“In a perfect world, everyone would be an artist, and no one would sign their work.”
These were the words uttered by composer Philip Glass in the midst of his lecture last night in the ballroom at the Portland Art Museum. Glass was in town in conjunction with the West Coast debut of his opera Orphée, a production based on Jean Cocteau’s 1949 retelling of the Orpheus myth.
About the worst you could accuse Glass of is being a bit of a name-dropper. In addition to explaining his writing process and some of the things that have influenced his work over the years, Glass talked about his relationship with famed artist Chuck Close, working with director Martin Scorsese and his collaborations with Ravi Shankar.
For his age, Glass is a surprisingly engaging speaker, if just a tad on the wordy side, and he provided wonderful insight into his new work and many of his older ones as well.
Orphée, as mentioned before, is based on Cocteau’s 1949 film, a retelling of the story of the poet Orpheus. The original myth follows the poet as he goes to reclaim his dead wife from the underworld after she is taken from him by snakebite on their wedding day. Orpheus descended into the underworld and sang so beautifully that Death granted him passage back to Earth with his wife. The condition, though, was that he could not look back at her during their trip back. When they’re about to reach the end of the journey, he glanced back for a moment and lost her forever.
Cocteau’s and Glass’ versions differ in many ways. For one, the story is told in more modern times. The poet in the story is famous and wealthy but has been facing a creative crisis and a backlash from critics.
Orphée (“Orpheus” in French) ends up becoming distracted by Death (played by, as Glass put it, “an exquisitely beautiful woman”) and her chauffeur. Death falls in love with Orphée and kills his wife, so she can have him. He is taken to the underworld, but Death ends up making a sacrifice for the couple to send them back to the land of the living.
Glass likened the character of Orphée in Cocteau’s film to the director himself. In one scene of the film, the poet is sitting in a cafe talking to his friend, a literary critic. The critic is raving about a new, young poet and shows Orphée a book of his poems in which the pages are blank. During the scene, Orphée comes to realize that he is no longer the next big thing, much in the same way that Cocteau was starting to become overshadowed by a new generation of filmmakers.
The West Coast premiere of the opera has already caused a buzz in Portland, with the Northwest Film Center teaming up with the Portland Opera to show Cocteau’s Orpheus and Beauty and the Beast (scored by Glass) as well as a film about Glass himself, entitled Glass: A Portrait of Philip in Twelve Parts (a play on the composer’s Music in Twelve Parts). The cast of Orphée is equally impressive, with the title role being played by Philip Cutlip, a man The New York Times called “an appealing baritone” and “a tormented and volatile Orphée.”
Orphée‘s story may not be a new one, but its presentation is unique and its cast superb. Ultimately though, the winner of the production will always be Glass’ music. His work is some of the most nuanced and creative of the last few decades, while remaining infinitely accessible and pleasing to even the most casual listener. Glass not only crafts delicate, powerful melodies, he also has the power to transport his listeners, taking them into the heart of the story as it unfolds.