TRANSPORTATION TRANSFORMATION: Not just your typical MTA Monday morning commute on the F train! Progress occurs when opportunity meets preparation. Such was the case when I got the call from … Continue reading Create an Opera in 24-hours? No Problem!
My silence over the last few months is an indication of how intensively I’ve been working on developing my librettist muscle. It’s been a mind-blowingly productive and creative time; I’m just getting started!
Currently I am working with composer, Peter Michael von der Nahmer on a VideOpera (it’s exactly what it sounds like, an opera created for video) about a woman and her tortured relationship with Twitter.
We are producing this ourselves and are about to launch a crowdfunding campaign to raise some money so we can cover the cost of production and pay our artists. If you want to learn more about this cool little project and would like to be added to our mailing list, use the link below to take you to our sign-up page. This will add you to our list so we can share campaign launch information and updates with you.
This is an inspiring project and many people are starting to get as excited about it as we are. Join the movement and follow the link below to join our mailing list!
Sign up and, please, share this with your friends and family.
Thank you! MMN & PMvdN
https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/when-falling-dive-a-videopera-video-opera/coming_soon
Setting – Dressing room of team Peru at Estadio National in Lima, Peru May 24, 1964
Set up/opening orchestration: Peru is hosting Argentina in an important soccer match, one that Peru is watching to win with great anticipation. In the last two minutes of play referee, Angel Pazos, disallows a Peruvian goal that would have equalized the game. The ref’s actions cause two Peru fans to invade the pitch in an attempt to harm the ref. Police intercept and begin violently beating the pitch invaders, setting dogs on them in front of 53,000 rabid fans causing further reaction from the crowd. Leading in to this scene, police have just release fifteen canisters of tear gas into the seething body of predominantly Peruvian soccer fans. Terrifying panic ensues in the stadium.
Archival images of the Lima event as well as other national soccer stadium tragedies are splashed all around the theatre, audio of panicked crowds intermingle with the orchestration. The audience should be feeling the pressure of panic all around them. The orchestration quiets slowly as the sound of cleated boots walking heavily down an empty hallway in the sports complex rises over the panicked sounds. We hear a door being opened and the lights come up on the team dressing room. Hector stands in the doorway, holding onto the handle in an attempt to steady himself.
Hector
The police
the police
though they didn’t let their dogs loose*
they did let them tear his clothes off*
tear his clothes off
tear his flesh off just a bit
and the other one
the other one
beaten by many men with batons
blood on the pitch
blood on the bitch who bit his arm
tore his favorite jersey clean off his body
The people
the people were disturbed*
by the way in which they took the Pitch Invaders away*
dragging them like cadavers
in front of fifty three thousand people
This is why the crowd began to get very upset*
Audio rises over Hector’s voice of a new level of terror and panic echoing off the walls of the stadium. Hector is sitting now at his locker having taken off his shirt. He studies the dramatic red stripe that cuts across the chest of his new Peru kit. Angel enters holding a cup of water.
Angel
How about that?! Eh?
How about that?!
Those Pitch Invaders nearly got me
Did you see that
they nearly crushed me for that call?
What a bunch of crazy dicks
short on knowledge
never went to college
drunk on any cheap swill they can find
I don’t mind
it’s all part of the game
glad the police came down hard
to keep the yard from brimming over
Angel walks over to a radio on the wall and turns it on – music of 1964 Peru floats out over the air. As he turns on the radio his hand hits a hip-flask full of whisky that someone had stashed for later. He takes the bottle down and looks at it sitting there in his hand.
Are you ok, Hector?
Hector
The police
the police
Hector
How about that?! Eh?
How about that?!
The music stops abruptly and a reporter gives the breaking news about the riot at the stadium.
Newscaster
Ladies and gentlemen, this is breaking news about a riot that has broken out at Estadio National. Police are trying to contain the unruly mob with tear gas. Please avoid the area around Estadio National for the foreseeable future. Repeat, a riot has broken out at Estadio National. Please avoid the area.
Gun fire outside on the pitch is heard from the dressing room – men are screaming. Angel goes to put the bottle back where he found it but the disturbance scares him and he decides to keep hold of the bottle for now.
Hector
The world is broken
there is nothing to be spoken for
There is something terribly wrong here
which I am not able to fix
Angel
What’s going on, Eh?
Gun fire on the pitch?!
Son-of-a-bitch I have to get home
to see that my daughter is safe
She loves this game as much as I
though I forbid her from attending
this is no
place for good girls to be banging about
Hector
Don’t go out there!
Angel
Hector, that’s touching
I’ll be safe now
everyone has already forgotten about my call
that got them on their feet in a squall
Hector
Don’t you listen?!
Can you not hear the sound of people dying out there?
Our people
Our Peruvian people
I dread to see the sights that await us
when we emerge from this cave of cowards
Angel
Cave of cowards?! Speak for yourself El Capitan de America
Hector
Where is everyone then? Who else is in here but us, Angel?!
