Aurelia Butler

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    For Classical Music, Every Summer Is a Liberation

    During a time of year in which anything can be a stage, the joy of music making has room to breathe outdoors.A Philadelphia Orchestra concert at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center in Saratoga Springs, N.Y.James Estrin/The New York TimesConsider classical music a late bloomer. In New York, as the city emerges from its winter hibernation — the snow on tree branches replaced by dreamily pastel cherry blossoms, the short, sleepy days extended by increasingly dramatic sunsets — performers tend to remain indoors. A concert in May doesn’t look so different from one in January.But then comes summer.Around early June, orchestras and opera companies close out their seasons, and music making begins to take on new, liberated forms. Instruments that seem so precious onstage make their way outdoors, suddenly looking as casual as the artists wielding them, who sometimes swap their formal concert attire for, well, whatever they want.Samantha Lake with Make Music New York, on Lexington Avenue.The Metropolitan Opera’s float at the New York City Pride March.The old-hat claims of classical music’s elitism and lack of approachability just don’t hold up in summer. Performances pop up as if out of thin air; the New York Philharmonic puts on a series of free outdoor shows that sprawl across the city’s boroughs; everyone, regardless of skill or expertise, is invited to take part in local celebrations for the global Fête de la Musique on the June 21 solstice.A Boston Symphony Orchestra concert at Tanglewood in Massachusetts.During this season, a singer from the Metropolitan Opera might appear on a makeshift stage or in a band shell, performing for passers-by and die-hard fans alike. Friends and families gather on picnic blankets to camp out, some for hours, and enjoy one another’s company, eat and play games before the day culminates in a Philharmonic concert played for thousands more people than could fit inside the orchestra’s home at Lincoln Center.The Met — an institution that throughout its history has been a haven for queer fans but only recently has represented people like them onstage — leaves its velveteen temple to let its hair down and celebrate Pride in the streets, complete with its own float, a mobile concert sung by the likes of the countertenor Anthony Roth Costanzo and the mezzo-soprano Stephanie Blythe.A Death of Classical concert at Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn.Caramoor.Bard College.Anything, after all, can be a stage in the summer: a patch of grass, a barn, the catacombs of a cemetery. Music moves farther and farther away from concert halls, away from cities into the countryside and mountains. New Yorkers wind their way up the Hudson Valley to the bucolic grounds of Caramoor, or to the expansive lawns of Bard College and its sculptural, Frank Gehry-designed Fisher Center.The Boston Symphony Orchestra, which in town has the air of a bastion of tradition, embraces the relaxed — and relaxing — grounds of its idyllic Tanglewood campus in the Berkshires. Students also stay there for the summer, exploring new music with monastic focus and learning from some of the finest artists in the field.The Met’s float at the Pride March.Pride in New York.Tanglewood.Joan Forsyth with Make Music New York.Things that would be unfathomable in a concert hall suddenly seem possible. The cannons of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture” can be literal cannons. The joy of music making has room to breathe, inviting the sounds of nature to join in: a chorus of birds and insects, a roar of thunder, hopefully not the needy wail of a car alarm.A New York Philharmonic concert in Central Park.The Philharmonic’s concert.A Philadelphia Orchestra concert in Saratoga Springs.Soon, it won’t be so pleasant to lay out a picnic spread while waiting for the Philharmonic. As the trees shed their leaves and the sunsets come earlier, the concert hall will become a refuge. But come next summer, so will the outdoors. More

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    ‘Mutt’ Review: Surviving Reconciliation

