It finally came. . . a long-awaited package from Amazon.com with one of the most exciting opera video releases in many years- the 1955 “Amahl and the Night Visitors.” And I don’t know if it had something to do with the fact that this was a particularly long and difficulty day – or that the whole week has been challenging in almost every way – but by the time I sat down on the couch to watch this, I was already coming apart at the seams. . . and by the time the shattering climax arrived the sofa was soggy from my tears.
If you’ve never seen this opera, it may be hard for you to understand how a strong, virile He-Man like yours truly can be reduced to the emotional equivalent of jiggling jello, but this opera does this to me with almost magical ease – and it’s been like that for as long as I can remember. This was really my first opera because when I was growing up in the 1960’s, NBC telecast this opera every December and we almost always watched it. The story was enchanting, as was the music- and that ’62 production which they continued to re-broadcast was beautifully rendered. (During my first visit to NYC, I got to watch a tape of it at the Museum of Radio and Television – the first time in thirty years that I had seen that performance, and it was incredible how familiar it was when I saw it all those years later.)
The story is of a poor widow and her little boy Amahl, who is crippled. They are visited one night by three kings who are on their way to Bethlehem, following the star that is leading them to the Messiah. The mother is driven at one point to steal a bit of their gold for the sake of her child, but she’s caught in the act. But the kings take pity on her and tell her that she can have the gold because the messiah they seek will have no need for their gold. The mother is moved by those words to give the gold back to the kings, saying she wished she had a gift of her own to give to the child they seek. At that moment, Amahl offers to give them his own handmade crutch – and in that instant he can walk again. Gratefully, he agrees to accompany the kings on the rest of their journey so he can thank the Child King himself for this miraculous gift of healing. Amahl and his mother sing a tender farewell duet and embrace before he heads off with the kings.
As I first watched this opera as a youngster, I remember being haunted almost more than anything by the idea of a little boy being as terribly poor as Amahl was. (I guess I thought that poor people were all adults. It was – and is -so disturbing to think about poverty afflicting innocent children as well.) Since then I’ve also come to appreciate the deeply moving relationship between Amahl and his mother- their courage in the face of such pain, their good humor in the midst of their difficulty, and the mutual pain they feel at the end when it’s time to say goodbye. There may not be any deeper human connection than that between mother and child, and this remarkable opera taps into that so powerfully.
I’ve crossed paths with Amahl a few times since. Sometime in the 70s or 80s a new film of the opera was made with one of my favorite sopranos, Teresa Stratas, singing the role of the mother. The film is in color and much more “cinematic” than those early live telecasts and her performance is excellent, but I much prefer the straightforward simplicity of the telecasts. Not long after moving to Kenosha, I saw Amahl at Carthage when it was done as the Christmas Festival, with my future sister-in-law, Polly, performing the role of the Mother very nicely. A couple of years later, the Racine Symphony did Amahl at Carthage and I was one of the three kings. Another year, the Lakeside Players in Kenosha did it with our friend Kathy Thorson (wife of Playford) a most moving Mother. I happened to see a performance where they blew a fuse in the orchestra pit, silencing the synthesizer at a crucial point in the opera and forcing kathy to improvise about two minutes of business with her broom, sweeping her hut, while the problem was solved and the musical performance could finally continue. That’s one of the most impressive instances of a performer keeping their cool that I have ever witnessed. I must also mention the moving performance of Amahl that was organized by Jeri Smith several years ago with our friend Beth Bush as the Mother. Kathy and I were in the audience and we cried BUCKETS of tears. . . partly because that was not too long after we knew that we were not going to be having children. Again, “Amahl” taps into a very deep place in the heart, and it has been moving people to tears from its first performance. In fact, there is a famous story that the legendary conductor Arturo Toscanini – no fan of modern music – attended one of the last rehearsals for “Amahl” and was moved to tears. Here’s someone who knew Verdi – knew Puccini – who conducted several of the most important opera world premieres in history – moved to tears by this little opera called Amahl and the Night Visitor. Suddenly, I feel like I am in very good company with my pile of crumpled kleenix beside me.
I almost forgot – – – My sister Randi loves this opera as much as I do and has shared it with her children – – – and on the Listen page you can find a neat little moment in which she sings some of Amahl with my nephew Kaj. Check it out in the archive. It’s adorable. (In my highly biased opinion.)
One more thing about this performance. The boy singing Amahl was named Bill McIver. . . and he sang Amahl for four consecutive telecasts, ’52, ’53, ’54 and ’55 – – – so this performance was his farewell performance in the role (his voice was about to change.) One of the tough things about being a fine boy soprano is that at some point it is inevitable that one’s voice will change- and who knows what’s ahead and if there will be a future career after that? I wonder what had to be going through this young man’s mind as he sang this performance, his last in the role. It could not have been easy. He has no way of knowing, of course, that he would become one of the country’s most distinguished voice teachers- and eventually would become president of NATS – the National Association of Teachers of Singing.
Anyway, this DVD turned out to be everything I hoped it would be – a superb performance of one of my favorite operas – – – and I urge you to get a copy for yourself if you are the least bit curious. You will not be disappointed – and if you’re anything like me, you will go through a box and a half of kleenix. What better way to feel alive?