Tanglewood 2019, Part 3: A big finish

I spent the last weekend in July at the Tanglewood Music Festival in the scenic Berkshires as part of a group of two dozen music critics attending the annual meeting of the Music Critics Association of North America (MCANA). It was a Wagner weekend, with three of the four concerts on our schedule dedicated to a complete concert performance of Die Walküre: Act I on Saturday night and Acts II and III in separate concerts on Sunday. Not surprisingly, the Tanglewood Learning Institute (TLI) sessions we attended were focused entirely on Wagner and his world.

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The Linde Center at Tanglewood, home to most
of our TLI events
Photo by Robert Benson

Sunday, July 28th, was my final day at Tanglewood and a big one for lovers of the operas of Wagner.

Following an MCANA business meeting was a panel discussion with members of the Boston Symphony Orchestra and Tanglewood on the challenges facing American orchestras today and the creative ways those orchestras are meeting them. Moderated by WBUR's Keith Powers, the blue-ribbon panel consisted of BSO CEO Mark Volpe, Tanglewood Learning Institute Sue Elliott, Tanglewood artistic director Anthony Fogg, and Symphony Magazine managing editor Jennifer Melick. It was informative and frank, dealing in a forthright manner with a number of questions, including the difficult exit of former BSO music director James Levine.

The end of Die Walküre, Act II
Photo by Hilary Scott

Next, it was a quick dash across campus to the intimate Tanglewood Theatre for an entertaining look at "Wagner and Humor." The session wasn't so much about the humor in Wagner's work (although there is plenty of it in Die Meistersinger) as it was about the ways the composer and his music have been lampooned and parodied ever since he rose to prominence in the late 19th century.

Not surprisingly, there was a lot of material to cover in only an hour.

Stephanie Blythe and James Rutherford
Photo by Hilary Scott

The 19th-century editorial cartoons mocking the composer's pretensions ran the gamut from clever to crass, and there was at least one very welcome musical discovery: an 1880 piece for piano four hands by Gabriel Fauré and André Messager, titled Les Souvenirs de Bayreuth, that turns some of Wagner's most dramatic themes into what Jeremy Grimshaw (at allmusic.com) describes as "danceable ditties and overripe rhapsodies that sometimes border on the maudlin." Although Fauré and Messager were great admirers of Wagner, they apparently couldn't pass up the opportunity to have a bit of fun at his expense.

Some of my own favorite Wagner parodies were sampled, including Peter Schickele's Last Tango in Bayreuth for four bassoons and Anna Russell's legendary survey of the Ring cycle. And there was a complete showing of the Bugs Bunny/Elmer Fudd classic What's Opera, Doc? with its visual and musical send-ups of The Flying Dutchman, Tannhauser, and (of course) the Ring. Perhaps the most ridiculous bit of video, though, was a "Ride of the Valkyries" performed by a madcap musical duo known as The Melodica Men. It must be seen to be believed. Fortunately, it's on their YouTube channel.

Christine Goerke and Simon O'Neill
Photo by Hilary Scott

Up next was Act II of Die Walküre, as soprano Christine Goerke (Brünnhilde), mezzo Stephanie Blythe (Fricka), and bass-baritone James Rutherford (Wotan) joined soprano Amber Wagner (Sieglinde), tenor Simon O'Neill (Siegmund), and bass Franz-Josef Selig (Hunding). There's plenty of family drama in the second act, as Fricka expresses her outrage that Wotan is condoning not only adultery but incest as well. She browbeats him into upholding the sanctity of marriage by letting Hunding kill Siegmund, even though Wotan had hoped Siegmund would be the hero who would save Valhalla from the descendants of Alberich. When Brünnhilde (who, like all the Valkyries, is a daughter of Wotan and the earth goddess Erda) violates Wotan's orders and tries to save Siegmund, Wotan kills Hunding after having allowed him to kill Siegmund and storms off to punish his errant daughter.

James Rutherford, Andris Nelsons, Christine Goerke
Photo by Hilary Scott

This is strong stuff, and it got truly gripping performances from all concerned. Ms. Wagner, Mr. O'Neill, and Mr. Selig continued the fine work they displayed on the previous night's performance of Act I. Ms. Blythe was a regal presence as Fricka, displaying an impressively wide vocal range with powerful low notes. The same was true of Mr. Rutherford's conflicted, heaven-storming Wotan. As Brünnhilde, Ms. Goerke displayed a touching vulnerability and soaring, clear voice. The Tanglewood Music Center Orchestra played splendidly under the baton of Andris Nelsons.

