司馬勤

有時候，偉大的想法往往生不逢時。10年前，紐約市立歌劇院倒閉前的最后一位總監(jiān)喬治·斯提爾（George Steel）淪為眾矢之的，因為他為了節(jié)省經(jīng)費，把心一橫，決定讓歌劇院從多年常駐的林肯中心搬離。后來，埃里克·愛因霍恩（Eric Einhorn）和杰西卡·克里格（Jessica Kriger）建立現(xiàn)場歌劇團（On Site Opera）的方針，也套用了同樣的“游牧”演出方式——每一部制作上演時，都會選用城里比較獨特的、但適合作品主題的不同場地。

我們也可探究作曲家大衛(wèi)·朗（David Lang）的個案：費城醫(yī)學院（College of Physicians of Philadelphia，注：這個機構(gòu)重在推廣醫(yī)學文化，而并非聚焦于具體的教學）為了紀念1918年“西班牙流感”暴發(fā)一百周年，邀請大衛(wèi)·朗撰寫新曲。這首名為《為了防疫，保護自己》（protect yourself from infection）的作品應運而生，合唱團把美國政府于1918年頒布的防疫健康指南中的文本唱了出來，妙語連珠。這部作品于去年首演——正是全球新冠疫情暴發(fā)之前。

由此可見，一些本來看上去離奇古怪，甚至看起來像自我毀滅般的舉動，后來可能就變得有如神來之筆。大衛(wèi)·朗這部合唱曲在今年突然變得極合時宜——甚至還衍生了一部網(wǎng)上流傳的音樂短片，用以宣導今天全世界人們都熟知的防疫措施（1918年的防疫健康指南中勸誡我們“避開人群”，以及“不要到劇院、電影院或其他公眾聚集的地方”）。如今，表演藝術(shù)機構(gòu)別出心裁地維持曝光度，是必然也是必需的。如果平常演出的場地長期關門，你不得不想辦法找個出路。

在今年已經(jīng)過去的大半年里，我們所知道的歌劇已經(jīng)被各種歌劇未來會變成什么樣的猜測所取代，至少在疫苗成功研發(fā)前會是這樣的：觀眾以及劇場工作者（包括后臺工作人員）需要保持社交距離；劇場的上座率只能保持在低位；布景道具盡量簡單盡量少用，多媒體投影最為安全，因為接觸實物布景的表面會增加感染病毒的機會。

以上各個論點勾起了我的一些回憶：第一，北京國家大劇院著名的《托斯卡》歌劇制作中，因為偌大的舞臺，在女主角大聲警告猥瑣的斯卡皮亞“不要走過來”時，兩人相距起碼15米；第二，今年夏天開始，防疫衛(wèi)生警告中就反反復復地提示民眾“戶外要比室內(nèi)好”。

想當年我剛搬到紐約，這個文化重鎮(zhèn)不僅有大都會歌劇院在各大公園舉行歌劇音樂會，還有紐約大歌劇院（New York Grand Opera）在中央公園制作的大型戶外演出。這顯然是一個季節(jié)性的現(xiàn)象，因為在數(shù)九寒冬，沒有一個神智正常的人會坐在戶外看歌劇演出（更不用說在戶外表演了）。至于社交距離，大都會每次舉行免費演出，公園的大草坪上都會塞滿成千上萬的市民。我也回想起近年來舉行的露天歌劇演出：哥譚市室內(nèi)歌劇院演出丹尼爾·卡坦（Daniel Catán）撰寫的《拉伯西尼醫(yī)生的女兒》（Rappaccinis Daughter），在紐約布魯克林植物園搬演；不久以前，現(xiàn)場歌劇團的莫扎特早期歌劇《假扮園丁的姑娘》（The Secret Gardener），在曼哈頓西區(qū)一個社區(qū)花園呈現(xiàn)（我看的是網(wǎng)上演出錄像，盡管那個花園就在我家附近）。

直至今年疫情之前，歌劇院團避開傳統(tǒng)演出場地，一般會被定義為“噱頭”或者“浸沒式實驗”——有時候兩者兼而有之，通常還限于藝術(shù)節(jié)或者小規(guī)模的歌劇團。為什么？因為露天演出（以及大自然的陰晴不測）隨時會變成策劃者的噩夢。小型歌劇團致力于打破傳統(tǒng)局面，他們勇于冒險，精神可嘉?？墒牵^為傳統(tǒng)的大型院團需要顧及眾多藝術(shù)家的生計問題——更重要的是，要面對與藝術(shù)家工會的談判。考慮到當下各個歌劇院面對的大問題：是浪費場館高達80%的觀眾席還是尋覓新的操作模式——毫無疑問，許多院團做出了超出常理的選擇，決定暫時離開傳統(tǒng)的劇院場地。

