Appomattox

I saw Philip Glass' new opera Appomattox yesterday, thanks to some randomly great bartering for amazing orchestra seats.  It is a powerful and shocking piece, and Glass puts the insistent unrelenting repetition that characterizes much of his music to good use here, subduing the audience into reflection on the horrors and sorrows of war.  The libretto, by Christopher Hampton, is not as strong as it could be (I'm not sure if hiring a Brit who admittedly knew "nothing about the Civil War before starting this piece" was the best option) and I was struck most by a scene that was nearly entirely wordless, a scene where the residents of Richmond stand watching as their city is bombed, keening and moaning.  (Oddly, this is the scene that the San Francisco Chronicle reviewer found weakest.)

The second act moves from the surprisingly tender and moving meeting between Generals Grant and Lee in a small house in Appomattox to scenes set one hundred years later, in the heart of the civil rights movement.  While these scenes were also incredibly strong and devastating, they felt heavy-handed in the context of the story, as if Glass/Hampton didn't trust the audience to make the connections between the Civil War and ongoing race relations in the United States.  And in that, it limited other interpretations and connections, the parallels between the president and generals of that war and the president and generals of the war raging today and the ways in which the sorrow and bloodshed of both wars stain the political landscape beyond the racial divides. 
 
Still, it was an amazing piece.  The set design was spectacular, the singers strong and talented, and the overall effect haunting.  Go see it if you have a chance.