But what humiliation when any one
beside me heard a flute in the far distance, while I heard nothing, or when others heard a shepherd singing, and I still heard nothing! Such things brought me to the verge
of desperation, and well-nigh caused me to put an end to my life.
With these
words, the composer Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) described the agony of the
early stages of losing his hearing, the embarrassment he felt when his loss
became evident in the presence of others. He was the greatest composer of his
generation, perhaps of all time. And yet he could not hear “a shepherd singing”
in the countryside.
This
haunting statement is the basis of a new ballet by Mary Barton, ballet master
and resident choreographer with the American Repertory Ballet (ARB), New Jersey’s
leading professional ballet repertory company. A Shepherd Singing (And I Still Heard Nothing) received its world premiere
April 8, 2016, in McCarter Theatre, Princeton, N.J. The drama in movement
unfolded as Michael Pratt conducted the Princeton University Orchestra in a spirited
performance of three movements of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony. It was the concluding work on a program titled Masters of Dance and Music at McCarter.
The story of
a composer going deaf is not the easiest thing to translate into the highly
visual art of ballet. We imagine the clumsy Beethoven tripping over stacks of
clutter in his dark, crowded apartment, not soaring in a grand jete or
gracefully lifting a ballerina toward the sky. This is where our expectations
are low, and Mary Barton’s vision pierces through to the soul of Beethoven,
that hidden place which gave birth to such graceful expressions as the
Moonlight Sonata and the profundity of the Ninth Symphony.
Barton’s
interpretation begins with the sound of a fierce thunderstorm. The curtain
lifts to the scene of Beethoven’s death bed against the first movement of the
Seventh Symphony. This is not a scene of gloom and despair, but of defiance and
resurrection as the spirits of Fate, Silence, and Art lift the composer to a
realm of eternal understanding.
The story
recedes back to the time, in his late 20s and early-to-mid 30s, when Beethoven began
to detect signs of increasing deafness and at last came face to face with the
realization that he would lose his hearing. This was the time when he first imagined the Sixth
Symphony, which contains musical scenes such as a bubbling brook, peasant
dances, and bird songs that he no longer could hear and enjoy. In his early 40s came the Seventh Symphony which provides a matchless scaffold for the
display of this tale of suffering, reconciliation through art, and ultimate
triumph.
As the composer at the center of this narrative, Michael
Landez is a powerful force, combining grace and strength, vulnerability and
resilience. If your idea of
Beethoven is a grouchy troll, think again: Landez has given him the physical
presence worthy of the master who composed hundreds of masterworks and set an
example for fortitude and overcoming adversity. If you never dreamed of
Beethoven in tights, his feet fluttering in a batterie, then dream again: the entire production is so authentic
and full of fervent feeling, there is no false step, nothing awkward or
off-base.
Barton has assigned several dancers the roles of notes, and it is pure pleasure to see
them expressing the music being performed live just past their feet. (This is the first time ARB has performed with a live orchestra in its more than 40 year history.) The balletic notes
really do seem as though they’ve risen like steam or mist out of the orchestral
pit and materialized before us on the stage. Beautiful work by the University
Orchestra, by the way, with the relentless momentum so necessary to a
performance of the Seventh. These may not be the most polished professional
musicians on the planet, but under Pratt, they never let up, and drive the
music to its frenzied, ecstatic conclusion, a phenomenon Richard Wagner once
called “the apotheosis of the dance.” This performance probably sounded more like authentic performances in Beethoven's own time.
Many have
danced to the Seventh, but not like this. Thank you, ARB, artistic director
Douglas Martin, and the many other brilliant dancers who helped tell the story
of a great composer who triumphed over affliction. Beethoven’s music may be
remembered as his legacy to the human race, but his life and struggles, too, as
memorialized in this ballet, show us a path of salvation through art.
Reflections
on other ballets in the April 8th program will be featured in a future column.
–Linda Brown Holt
Cast photo after world premiere of
Mary Barton's A Shepherd Singing (And I Still Heard Nothing). Photo
by ARB dancer Lily Saito