Next was the dinner break, during which members of MCANA were treated to sandwiches and a showing of the 2010 documentary Wagner and Me, in which actor and writer Stephen Fry combines a backstage look at Bayreuth with an examination of the difficulty of separating Wagner's music from the composer's own antisemitism and the appropriation of his music by the Nazis. I saw the film when it first came out, but Fry's wit and wisdom are always worth another visit.

The Tanglewood Shed
Photo by Fred Collins

The evening concluded with the final act of Die Walküre, including an electrifying performance of the famous "Ride of the Valkyries" featuring eight stunning singers as Brünnhilde's warrior sisters. They were: sopranos Jessica Faselt (Helmwige), Wendy Bryn Harmer (Ortlinde), and Kelly Cae Hogan (Gerhilde) along with mezzos Eve Gigliotti (Siegrune), Dana Beth Miller (Grimgerde), Ronnita Miller (Schwertleite), Mary Phillips (Rossweisse), and Renée Tatum (Waltraute). Fronting the massive orchestra in full battle cry, they were overwhelming in the best possible way. Mr. Rutherford and Ms. Goerke gave us a beautifully touching "Wotan's farewell" scene to bring the concert series to a rewarding close.

Tanglewood 2019, Part 2: A mighty wind

I spent the last weekend in July at the Tanglewood Music Festival in the scenic Berkshires as part of a group of two dozen music critics attending the annual meeting of the Music Critics Association of North America (MCANA). It was a Wagner weekend, with three of the four concerts on our schedule dedicated to a complete concert performance of Die Walküre: Act I on Saturday night and Acts II and III in separate concerts on Sunday. Not surprisingly, the Tanglewood Learning Institute (TLI) sessions we attended were focused entirely on Wagner and his world.

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Andris Nelsons
Photo courtesy of Boston Symphony Orchestra

Saturday, July 27th, began with Boston Symphony Orchestra music director Andris Nelsons conducting an open rehearsal of Act III of Die Walküre with the Tanglewood Music Center Orchestra. Opportunities to "look under the hood" like this are always fascinating, and this one was no exception, as Mr. Nelsons polished up moments that, in the actual concert, would take a back seat to the singers.

It was a reminder of how much the orchestra advances and comments on the story in Wagner's "Ring" operas through the composer's ingenious use of leitmotifs , those short musical phrases associated with specific characters and concepts. The way in which Wagner maintained a massive database of these themes in his head and manipulated them through the entire 17 hours of the "Ring" cycle never fails to astonish me. Wagner may have been an awful human being, but there's no gainsaying the brilliance of his art.

A word about the Tanglewood Music Center Orchestra is in order. The TMC is a summer academy for young (primarily college-age) musicians founded by the legendary BSO Music Director Serge Koussevitzky as the Berkshire Music Center in 1940. The organization continued to thrive under subsequent BSO Music Directors like Charles Munch, Erich Leinsdorf, and James Levine, with input from luminaries such as Leonard Bernstein, Aaron Copland, and Leon Fleisher. Today, as the BSO web site proudly proclaims, "20 percent of the members of American symphony orchestras, and 30 percent of all first-chair players, studied at the TMC."

So, not surprisingly, the kids played like real pros at the rehearsal. I was especially taken with the brass section.

Wagner tuba

Speaking of which: a lunch with members of the orchestra was followed by a session on "Sonic Bridges: Wagner and Brass Instruments," once again led by the redoubtable Sue Elliott. As an old low brass guy (trombone, euphonium, Sousaphone), I very much enjoyed learning about the creative ways in which Wagner used familiar brass instruments like the horn, as well as his use of unusual instruments like the contrabass tuba (used primary for scenes with the giants in Das Rheingold), the Stierhorn (a valveless horn dating back to the Middle Ages), and the bass trumpet.

Wagner even went to far as to have a special instrument built that now bears his name: the Wagner tuba. Inspired by a visit to the workshop of noted Parisian instrument-maker Adolphe Saxe, the Wagner tuba was constructed to the composer's specifications by the Moritz firm in Berlin. It looks rather like my old friend the euphonium but has a range similar to that of a French horn, with which it shares the same conical mouthpiece.