幾天前，我聽說剛聘請了奪得“麥克阿瑟天才獎”的尤瓦爾·沙?。╕uval Sharon）為藝術(shù)總監(jiān)的密西根歌劇院（Michigan Opera Theatre）將于今年10月策劃一套瓦格納制作，為新演出季拉開帷幕，演出地點是一個停車場。幾天后，亞特蘭大歌劇院（Atlanta Opera）將搬演兩部開幕制作——萊翁卡瓦洛的《丑角》與維克托·烏爾曼（Viktor Ullmann）的《亞特蘭蒂斯皇帝》（Kaiser of Atlantis），演出將借用亞特蘭大一所大學的壘球場交替進行，在那里制作方搭建起一個臨時的露天大帳篷。

我應該特別指出，密西根與亞特蘭大歌劇院都是相當靠譜的藝術(shù)機構(gòu)。尤瓦爾·沙隆于2018年在拜羅伊特歌劇節(jié)擔任導演，是首位在瓦格納“圣地”執(zhí)導新制作的美國藝術(shù)家。這一部《黃昏：眾神》（Twilight： Gods）時長只有一個小時（觀眾將直接開車駛進歌劇院停車場，在自己的車中觀看），這個制作往后將移師至芝加哥抒情歌劇院。亞特蘭大歌劇院是現(xiàn)場歌劇團《假扮園丁的姑娘》的聯(lián)合制作方，對戶外演出的規(guī)劃非常嚴謹，觀眾座位的設置也十分靈活，而兩套歌?。ò押铣獔F去掉之后）最多只需要6位演員在臺上演出?！冻蠼恰返墓适卤旧砭桶l(fā)生在一個到處巡演的劇團里，所以把演出安排在大帳篷內(nèi)十分應景，也不算是故意“耍噱頭”。

如我所料，這些制作都會有視頻記錄，平衡現(xiàn)場演出只可容納少量觀眾（即少量票房收入）的問題，寄希望于往后的網(wǎng)上點播可以增加一些收入?，F(xiàn)場觀眾的反應會怎么樣，現(xiàn)在很難預測，雖然在過去幾周里，紐約樂團的一些舉措為我們提供了一些線索。

當新冠疫情促使夏季演出計劃統(tǒng)統(tǒng)取消之后，巴德音樂節(jié)（Bard Music Festival）重新編排，搖身一變成為了一個虛擬的網(wǎng)絡音樂節(jié)慶：全部都是現(xiàn)場直播，網(wǎng)上沒有視頻留存。音樂節(jié)的宗旨是把大家熟悉的作曲家與鮮為人知的同行們相提并論。音樂節(jié)把本年度的主題聚焦于美國黑人作曲家，直接呼應了今天最令人矚目的黑人維權(quán)運動（Black Lives Matter）。這些年來，巴德音樂節(jié)被譽為美國最富有冒險精神的跨學科藝術(shù)節(jié)。今年夏天，音樂節(jié)沒有在法蘭克·蓋瑞（Frank Gehry）所設計的、耗資6200萬美元興建的藝術(shù)中心內(nèi)舉行。全部活動移師至音樂節(jié)創(chuàng)辦初期常用的戶外帳篷中，秉持了音樂節(jié)的初衷——雖然沒有現(xiàn)場觀眾。

紐約愛樂樂團采用了另外一種策略。夏季巡演全都叫停，樂團因此發(fā)起了一個名為“紐約愛樂花車”（NY Phil Bandwagon）的新項目：一輛皮卡車載著樂團幾位樂手到訪紐約市各區(qū)域，在各個公園與街頭“擺攤”演出。

因為他們從來都不預先通知演出行程，碰巧在場看演出的群眾不會太多。我真的遇上一場演出，那是當天的最后一場演出，剛好是黃昏時段，地點離我家不遠，就在林肯中心對面。這一次代表紐約愛樂的是弦樂二重奏（小提琴，中提琴）；節(jié)目主持是高男高音安東尼·羅斯·科斯坦佐（Anthony Roth Costanzo）?！盎ㄜ嚒庇媱潱强扑固棺舻奶嶙h。

