Recently, I sat down with Katherine Benfer and Beth Pensiero, two of City Opera's chorus members.  It was incredibly fun chatting with these two longtime choristers who love their job and had some great things to say.  And they were very gracious with a novice interviewer!  Afterwards, they gave me a backstage tour and took me around the State Theater.  I snapped a few shots (below) as we ran around before they got ready for Tosca.

 

 

Beth Pensiero:  There's a range of reactions.  Some people are impressed... and some people are just bewildered, they're not sure what it means.  They don't understand what the job entails, what the schedule's like.  Some people will be impressed, some people will be like, "...oh...you sing, that's nice"

 

Katherine Benfer:  A lot of times they ask you if you get paid for that!  Oh yes you do, as a matter of fact! [laughs]

 

 

Beth Pensiero:  Depends on the complexity of the show.  If it's a big show and there's a lot of chorus in it, they might take a few weeks to work us into a show little by little till production week, which is intense.  If we're singing offstage most of the time and maybe sing onstage for ten minutes, they won't spend much time with us.

 

Katherine Benfer:  We have to learn the music cold, first.  So you have a musical rehearsal, then you have a staging alone, then you stage one opera and perform another.  That's the hardest and it's what we're doing right now.  We had a stage rehearsal of Candide this afternoon from 11:30-5:00pm, and then we have a show tonight, which can go to 11:00pm.  So this is the 12-hour day with a break in between.  At the end of the season, there's a week or two when we're free during the day and just do shows at night.  That's what helps us survive!

 

 

Katherine Benfer:  I think the difference with this career is that you perform.  There's a huge level of intensity and fitness.  Performing is like sports; you work and work and work and work and two minutes later it's over.  There's a huge intensity, and you're acutely aware of everything.  I could compare it to being a surgeon.  They have to study and study and study and they have one shot to get it right.

 

Beth Pensiero:  Performing is a high energy thing.  You can do your paperwork and sit at your computer and not be at your best, physically.  But when you're performing, you must be energized.  But you have to be relaxed as well so your body and your voice will respond.  It can be very demanding.

 

 

Katherine Benfer:  Well, the chorus -- and the orchestra, too -- our job is to help the soloists out, we give them space or guide them.  We know what's going on -- sometimes better than the soloists!  They might know their arias better but we know the show as a whole.  We energize the production, too.  Sometimes, when the chorus comes on, it's like..."let's bring the circus in here and liven things up!"

 

 

Beth Pensiero:  Well, as an example, we've been working very intensely on Candide lately.  It's kind of like an opera in a way but it really is an American musical, too.  This version was written years ago for New York City Opera.  It's a play within a play.  We, the chorus, are an invited audience to watch the story of Candide.  And we sit on the sidelines and watch the action.  But there are these big chorus numbers where we're asked to participate and comment.  We're onstage from the top of the show to the end of the show.  We get to be soloists in a way.  We are on our best behavior -- in character all the time.  It can be very tiring but it's a lot of fun, too.  Alternately, there's the King Arthur chorus, which just comments on the action from the pit.  That's totally different.  Then there are the Puccini operas.  Like in Tosca, we're part of the story.  We're part of the crowd, we're the churchgoers, and we're in the background.

 

Katherine Benfer:  And our purpose there is to reflect the spirit of the time.  In Tosca, we express the agony of the fascist state.

 

 

Katherine Benfer:  And sometimes, the audience can identify with us, too.  We're onstage there and they identify with us as we comment on a situation.

 

 

Katherine Benfer:  I came here from a church-singer background.  I wanted to try this art form and explore it.  What better way to understand it than right from the middle.

 

Beth Pensiero:  I worked with the Opera [Company] of Philadelphia for a few years.  Then I ended up moving to the New York area and I decided to audition here.  The timing was right; they needed someone for a soprano spot and it ended up being me!  And that was 24 years ago and I'm still here!  It's been a way to make a living and have a lot of experience singing with different types of opera.  And we get to go on tour every once in a while, which has been fun.

 

 

Katherine Benfer:  This job has broken me out of who I thought I was.  Imagine you have to look in the mirror every day to put on makeup and see all those wrinkles.  But you put on a different wig and a different outfit -- and you don't get a choice as to what you wear or what wig they hand you -- and this image of yourself gets shaken up a little.  And that can be a very good thing.  You do have to leave your ego at the door, though.  "I'm sorry, I always part my hair on the side!" -- Well, that's not going to work here.  They're going to give you a fright wig or they'll want you to be a madam [of a brothel].  What do you say to that? "I'm sorry, I can't, I'm Episcopalian?" [laughs]  No, you do what they tell you!  And it's good to be flexible, to look at yourself in the mirror and get over yourself.