To this day, the Wagner tuba is rarely heard outside of the "Ring" operas, although Bruckner calls for it in his later symphonies, as does Richard Strauss in his Alpine Symphony. As a result, Ms. Elliott pointed out, orchestras usually keep some Wagner tubas on hand since the French horn players who usually play the instrument are unlikely to have one of their own.

L-R: Franz-Josef Selig, Amber Wager,
Andris Nelsons, Simon O'Neill
Photo courtesy of Boston Symphony

The big event of the day, though, was the concert version of Act I of Die Walküre that night. The first act is the story of how Siegmund stumbles into the home of Sieglinde, his twin sister from whom he has been separated since birth and whom he does not recognize. Sieglinde's husband, Hunding, has been hunting Siegmund and challenges him to a fight to the death in the morning. Siegmund and Sieglinde fall in love. Sieglinde drugs Hunding and flees with Siegmund, but not before the latter plucks a magical sword from the trunk of a tree in Hunding's house.

Yes, that sounds absurd, but with Wagner's music and libretto it becomes a gripping story of overwhelming passion and heroic determination, especially when performed by a cast as strong as this one. As Sieglinde and Siegmund, soprano Amber Wagner and tenor Simon O'Neill displayed credible passion and sang with stunning power. Bass Franz-Josef Selig radiated gravitas as Hunding and sang with authority. Andris Nelsons led the students of the Tanglewood Music Center Orchestra in a rousing account of the score. I could not have been happier.

Tanglewood 2019, part 1: Ravel's big score

I spent the last weekend in July at the Tanglewood Music Festival in the scenic Berkshires as part of a group of two dozen music critics attending the annual meeting of the Music Critics Association of North America (MCANA). It was a Wagner weekend, with three of the four concerts on our schedule dedicated to a complete concert performance of Die Walküre: Act I on Saturday night and Acts II and III in separate concerts on Sunday. Not surprisingly, the Tanglewood Learning Institute (TLI) sessions we attended were focused entirely on Wagner and his world.

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Sue Elliott
Photo by Hilary Scott

Day one began with "Wagner's Alchemy: Die Walküre and the Ring Cycle" by TLI Director Sue Elliott. A well-informed and engaging presenter, Ms. Elliott led us through a fascinating glimpse "under the hood" of Wagner's creative process, complete with musical illustrations.

Next was a lunch session with Boston Symphony Orchestra (BSO) Music Director Andris Nelsons and soprano Christine Goerke, who was singing the demanding role of Brünnhilde in the Walküre performances. Moderated by Tanglewood Director Tony Fogg, the discussion featured some insightful comments from Ms. Goerke on singing Wagner, enlivened by her droll sense of humor.

I missed the next two sessions-a discussions of "The Wagner Voice: Truths and Myths" with English dramatic soprano Jane Eaglen and "The Struggle Between Power and Love" (the subtext of the entire "Ring" cycle) with pianist Jeffrey Swann. But I was back for the MCANA opening night reception and the presentation of our annual Best New Opera Award.

This year, the award went to p r i s m, a complex work by Ellen Reid (music) and Roxie Perkins (libretto) about a woman trying to work her way back to reality after a sexual assault that leaves her with a crippling case of PTSD. The opera had its premiere in Los Angeles last November. Ms. Reid was unavailable to accept in person because of a family wedding, but Ms. Perkins was on hand and spoke eloquently for both of them.

The evening concluded with a concert by Mr. Nelsons, the BSO, and the Tanglewood Festival Chorus that was rather a case of too much of a good thing. Running around two hours and twenty minutes, the program consisted of Shostakovitch's oddly schizoid Symphony No. 2 ("To October"), Mozart's early Piano Concerto No. 12 with soloist Paul Lewis, and a performance of the complete score of Ravel's Daphnis et Chloé ballet.

Pianist Paul Lewis

Written for a 1927 celebration of the 10th anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution, Shostakovitch's second symphony consists of a graphic orchestral description of the violence of the revolution that ends with the sound of a factory horn (or, in this case, members of the brass section) followed by a noisy hymn to Lenin with the chorus. The choral section is a bit creepy in its adulation of the revolutionary theorist ("Oh, Lenin! You Forged freedom through suffering," and so on) but the overall effect was certainly rousing and entertaining in a campy Ed Wood way. The elegant and superbly balanced Mozart concerto that followed was a welcome palate cleanser, with impeccable playing by Mr. Lewis.