Angel
They all must have found a way out, somehow.
Hector
Maybe they are all dead
Maybe I should kill myself
Angel
Don’t be such a Shakespearian actor
There are other factors at work here
and I’m sure no one is dead!
Newscaster
Breaking News: there is a report coming in from Estadio National of thirty, no, no, excuse me fifty, fifty people dead at Estadio National! This is a horrible…wait, wait, another report…a hundred…an estimated one hundred people have been crushed to death in a stampede at Estadio National. This is terrible ladies and gentlemen, terrible
Hector
Ahhh, this is too much
There is nothing to do
no story I can tell to make the people laugh
no soccer ball to kick to make the people cheer and be happy about the day again
There is nothing I can do
There is nothing I can do
Mama, I am so sorry
There is nothing I can do to fix this
Angel
When I was three I wanted to be a footballer
I wanted to spend my life on the pitch
honing my foot work
practicing my kicks
Football was my life, my love, my path out of misery
My papa would be proud of me
if I was to be a footballer
Never was I good enough
Close but not quite good enough
so I took the only path that was by me
to be a referee – still I would stay close to the game
but it is not the same
Not the same in any way at all
Never am I happier then when I’m on the pitch
except, perhaps, for when I used to be able to drink a fifth
but that joy was fleeting
As the ball is in play and you chip it across the sky to land in the hands of the keeper
my heart wants to burst with love
The beauty of the rhythm of the game of my life keeps me alive and well and sober
My one regret is when the ball lands in the net
I see the glee on the striker’s face
perceive the pain of the keepers miss
and yet I am not part of that moment
I must endure while the world stops
to celebrate or lament the goal
I am not a part of it – I am separate – other – hated
or worse, ignored completely
A loud crash comes from outside
Hector
I am leaving the game, Angel.
Angel
El Capitan? No, no, you cannot do this
Hector
This I can do!
Angel
This you must not do! Peru, Peru needs you now more than ever
Hector
Football is dead to me just like those hundred people lying dead in our stadium
Newscaster
Breaking News: ladies and gentlemen, it grieves me mightily to tell you that Peruvian police have confirmed three hundred fifty eight deaths by internal hemorrhaging or asphyxiation in a terrible tragedy at Estadio National in Lima. There is rioting in the streets outside the stadium still – I beg of you to steer clear of Estadio National until order has been restored.
Angel
Three hundred fifty eight – gone
because of one lousy call I made
My call – my call made this happen
My call for footboll, the game I love
has brought death and destruction
to the world
The worst stadium disaster in history
is because of me
Hector
We don’t know what would have happened*
If the police had removed the Pitch Invaders*
in a peaceful fashion*
But I guess we can’t think about that now*
We have to face what’s out there
Angel Eduardo Pazos, you made the call you made
that is your job
I watched Kilo Lobaton rise his foot*
to block the ball*
and saw it rebound into the goal*
it was a foul*
in my humble opinion
though my opinion does not matter
Angel
El Capitain de America your words are sweet and powerful
I am the one on the wrong side of history
You, you are the one who matters now
You must help to heal Peru
You leave the game you kill a whole nation
Do not do that to your country!
Do not do that to your country!
Do not do that to your country!
I beg you – for love of the game
do not leave us now, dear Hector
Angel weeps at Hector’s feet as Hector sets his jaw and rises to put his jersey back on. He walks out of the dressing room leaving Angel alone with the bottle of whisky. Once alone Angel opens the bottle and greedily, tragically chugs the liqueur down.
Black out
©Marianna Mott Newirth
SCENE I Setting: An outdoor parking lot in Bed-Stuy Brooklyn behind a city hospital complex. It is two fifteen in the morning on a late summer evening. The parking lot … Continue reading Scapegoat: A Fairy Tale Opera in One Act
A dark stage
A single spotlight comes up on an empty stage
A woman steps into the light
She reaches out her arms in front and spins around as though someone has just hit her
She falls to the floor
Music crashes in evoking an overbearing presence filled with malice. The woman sits in the center of the light protecting herself. The music subsides.