因為科斯坦佐與兩位樂手都戴著口罩——演出也用上擴音——你也許會懷疑真的是現(xiàn)場演出嗎？唱歌的真的是科斯坦佐嗎？我可以保證，多年前他還在曼哈頓音樂學院念書時，我就已經(jīng)看過他的演出；后來在北京舉行的世界歌劇聲樂大賽決賽里，我也在場；我還曾欣賞他在大都會歌劇院主演《法老王》（Akhnaten）。世界上沒有人擁有他那妙絕的嗓子。

演出包括幾首弦樂二重奏[包括莫扎特的和馬克·奧卡諾（Mark OConnor）的作品]，也有科斯坦佐演唱道蘭（Dowland）的《流吧，我的淚》（Flow， my tears）、珀塞爾在《狄朵與埃涅阿斯》（Purcells Dido and Aeneas）當中的“狄朵的哀歌”（Didos Lament）與《西區(qū)故事》（West Side Story）的選曲“某處”（Somewhere）——全都是英語歌詞——他站在皮卡車的后部，間場的時候友善地跟路人互動。多年來，觀眾們從紐約各區(qū)來到林肯中心觀看紐約愛樂的演出；現(xiàn)在樂團走訪各區(qū)，可以算是一種回饋。也許音樂家們已經(jīng)演了多場街頭音樂會了，所以忘記提醒大家，當時我們站著的街頭與林肯中心一帶，就是當年《西區(qū)故事》劇中的貧民區(qū)。

皮卡車上的30分鐘演出算不上“端莊整齊”，但“引人喜愛”?？梢哉f，這場演出跟平常的紐約愛樂音樂會——或歌劇制作——完全不一樣。因為疫情嚴峻，這幾個月來，古典音樂與大眾連接的機會以及紐約獨有的自發(fā)性都消失得無影無蹤。演出后，我步行回家，沿途經(jīng)過幾百位坐在路邊的食客：咖啡廳與餐館都把桌椅放在戶外，各個空空的餐廳都有不少樂手——甚至爵士樂團——奏樂助興。我明白了，紐約愛樂也在用自己獨特的方式靠近普羅大眾。

Sometimes great ideas simply come at the wrong time. Ten years ago， people derided George Steel， the final managing director of New York City Opera before its demise， when he moved the company from its longtime home at Lincoln Center. Since then， Eric Einhorn and Jessica Kriger formed On Site Opera essentially using the same nomadic model， matching each production to a different venue.

Or take composer David Lang， who was commissioned by the College of Physicians of Philadelphia to write a piece marking the centenary of the 1918 Spanish flu. The piece protect yourself from infection， where a chorus intones the text of the US governments 1918 health guidelines， had its premiere a year ago—before the current Covid pandemic.

So something that originally seems quirky—or even self-destructive—can later look like a stroke of genius. Earlier this year， Langs piece—suddenly timely—inspired a short film. And now that the rest of the world is taking its warnings to heart （“Keep out of crowds，” the 1918 text advises， “avoid theatres， moving picture shows， and other places of public assembly”）， the idea of a performing arts organization taking charge of its identity seems particularly inspired. Its no use being tied to a single venue when the place gets locked up for months.

For most of this year， opera as we knew it has been replaced by speculations of what opera will become， at least until a viable vaccine emerges： social distance， both for the audience and the theatre workers （including those backstage）； audience seating a fraction of full capacity； stage sets and props minimal and expansive， most likely with multimedia projections in lieu of physical objects that could hold a virus on their surface.

This all brings a couple of things to mind： first，the NCPAs notably spacious production of Tosca， where the title character yells out to our villain Scarpia， “Dont come near me” from at least 50 feet away； second， the health warnings from the beginning of summer telling people， “Outside is better than in.”

Back when I first moved to New York， the city had not only the Metropolitan Operas concerts in the city parks but also fully staged， open-air productions in Central Park by New York Grand Opera. This was obviously a seasonal phenomenon， since no sane person would sit through—let alone perform—an opera outdoors in the middle of winter. As for social distance， the Met would regularly draw thousands to the Great Lawn. But since then， I also reminder a reasonable crowd at an al fresco production of Daniel Catans opera Rappaccinis Daughter staged at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden by Gotham Chamber Opera， and more recently a production of Mozarts early opera The Secret Gardener performed by On Site Opera performed at the West Side Community Garden （though in fact I only saw it afterwards， streaming on my screen， despite the garden being only a couple of blocks from my home）.

