Director’s Note
Margaret Jumonville
Edgar is a story of desire. Chaste desire, corrupting desire, deadly desire. Over the course of three acts, we meet each character on their journey of desire, and we see their very human reactions to wanting something. Edgar is torn between his two archetypal loves–the chaste ingénue, and the seductress. Fidelia longs for a pure love and life partner. Tigrana indulges in pleasure and self-satisfaction. Frank’s unrequited feelings lead to anger and jealousy.
Though not often performed, Edgar has many exciting elements of fantastical storytelling: fire, scandal, swordfighting, orgies, secret identities, fabulous jewels, and, to top it all off, a deadly dagger blow in the final seconds! Even without a set or movement, there is still a story to be told. We have infused the lighting and the costumes with narrative powers. The costumes in particular combine modern-day concert dress with influential silhouettes of the original setting, 14th-century Flanders.
I personally have enjoyed delving into the early work of one of opera’s great composers. Edgar contains seeds of the compositional elements for which Puccini would later be celebrated. In Edgar, you can hear the beginnings of Puccini’s excellent, detailed chorus scenes–hinting at the complexity of his later work in La bohème. There is a layering of sound, with juxtaposition of chorus and solo, all supported by the organ’s devotional tones–that to me, points to the grand Act 1 finale in Tosca. I also found myself thinking about the final moments of Puccini’s late work, Suor Angelica; how the vocal writing brings us along in Angelica’s real-time dramatic decision-making. The arias in Edgar are soaring and sumptuous, but I can feel that Puccini was still working through how to depict moment-to-moment drama through music.
I appreciate the chance to experience how great artists came to be great, because art-making is a journey. When we join our voices together, when we tell a story that seems “forgotten,” when we allow ourselves to be swept away by an orchestra, we understand the power that art has on our journey as an audience. Art itself, like Tigrana, can be a cruel and tempting mistress; like Fidelia, it can lift our souls towards light.