    A newly out transgender man meets with his estranged father, his ex-boyfriend and his sister for the first time since his transition in this drama.Playing out over the course of one New Yorker’s notably difficult day, the drama “Mutt” follows its protagonist, Feña (Lío Mehiel), as he has surprise encounters with three important figures from his life — his sister, his ex-boyfriend and his estranged father. For anyone, this lineup would represent a packed schedule, but it’s especially challenging for Feña, a newly out transgender man who hasn’t seen many loved ones since his transition.Feña’s father, Pablo (Alejandro Goic), is the first to call and the last to arrive in the film. There’s a cultural divide between Feña and Pablo, who is planning a visit from Chile. Feña doesn’t speak perfect Spanish, and in turn, his father refuses to speak to Feña respectfully about his gender. But before that visit, Feña is bowled over by another disruption. He runs into his ex-boyfriend, John (Cole Doman), at a club. While the two still have chemistry, John is reticent to rekindle their relationship, afraid of the chaos that Feña unleashes into his life. Feña has barely had a chance to recover from this surprise rendezvous, when his younger sister, Zoe (MiMi Ryder), abruptly appears at Feña’s work, having run away from school and from the home she shares with Feña’s abusive mother.The writer and director Vuk Lungulov-Klotz uses elegant observations of urban life to pass the narrative between the three central relationships. Feña juggles his responsibilities through phone calls and borrowed cars; his lifelines are doorbell speakers and public restrooms. These features of city life feed a sense of realism, as does the film’s warmly-lit and intimately framed cinematography. But that realism here is exhausting, even if it is well-intentioned — by the film’s end, even Feña seems ready to escape from the trial of his packed plotlines.MuttNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 27 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘The Adults’ Review: Oh, Brother

    Michael Cera’s latest misfit is a poker addict unable to communicate with his sisters in Dustin Guy Defa’s keen-eyed dramedy.The adults of Dustin Guy Defa’s keen-eyed dramedy probably wouldn’t realize that the movie’s title refers to them. These three emotionally stunted siblings — Eric (Michael Cera), Rachel (Hannah Gross) and Maggie (Sophia Lillis) — are more like suspicious alley cats. What went awry in their home where Eric, a loner with patchy mutton chops and a poker addiction, has arrived for the shortest visit he can get away with? Like his characters, Defa keeps mum. The film is about this family’s inability to talk, so he’s obeying their limits.Defa’s tight and tidy focus on communication — mostly verbal, sometimes role play (“Hug me like you haven’t seen me for three years,” Rachel instructs Eric) — adds a smart layer to this otherwise familiar tale of estrangement. The trio is only sincere when reverting to the stage acts they invented as children, a showcase of vaudeville comics and singers. (The lyrics, by Defa, have an off-kilter cadence that fits the tone better than the sentimental pop-folk soundtrack.) Gross is saddled with the flattest role: a dour cynic who goes grim-faced whenever Cera enters a room. When she finally starts slinging insults in a witch’s squawk, it’s a treat to see her cut loose.Cera is known for playing misfits, but his inscrutable Eric is even more awkward about what he should and shouldn’t say. At the card table, Eric unnerves the gamblers, by, for once, blurting out exactly what he thinks. Later, he confounds a flirtatious girl (Kiah McKirnan) with a string of mixed signals. But nothing wounds him like a failed joke — his only form of connection. After yet another chilly meet-up, he sighs, “Was it my delivery?”The AdultsRated R for language. Running time: 1 hour 31 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘Madeleine Collins’ Review: A Duplicitous Mother

    This clever, but disappointingly tame psychodrama sees Virginie Efira as a professional translator secretly living with two families; one in Switzerland, the other in France.The French psychodrama “Madeleine Collins” feels like a domesticated version of a Hitchcock movie, with all the frenzied longing and perversion leashed up and reined in. It’s too bad, considering the film’s novel premise. Usually, the man plays the two-timer, but in the film’s “don’t worry, it’s just business travel” swindle, it’s the woman who dares to have it both ways.Judith (Virginie Efira), a professional translator, shifts between households just as easily as she does between languages. In Switzerland, she lives with her boyfriend, Abdel (Quim Gutierrez), and their little girl; in France, with her husband, Melvil (Bruno Salomone), a celebrated conductor with whom she has two sons.The first part of “Madeleine Collins” plays like a straight drama about Judith’s balancing act. She takes the train between countries, seemingly gliding to and fro thanks to elegantly controlled camera movements by the cinematographer Gordon Spooner.Judith’s freakish skill for deception possesses a similar artistry. When her eldest son catches her whispering sweet nothings to her lover on the phone, Judith quickly pivots from the accusation, and turns the face-off into a discussion about her kid’s sexuality.In heated moments like these, Judith’s lies feel startlingly natural, which asks the question: Just how much of her own Kool-Aid is she sipping?Directed by Antoine Barraud, the film withholds crucial details about the true nature of Judith’s relationship with Abdel, and cleverly fills out the picture through tiny hints and glances, creating suspense through fresh turns of ambiguity in each scene.But the payoff from such fog-clearing doesn’t quite grip the way it should. Despite Efira’s efforts, Judith’s inevitable breakdown never hits a satisfyingly deranged register. Her motivations turn out to be less spicy, and more blandly sympathetic than one had hoped from this pressure cooker of a film.Madeleine CollinsNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 42 minutes. In theaters. More