Up until this year， shunning traditional performance venues was considered either a gimmick or an immersive experiment—sometimes both—and usually limited to festivals or smaller companies， since the great outdoors generally turns into a logistical nightmare. Its one thing for small， nimble outfits to break the mold. More traditional companies have many more artists—and more importantly， artists unions—to consider. But given the choice opera companies now face—waste up to 80 percent of their usual seating and stage capacity or find another model—its little wonder that many have chosen to move beyond their usual spaces.

A few days ago， I got word that Michigan Opera Theatre， who recently hired MacArthur “genius”grantee Yuval Sharon as artistic director， will open its season in October with a Wagner production in a parking garage. A couple of days later， the Atlanta Opera will open with productions of Leoncavallos I Pagliacci and Viktor Ullmanns Kaiser of Atlantis on alternating evenings， both presented in an open-air tent on a local university baseball field.

Neither of these companies， I should point out， are fly-by-night operations. Sharon became the first American to direct a production at the Bayreuth Festival in 2018， and his hourlong Wagner production Twilight： Gods （where the audience drives through the opera companys own parking garage） will later move to the Lyric Opera of Chicago. The Atlanta Opera， who collaborated with On Sites Gardener production， is taking its outdoor logistics seriously， with flexible seating for audiences， and operas that （once you get rid of the chorus） require no more than six singers. And since Pagliacci is about a group of traveling actors， setting the show in a tent isnt even much of a gimmick.

Not surprisingly， cameras will be capturing these productions for posterity， with future streaming revenue making up for smaller audiences. What we still dont know is how this will all go over with live audiences， though some of the initiatives from New York area orchestras this month offer a clue.

After Covid closings eliminated its summer plans， the Bard Music Festival reinvented itself as a strictly virtual festival with non-archived， realtime performances. True to its roots in juxtaposing famous composers with their lesser-known colleagues， the Festival turned into a celebration of black American composers， reflecting the countrys current Black Lives Matter campaign. Having emerged as one of the countrys more adventurous multidisciplinary festivals， Bard left its $62 million Frank Gehry-designed theatre and returned to its ragtag roots in an outdoor tent， managing to maintain all the festivals original components except for a live audience.

The New York Philharmonic took a different tack. Grounded for the entire summer， the orchestra launched an initiative called the NY Phil Bandwagon， a pickup truck shuttling a handful of Philharmonic musicians around the city offering spontaneous pop-up concerts in various parks and street corners.

Since they never announced locations in advance， crowds remain small. I did， though， manage to catch up with the Bandwagon on its last stop of the day—again， not far from my own neighborhood， directly across the street from Lincoln Center. Featured musicians this time were a violinist and violist； the host was countertenor Anthony Roth Costanzo， who had come up with the whole idea.

Because both Costanzo and the musicians were masked—and the performance amplified—one was tempted to doubt that the performance was live. Or that it was really Costanzo. But no， I first heard Costanzo when he was a student at the Manhattan School of Music. I was in the audience when he won the Operalia competition in Beijing， and I heard him sing Akhnaten at the Met. Really， no one else in the world sounds like that.

In between string pieces by Mozart and Mark OConnor， Costanzo sang Dowlands Flow， my tears， Didos Lament from Purcells Dido and Aeneas and“Somewhere” from West Side Story—all lyrics in English， I realized—from atop the truck bed while engaging passersby in friendly patter. After years of having New York City come to the Philharmonic，Costanzo claimed， the orchestra was now taking itself to the city. Maybe theyd been in so many places that it slipped his mind， but Costanzo neglected to mention that West Side Story was set in the very blocks where we were then standing.

With its scruffy charm， the Bandwagons 30-minute set was everything a Philharmonic concert—or for that matter， an opera today—is not. Classical musics populist history melded with a New York spontaneity that had been sadly missing in recent months. But it wasnt till I was walking home， passing hundreds of diners sitting at tables on the sidewalk outside still-empty restaurants while live performers—sometimes entire jazz bands—were playing inside did it register just how much the Philharmonic musicians had been bonding with the city on its own terms.