‘Porgy’ reborn
Audra McDonald, NaTasha Yvette Williams and ensemble in Porgy and Bess. Photo: Michael J. Lutch
By Joseph Smith
A Broadway production calls itself The Gershwins’ Porgy and Bess. There is no such thing. In a musical, the words may have as much importance as the music; thus, for instance, Girl Crazy is “by” the Gershwins, plural. But Porgy and Bess is an opera. (Music and singing are continuous, although “numbers” such as arias, ensembles and choruses stand out by virtue of their tunefulness and closed forms.)
In opera, since music rather than words dominates the drama, the work is “by” its composer. (For instance, La Traviata is by Verdi, not Verdi and Piave; anyone who dislikes Strauss will hardly enjoy Der Rosenkavalier, despite its inspired Hofmannsthal libretto.) Even if Ira Gershwin’s contribution to the text had been as large as DuBose Heyward’s—which it is not—Porgy and Bess would be by George Gershwin.
The primacy of the music distinguishes opera from musical in every respect. An opera composer, for instance, always orchestrates the work himself, because tone color is an essential element. (Gershwin orchestrated Porgy, but never his musicals.) In opera, vocal range will often compromise intelligibility—this is the price we pay for the emotive power of the vocal extremes. (In “My Man’s Gone Now,” for instance, we miss much of the text, but Serena’s passionate wailing is more eloquent than words.)
Most operas are sung throughout, and since singing is slower than speech, the amount of text is limited, necessitating a certain oversimplification and crudeness in the text. The librettist must rely on the composer to supply nuance, poetry, subtext and emotional complexity.
Generally, opera is a big medium. If Gershwin’s opera were principally about Porgy and Bess, it would not require its many supporting roles and huge chorus. In fact, the piece is as much about the relationship of each individual to the community of Catfish Row as about the title characters. Porgy’s largeness (and, alas, expense!) is not a matter of extrinsic spectacle but an essential factor, as proved not only by the sheer number of choruses but also by their musical complexity and richness. Thus, an “intimate” Porgy is an oxymoron.
Those who acknowledge Porgy and Bess to be an opera will understand that its dramaturgy is inseparable from its music; the composer is the “auteur.” A good example would be its ending: Porgy sets off to New York in his goat cart to rescue Bess. The music that rings down the curtain doesn’t address what may happen to Porgy, but what Porgy is feeling. The music of “Oh, Lawd, I’m on My Way” tells us that Porgy’s quest exalts and ennobles him and that Catfish Row is inspired by him. As an audience, we can like or dislike the ending but, since it is a musical climax, it is integral to the work.
We should not allow the present production to say that it is merely casting off “tradition.” At issue is not how the work has been performed but what it is—a coherent musical work. A cut-down, reorchestrated production retaining only a fraction of the music is neither “the Gershwins’” nor George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess.