 

Beth Pensiero:  One of my favorite things about the job is when we participate in an extraordinary production.  We get to do a lot of good stuff with conductors and directors but every once in a while there's an extraordinary experience.  It's wonderful; you get to experience these people and their music in a very special way.  There are good singers and there are great singers.  Renée Fleming was in our Marriage of Figaro production!  And my ears pricked up and I went, "Oh wow, who is she?" and ten years later she's a big star at the Met!

 

 

Beth Pensiero:  Yeah.  So, that's fun.

 

Katherine Benfer:  And I love when you finish a production and you hear the applause and you know you've done really good work. You can't buy that. That's the priceless part of the MasterCard.  [laughs]

 

 

Beth Pensiero:  There's a lot of controversy about the direction of opera today.  And we wonder about the next generation; whether it will end up being the next opera audience.  We want to see this art form continue to flourish, yet we want to keep our standards high.  I really hope that it's true that we are attracting the next generation.  There's so much culture and beauty in opera.  I would hate to see it become a dying art form.  I really want to see it flourish.  That's my hope for the future.

 

Katherine Benfer:  We do care about it, beyond a paycheck.  We just had the television special of Butterfly and I know a lot of people who watched it and were impressed.  They bought tickets to the opera.  It was a wonderful thing.

 

Beth Pensiero:  Yes, there was a lot of positive feedback.

 

Katherine Benfer:  And the houses were packed out there.  This is important to us.  We believe in it.

It was at a Saturday performance of King Arthur that I really figured out the difference between old folks at the Met and old folks at New York City Opera.  However, before I get to that, here's a little explanation of what happened during the performance.

 

You should know that opera is a still-evolving art form, and when Henry Purcell wrote King Arthur a lot of the traditions that surround staples like La Bohème and Carmen hadn't yet come into being.  Music was largely liturgical throughout the Middle Ages and it wasn't until the very late Middle Ages that secular forms of theater emerged.  Purcell was in the middle of this large evolution, and as a result his operas are more "semi-opera," or spectacles that combine spoken dialogue with dance (or masques as they were called: i.e. masquerade), orchestral music, and song.

 

All of this is fine, except that choreographer Mark Morris decided to omit the spoken dialogue from this production of King Arthur because he didn't like it.  Seriously.  But he did keep the music because... well, he liked it.  Sounds odd, and certainly most of the audience found it that way on Saturday.  I accosted a number of people during intermission to see what they thought of the unusual production, and a typical answer went something like, "Gosh, I don't know that I understand it.  Certainly it's very different.  But thank goodness, at least the music is so pretty."  Most of these people were familiar with opera, but they weren't frequent opera-goers.  None of them seemed to regret coming even if they didn't understand what was happening onstage.

 

Despite these problems, I enjoyed the production immensely.  I couldn't figure out why until I ran into a very elderly Italian woman toward the end of the intermission -- let's call her Magda.  She was my last interview, immaculately dressed and standing by the window on the 4th ring of the house, clucking her tongue at the mess of construction in the Lincoln Center plaza.  When I asked her how the music made her feel, she responded by re-enacting one of Mark Morris' trademark dance moves from the first act.  I was stunned -- mostly at her incredible flexibility.  The move was something the dancers did when the chorus was singing "Triumph!" during the first act.  It involved arching the back and feigning an archer's position.

 

"Well, what does that mean?" I asked.

 

"Deh meeoosik ees so beooteefuhl!"

 

"But doesn't it bother you that Mark Morris removed the dialogue and one cannot understand the plot?" I asked.

 

"Whyee shood I cahrre?  Eeet makes no deeferhence.  Dis ees ohperah."

 

She also reminded me to mention in my post that the New York City Opera's Madama Butterfly would be on PBS's "Live from Lincoln Center."  At the mention of this, I immediately fell back into my old-fogey Met pose.

 

"Which recording of Butterfly do you like most?" I asked.

 

"Whoo cahrres?  Evehree taiime ees deeferhent.  Ees beooteefuhl."

 

This woman was a true human being and a true opera-lover (She is Italian, after all.)  She made me realize all over again, that it's the music which is most important in opera.  Otherwise you can go see a play, a poetry recitation, attend a lecture, or just stay home and read a book.  Why did people start putting music to words in theater?  Because music provides a direct line to the soul.  Spoken word can discuss, describe, and delineate emotions, but music goes straight to your heart.

