Cal Performances presents the World Premiere of Layla and Majnun featuring Mark Morris Dance Group, the Silk Road Ensemble,
2016-10-01
Zellerbach Hall Auditorium
U.C. Berkeley, Bancroft Way at Telegraph Ave, Berkeley, CA 94305 USA
8:00 PM, Saturday, October 1, 2016

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[8:05 PM; lights down, announcements from Matías Tarnopolsky, band out]

1. [8:12 PM] Medley of Traditional Azerbaijani Music: Bayati Shiraz, featuring Rauf Islamov, Miralam Miralamov, Kamila Nabiyeva, and Zaki Valiyev
   [work ends 8:27 PM; applause for a minute or two, then pause; full ensemble enters a few minutes later]

Uzeyir Hajibeyli (1885-1948): Layla and Majnun, arranged by Alim Qasimov, Johnny Gandelsman & Colin Jacobsen

1. [8:29 PM] Love and Separation
2. [8:41 PM] the Parents' Disapproval
3. [8:50 PM] Sorrow and Despair
4. [8:59 PM] Layla's Unwanted Wedding
5. [9:05 PM] The Lovers' Demise
   [show ends 9:20 PM; multiple bows, all off by 9:23 PM]

• Alim Qasimov: mugham vox, as Majnun
• Fargana Qasimova: mugham vox, as Layla.

Mark Morris Dance Group

• Mark Morris: choreographer;
• Sam Black: dancer, Majnun IV;
• Durell R. Comedy: dancer, the unwanted husband;
• Rita Donahue: dancer;
• Domingo Estrada, Jr.: dancer, Majnun II;
• Lesley Garrison: dancer, Layla IV;
• Lauren Grant: dancer;
• Brian Lawson: dancer;
• Aaron Loux: dancer, Majnun III;
• Laurel Lynch: dancer, Layla III;
• Stacy Martorana: dancer, Layla I;
• Dallas McMurray: dancer, Majnun I;
• Brandon Randolph: dancer;
• Nicole Sabella: dancer, Layla II;
• Billy Smith: dancer;
• Noah Vinson: dancer;
• Michelle Yard: dancer.

Silk Road Ensemble

• Shawn Conley: contrabass;
• Nicholas Cords: viola;
• Johnny Gandelsman: violin;
• Rauf Islamov: kamancheh;
• Colin Jacobsen: violin;
• Wu Man: pipa, ruan, composer;
• Miralam Miralamov: mugham vox;
• Kamila Nabiyeva: mugham vox;
• Karen Ouzounian: cello;
• Shane Shanahan: percussion;
• Kojiro Umezaki: shakuhachi;
• Zaki Valiyev: tar.

• Howard Hodgkin: scenic and costume design;
• Uzeyir Hajibeyli: composer;
• Maile Okamura: costume creation.

So as hard as it was to leave Jackson Browne's mesmerizing set at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, I'm really happy that I hustled and got to Berkeley in time for tonight's premiere of Layla and Majnun. New choreography by Mark Morris and a revival of a century-old Muslim opera? What's not to like about that?

After a few minute's wait for the hall to fill, then opening announcements from Matías, it was finally time for music.

For the opening work, two singers, dressed in spotless white silks, took seats at center stage, flanked by a pair of accompanists dressed in spotted tan shirts. The visual spectacle was quite compelling! The medley offered solo turns to all of the performers, as well as plenty of ensemble work and call-and-response. I can't claim to know much of anything about mugham, Azerbaijani folk music, except that it resonates powerfully in my soul, and so I've attempted to hear it about as often as I can since first encountering it a decade or so back. Following the close of this opening work, the performers bowed, then left the stage briefly.

A minute or so passed, then the Silk Road Ensemble entered, dressed in the same spotted shirts as seen earlier, accompanied by Alim Qasimov (dressed in blue) and Fargana Qasimova (dressed in red). The music began, the dancers entered, and soon we were swept away to the deserts of the middle east. As far as historical representation go, tonight's performance was about as accurate as any western opera. Which is to say that the whole thing was created as some sort of musical soufflé, which inevitably promises more than can be delivered. Am I complaining? No, actually, I'm poking at the puffery of the opera world, which insists on claiming that they are operating in some rarefied sphere of “high art” that is manifestly superior to other performance realms. You can't expect to learn much of anything about history from an opera, though you certainly can expect to be amused, or exhilarated, or perhaps sedated by the performance you've chosen to attend.

As for me? I found the performance to be quite compelling. When I wasn't closing my eyes to follow the melismatic vocal lines of the two principles, I was watching the dancers scamper and twirl – trying to decipher Mark Morris' wordless retelling of the underlying tale of love and loss. Was there hidden meaning to the candle lantern dance in the opening movement? Perhaps! But it's not mentioned in the liner notes, so I'm left to assume that this was merely a flourish invented by Morris as a way of saying, “Here we go, the party scene is being set” to the audience. And it worked for me … who wouldn't want to join a party lit by candle lanterns?

In the second scene, Morris introduced another gestural trope: crossed arms and a curt head shake, “No!”, to indicate the transmission of parental displeasure to the two young lovers. Watching this motion-meme get passed from the parents at the top of the stage on to the other dancers and then down to the lovers at the front was like watching a macro video of a flower-bud opening in slow-motion. Beautiful, and infinitely pleasurable for the small variations and breaks added upon the larger symmetries of the whole.

Likewise, the fourth scene, offered a humorous back-and-forth as the lovers attempted to join and dance together but were repeatedly intercepted and redirected by the parents, servants and bridegroom. I suppose a more romantic observer might have found this scene to be heart-breaking: Layla has been wed to a man she does not love, and now she must dance with him? Personally, it made me chuckle, and reminded me of vaudeville routine where the physical object of desire (a hat, a wallet, a bottle, a bouquet … what does it matter what it is?) is passed ever on away from the outstretched hand(s) of the searchers by cheerfully un-involved bystanders simply performing their normal activities. Like a horse pulling a cart to get the carrot dangling on a stick in front of his nose. So too do lovers chase the illusion of the beloved.

Being a tragedy, this action soon takes a darker turn. Whereas the dancer acting the part of Layla or Majnun during the first four acts was clearly identified by a white scarf, the fifth act pulled away this aid by re-casting all of the Laylas and all of the Majnuns in those roles. When Layla died, it wasn't a simple cessation of breath, instead, the act was repeated and varied by each of the dancers carrying that role, offering the audience multiple takes on the lonely, heart-rending woe of the abandoned lover. Likewise, Majnun's death is also repeated four times. Repetition. Simple, but powerful. Very nicely done, Mr. Morris!

As might be expected for a world premiere, there were plenty of public writings about these performances. The official production site has links to a reasonable selection of such comments. Here are a few more: * Marica Petrey wrote a detailed promo piece for California, the magazine of the UC Berkeley Alumni Association. * Jeff Kaliss wrote a nice promo for SFCV. * Alastair Macaulay saw two of the three performances, and posted an appropriately nuanced review for the Times. * Ann Murphy posted a rather critical review of the Friday performance for the Mercury News – apparently she was not nearly as impressed with this performance as I was! * Allan Ulrich posted a fairly brief review of the Friday show for SFGATE

Back to the previous event! ☸ Up to the 2016 yearbox! ☸ Up to the 2016 event list! ☸ On to the next event!