The performance of the Daphis et Chloé that concluded the evening was certainly a powerful one, with some bravura singing by the chorus, although at times the tempi Mr. Nelsons chose were a bit too loving for my taste. I'm not convinced that all ballet scores work as concert pieces, in any case, particularly when they have repetitive narrative sections that make sense in a fully staged performance but become a bit tedious otherwise. I think Ravel's own Daphnis et Chloé suites are a better choice for the concert hall.

Still, it was a gratifying finish to my first day, and the sound of the Koussevitzky Music Shed, at least from our seats in section 1, was quite good. Even the 45-minute slog in heavy traffic back to our hotel couldn't dampen the mood.

Glimmerglass Festival, 2016, Day 2: Words and music by Stephen Sondheim

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The highlight of day two of my visit to the Glimmerglass Festival as part of a team from the Music Critics Association of North America wasn't a performance at all, but rather an on-stage interview by Jamie Bernstein—writer, broadcaster, and daughter of famed Leonard Bernstein—of Stephen Sondheim, whose musical-cum-opera Sweeny Todd was the main event that night.

Casually attired in a blue polo shirt and chinos, Mr. Sondheim was wonderfully charming and unassuming. He shared some interesting insights what he sees as the differences between musical theatre and opera and had some great anecdotes about the creation of West Side Story, Gypsy, and (of course) Sweeney Todd.

Although he was addressing an opera audience, Mr. Sondheim confessed that he was not a fan of opera because he didn't personally care for "constant singing." The contrast between spoken dialog and song is, for him, far more interesting. He singled out Carmen as an opera that he enjoyed for that very reason.

He acknowledged that some musicals, such as Frank Loesser's Most Happy Fella, are rather like operas in that they are entirely sung, but they're not "through-composed". That is, they're not large musical structures like (to pick an extreme example) the operas of Wagner. So while Most Happy Fella and Sweeney Todd use repeating musical motifs, they're not really operas in his view.

Emily Pogorelc as Johanna
Photo: Karli Cakel

That said, he noted that when Sweeney Todd performed by opera companies, it's viewed as an opera. Otherwise it's viewed as a musical. Audiences adapt their expectations to the venue.

"When I was writing Sweeney," he noted, "I was writing a movie." He was attracted to the big, exaggerated emotions of actor Christopher Bond's adaptation of the original mid-19th-centrury "penny dreadful" The String of Pearls. A stage adaptation of the original, awful though it was, became a moneymaker for actor Tod Slaughter (!), who filmed it in 1936. Mr. Sondheim, though, felt that Bond had taken the original and given it real characters with real depth-something he was careful to honor in his adaptation. He observed that sometimes inferior plays make the best operas because the music "ennobles" them. Puccini did this on a regular basis, he reminded us.

Mr. Sondheim recalled that he spent an entire month working on one song: "Epiphany", the dramatic number in which Todd, convinced that he will never have his vengeance on Judge Turpin, goes truly mad and swears bloody retribution on the entire world. The song sets up the entire second half of the show, and so was critical to its success.

Nicholas Nestorak (left) as Tobias Ragg
and members of the ensemble
Photo: Karli Cadel

Asked what he was working on now, Mr. Sondheim revealed that he's working with playwright David Ives (Venus in Fur, All in the Timing), on a stage version of two Luis Buñuel films: The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie and Exterminating Angel. By sheer coincidence, composer Thomas Adès has just completed work on an opera version of the latter film, so audiences will have a chance to compare the two when they play in New York next year.

Asked about A Little Night Music, he said that he has always thought of it as an operetta. It's lighter in tone than an opera and has "an operetta attitude." He then went on to recall his meeting with Ingmar Bergman-whose film Smiles of a Summer Night served as the basis for the show-in New York City just after he had been granted the rights for the adaptation. Bergman was so pleased by Sondheim's work that he asked the composer to work with him on a film version of The Merry Widow—a project that never came to fruition. Bergman liked the Broadway production, and remarked to Sondheim that Hermione Gingold "really f**ks the audience."

And he meant it in the best way possible.

