The following review was received by Susan Knight yesterday from a reviewer who is attending Festival 500 in St.John's and attended the June 30 performance.
Tell All Your Friends (July 7/8 in Toronto -- tonight in Ottawa)St. John's, Newfoundland
Alan Gasser
[This review is written as if for a newspaper, with apologies to Echo
Women's Choir list members; I intend it to be both a record for history,
and immediately useful, and ... in a post-newspaper age, with the Star
and Globe and all on National vacation, it seemed better to finish
something, and share practical information, in a timely fashion.]
The opera Ann and Seamus, performed in St. John's on Friday night, is
infused with strong vision and clear purpose. Like Stravinsky's ritual
ballet Rite of Spring, which it resembles in its legendary grandeur, the
chamber opera might be said to arise primarily from the vision of its
impresario, Susan Knight.
Unlike Stravinsky's opera, Ann and Seamus has no scandalous aura, just
the primal, and true story of a young woman's heroic courage and
strength, set to music by composer Steven Hatfield, and performed by
Shallaway, a company of singer/actors, average age 15. The libretto is
adapted by the composer from Kevin Major's recent narrative poem of the
same name.
Susan Knight's prophetic vision becomes both visible and audible,
embodied as it is in the youth (more girls than boys) of Newfoundland.
The story began in July, 1828, when a 17-year-old girl, Ann Harvey (with
her family, including its dog), rowed the survivors of a shipwreck to
safety -- 168 people, in all! The story's elements are almost
magical-realism: Ann Harvey's arduous and heroic efforts, the
hospitality of the impoverished family (extended to Irish immigrants)
and the miraculous survival of so many "refugees," the endless rowing
back and forth in a 12-foot boat. Even the place names add flavour:
Isle aux Morts, the island where the Harveys lived (as well as the
treacherous reefs 4 miles away, on a stormy sea) and Port aux Basques,
where the survivors had to be rowed eventually.
This geography, and the local culture, have been extended to the mythic
and the ritualistic. Jillian Keiley's direction gives it all an
"incarnation" in the young singers and actors. With the assistance of a
few boxes, to change the height of some dramatic tableaux, the entire
spectacle is created on the bodies of the young people, dressed in
fluid, solid-coloured costumes. The colour palette -- in Keiley's notes
-- is homage to Newfoundland artist Christopher Pratt, and the
"diaphanous" costumes are based on David Blackwood's illustrations from
the recent publication of the narrative poem.
There's a rowboat, reaching with a rope towards the sailors stranded on
a reef ... a house with a family in it ... the rockiness of the Island
above the sea ... the storm at sea ... a dance with visiting sailors,
and ... the opera's most distinctive character, the family's
Newfoundland dog, Hairy Man (played by Allison Malone), who swims a
rescue-rope to the reef, echoing the long-ago events.
This is the most brilliant thing, that the young people are given the
responsibility, not only of learning the Island's culture, but of
carrying its musical and rhetorical skills forward, even its troubled,
breathtaking Outports geography. They are granted the privilege of
creating the living drama, up to and including the musical direction, by
Alanna Fitzpatrick, a Shallaway alum.
With the addition of a couple of local young men, the tenor and baritone
who play the father and love interest -- oh ... as well as the on-stage
violin, bass, accordion, and flute (doubling on whistle) -- the whole
show, scenery, costumes and props and all, is just a bunch of teenagers
and their beautiful, well-trained singing voices. The characters tend
to blend together, because of their uniform heights, and their costumes,
except for the dog and the love interests of the title, brilliantly lit,
in shining white.
The composition is idiomatically fitting, as Hatfield is a
widely-published and oft-performed choral composer and arranger.
Shallaway, the new name for the Newfoundland Youth Symphony Choir, is
the most obvious indication that Susan Knight's prophetic vision has
expanded from choir director to what she calls herself now, a
"socio-cultural entrepreneur, working in choral music." The storm at
sea and the dramatic rowing of the rescue give us more dramatic value
than the seemingly tacked-on love story between the young girl and an
attractive sailor. (Even Wagner's Valkyrie Ride is slightly more
stirring than his love scene, for heaven's sake, spoiled as we are by
the artificial "realism" of the movies.)
Ann and Seamus is much shorter and more digestible than Wagner or
Stravinsky, for example, but it's not so small and child-centred as the
children's operas of Menotti, thank heavens, nor even of Britten, with
which Hatfield's music has both "geographical" and musical resonances.
The work itself -- billed as a love story -- is a chamber opera, not
because it has a small number of singers, but, I suppose, because it's
brief, and uses modest instrumental accompaniment, the more easily
tourable.
The company goes immediately on tour, to Canada's capital cities
(Toronto and Ottawa), to St. Catharine's, ON, and to Washington, DC,
just to give you some idea of the visionary scale, and the purposeful
industry behind the project. Newfoundland is a small place, lightly
peopled, but its cultural vision has long been a viable force within
(and next to) Canada, and Susan Knight's prophetic voice commands you to
pay attention.