glimpses of a vaster landscape
by Douglas Messerli
Missy Mazzoli (composer), Missy
Mazzoli and Royce Vavrek (libretto) Song
from the Uproar: The Lives & Deaths of Isabelle Eberhardt / Los
Angeles, Redcat (The Roy and Edna Disney/CalArts Theater) / the performance
Howard Fox and I attended was a matinee on Sunday, October 11, 2015
In her program notes for her short
opera Song from the Uproar: The Lives
& Deaths of Isabelle Eberhardt, composer Missy Mazzoli briefly
describes her subject as being born in Geneva, Switzerland in 1877, who—after
the death of her father, mother and brother—traveled alone to Algeria, dressed
as a man. Once there, the short synopsis, continues she “joined a Sufi order,
roamed the desert on horseback and fell in love with an Algerian soldier. After
surviving an attempted assassination and a failed suicide pact with her lover,
Isabelle drowned in a desert flash flood at age 27.” The composer suggests that
we have only a few short stories, articles, and fragments from the journals
that survived the flood to help us comprehend this “fearless” woman, and,
accordingly, she “felt that an opera about her life should be similarly
fragmented—an evocation of her dreams and thoughts rather than a
straightforward narrative.”
The opera Mazzoli has created consists of 17 short songs, using repeated
phrases found in the surviving pages of Eberhardt’s journal, along with highly
stylized and synchronic mime-like gestures and dance movements by the 5 chorus
members (meant, evidently, to represent the various personas of Eberhardt),
along with film clips that reinforce any thematic content presented, and a
five-man ensemble of double bass, electric guitar, clarinet and bass clarinet,
piano, and flute and piccolo.
ISABELLE
Sight, smell, taste, touch
songs, hymns, verses, silence,
refrains,
the sound, the noise, the voice,
sixty-five names for God.
CHORUS
Prime, odd, even, addition.
ISABELLE
Units, miles, bolded lines.
CHORUS
Circle, square, exponential.
ISABELLE
Square, fence.
ISABELLE AND CHORUS
Prison, embrace, remembrance.
At other times, as in the short
paean to our hero’s independence “I Have Arrived,” seem almost as banal as a
popular ditty:
ISABELLE
I have arrived -
I'll pick out my own song,
a music that will bleed the heart
into
silence.
I have arrived -
I'll pick out my own song,
line by line, and at last
throw back my head and sing.
And many of the recitative-like
pronouncements are almost indistinguishable from one another.
In truth, Eberhardt was the daughter not of her mother’s wealthy
husband, General Pavel de Moerder, but of the family’s tutor, Alexandre
Trophimowsky, a former priest and anarchrist, who taught his daughter and her
brother French, Russian, Italian, Latin, Greek, and, eventually, classical
Arabic. Trophimowsky encouraged the young girl to read the Koran, while looking
the other way when she, from early on, dressed as a sailor boy. At an early age
Eberhardt begin to write stories—including one about male homosexuality.
While being invited by the Algerian-French photographer, Louis David, to
visit him in Algeria, she and her mother traveled to North Africa, living with
the Davids. Despite their hosts’ disapproval, both she and her mother spent
long hours with local Arabs, both mother and daughter converting to Islam, and,
eventually, moving out of the French neighborhood to live in an Arabic-style
house.
It was not simply that Eberhardt dressed like a man, but that she
dressed in burnous and turban like an Arab man that made her a social pariah to
the French settlers. Her mother did not die in Switzerland, as Mazzoli
suggests, but in Algeria, and was buried as Fatma Mannoubia.
Meanwhile, Eberhardt continued to practice the Muslim religion—despite
her attraction to alcohol and drugs—and, in later years, made contact with a
Sufi order, the Qadiriyya, whose leader permitted to engage in that order’s
secret rites.
In the last years of the 19th century, because of family deaths and her inheritance of the family villa,
Eberhardt was forced to return to Europe, becoming determined to travel to
Paris to seek out a career as a writer.
There, by chance, she met the widow of the Marquis de Morès, whose
husband had been killed by Tuareg tribesman in the Sahara. She paid for
Eberhardt to return to North Africa in order to search out the cause of his
death, an offer which the adventurer could not resist, even if she did actually
pursue that quest.
During this trip she met the Algerian
soldier Slimane Ehnni; the two fell in love, but were disallowed by the French
colonial government to marry. By this time the French rulers, not only outraged
by her dress and behavior, suspected her of being involved in espionage, which
may have been the cause of her attempted assassination by a man with a sabre.
Today she might surely be seen as a kind of terrorist.
Eberhardt and Ehnni finally married when her lover was reassigned to
Marseilles, returning to Algeria as French citizens to live with Ehnni’s
family. When the couple relocated to Algiers, a newspaper editor hired her to
report on the Battle of El-Moungar. There, while staying with members of the
French Foreign Legion, she met and befriended Hubert Lyautey, the French
officer placed in charge of Oran, and it is generally acknowledged that she may
have some spying for Lyautey.
Weakened by fever, Eberhardt headed for Aïn Sefra, and requested Ehnni,
whom she had not seen for several months, to join her. It is there, during a
flash flood that the great adventurer died, her husband surviving.
Despite Mazzoli’s claim that we have only a few stories and her journal
with which to piece together Eberhardt’s life, at least 13 books written by her
have been published since her death, including the full fiction, Trimardeur.
Eberhardt’s larger-than-life adventures reveal her as a figure more like
T.E. Lawrence than the slightly disconcerted proto-feminist that this opera
represents her to be. In short, Song from
the Uproar’s creators have done a disservice to their subject with their
presentation of a few fragmentary, poetically rendered songs which cast her
adventures in the form of a chamber-work instead of what it longs to be—a grand
opera, with or without narrative coherence.
One can only hope that, at some point, Mazzoli applies her obvious
musical talent to a work of greater depth and grander vision.
Los Angeles, October 12, 2015
Reprinted from USTheater, Opera, and Performance (October 2015).
No comments:
Post a Comment