Towards the end, Ms. Bernstein and Mr. Sondheim took a few questions from the audience that had been submitted in advance. One was a rather ponderous query about how the social and political background of the 1970s had influenced the composition of Sweeney Todd. He laughed and said "I just wrote Sweeney Todd to scare people."

He also had a couple of great Ethel Merman stories.

Greer Grimsley (left) in the title role and
Peter Volpe as Judge Turpin
Photo: Karli Cadel

The Sondheim interview left me primed for a great production of Sweeney Todd. Alas, that's not what I got. The many problems with director Christopher Alden's gimmicky and distracting direction are described fairly well by my colleague Barbara Jepson in her review for Classical Voice North America, so I won't repeat them here. Suffice it to say that Sweeney Todd is now apparently an Established Classic that can be subjected to bizarre directorial concepts that contradict the text and undermine the drama. Direction that constantly calls attention to itself raises barriers between the material and the audience, which is certainly what happened here.

The Glimmerglass cast has great voices, though, and Young Artists member Molly Jane Hill, a last minute substitute for an ailing Luretta Bybee, did herself proud as Mrs. Lovett. They did not, however, sound entirely comfortable with Mr. Sondheim's rapid-fire, literate lyrics-which made the projected English text very welcome.

Equally welcome was the chance to hear Sondheim's score played by a full orchestra. Conductor John DeMain gave an excellent account of it. Indeed, if you closed your eyes this was a pretty respectable production.

Opera review: In San Francisco, a Berlioz blockbuster

Trojan Horse
Photo: ©Cory Weaver, used by permission

Who: San Francisco Opera
What: Les Troyens by Hector Berlioz
Where: War Memorial Opera House, San Francisco
When: June 7 - July 1, 2015

"Once in a Lifetime!" proclaims the poster for the San Francisco Opera's lavish production of Hector Berlioz's mammoth 1858 drama "Les Troyens" ("The Trojans). For many of us in the Music Critics Association of North America attending the June 12th performance as part of our annual conference, that was the literal truth. Which still put us one up on Berlioz.

By the time Berlioz died in 1869, only the last three of his five acts had been performed, and then only in a drastically truncated and badly produced version by the Théâtre Lyrique, the Paris Opéra having dithered over it too long. The first full production didn't take place until 1890, and even then it languished for most of the 19th and early 20th century, taking on the reputation of (in the words of Berlioz biographer Ian Kemp, quoted in the program) "a monster so unwieldy that it had to be split in two and trimmed to size."

Act I Chorus
Photo: ©Cory Weaver, used by permission

That reputation wasn't entirely undeserved. Running five hours or so (depending on the number and length of intermissions) and requiring a huge cast, massive orchestra, and elaborate stage machinery (including, of course, the Trojan horse), "Les Troyens" requires pockets and a talent pool of considerable depth.

Happily the current SFO production—which originated at the Royal Opera, Covent Garden, in 2012 and will go on to La Scala and the Vienna State Opera—has musical, dramatic, and technical talent in abundance. It has all the spectacle, heart, and fire (including actual pyrotechnics) needed to bring Berlioz's sweeping musical canvas to life. It's utterly engrossing and the shortest five hours I have ever spent anywhere.

The story of "Les Troyens" begins on the eve of the fall of Troy, as the Greek army has apparently fled the scene, leaving behind only the fabled horse, which despite the dire warnings of Cassandra, the Trojans take into the city. The opera goes on to chronicle the fall of Troy, the suicide of the Trojan women, and Aeneas' tragic affair with the Carthaginian queen Dido. It ends with Dido's suicide and a chorus of vengeance by the Carthaginian people.

Entrance of Didon
Photo: ©Cory Weaver, used by permission

Through it all Berlioz (who wrote his own libretto, after Virgil's "Aeneid") cannily mixes intimate solos and duets, massive choral scenes, elaborate ballet sequences, and vivid instrumental writing (he was, after all, a master orchestrator) in ways that are guaranteed to keep the viewer engaged. "Les Troyens" gives us the great sweep of historical events and the implacable hand of fate, but never lets us lose sight of the intimate human relationships that are at the core of the story.

Heading the cast are mezzo Susan Graham as Didon (Dido) and tenor Bryan Hymel as Enée (Aeneas). Ms. Graham's voice has a full, silky quality that has won her international praise and matches it with tasteful acting that makes her character's heartbreak all too real. Mr. Hymel makes Enée's conflict between the demands of his heart and the dictates of his destiny completely credible, and does so with flawless vocal technique.