She is alone
Woman
Sometimes these things happen
and the end result is that we just remember who we are
more than ever before
A choir of men & women dressed in Quaker garb step into the light
Choir of Quakers
Men and women must seek the light
the great heresy is to await
In a kind of indifference
for the Light to come to us
Woman
There is so much that distracts us
from love and connections
Choir of Quakers
God is the Light, the Truth that stirs within
Woman
Years of negativity and dislike
built brick upon brick upon brick
Such that we cannot see over to the other side of the other side
Choir of Quakers
Walk worthy unto that which ye are called
Practice abstinence from that which intoxicates
How increasingly incumbent is it upon you
to carry out your principles
so that you be not found in the background
of the great reformation that is taking place
in human society today
Woman (spoken)
Last night someone looked at me and said
“Oh honey, you’ve gained weight”
And when I mentioned that to someone else they said
“Well, you have, ya know”
I know that shouldn’t bother me but today it does
Choir of Quakers
Orthodoxy and bigotry shut men and women from the Light
Prune rote-creed and superstition from your mind
Let in the Light
The clear, stark, uncompromising Nantucket Light
Woman
I always struggle with my body
the discrepancy between what I see
and what others see
I think its time to assert myself
against comments like that
Quaker Choir
Let in the Light
The clear, stark, uncompromising Nantucket light
Where there is no room for prejudice to grow
Or oppression to flourish
Woman
Do not comment on someone’s body
shape or size
unless you are fucking asked about it
Quaker Choir
Woman is claiming for herself stronger and more profitable food
There is today a more extended recognition of her rights
her important duties
her responsibilities in life
Woman
Your opinion on my body is unwarranted
unnecessary
and I didn’t ask
so don’t comment
Quaker Choir
Launch forth, as men do, amid real, independent, stormy life
Woman
This is a cultural issue
that it’s been OK to objectify women’s bodies
Quaker Choir
It is interwoven throughout our country
and we may well acknowledge that we are all
All verily guilty concerning our sisters and our brothers
Woman
I think it shows a remarkable lack of tact
What the fuck is wrong with people?!
Quaker Choir
Inquire for thyself and acknowledge the Light that resides within
Woman
I need not set aside a special time for worship
I worship always seeking the divine will
and practicing holy obedience
I appreciate the wise laws of nature
and the divine spark in man and in woman
Quaker Choir
Breath in – breath out
you can’t change people
Only your response to them
Woman
Because the Light is one in all
it binds us together
In the bonds of love
Free discussion is never to be feared
except by such as prefer darkness to light
The spotlight has expanded during this interlude and now floods the stage in brightness
The woman changed her clothing from the party girl out on the town look into simple Quaker garb. She now stands with the choir undistinguished from the rest
The end
_______________________________
Librettist’s note: This weeks Micro Opera is a curious mixture of words from a Lucretia Mott address and a dialogue I watched unfold on FaceBook. Somehow I found them to be related. This is raw, I didn’t take enough time but I had to post something because I played hooky last week. It was Passover, I was tired and full and buzzing from many glasses of wine. But this also points to my ongoing process of “turning over, and turning over” the words of my ancestor in the hopes of finding new meaning for our society today. There must be a connection. I continue to dig. I’m 20 minutes past my posting deadline. Time to get this sucker up there.
As always, thank you so much for reading.
MMN
Scene: a cozy, darkened bedroom in the middle of the day. Sounds of the city float in through the opened window. A woman, Amy, lies in a hospice bed. Her husband, Sam, is bedside. It is the appointed hour of her death.
AMY
Are you there?
SAM
Yes I’m right here
AMY
Are you there?
SAM
Yes I’m right here
AMY
Where are we, Sam?
SAM
Home
AMY
One more hour, maybe
Take my hand
SAM
Yes
AMY
Don’t be frightened
I remember running in the park with you
You held my hand I wanted to let go
To run free
And you had to let me go
You are ever right here with me
Even in the tightest spots
Time to run
SAM
No
Are you there?
Are you, Amy
Please be there
Please be, Amy
AMY
Sam, let me go – now
Let me go
SAM
Amy
———————————
This libretto comes out of my studying theatrical beats this week, as in, moments that make up a play. I wanted to try making a one-beat opera. Lacking any sort of focus I went to my playlist and found Cylinder Six. It gave me a perfect structure to build this monumental moment between two people. I didn’t expect to end up in tears by the time I’d finished. Read the libretto, listen to Chris’ piece then put the two together. Tell me if any of it worked for you.
Thanks for reading!
© Marianna Mott Newirth
Main Characters
Lucretia Mott: Soprano – A short, sprite of a woman of quick movements and vivacious manner. She is slender and petite with an air of dignified simplicity and a grace of conduct beyond her years. Two features rule Lucretia’s face; A benignant mouth which softens an otherwise dominant chin and lofty brow. She has beautiful, limpid-grey eyes widely set and full that seem to grow appealingly darker whenever she is moved by the excitement of sympathy or the animation of conversation. Beneath her lively exterior lies a nature as deep and sober as that of her beloved James; always she is tender with a high degree of practical spirituality.
Thomas Mott: Baritone – A tall, quiet, grave-looking man with sandy hair and kindly blue eyes who takes his time and always acts with great deliberation. James perceives everything in a serious way but is always tender with a high degree of practical spirituality.
Miller McKim: Bass Baritone – A young man with a deep sense of spirit. He has dark features and a flair for theological discourse. He is very much a match to Lucretia’s highly spirited convictions.
Quaker Elder – Mezzo Soprano or a Baritone
Quaker Choir
Librettist’s note: I have been working on this particular piece for about five months. It pre-dates the launch of the Mott Academy of Libretto Writing and was partially responsible for MAWL coming about in the first place.