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    Renata Scotto Spun an Actor’s Insight Into Vocal Gold

    The Italian soprano’s dramatic acumen and hard-to-characterize voice brought a range of classic opera heroines vividly and emotionally to life.When fans and critics speak about the Italian soprano Renata Scotto, who died on Wednesday at 89, they immediately seize upon her dramatic acumen — her ability to spin character insights into vocal magic. Her combination of style, beauty and meticulousness as a singer made her one of the most original opera stars of the second half of the 20th century.If she sometimes pushed her voice to harsh extremes in roles that challenged her resources, that only burnished her reputation as a serious artist. And her well-publicized quarrels with general managers and co-stars — including Luciano Pavarotti and the Metropolitan Opera impresario Rudolf Bing — likewise fueled the idea that she had an irrepressible temperament that destined her for the stage.But what really made her special was her specificity — her ability to connect personal insight to vocal inflection in a way that made that insight legible for audiences.James Levine, the Met’s longtime music director, championed her early in his career there and helped introduce her artistry to a wide audience in the first-ever “Live From the Met” telecast, a “La Bohème” in 1977, alongside Pavarotti. Levine shaped the delicate inner world of Scotto’s cripplingly insecure Mimì. Too often, the tenor’s and the soprano’s back-to-back arias in Act I feel like a gift exchange of rhapsodic melodies from one vainly beautiful voice to another.Scotto, though, turned Mimì, a reclusive seamstress, into a foil for Pavarotti’s extroverted, carefree Rodolfo. Her soft tone curled back into itself as she retreated from the light of Pavarotti’s sunny tenor. In Act III, dressed in funereal black, she reasserted the inevitability of Mimì’s lonely life as she broke off their love affair, her voice suffused with self-inflicted pain and feelings of unworthiness.Scotto enjoyed a long, fruitful collaboration with Levine, who gave her the artistic challenges (not always successful) and splashy new productions she craved. He led her in a season-opening “Norma” in 1981; Verdi’s “Macbeth” in 1982; Zandonai’s “Francesca da Rimini” in 1984; and the company premiere of Mozart’s “La Clemenza di Tito,” also in 1984.Inhabiting repertoire across a breadth of periods and styles, Scotto had decisive thoughts about what constituted good taste. In a 1978 interview with The New York Times, she praised Maria Callas because she “cleaned things up” and popularized a move away from generalized pathos. (She cited Beniamino Gigli and his tear-stained tone as a prime offender). Veristic growling also came in for a scolding (“It’s ridiculous. Vulgar!”). She made bel canto feel more real and verismo, more beautiful.Scotto, right, with Claudia Catania in “Madama Butterfly” at the Met in 1986. Scotto said of Cio-Cio-San: “She has to have a beautiful lyric voice, she has to have a huge dramatic voice.” Scotto had both in the role.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesShe took these apparent contradictions and reconciled them in singing of indisputable accomplishment. In touchstone bel canto roles like Adina and Lucia, her singing was light and facile without indulgence — she didn’t fuss with the fireworks. In Verdi and Puccini, she was emotionally engaged without sliding around the pitches or gasping in the middle of phrases. Musetta’s and Desdemona’s prayers had a spoken quality; Violetta’s letter reading, a sung one.Scotto contained multitudes, and that extended to her vocal categorization, too. Was she a leggiero, a lyric, a spinto? She was all and none. Some have described her as a lyric by fach and a spinto by temperament, attributing her vocal decline — inevitable for any singer — to the irreconcilability of the two. Her astonishing piano high notes in dramatic music, the unforced warmth of her middle register, the plangency of her tone, the controlled force at the top of the staff, nonetheless speak to a formidable technique.Her Cio-Cio-San in Puccini’s “Madama Butterfly,” preserved on two studio recordings, exploits the permeable boundary among those voice types. “Puccini gives to Butterfly everything possible to do for a singer,” she once told an interviewer. “She has to have a beautiful lyric voice, she has to have a huge dramatic voice.” The 1978 recording with Lorin Maazel bears that out: Her Cio-Cio-San, steeped in a romantic fantasy that turns increasingly bleak, alternates among a ravishing head voice, lacerating outbursts and a radiantly balanced middle register. The progress is not linear; her voice responds to hopes and doubts that the heroine continually surfaces and suppresses.Scotto’s morbidezza — her ability to inflect her middle voice with captivating softness — was arguably her most impressive quality. It’s hardly the flashiest weapon in the arsenal of a singing actress, but it represents its own kind of daring — the courage to lower the volume and expose one’s tenderness. Violetta’s “Ah! dite alla giovine” in “La Traviata” was written for it. But, Scotto reveals, so was much of Desdemona’s music in Verdi’s “Otello”: Her vocal lightness imbued the Act I love duet with the unguarded charm of an open heart and then turned fragile, even fateful, in the Act IV “Willow Song.”Scotto was aware that her singing wasn’t perfect. At full volume, her top notes rarely cooperated with her. At her best, she could harness and focus their power, but too often they careened in hair-raising ways. In florid music, her pitch wasn’t always true, but when a musical phrase was repeated, you could hear her correct herself and tune those pesky staccatos. She was an alert listener to others — her expressive face registering subtle reactions to her co-stars onstage — but also to herself.It’s also fascinating to hear her respond to Riccardo Muti’s conducting in their 1980 recording of “La Traviata.” His simmering drinking song elicits from Scotto a sense of the danger that could engulf the defiant Violetta. The Act I finale, pensive yet propulsive, is full of haunted, pale-gold tone, and Alfredo’s dramatically implausible offstage cries suddenly make sense: This Violetta is tormented by her lover’s ghostly presence in much the same way Lucia is in her mad scene.This is the kind of work Scotto did. She deployed a malleable voice and a sense of taste that could transcend styles to find a through line for heroines like Mimì, Desdemona, Cio-Cio-San and Violetta. She connected the dots to reveal something beautiful, yes, but also somehow new and true. More