 

So I say kudos to Mark Morris for getting rid of the words he thinks aren't important. Magda agrees with him, and so do I.  How brave of New York City Opera to have used this production as the launch of their spring season.  As modern and avant-garde as it might have been (and it was pretty "out there," with paper-airplanes flying all over the stage during the maypole dance, and at one point, a pretty realistic enactment of sex on-stage...)  It was a clever way of forcing us back to the basics of why opera is important.  It connected everyone in the theater to emotions that were central to our humanity -- through music.

Norman was right -- New York City Opera is hot.  They're hot and they're right about opera.  This is the kind of hot that you can bring home to mom.  Oh, by the way, the difference between Met Opera old-folks and New York City Opera old-folks: Magda re-enacted a dance at the age of eighty-odd.  You're not going to find anyone in the Met who'll do that.  She also isn't moaning about in the gift shop trying to find a recording she first heard in 1956.  She's ready for new singers, new stagings, new productions -- and she'll find it at the New York City Opera.  Of course, even Magda has her limits.  She wouldn't let me take a picture of her doing the "Triumph!" dance.  But I got her to show me and my friends how to do it, as you can see.

 

Next stop, Madama Butterfly!

 

Early this season, I came down to New York City Opera to sign my contract for this blog.  Afterward, Jaime in the marketing office was nice enough to give me a quick tour of the State Theater.  It was unbelievable.  I got to meet one of the sopranos who is singing in Candide, Lielle Berman. 

 

You have to understand that opera stars can be difficult, but she was the opposite of what you hear about divas.  They used to say that if Kathleen Battle wanted the air conditioning turned down in her limo, she'd call up her manager, who'd call up the limo company, who'd call up the limo driver. 

 

Anyhow, I think Ms. Berman sensed that I was in awe of meeting her and she tried to put me at ease, saying, "Gosh, so you're in medical school.  That's incredible."  But honestly, this woman gets up on stage, opens her mouth, and fills the several thousand cubic meters of air in front her with truly sinful noises, sending shivers up the 2,000+ bodies and gaping mouths in front of her.  She stands on the same wooden planks that Beverly Sills walked.  She breathes the air Placido Domingo breathed.  Medical school seemed unbelievably rudimentary at that moment.

 

She was eating chili.  I should have asked her if that's good for the voice.  She asked if I was musical or played an instrument but I was too humbled to say anything about the fact that I studied piano at Peabody and opera at Yale.  This was a diva.  She was eating chili.  Okay, on with the tour before I start peeing my pants, Jaime.

 

After the tour I said goodbye to Jaime and wandered over to the Met gift shop (that's at the Metropolitan Opera, the other opera house next to the State Theater).  This place is really like an Alcoholics' Anonymous for opera nuts.  What happened to me that day is very common.

 

"Hello, I'm Mary from Rhode Island.  Oh goodness, you're so young and I think you might have a better memory than me.  I'm looking for a recording with the Berlin Philharmonic and this young man helping me is wanting to know who the conductor was... do you know?  He's the new one, the British one with the funny teeth."

 

I told her it was Simon Rattle and she practically started crying.  "My God, yes!  Oh I tell you, my mind isn't fresh when I feel irregular."  Then I got another tap.

 

"Excuse me, I'm Norman.  I'm looking for a Faust with Di Stefano before he had his nose fixed.  Have you heard it?"

 

"Oh," I said.  "I've never been able to find an early recording here.  Have you tried the internet?  Sometimes you can find great CDs on places like eBay or Amazon."

 

"Oh... I've heard of the internet but I don't know.  Can it be trusted?"

 

Sigh.

 

About 20 feet away, at the entrance to the shop, the theft alarm went off for the 7th time since I'd come in.  And for the 7th time that day, I heard, "Ma'am!  Ma'am!  Not to worry, it's your hearing aid that keeps setting off the alarm.  No, no -- I know you paid, it's the hearing AID."

 

Norman and I started talking about Roberto Devereux, which I'd heard many times but had never seen.  It's possibly one of the hardest bel canto roles for soprano ever written, practically impossible to sing.

 

"God.  I mean, hot damn, you know?  There was no one like Beverly Sills in that."

 

From the clips I'd heard, I had to agree with him.  This was another one of the holy grails Norman was looking for.  I mentioned to him that she never performed it at the Met, only at New York City Opera.

 

"Oh, of course, that was at the City Opera in the 70s," said Norman.

 

I asked him if he wanted to walk over there and see if they had any recordings.