This Micro Opera is based on the book Valiant Friend: The Life of Lucretia Mott written by Margaret Hope Bacon. I began writing The Light Within (TLW) when Philip Glass’ Etudes for Piano came into my world. I found a compelling (one could say obsessive) relationship between Bacon’s book and Glass’ music and set to find out where the two intersected. This is very much a work in progress and I have a long, long way to go before it clicks but I’ve come far enough that I think it’s time to share it with you.
To help you make any reasoned sense of this, get yourself a copy of Glass’ Piano Etudes and read on. For a taste of what I’m trying to do, listen to this…
…while you read the first scene of act 1. Hopefully you’ll get the idea. I’d love to hear from you if anything strikes a chord. Any composer out there interested in crafting a minimalist score with Quaker ideals send me a note. This will be a full blown opera one day!
ACT I
Scene 1
Place: A busy Quaker home in Philadelphia 1880. It is the last day of Lucretia Mott’s long and storied life. Based on the tempo from Glass Etude No. 1
Lucretia Mott sits napping in the family room near the fire, an extra blanket lovingly placed over her shoulders by her daughter Mary before she dons her bonnet to head out for a meeting. Several other men, women and children – all dressed in simple Quaker garb – bustle around the home as the morning light rises. Everyone is equally busy and equally happy in their appointed tasks. A number of people head out the door after Mary while others attend to laundry, or splitting wood out back. After a great burst of energetic activity (with the one still-spot being our beloved Lucretia contentedly napping) the room falls quiet. The silence arouses our matron who is happy to be finally alone with her own company. Lucretia holds some knitting in her hand and attempts to pick up the pearl stitch she was in the midst of when she dozed off but her hands are arthritic and she rests her work back in her lap intending to resume knitting in a little while.
The weather is churning outside from the NorEaster that passed through last night. The sun darts in and out at irregular intervals indicating the fast moving clouds overhead being pushed by gale-force winds that have lost their bite but not their shove. This creates a dramatic moving light in the room. At one moment Lucretia sits in darkness and then suddenly a brilliant light breaks in bringing clarity to the room. This creates a distinct Chiaroscuro which moves around Lucretia as she stirs with the dancing light. The music conveys a reflective quality as our antagonist finds the strength to sit up straight and be fully present to the room and the audience therein witnessing the production.
LUCRETIA MOTT
Welcome
Is thee is comfortable?
The storm abates, see how it pushes and pulls the light
The light, the light
Bright like a Nantucket morning
Clear as the wind whipping my skirts
“Spitfire” twas a name they had for me then
As a girl of ten
Spitfire, spitfire indeed
Too many names have I acquired this long life
Not all said lovingly, I assure thee
As a girl I knew what my faults were
I earnestly sought a passive state
I’d wait for truth to unfold from my soul of its own accord
God speaks directly to men and women
boys and girls
through an inward Light
that illuminates our conscience
By minding the Light Within
one learns where one’s duty lay
then it is just a matter of obedience
All the troubles of the world
all evils, including slavery
are not due to human depravity
but disobedience to manifest duty
First-Day silence deep and awesome
Therein I prayed to overcome my hasty rage
My Spitfire tendencies
But it’s not fair how human beings mistreat one another
Humanity shudders at our self-inflicted atrocities!
QUAKER CHOIR
God speaks directly to men and women
boys and girls
through an inward Light
that illuminates our conscience
Mind the Light Within
learn where thy duties lay
then it is just a matter of obedience
All the troubles of the world
all evils, including slavery
are not due to human depravity
but disobedience to manifest duty
LUCRETIA MOTT
So much injustice in the world
how to fight against it all
when one is so weak and small?
I miss the sea, the ships, the salt spraying on my face
Nantucket’s stark and revealing light
The Light Within I seek so earnestly still
I miss my Thomas, my beloved Thomas
QUAKER CHOIR AND LUCRETIA MOTT
God speaks directly to women and men
girls and boys
through an inward Light
that illuminates our conscience
Mind the Light Within
Learn where thy duties lay
then it is just a matter of obedience
All the troubles of the world
all evils, including slavery
are not due to human depravity
but disobedience to manifest duty
LUCRETIA MOTT(spoken)
Thee is here to witness an accounting of my days
End of Scene 1
Intersticial:
QUAKER CHOIR
“unable to abide Thy purity till pure as Thou are pure.
Made such by Thee we then are free.
And liberty, like day, breaks on the soul
And by a flash from Heaven
Fires all the faculties with glorious joy.
Oh Thou my voice inspire
Who touch Isaish’s hallowed lips with fire.”
The scene transitions from the stormy set to the house first owned by Lucretia and Thomas five years into their marriage. Lucretia throws off her blankets of old age and stands before the audience a young woman in her prime. She reaches for her bonnet and ties it properly under her chin.
