Word: stringings
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Decadence in magenta plus strong singing makes good opera. At three hours, L'Incoronazione di Poppea is a lazy, titillating show with a beautiful string orchestra. The Aggasiz stage is great all-around, and Poppea is fun to watch...
...years following its composition, the opera lay unproduced and unpremiered while Allanbrook wrote other pieces and carried on his busy life as a professor. According to John Allanbrook '99, his father did talk about the work, and tried "to convince [Allanbrook] that it wouldn't need a large string section, and that it would be easy to produce." While putting up the production may not have been easy, the operatic rendition of Edith Wharton's famous tale scheduled to open this Friday in the Eliot House dining hall is as richly storied as the novel it is based upon, backed...
...fragmentally on a demo tape his father had recorded in the '50s. After hearing the tape and reading the score, Allanbrook Jr. became convinced, that "it was a good piece and meant to be preformed." Ethan Frome is hardly a simple musical undertaking, demanding not only a well-appointed string section, but also a full brass section, concert bassoon, bass clarinet. English horn and piccolo. After informing his father of his production plans, Allanbrook Jr. spent 12-hour days throughout the summer entering the score into the computer program Finale in order to produce the orchestral parts...
...their tribal, hormone-addled glory. They behave like adolescents everywhere, which is to say they dress badly, act obnoxious and travel in packs. Clans like Anarchy and the DiVas drape their slouching cartoon avs in baggy "sk8ter" duds and goof on one another with "scripts"--programs that let you string a strand of hearts around the neck of someone you admire or grandly urinate on someone you don't. In the Palace you never know what will happen. "The other night I was talking to this guy, and it turned out he was a Satanist," types a young South Park...
...until after his 30th birthday. The arc of the career rises from 1943, when the collector and gallery owner Peggy Guggenheim commissioned him to paint a mural for her Manhattan apartment, to the early '50s--no more than 10 years. The final four years of his life brought a string of pictorial failures and, at best, semi-successes: no talent could survive the alcoholic battering Pollock gave his. And then at age 44, a fatal car crash, after which the rest is the kind of pop hagiology that America reserves for its culture heroes...