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    ‘Bella!’ Review: Taking the Fight to the Streets and the House

    The jam-packed documentary “Bella!” hustles to chronicle the pioneering political career of the New York congresswoman Bella Abzug.Jeff L. Lieberman’s biographical documentary “Bella!” churns along at a hectic pace as if hustling to keep up with its subject. Bella Abzug fought ferociously for equal rights and against the Vietnam War in the U.S. Congress, bringing a New Yorker’s tenacity and a plain-spoken dedication to democratic ideals, akin to fellow pioneer Shirley Chisholm.The child of Russian Jewish immigrants, Abzug began her political path with pamphleteering in childhood, and later drew on organizer-style moxie and a Columbia legal education (defending Willie McGee in a notorious case in Jim Crow Mississippi). But it wasn’t until 1970 that she ran for a congressional seat, beating a longtime incumbent in Manhattan in the primary and kicking off a busy decade of legislative battling.Lieberman’s starry interviews — from Hillary Clinton to Gloria Steinem to Representative Maxine Waters to the avid Abzug fund-raiser Barbra Streisand — speak to the liberal, feminist revolution of which Abzug was a vital part. Abzug’s own words — drawing on audio diaries — provide the background to her political worldview: as a reaction to the “cocoon approach to living” of the 1950s, as a manifestation of Judaic notions of justice, and as a dedication to equal rights for all, leading to her sponsoring the Equality Act of 1974, intended to “prohibit discrimination on the basis of sex, marital status, and sexual orientation.”Aides and others recall that the tireless Abzug could be both a charmer and a screamer. After losing a 1976 Senate race to Daniel Patrick Moynihan, she tried and failed to attain other offices before shifting to international activism; she died in 1998. Her never-say-die advocacy still inspires, but the film also illustrates the merciless challenges of electoral endurance even for the fiercest fighter.Bella!Not rated. Running time: 1 hour 42 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘Billion Dollar Heist’ Review: How to Rob a Bank, Digitally