Scene 2
Thomas enters carrying several bundles of cotton fabric
THOMAS MOTT
Lucretia dear – lend thy hand?
Lucretia goes to lend her new husband a hand, heartily hoisting a bolt of fabric over her shoulder. Thomas opens his mouth to protest
LUCRETIA MOTT
I hoisted heavier bolts of fabric before thee ever heard my name called out at Nine Partners school, Thomas Mott. I can manage.
THOMAS MOTT
Well I know thy strength, Lucretia. But there’s an additional…
Lucretia lets out a quick yelp as a small kitten pokes it’s furry head out of the bolt Lucretia is holding
THOMAS MOTT
…suprise inside that one. I could not entice it out of its hiding place so I settled to cary it home
LUCRETIA MOTT
What a delightful fright thee gave. It’s decided; we shall name thee “Boo.” Thy task is to keep the mice in order. Thomas, we must discuss the issue with cotton. A slave, a slave’s poor hands are bound up in the warp and weft of this cloth!
Sound of their child, crying, waking from his nap
LUCRETIA MOTT
My dear little Thomas is awake. We cannot continue we must divest from this wretched slave-reliant industry. Thee cannot abide much longer!
THOMAS MOTT
Go, attend to him. I shall finish stacking the bolts and Lucretia… thee is right but how to make a change that brings no harm to our family?
LUCRETIA MOTT
Thee will do what thee knows is right, Thomas, just as thee knew the right thing to do was to marry me
QUAKER CHOIR
Her life and his were destined to flow
As parallel banks of a meadow stream
Running towards the ocean of great human compassion
Making kin all bodies regardless of creed or color or custom
Scene transforms into a Quaker meeting house five year’s earlier with Lucretia and James sitting opposite one another on plain benches designated for the bride and groom. She in her simple grey Quaker dress, he in his simple black Quaker suit they are bidden to stand by one of the Elders who call them forth before the congregants. The music is formal and tight. Nerves abound but the couple show no outward emotion
Scene 3 – Wedding of Lucretia & Thomas based on Glass Etude No. 2
JAMES MOTT
I, James Mott, take thee, Lucretia Coffin, to be my wife, promising with divine assistance to be unto thee a loving and faithful husband so long as we both shall live.
LUCRETIA MOTT
I Lucretia Coffin, take thee, James Mott, to be my husband, promising with divine assistance to be unto thee a true and loving wife so long as we both shall live
QUAKER ELDER
In a true marriage relation
The independence of husband and wife is equal
Their dependence mutual
Their obligations reciprocal
QUAKER CHOIR
Believe always in the soul of man
invisibly rapt – ever waiting
ever responding to universal truths
Light – Dark – Voice – Seed – Hunger – Thirst – Pilgrimage
Wait for truth to unfold from the soul of its own accord
QUAKER ELDER (addressing the couple directly)
Love all people
Act from the direction of the inner light
Submit to God within
LUCRETIA & THOMAS
Life’s purpose is to live it out together
Ever alongside one another
In grace, strength and simplicity
I lend unto thee my full heart
May we be brought unto a child-like state
so to receive all the mysteries belonging to thy kingdom
Crescendo as Lucretia and Thomas fall into one another’s arms in an impassioned kiss on their wedding night in the upstairs bedroom of Lucretia’s parent’s house where they will live their first year of marriage.
End of Act 1 Scene 3
Act 2 Scene 1
In the Mott household ten years into their marriage tempo based on Glass Etude No. 3 Lucretia is orchestrating the household chores while also preaching at Quaker meeting
LUCRETIA MOTT
Sweep the floor – hang the wash – chop the meat and make the pies
tack the carpet – sew the shirt – weave the rug – darn the heel
Make the tea – set the table – prep the food – and stoke the fire
add a chair there’s a hungry woman lingering outside our door Mary
I see
I see Inner Light residing within each person
Scene swings to her standing and preaching at meeting
LUCRETIA MOTT
Launch thee forth, as men and women do, amid real, independent, stormy life
Heed the call from God
Be an instrument of the spirit
Good to be always zealously affected in a good thing
It’s a simple perception of duty
that brings thee to close examination of thy daily life and practice
Head not the voice that entices
The one that slumbers and forgets
Bring forth thy greatest possible self and be fully who thee is – man and woman, boy and girl, black and white, poor and rich
Scene swings back to her home
Sweep the floor – hang the wash – chop the meat and make the pies
tack the carpet – sew the shirt – weave the rug – darn the heel
Oh my stomach!! (Lucretia doubles over in pain and takes a seat. Her daughter, Mary, brings her a glass of milky water to drink)
Make the tea – set the table – prep the food – and stoke the fire
Perhaps I’ll sit a moment by the fire to knit (she falls asleep)
End of Act 2 Scene 1
Act 2 Scene 2 In a large assembly of abolitionists populated mostly by men with a smattering of women this scene is based on the tempo of Glass Etude No. 4. During the music-only intersticial Lucretia sits proud and straight during entire pantomimed proceedings. She “speaks” only occasionally but every time she does the entire assembly turns to listen to her. The assembly is dismissed and Miller McKim, who converses with Lucretia during the pantomimed session, steps forward in an aria
MILLER MCKIM
Who is that woman? So learned and self-possessed
So unlike all the women I have ever known
What hath God driven that she glows with such inner fire?