Mezzo Michaela Martens was Cassandre (Cassandra) the night we saw "Troyens" (she alternates in the role with Anna Caterina Antonacci). She is a vivid presence on stage, with an emotionally dark and rich voice and fiercely committed acting that projects her character's rage and despair with tremendous force. Baritone Brian Mulligan is equally convincing as Cassandre's doomed lover Chorèbe (Chorebus).

Love scene from Act IV
Photo: ©Cory Weaver, used by permission

Mezzo Sasha Cooke (who was so impressive in the San Francisco Symphony's "Missa Solemnis") is a warm and sympathetic presence as Didon's sister Anna, and bass-baritone Christian Van Horn (a first-rate Karenin in Opera Theatre of St. Louis's "Anna Karenina" back in 2007) is an imposing Narbal, minister to Didon.

There are a host of other fine performances in smaller roles, but there are a few I feel compelled to single out, beginning with an irresistible cameo as the poet Iopas by tenor René Barbera (a thoroughly ingratiating Nemorino in Opera Theatre's "Elixir of Love" last summer). Berlioz has given the character one enchanting little number—a hymn to the goddess Ceres—and Mr. Barbera sang it in a clear, fluid, and utterly lovely way that produced spontaneous shouts of "bravo" as soon as the last note died out.

Bass-baritone Matthew Stump and bass Anthony Reed also deserve praise for their brief star turn as the only real comic characters in the opera—a pair of Trojan sentries who grumble about being forced to leave the comfort of Carthage and schlep off to Italy. The scene comes at a point in the opera where a little comic relief is welcome, and both singers hit the dramatic sweet spot—funny but not too broad and expertly sung.

Dido and Ascagne
Photo: ©Cory Weaver, used by permission

Backing up all these exemplary performances is Ian Robertson's chorus, singing with precision, clarity, and often overwhelming power. The chorus is kept quite busy in "Les Troyens," so the importance of their work can't be overstated. The huge orchestra (95 players, includes 23 backstage and offstage) performs brilliantly under Donald Runnicles, giving a thoroughly compelling reading of Berlioz's wonderfully varied and bracing score. That includes many exotic touches such as offstage brass choirs and unusual instrumental combinations.

Ballet plays an important role in "Les Troyens" as well. The French always loved seeing dances in their operas, but Berlioz uses dance for narrative purposes as well as for sheer spectacle. The famous "Royal Hunt and Storm" of Act IV (often heard as a stand-alone concert piece), for example, tells almost the entire story of the courtship of Didon and Enée without a single word being sung. The choreography of Lynne Page and David Greeves is executed here with tremendous flair by a skilled corps de ballet.

This production's original director, Sir David McVicar (Leah Huasman is credited as Revival Director), moved the action of the opera up to 1855, with Troy designed to resemble the battle of Sebastopol in the Crimean War. That vision is vividly realized by Es Devlin's sets and Moritz Junge's costumes. Troy is all dark colors and metallic surfaces, for example, while Carthage shines in bright desert hues (the Carthage set of Act III generated applause as soon as the lights came up). The 23-foot-tall Trojan horse is the stuff of nightmares: an imposing skeletal monster bristling with wheels and gears.

Act IV finale
Photo: ©Cory Weaver, used by permission

The intent, according to the SFO press release, was to make "a strong statement on how throughout history humanity is destined to repeat its mistakes." That's not as revisionist as you might think; to quote Mr. Kemp again, Berlioz's opera "is Virgilian in countless ways" including "the sense of fatality, of obscure inimical powers that lie in wait for man, and of the madness that can strike a people and drive it blindly to its own destruction." Both Virgil and Berlioz lived in times of great political upheaval; it seems entirely reasonable for a production of "Les Troyens" to reflect that. When, during the final chorus of vengeance, an armed giant composed of the same industrial components as the Trojan horse rises up behind the singers, it feels more inevitable than imposed.

"Les Troyens" is both a tragic love story and a commentary on the stupidity of war, and deserves to be seen. It runs through July 1 at the War Memorial Opera House in San Francisco in rotating repertory with "The Marriage of Figaro" and "Two Women".