    This documentary chronicles a 2016 digital bank heist by pairing commentary from cybersecurity experts with a toolbox of visualization techniques.In 2016, a team of cyberthieves stole $81 million from a central bank in Bangladesh. The theft was meticulously executed: The hackers gained access to the bank’s financial transfer system through contaminated email attachments that allowed them to plant custom malware, which they used to worm through the office’s computer network until they reached the single server responsible for dispatching encrypted orders.If this sounds convoluted in writing, just imagine trying to spin its esoteric details into a true-crime yarn fit for neophytes. “Billion Dollar Heist,” directed by Daniel Gordon, attempts the task by leaning on a stable of cybersecurity experts to walk viewers through the operation. To further explain, Gordon whips out a toolbox of visualization techniques. When, for example, the subjects describe how the hackers navigated Bangladesh’s internal network, Gordon depicts the mission as a Super Mario-like video game.With so much action transpiring in the digital realm, the documentary is careful to milk its handful of terrestrial story beats: a critical typo in a transfer request, a multiday gambling spree at a Philippine casino, the wily scheduling of the attack on a national holiday to ensure that bank employees would be offline. These details ground the narrative, but their prominence contributes to the film feeling like predigested news — particularly when the more arcane aspects of the story remain undefined.“Billion Dollar Heist” is not totally bankrupt, but in mining its central cybercrime for tidbits while smoothing over its complexities, the film erodes its power both as seminar and spectacle.Billion Dollar HeistNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 24 minutes. Rent or buy on most major platforms. More

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    ‘Back on the Strip’ Review: Just Some Mikes in Need of Magic

    Wesley Snipes plays the leader of a has-been group of strippers vying for a second act in this ensemble comedy, which struggles to turn its gimmicky ideas into laughs.According to “Back on the Strip,” a tedious ensemble comedy from Chris Spencer, what makes a man a successful stripper is not good looks, the right moves, or a memorable stage persona: Being a true once-in-a-generation talent, it posits, requires a substantial endowment down south. That’s what gave Mr. Big (Wesley Snipes), the leader of a once-famous male revue crew, his legendary status, and it’s what allows him to see a prodigy in Merlin (Spence Moore II), a young man who accidentally reveals himself onstage during a disastrous magic show in Las Vegas.After Mr. Big spots this promise, he gets his old squad, the Chocolate Chips, back together, now with Merlin at the helm. But Merlin’s so-called gift is also the gimmicky curse at the heart of the movie. Traveling to Vegas at the behest of his mother (Tiffany Haddish, whose voice-over relentlessly narrates practically every scene), Merlin wants to become a professional magician, but his body puts him on a path that he feels is a compromise to that dream.It’s both a shame and a wonder that the film managed to assemble such a beefed-up roster of talent — Snipes, Haddish, J.B. Smoove, Faizon Love and, in a cameo, Kevin Hart — for what amounts to a stilted, factory-line comedy.Seeing Hart’s brief but flat cameo is a study in how even megawatt star power can be rendered lifeless without the right writing and direction. Snipes in particular gets lost in an overdone, confusingly drawn performance as a stud whose best days are behind him.Back on the StripRated R for sex stuff, language and some drug use. Running time: 1 hour 57 minutes. In theaters. More