She, like the bright, clear light after a terrible storm
warm and compelling – harsh and direct
I feel rather that she looks directly at my heart and speaks truth
I cannot hide from her piercing gaze
No one has seen me as deeply, purely, completely
as this handsome Quaker woman from Philadelphia
LUCRETIA MOTT
Miller McKim, thy dark good looks
thy earnest, searching attitude
misguided, though it may be, thee is replete with potentiality
(aside) If only he would step away from the Presbyterian stronghold at seminary
Thy Light Within is strong indeed – my dear Miller – My poor, poor orphan boy – The darling subject of my pen
Dare I say he remindeth me of my little Thomas – The one who left my breast too early for his time – How I ache for my first son who would be the age that Miller McKim is today
Push this grief aside, Lucretia
Miller is a man who must make his day
And I will provide what guidance I can along the way
(Addressing Miller) Come to Philadelphia for the antislavery convention
Miller looks to Lucretia longingly. She returns his affectionate gaze and bustles off to another meeting with the abolitionist women. Thomas Mott notices the animated conversation between his wife and Mr McKim. He reacts not with rage but with a momentary wave of sadness.
__________________________________________
Rough draft, as I said. In the future I will post other scenes for TLW as I write them. It’s like creating a jigsaw puzzle from scratch except I’m making all the little pieces first and then figuring out a way to make them fit. I hope you got something out of reading this. Do let me know how it hits you. Have a productive week.
MMN
© Marianna Mott Newirth with preliminary permissions from FCG Quaker Books
Happy Street in Somewhere Wonderful, America
Everything is shiny and bright – the sounds are perky and optimistic – the images are iconic, glamorous and captivating all along Happy Street
A woman in her 30’s, Dia, enters – well dressed with a slight flair for the dramatic. The year is 1994. Dia is at the peak of her awesomeness walking down Happy Street on a faire spring day in Somewhere Wonderful, America.
Dia – short for Diane or dialysis (also Greek for apart, through, across) Soprano
Ali – short for Alison or alien (also Greek for other) Mezzo Soprano
Choir of The Underserved – Mixed Choir of Women, Men & Children
DIA
This must be success
All of this for me
The silver sidewalk
The singing salted Pretzel man
The perfect way my pumps pound as I go purposefully ahead
Life is easy
Life’s so good
The sun on my back
The bounce in my step
No worries but to make my appointment on time
I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine
Isn’t everything divine?
CHOIR OF THE UNDERSERVED
Work and haul and push and pray
We strive to make it day by day
Under a growing cloud of doubt
We hold our tongue we do not shout
Working poor – the underserved
We are not proud we are not heard
Work so hard can’t catch a break
They tell us “All we do is take”
They try to rule us all with fear
And kill off all that we hold dear
Working poor – the underserved
We are not proud we are not heard
Working hard the under-seen
Won’t be long before we scream
A large woman emerges from the choir and approaches Dia
ALI
Excuse me – Can I ask you a question
DIA
(Flippantly as she walks past Ali) No you cannot
Ali stands momentarily rebuffed and then joins the Choir of the Underserved again
The timbre changes on Happy Street in Somewhere Wonderful, America. The year morphs into 2001 and the polish comes off the dazzling façade. The sounds are slightly flat, the images are tinged with cautious notes, the sky (a 911 blue) looks somewhat sinister, the light that once warmed Dia’s back is somehow colder.
DIA (pushing a stroller)
Let me see where I can go
So I can look like I’m in the know
It’s hard to keep up the game
With so much pressure to have a name in the world
My grandmother – my grandmother
She was an elegant lady of her day
The Greatest Generation
Social register – Women’s rights
Fantastic hats with feathers in them
She’s the one I emulate
The lady I want to be
It’s harder than I thought it was
I don’t understand, really
ALI
Excuse me, can I ask you a question?
DIA
I don’t have time – I’m late
I’m late, for a thing, ya know
Excuse me
Ali watches Dia bustle past her and turn the corner. She addresses the audience directly
ALI*
She’s thinking “There must be something wrong here”
Like I’m a problem that needs fixing
Lazy freeloader – welfare mom
That’s all she sees when she walks past me on Happy Street
Broke but not broken
Broke but not broken
The system’s not made for us
The rich folk always making a fuss
Broke but not broken
Broke but not broken
See me for who I really am
I come from a good family of people
People who love me
CHOIR OF THE UNDERSERVED*
Self reliant
Something gets broke we fix it
Self reliant
Somebody falls gather them up in a bundle of life
Until they can breathe on their own again
Self reliant
The system’s not made for us
The system’s not made for us
The system’s not made for us!
