"Smile"

Here you can see Oona Chaplin and her mother, Geraldine Chaplin, performing Charlie Chaplin's song "Smile." Oona is a granddaughter of Charlie Chaplin and a great-granddaughter of Eugene O'Neill—but that's part of a long story.



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Thanks to friend Chris for bringing this to my attention.

MUSICIANS ON TOUR

Last week I was very affected by the TV broadcast of the New York Philharmonic's concert in North Korea. Give it a try if you haven't already. I'm not a big fan of classical music on television, but there was something about the coverage I saw that seemed just right. Beyond that, the telecast alternated concert footage with glimpses into the highly regimented life in North Korea that reminded me of how starkly different ways of life can be, and just how stifling certain systems can be to nonconformists.

Most of the musical selections were fairly ordinary for this type of concert. Amid the national anthems and works by Bernstein, Bizet, Dvorak, and Gershwin (plus the Korean folk song "Arirang"), the most curious choice was the opener, the Act III Prelude from Richard Wagner's opera Lohengrin. It's a glorious piece of music, but it's composed by a notoriously nasty man whose work is closely identified with Nazism. I guess one could rationalize the choice as illustrating how the beauty of music can transcend its social and political context, but I can't help but wonder what might have been better choices. I mean, conductor Lorin Maazel's Lohengrin is one of his claims to fame, but was an overture to Beethoven's Fidelio even considered, or would the possible anti-tyrant message have been too problematic? How about some Copland (Rodeo, Fanfare for the Common Man, Appalachian Spring) or Grofé's Grand Canyon Suite? Or how about "Jupiter" from Holst's The Planets?

Anyway, as I watched the broadcast I recalled my own experiences visiting the People's Republic of China as a trombonist with conductor Martin Dreiwitz and the Long Island Youth Orchestra in 1980. This didn't get quite the same attention as the New York Philharmonic's debut in North Korea, but it was still a pretty big breakthrough, as China was only in the very early stages of opening itself up. Our programs included Tchaikovsky's Fifth Symphony, Gershwin's An American in Paris (with tuba solo by Paul Siskind), the Chinese Butterfly Lovers Concerto (featuring Eugene Carr as cello soloist), selections from Bizet's Carmen (with soloist Ellen Rabiner, whom I recently saw in an excellent Manon Lescaut at the Metropolitan Opera), and Sousa's Stars and Stripes Forever, which inspired Chinese audiences to try their very best to clap along in time.

I still remember how impressed I was at the power of a Sousa march to rouse audiences wherever we performed. When we were in China, we also participated in little "musical exchanges" where we got to hear Chinese musicians show off their stuff. What I remember best were the demonstrations of the versatile erhu, or Chinese fiddle, which New Yorkers probably hear most frequently today on subway platforms. Impressive!



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Another recent experience that triggered memories of my orchestra tours was seeing The Band's Visit (top right). The movie, about an Egyptian band lost in a small Israeli town, is modestly charming, but its images of musicians abroad, trying to get their bearings while mixing with locals, really struck a chord with me, especially because I made my own passage from Egypt to Israel with the youth orchestra in 1984.

I notice that the upcoming Long Island Youth Orchestra tour includes South Korea as well as Birobidjan on its itinerary.

LOUISE NEVELSON AT THE JEWISH MUSEUM

When I think of Louise Nevelson I think of things like the Coast Guard station where Eugene O'Neill lived for a time amid the dunes of Cape Cod. O'Neill biographer Louis Sheaffer writes that it was "Built inside and out of weathered wood to withstand the onslaught of the elements" and notes "The predominant colors were blue and white, especially white—white ceilings and walls with so many coats of paint they were luminous, gleaming even in the dark, and nearly all the furniture was white." When I think of Louise Nevelson, I think of that, and of exposed wooden ceiling beams, and of the mysterious and playful boxes of Joseph Cornell.

