continues...
Theatergoers sometimes do crazy, unimaginable but common things: dashing to the parking lot during a curtain call, flash photography, noisy wrapers, mobile phones, snoring. I've been witness to them all, sad to say. This week, at Tristan at the Met, the audience booed the cover. You don't boo the cover, I say. Granted, he seemed a disaster, and felt lost besides the fabulous Debbie Voigt. Now the Met wants to replace the cover for the big MetHD broadcast next week, which will be directed by the fabulous Toronto-based director, Barbara Willis Sweete, who brought one of Morris's classics to the silver screen (see below).
I'm left with a reminder that everything happens for a reason.
A tenor can be replaced twice over for a world event; a production that took 10 years to become reality, in time for a different audience to witness the creation; a director reunited with a choreographer and the possibilities of future projects together revisited. Yes, sometimes every purpose seems obvious. At other times the answers may not come immediately, but they're out there. That's what makes life interesting.