We walk for the lame
We drive for the carless
We wait for the brother whose still in jail
We sing for the bird that’s lost its song
We spring for the winter that lasts too long
We cling to each other in times of fear
And pray to a God who never seems near
But we keep praying – ‘cause – ya never know when
That God might just show up and make everything work again
Self reliant
The system’s not made for us
The timbre changes on Happy Street in Somewhere Wonderful, America once again. The year morphs into 2016 and the façade is removed exposing the rawness of the performance space. The sounds are sharp, the images are stark, the sky is flat and white. Ali sits on a box next to a tree growing out of the sidewalk. Dia walks by holding her hand to her jaw. She is sporting a hat with a big flower on the side, which contrasts sharply with the dark mood she appears to be in
ALI
Excuse me. Can I axe you a question?!
DIA
You always try and stop me at the worst times!
I cannot talk to you right now
ALI
But you don’t even know what my question is
DIA
I…look…I’m sorry. I have a terrible…
Aside to the audience: I’m not telling her my problems
My tooth hurts, yes, but I don’t have to explain myself to her
We all have places to be you know
We all have things to do
Aside to the audience: I really need to get to the dentist, excuse me
Audio of a dentist’s drill incorporates with the music of Ali’s She Don’t Even Know aria
ALI
She don’t even know my question
She so damn busy all the time
Bound up in her little world of lattes and opera
She don’t see who I really am
She won’t see who I really am
I am a woman who makes hats for a living
I am a woman whose daughter is pregnant with twins
I am a woman with a son stationed in Iraq
Who the fuck is she?!
Dia walks out moaning slightly and holding an ice bag to her cheek
DIA
I wonder what her question was
Such a bitch I was I know
But my aching tooth, oh my aching tooth
I’ll stop and talk with her now
I don’t know why I’ve been so cold
Although she has been very bold and tried to ask me several times about…something
I don’t know what
It always felt wrong
She did not belong in my world
My perfect little world – so stupid
I could not see for all the glitter that was in front of me
Perhaps I can start with an apology
Dia notices that Ali is no longer sitting where she was. Dia looks around but Ali is not there.
DIA
She is gone
I am an idiot
CHOIR OF THE UNDERSERVED
Ali – the other
Dia – apart from it all
______________________________________________________________
[librettist’s note] I actually have no idea how to end this at the moment…
*Thank you to Mia Birdsong for the inspiration and some of her words taken from her TEDTalk “The Story We Tell About Poverty Isn’t True” May 2015
©Marianna Mott Newirth 2016
A middle aged woman sits at a table with a journal open in front of her and a pencil in her hand. A light on the table illuminates the pages in a glow of warmth which washes up onto the woman’s face as she stares down at a blank page.
WOMAN
Here I am
It’s four AM
The house is quiet for now
I left my bed
So warm and cozy
The dogs won’t leave their lair to join me
In my cold endeavor
At my little desk
In the dark of night
Before the dawn’s floundering light
To be a writer is to be alone
A single entity who can dive into limitless waters of thought
Who can swim to the very bottom of the pond of possibility
And dredge up a moment’s consideration
For compilation in a composition yet to be named
No, there is more to this than meets the eye
I do not rise in the death of night
Out of some sense of obligation
I rise because I have no choice
My characters call to me
They disturb me from my sweet slumbering
Yearning for resolution of the situation I wrote them them into the night before
They all want to know – what happens next!
So here I am
It’s four AM
The house is quiet for now
And I – I cannot think of a thing to write
MMN
Two character scene:
First character wants a tangible object from the second character while the second character wants something intangible from the first character. Neither character can get what they want, at least not easily.
Maestro
Look at what time it is
Nearly midnight
Calliope!
Calliope
Time – such a silly little human construct
Was I not made for greater things than this?
You washed your hair
How did you know I like lavender
Maestro
It was the shampoo in the shower
Shall we get started
Maestro strikes a chord on his piano and straightens the blank sheet music in front of him
Calliope
Nice piano – Your pencil’s not sharp
Maestro takes a small hand-held plastic pencil sharpener and sharpens his pencil
Calliope
Where are we tonight?
Maestro
Amsterdam
Maestro
I prefer Florence
Jacopo Peri would hold me on his lap as he worked, you know
I would turn pages for him
Maestro
A page-turner is not what I’m looking for
Let’s get to work
Calliope
I enjoyed twirling his moustache until it stuck straight out
Why do men shave these days?
Maestro
I’m getting to work
Will you come?
Calliope
If you fondle me right, I just might
Maestro
I’m working now
Something new, if you like
It struck me crossing Waterlooplein square
Calliope
So you want to play then?