The worthwhile Nevelson retrospective at The Jewish Museum (through September 16, free on Saturdays) is filled with painted wood that often suggests the exposed frame of a home or items that might be strewn about an attic or cellar or flea market or junkyard or shore until an artist comes by and gives them new life.

One of the installations, Dawn's Wedding Feast (1959), was reassembled with pieces from more than twelve sources.























This is Royal Tide I (1960).
































This is Self-Portrait: Silent Music IV (1964). Does she look familiar?
































This is Dream House XXXII (1972).
































Not shown is Mrs. N's Palace (1964-1977), a 20-foot-wide black enclosure that, for me, was the highlight of the show.


Dawn’s Wedding Feast, 1959, painted wood. © Estate of Louise Nevelson / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY. Photo © John Aquino.

Royal Tide I, 1960, painted wood, 86 x 40 x 8 inches. Collection of Peter and Beverly Lipman. © Estate of Louise Nevelson / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. Photo by Sheldan C. Collins.

Self-Portrait: Silent Music IV, 1964, wood painted black, 90 x 65 ½ x 18 in. (229 x 166.5 x 46 cm). Hyogo Prefectural Museum of Art, Japan. © Estate of Louise Nevelson / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York.

Dream House XXXII, 1972, painted wood with metal hinges, 75 1/8 x 24 5/8 x 16 7/8 inches. Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, The Joseph H. Hirshhorn Bequest, 1981. © Estate of Louise Nevelson / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York.

JOURNEY'S END. I've recently mentioned a number of witty, satirical musicals that appeared on Broadway around 1930, but of course there was more than comedy on Broadway during that period. Eugene O'Neill explored the lighter side with the satirical Marco Millions (1928) as well as Ah, Wilderness! (1933), but he also continued his exploration of drama and tragedy with very substantial works such as Strange Interlude (1928) and Mourning Becomes Electra (1931). And, in 1929, British playwright R. C. Sherriff's World War I drama Journey's End began a successful Broadway run that lasted more than a year.

Now revived at the Belasco Theatre and well worth seeing, Journey's End is an example of excellent conventional playwriting applied to exceptionally troubling subject matter. Portraying a group of soldiers literally entrenched in one of the war's catastrophic stalemates, Journey's End involves characters who today must seem very familiar to anyone who has seen a few war movies. There's the very experienced Osborne (Boyd Gaines), the newcomer Raleigh (Stark Sands), the convivial Trotter (John Ahlin), and the jittery Hibbert (Justin Blanchard)--and there's Captain Stanhope (Hugh Dancy, pictured), who feels responsible for all of their fates and for maintaining his sense of duty to his country. In a very British way, there's even a private (Jefferson Mays) who serves as a kind of butler. As the play unfolds through Sherriff's subtly calibrated dialogue, it becomes ever clearer that we are watching these men "strut and fret their hours upon the stage," as Shakespeare put it (more or less) in Macbeth.

Sherriff, himself a veteran, seems to stay true enough to the actual experience to do justice to the soldiers' beastly predicament. Thanks to his writing and the excellent acting and direction, the play and the characters come across as meaningful and vibrant rather than hackneyed. Standing out among the company is Dancy, whose compulsive Stanhope seems to personify values compromised by war.

James Whale directed Colin Clive in a 1930 movie version of Journey's End, but it seems that no version of the play is readily available in the United States. That's the case with Aces High, which transposed the setting to the air war.

Now...about the ticket situation. As far as I can tell, there's no reason (except the very good reason of "supporting the arts") for a reader of this post to pay full price for a ticket to Journey's End. Discounts are available via online sites such as Playbill. Tickets should also be available via TKTS. (Save time by using the express window for plays.) And, based on my experience (granted, on St. Patrick's Day, when the weather wasn't great), a $36.25 balcony seat might get you an automatic upgrade into the mezzanine zone (where there was a very annoying noise by audience right). So if money is no object, pay full price; if it's a slight object, go for the discount on the better seats; and if you need a bargain, you can still go for the cheaper seats and have a good experience.

Photo: Paul Kolnik