NEW YORK —After Austro-Hungarian composer Erich Wolfgang Korngold (1897-1957) escaped the shadow of the Nazis by moving to the U.S. in the 1930s, he was welcomed by Hollywood. Soon his gift for melody and orchestration led to two best-score Oscars, most famously for The Adventures of Robin Hood with Errol Flynn in 1938. Given the high visibility of his career, it’s astonishing that there was a completed, large-scale work by Korngold that had never been performed in America.
Throughout the early 1940s, Korngold worked on The Silent Serenade, developing versions in both English and German. In 1946, he brought the English version (libretto by Victor Clement) to the New Opera Company, a Broadway producing organization whose taste ran toward operetta; it had previously produced a couple of shows that Korngold arranged or adapted (Rosalinda, based on Strauss’ Die Fledermaus, and Helen Goes to Troy, based on Offenbach’s La belle Hélène). But the backer auditions failed to come up with enough money, and the operetta languished in a drawer. The world premiere of the German version was via radio broadcast in 1951. Korngold’s own significant rewrite of the English version finally made it to the stage in Toronto in 2013.
As for producing it in the U.S., Mannes Opera (students from the The New School: Mannes School of Music) took care of that lacuna on March 13 at the Gerald W. Lynch Theater at John Jay College in a charming production directed by Mannes Opera’s managing artistic director, Emma Griffin. In the pit were members of the Mannes Orchestra, conducted by Cris Frisco.
Based on a short story by Raoul Auernheimer, The Silent Serenade is a romantic farce with all the silliness and ornateness that befits Viennese operetta. Of course, the height of that genre was long past by the 1940s. Maybe the American backers thought the show too old-fashioned. Thankfully, we’ve waited long enough that its retro vibe is now a selling point.
The plot: In Naples, haute couture’s House of Coclé is run by the dashing Andrea, who’s in love with Sylvia Lombardi, a famous actress. Sylvia is engaged to the Prime Minister of Naples, an ugly, corrupt narcissist. The opera opens with Sylvia waking up screaming, having dreamed that a man (a very handsome man) broke into her house and kissed her (very skillfully). Convinced that this actually happened, she reports it to the police. Because she’s a celebrity, this news becomes all anyone can talk about, especially the models at House of Coclé.
Andrea is arrested for the assault (punishable by hanging) because he was seen entering Sylvia’s garden that night. He insists he was just standing outside her window, singing her a “silent serenade.” For reasons too complicated to explain here, Andrea ends up confessing to a bombing attempt on the Prime Minister’s life. The people of Naples, thinking Andrea is a hero, start a revolution, overthrow the Prime Minister, and install Andrea in his place.
And the romance: Andrea figures out that Sylvia was dreaming about him when she thought someone broke in and kissed her. And because Sylvia will now be needing a wedding dress, Andrea steps down from his political office (handing it off to the actual bomber!) and returns to the House of Coclé.
Griffin did an exceptional job of directing the young performers in individual physical comedy and ensemble stage shenanigans, which at one point reached Keystone Cops-level insanity. She was assisted by the cleverly efficient set by Amy Rubin, consisting of two rows of large panels arranged accordion-like. The back row had mirrored doors, and the front had wide openings, forming pillars. All it took was a change of lighting (Masha Tsimring) and different furniture to turn the fashion shop into Sylvia’s penthouse or the Prime Minister’s office. To banish any confusion, silent-film-style placards, changed by cast-members, identified every new location.
Mannes’ vocal program has produced some important singers over the decades (Frederica von Stade, Nadine Sierra), and the talent onstage foretold some promising careers. Soprano Daria Tereshchenko as the actress Sylvia already has the voice, acting confidence, and physical ease needed for major professional roles. As Andrea, Sean Seungho was appropriately equal parts dapper and pathetic, with a rich and expressive baritone, although his spoken diction was often unclear.
Soprano Gaeun Song simply sparkled in her role as a model named Louise. She had ideal chemistry with her boyfriend, the journalist Tony Borza, played with gangster-parody panache by tenor Thomasluke Flórez-Mansi. Dmitry Mironov was physically hilarious as the Prime Minister, and Enes Pektaş’ baritone dripped with bootlicker’s self-pity as the Chief of Police. Christina Seo Young Kim, Mia Farinelli, and Zoe Brooks not only sang well as gossipy Coclé models, but they also did a fine job with Camden Gonzales’ choreography (including an MGM-musical-inspired number where they show off their clothes — costumes by Terese Wadden).
The music itself offered a combination of styles: the elegance of Viennese operetta, tunefulness reminiscent of Gershwin or Richard Rodgers, patter songs from the Gilbert and Sullivan tradition, and the lushness of a Golden Age Hollywood score. It was a lot to ask of a 10-person orchestra, only three of whom played violin (and no cello or viola), but conductor Frisco made it work. Pianists Jason Wirth and Manuel Arellano (guest pros, not current Mannes students) did yeoman’s labor holding the score together. Flutist Alexi Lin and sax/clarinetist Kyle Glasgow both stood out for their solo passages. Percussionists Matthew Magocsi and Zhihiuying Guo earned lots of laughs for their post-joke rimshots.
The Silent Serenade is a throwback delight that’s likely destined for performances at music schools throughout the U.S., now that Mannes has opened the door. If you’d like a peek, Mannes Opera promises on-demand online viewing starting March 23.
