Born March 9, 1910 in West Chester, Pennsylvania, Samuel Barber has become part of American pop culture and our national identity largely on the basis of one iconic work, his Adagio for Strings. The occasion of his centenary, though, provides an opportunity to re-examine the work of this unabashedly Romantic, multi-dimensional composer.
The Adagio for Strings, written in 1936, was an adaptation of the second movement of the String Quartet No. 1, Op. 11. Played by Arturo Toscanini and the NBC Symphony Orchestra when the composer was just 28 years old, the piece fast became omnipresent, especially as an instantly recognizable cultural shorthand for inexorable grief and loss. It was the work played during the radio announcement of Franklin D. Roosevelt's death and used in a now-iconic scene from Oliver Stone's film Platoon, as well as in countless other memorial tributes such as to the victims of September 11th; for the closing night of Proms in 2001, the orchestra put aside the traditional exuberant fare in favor of Barber’s music. As the great American elegy, the Adagio was an extraordinarily fitting choice.
Some of Barber’s other instrumental music deserves to be far better known. Why his 1939 Violin Concerto, at once lyrical and virtuosic (and especially so in the notoriously difficult third movement), is not more frequently performed is quite a mystery; the same might be said of his Cello Concerto, from 1945. Surely, these two works hold tremendous appeal for the hordes of young virtuosi aching to show off stellar technique, and the audiences who may want some refreshment from such warhorses as the Sibelius Violin Concerto and the Dvorak Cello Concerto. (The same might be said of Barber's ineffably lovely Summer Music for wind quintet, written in 1951, or his Piano Sonata Op. 26, written between 1947 and 1949, which Vladimir Horowitz called "the first truly great native work in the form.")
However, a very strong case can be made that Barber was, at heart, a vocal composer, the deeply lyrical qualities of the Adagio notwithstanding. Trained as a baritone himself (as well as a pianist and organist), Barber had an incredible affinity for the voice, as evidenced in such works as his remarkable 1948 song cycle Knoxville: Summer of 1915 with text by James Agee, Dover Beach from 1931, and the Hermit Songs, which was premiered by Leontyne Price with Barber at the piano at the Library of Congress in 1953. Three leading recordings of Knoxville by sopranos Eleanor Steber, who commissioned the piece, Price, and Dawn Upshaw are case studies in how three different singers each made this cycle absolutely their own. The Wheeling, West Virginia-born Steber, who identified strongly with Agee's text; Price, whose vibrato-less singing of Knoxville opening casts a magical and childlike wonder, and soprano Dawn Upshaw, whose flawless enunciation, obvious ease with distinctly American texts, and silvery tone add yet another dimension to this multi-faceted masterpiece.
Ironically enough, however, it was an opera that ultimately in many ways broke Barber's reputation--and, more importantly, his spirit. He brought his first such effort, Vanessa (with a libretto written by his lifetime partner, fellow composer Gian Carlo Menotti, whom he had met as a student at the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia), to the Metropolitan Opera in 1958, and winning a Pulitzer Prize for this Isak Dinesen-inspired work.
Vanessa was a hit with New York audiences, and so Rudolf Bing, then the Met's general manager, invited Barber back to create a new work to celebrate the house's 1966 move from Broadway and 39th Street to its new quarters at Lincoln Center. Commissioned with such a sense of occasion, Antony and Cleopatra was charged with showing off the Met's new space and production capabilities just as much—if not more—than it was meant to be a musical feast.
Tasked with so many competing priorities, the inaugural production was an utter disaster from the start. The irascible head critic for the New York Times, Harold Schonberg, excoriated the premiere’s spectacle as ¨vulgar [and] unself-consciously exhibitionistic,¨ adding that ¨good intentions cannot compensate for questionable taste and bad judgment.¨ While the chorus of virulent critique was mostly aimed at the opera’s staging, the response to Barber’s score was also tepid, even though the great American soprano Leontyne Price--who had already become a muse for Barber--was in extraordinary voice. Antony and Cleopatra’s spectacular failure devastated Barber; the day after opening night, Barber sailed to Italy, where he stayed for five years.
The overstuffed production by Franco Zeffirelli thoroughly overshadowed the positive aspects of Barber's score; rightfully or not, Antony and Cleopatra could not escape the ¨flop¨ label. Even a 1974 revision did not justify the opera in the realm of public opinion. However, recent performances—including a 2009 concert presentation by New York City Opera with Lauren Flanigan and Teddy Tahu Rhodes in the title roles with George Manahan conducting, and a March 2010 run at Philadelphia's Kimmel Center mounted by Curtis Opera Theater and again with Manahan conducting-- will hopefully reignite interest in a score that hardly deserves its ill reputation.
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by Anastasia Tsioulcas
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