 

"Hot damn.  You're right," he said, and we were off, side-stepping the 8th hearing-aid alarm.

 

Sadly, the New York City Opera gift stand was closed when we got there.  Norman walked around the lobby and looked wistful.  I asked him what separated City Opera-goers and Met-Opera goers of his age.

 

"Well," he said, "The City Opera... I don't know.  Damn, those were the days.  It was hot then, you know.  Hot damn, it was hot!  It's always been hot.  But after a while, I just started going to the Met."

 

"Norman, it's absolutely hot now," I said.  "It's positively smoldering!  You should come see King Arthur before its run concludes."

 

"You know what, maybe I will.  Hot damn, maybe it's time."

 

Well, we said goodbye.  I still didn't know the difference between old folks at the Met and old folks of New York City Opera, but I had heard "hot damn" uttered more times in one day than I had in the last year.

 

Before I start on my first experience at New York City Opera and the production of King Arthur, I'd just like to give everyone a couple of notes about myself.

 

My appreciation of performance art (until now) consisted largely of musical theater, mostly Broadway shows and community and high school theater.  Through grades 3-12, I sang pretty much every male voice part (oh, voice changes!) and was part of the New Jersey State Honor Choir.  While I had never been to an opera until last Saturday, I have long-appreciated the voices that come out of opera -- performers like Pavarotti, Fleming and Bocelli are only a few opera singers who can be considered some of the most amazingly talented musicians of all time.  Needless to say, I was very excited about the opportunity that New York City Opera had offered to me.

 

My experience started with a visit to the marketing department in the dungeon-labyrinth offices beneath the State Theater.  There, I met with a member of the marketing staff to choose dates to attend this season's five operas and pick up my tape recorder and digital camera.  (Thanks, New York City Opera!)  Shortly thereafter, we took a short tour of the theatre -- enjoying part of a dress rehearsal and some behind-the-scenes stuff.  It was definitely a great way to be introduced to the theater and New York City Opera.

One Saturday, I caught the final performance of King Arthur with my friend Heather, who is also new to opera.  We grabbed dinner at the Whole Foods salad bar in Columbus Circle -- college student life and the Upper West Side restaurant prices don't mix -- and then headed over to Lincoln Center.  We were seated in the fourth ring, which I'm not used to (there's often no more than one mezzanine in a Broadway theatre) but they certainly weren't bad seats.  I've been seated up in the top tiers of venues like Radio City, NJPAC, and Carnegie Hall, and this experience was no different.

 

 I thoroughly enjoyed the opera as a whole and was entertained throughout the performance.  With that said, I was completely lost during much of it.  I skimmed through Wikipedia's article on the opera prior to attending, but I guess I didn't take much of that with me.  After Act I, I realized that I probably should have read the program notes.

 

I'm used to musical theater, which is much easier to follow.  I'll be sure to do my research on my next opera, Tosca, before attending.

 

I'm not a huge fan of Baroque music, especially when it is set to words as it would be in an opera like King Arthur.  I don't think the Baroque style is nearly as exciting as other classical styles.  That is, of course, not to downplay Henry Purcell's talent -- it's simply not my cup of tea.  Still, I would've liked to hear the chorus a bit better.  Heather, a percussionist and self-proclaimed orchestra lover, thoroughly enjoyed watching the percussion section of the orchestra, especially the tambourine playing.

 

There are parts of this production that I absolutely loved.  Mark Morris' choreography is often described as witty, humorous and innovative; his work with King Arthur is no exception.  The maypole dance scene was the most intriguing (and first) maypole dance I had ever seen.

 

I thought that the wintry first scene of Act III was brilliant -- the freezer idea was an ingeniously modern way of creating a "frozen universe," and the warm sun-like lighting afterward to melt it was the perfect contrast.  When it came to the forest scene, though the plush animals had no voice parts, their actions were extremely entertaining and the scene as a whole was complete genius.  Additionally, the final scene was also very enjoyable.  Though I find no significance in the throwing of paper airplanes, it was fun to see them stuck in the curtain and darted at cast members' heads.  (If you do know of a reason for the paper airplanes, please comment!)

 

Overall, my first opera experience was a great one, and I'm looking forward to the next.  I'm sure I will enjoy Puccini's Tosca -- I've heard many arias from Puccini operas and am aware that his are some of the best loved.  I adore the intermezzo from Manon Lescaut, which my friend Heather recorded with the New Jersey All-State High School Orchestra.  Naturally, I'm very excited for the next performance. Thanks for reading and watch out for my coverage of Tosca!