Maestro
I like to play
Calliope
As do I
Maestro
What you have in mind will keep me from my work
We have an understanding, you and I
Calliope
Ah my composer, you think you know me so well
Maestro
After sixty-years I’ve picked up a thing or two about you
Calliope
Sixty years – You’re a child compared to the giants I’ve worked with
Maestro
There’s a reason you are here and it’s not to distract me
Calliope
What are you doing in this time-riddled, shit-hole of a culture anyway
Maestro
This is the only time I have been given (yelling)
Calliope.
Temper
Maestro
I get angry when people waste my time
Calliope
Oh, is that it? You’re comparing me to people now?
Maestro
Let’s get to work
Calliope
Just imagine me lying naked in your bed
wrapped in your sheets
ripe for the plucking
Maestro
I want to write
I need insight
Your help would be appreciated
Calliope
You arrogant bastard
You must work for my attention
I’m not some easy thing you can get at any opening night party
Maestro
I don’t do that…
Calliope
I know, my darling, I know.
Maestro
Did I call you or did you grace me with your presence? I can’t remember now. How have we ever managed to work together
I can’t remember
Calliope
Tell me now – what do you feel?
Maestro
My feelings border on hatred
Calliope
Do you hate when you make love
Maestro
Of course not
Calliope
Do you hate when you compose
Maestro
I cannot hate when I compose
Hate is a mear mask people hide behind
Calliope
What are you holding on to then?
Maestro
I’m holding
I’m holding on
I’m holding on to
I’m holding onto the one who bears witness to my work
Calliope
And who, pray tell, is that?
Maestro
It is Phil
The Phil who washes his hair with lavender soap
The Phil who sets a watch and calls you at midnight
The Phil sitting here arguing with his muse
He is insufficient to the task
He will never get this done
Calliope
And besides he’s really no fun
Maestro
He does the best he can in a mad world
Calliope
Take him off the shelf where you keep him
Smash his ceramic face upon the floor
Have sex with me
Maestro
You’re my muse not my lover
Calliope
Our session is over
Maestro
No, it is not.
You don’t want corporeal sex, Calliope
I am old and counting every heartbeat
You want a sacrifice
The Greek choir slowly enters singing
You’re the daughter of Zeus and Mnemosyne
A goddess of music, song and dance
You want the “I” that is watching me talk to you*
The witness has to go* – I relinquish him to you
the one always peering over my shoulder|
commenting on every thing I do
Have your way with him
Slit his throat for all I care
Take it – this power for me to see myself – take it, Calliope
Take it and suck away at his delicious banality
A Greek choir walks around the two – conveying the thoughts of the maestro as he separates his daily-self from his artist-self and sets to compose in earnest. The choir echoes the mans constant comment…the incessantly nagging voice in his head droning on and on about nothing of consequence. They keep this up while the Maestro and Calliope sing their duet and the Maestro takes his place at the piano while Calliope takes her place on the floor eating away at a puppet that resembles the Maestro. In the end her face and dress is covered in a sticky, grotesque mass of humanity. Her glee cannot be contained.
Greek Choir
I am sitting on a music bench
There is music on the stand in front of me
I am trying to write an opera
The piano has white and black keys
My nose has an itch
It might snow tomorrow
Calliope has beautiful breasts
Did I remember to plug my phone in?
Is this an A or an A flat?
What should I have for breakfast
Should I just stop now and go to sleep
How far is the taxi stand from the airport terminal
Will someone be there to pick me up tomorrow
I hope Paris will be a safe place to be
Did I pack an extra pair of underwear
The back of my head is itchy
Calliope
Imagination is now open to you at every single moment of time*
Give me the guy who pays taxes and takes out the garbage
The guy who watches and has to remark on every little thing
Give him to me – I’ll get him done
While you swim in the spontaneous unfolding of life*
Nothings routine
Nothings repeated
Nothings routine
Nothings repeated
One foot in the world of clarity and power*
Don’t think about now it doesn’t matter
Nothings routine
Nothings repeated
Nothings routine
Nothings repeated
The sounds of Amsterdam at 3am overtake the music and drown out everything while the light tightens on the Maestro’s face as he composes, unaware of anything else going on around him. The the light clicks to black.
The End
________________________________________________________________
*Much of the inspiration for this piece came from Philip Glass’ memoir Words Without Music a gift that my husband gave to me for Hanukkah. I gobbled the book up in short order. There are a few lines marked with the * that are taken directly out of his book.
Glass, Philip: Words Without Music Liveright Publishing Company a Division of WW Norton & Co 2015 Pages 382 & 383
The picture of Philip Glass was taken by Anne Leibovitz
The picture of Calliope was taken by some guy who posted it on Google reference has been lost
If you have an issue with my using these images send me a message and I’ll take them down. I’m not making any money with this stuff right now – I’m just keeping one foot in the world of clarity and power and the other in the every day banality of daily life.
MMN
Opera Abecedarian 