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music by Rodney Sharman, libretto by Alex Poch-Goldin, choreography and direction by James Kudelka

Coleman Lemieux & Compagnie, The Citadel, Toronto

February 14-24, 2013

Simon: “Ladies at play / Ruthless and lovely.”

From the House of Mirth is an unusual adaptation of Edith Wharton’s great novel The House of Mirth (1905).  I missed the show when it debuted last year, but now, after a short sold-out run, it is back again for a limited time.  The 55-minute-long blending of dance and opera cannot hope to capture anything but the general drift of Wharton’s long and complex novel.  I assume that is why the works title is prefaced with “from” to indicate that is only depicts a smattering of key scenes.  If one takes this fact as a given, then one can view From the House of Mirth as an experiment so fascinating one longs to see it become the full-length work it could be, titled The House of Mirth.   

Wharton’s novel, a satire of social hypocrisy, charts the downfall of Lily Bart, who chooses to pursue wealth over love and in the end has neither.  Yet, why she should fall from a position in high society to a state of isolation and penury by the end has as much to do with how her actions are misconstrued and misrepresented by society than with her own errors of judgement.  To reflect the position of women in Wharton’s day of being seen but not heard, librettist Alex Poch-Goldin and choreographer/director James Kudelka have decided that the roles of the men would be sung and those of the women danced.  This experiment works wonderfully.  It’s just a pity that the creators leave so many important points of the story undramatized. 

As a wealthy woman of the time Lily (Laurence Lemieux) has been trained to have only one goal in life – to capture a wealthy husband.  Her difficulty is that the only man she has ever loved, and who loves her, is Lawrence Selden (Scott Belluz), who is to poor to maintain her in the kind of life she thinks she ought to lead.  Meanwhile, she tries to keep up with the upper class social set which involves expenditures on dress and gambling at bridge.  Lily’s best friend is Judy Trenor (Claudia Moore), but Judy’s husband Gus (Graham Thomson) promises to invest Lily’s money believing that he can later demand favours from her. 

In the novel Lily joins George Dorset and his wife Bertha on a cruise to Europe to escape the rumours that have begun about her and Gus.  In the creators’ version, Lily makes such an impression with a solo dance recital that Judy and Gus invite her to travel with them to Europe.  At Monte Carlo, Bertha in the novel, Judy in the ballet, accuses Lily of adultery with George (Geoffrey Sirett) in order to cover up her own transgressions with a young poet.  The scandal ruins Lily.  Her friends abandon her and her Aunt Peniston (Victoria Bertram) disinherits her in favour of her cousin (Christianne Ullmark).  The entrepreneur Simon Rosedale offers to support Lily but he wants the old love-letters she has between his wife and Selden to undermine Bertha, while Lily wants to protect Simon’s reputation.  George proposes to her to rescue her from poverty, but she refuses because she thinks it would only confirm the false rumours about her.  Eventually, Lily dies from a possible accidental overdose of chloral hydrate just before Selden comes to propose to her. 

The main flaw in Alex Poch-Goldin’s libretto and James Kudelka’s choreography is that the reason for Lily’s fall from grace is totally unclear.  An innocent viewer unfamiliar with Wharton’s novel would assume that Lily’s beauty and the sexual allure she displays during the solo dance recital arouses the jealousy of the other women of her social set.  This would be a good explanation except that Poch-Goldin and Kudelka include parts of the plot that do not correspond with this.  We see Judy tell Lily not to set foot in her yacht (the only words spoken by a woman in the performance), but we are not shown the reasons why she says this.  (They are sung in a chorus though the words are too vague.)  This absence is very odd since Kudelka could easily have illustrated Bertha’s deceit through dance or mime.  Simon offers to help Lily but we don’t know why she refuses.  We see George propose to Lily but have no clue why he does this or why she rejects him.

These are all significant flaws in basic storytelling, especially if the creators had the goal of reflecting the novel in all its complexity.  Since I am giving them the benefit of the doubt in showing us “[Scenes] From the House of Mirth”, I can excuse them to some extent but have to note that the these gaps prevent the evening from being the brilliant success it could be.

Rodney Sharman’s sinuous score for violin, cello, harp, harmonium and piano is filled with gorgeous sonorities.  When the men sing to the women his music makes allusion to American popular song.  When the men sing as a chorus dissonance enters reflecting the reality of the world they live in.  Poch-Goldin’s libretto alternates between the romantic and the darkly satirical with lines of beautiful simplicity such as Selden’s words” If I could hold you close / Would you see me?”

Kudelka’s choreography makes much use of the metaphor of society as a game and dance as one manifestation of that game.  The work opens in the midst of a party.  The group dances in a circular motion – the men moving clockwise handing off the women who are moving counter-clockwise as in square dances, but here this motion acquires the sinister connotation of society as a series of chains.  When Kudelka shows the women playing bridge, they move in a clockwise fashion, reflecting the men’s earlier motion, as they join palms to suggest collecting tricks and sweep their arms inwards as if collecting winnings.  The women’s dance among themselves thus mirrors the chain-dance of upper class society at large.  Through the ballet there are repeated gestures of binding, especially embraces from behind, with those embraced casting off the arms that enclose them.  It should be noted that while the women do not sing, the men are required to dance and to act as supports for penchés and attitudes and even lifts.

Kudelka has given Lemieux two exquisite solo dances that she executes with emotion and grace.  The first before her society friends is in the style of Isadora Duncan and subtly moves from classical poses and dance figures to more overt depicts of sexual yearning, which shock the ladies present but attract the men.  Her second solo is a depiction of her contemplation of her fallen state with the repeated motions of brokenness and pushing her head against the wall.  It’s a sensitive performance that shows Lily’s initial combination of fragility and strength that makes her so attractive slowly erode to a depressed stoicism as she acquiesces to defeat.  

All four men sing powerfully separately and in concert.  Counter-tenor Belluz wins us over immediately with Selden’s hopeless yearning for Lily.  Thomson’s bright tenor is perfect for the conniving Gus Trenor.  Dobson’s rich baritone lends dignity to Simon.  And bass baritone Sirett lends George’s proposal such warmth and sincerity that Lily’s rejection of him is all the more baffling. 

As director Kudelka uses the entire available space of the performance area on the second floor of The Citadel – both David Gaucher’s lovely pavilion to set the tome for all the high society parties Lily attends and the bare brick back wall that Kudelka uses to represent Lily’s decrepit dwelling in her destitution.  Jim Searle and Chris Tyrell’s period costumes are most attractive and the sound of the ladies’ gowns rustling fits in perfectly with Sharman’s sometimes pointillist score.      

From the House of Mirth is a brilliant experiment in the blending of dance and opera and recalls Opera Atelier’s similar blending of the genres in the dance interludes in their productions of Gluck’s operas where singers and dancers interact on stage.  I hope that the creators of this work expand this experiment to other subjects, but first I hope they expand From the House of Mirth itself to close the narrative gaps that presently exist, to clarify the story-telling and to give the principal characters more space to express their desires and reflections.  Those who wish to experience a new genre in the making should see this exciting show as soon as possible.

              

©Christopher Hoile

Note: This review is a Stage Door exclusive.

Photo: Laurence Lemieux as Lily Bart. ©2012 Paul Antoine Taillefer.

For tickets, visit http://colemanlemieux.com.