I recently sang in a premiere of a new opera making its debut in a major city at a reputable opera house. It is an opera reminiscent of Britten’s Billy Budd, as the cast is comprised entirely of male singers, around forty or so, with only one exception: a pants role given to a soprano portraying a young man. Without giving too much away, that opera is based on a well-known mid-19th century novel of identical name in which discovery, disappointment, brotherhood and relationship to self are examined among a crew of sailors as they hunt for a whale at the behest of their revenge-obsessed captain.

At the first full company rehearsal for the production of this new opera, our director inquired as to whether any of us had read the book on which the opera was based, asking for a show of hands of those who read it. It is worth mentioning that for almost all of the cast, the production was a full-time job and entailed several months of work: two months or so memorizing the score, and an additional two months of rehearsals. Thus, there had been ample time for all the artists involved to have read the novel, or at least most of it, as one might understandably have skimmed the novel’s lengthy discussions of different kinds of whale oil and their uses. Of the forty or so singers in attendance, only five raised their hands. The pride on the face of the five singers, of course yours truly being one of them, as they raised their hands and searched the room for their intellectual compatriots was unbecoming to say the least; for it should not be a point of pride for any serious singer to have read the novel on which the opera they are performing is based. However, even more concerning than the bravado of the learned few in the room was the lack of embarrassment and shame on the faces of the rest of the singers. Their expressions seemed to communicate that, as far as their having not read the novel was concerned, it was no big deal.

The director of the production was visibly disappointed with the number of hands in the air and proceeded to deliver a quip to the tune of “Well, there’s still time.” It was difficult to tell whether it was intended as a joke. What is decidedly not funny is that even the hundred or so pages of Billy Budd would likely be too much Melville to expect this cast to have read. This raises the question: Why have these artists neglected to read a work of great literature on which their own art is based? Perhaps most singers are not bookish people. It could be that this is a symptom of a decline in the quality of work deemed worthy of study in higher education. After all, this is a novel which should be hard to imagine not existing in the standard high school or college curriculum. More cynical an answer would be that most singers, while quite talented, are not particularly intellectually driven. I suspect the answer is all of the above. Regardless, reading the novel would certainly contribute to a singer’s understanding, performance and portrayal of a character. An artist needs to have inspiration upon which to draw beyond being told what to do on stage, the kind of inspiration that might arise from having thought seriously about the novel. Is there art being created in this production if the singers leave it entirely up to musical and stage directors to control them as if they were puppets?

The most moving, effective opera productions that I have participated in have one thing in common: an aim toward equal collaboration among all parties. This requires that all parties involved have done enough preparatory work on their own to have something to offer the entire company. The type of artist who fails to take it upon himself or herself to read a novel which might better their performance should not consider themselves an artist, but a singer. These singers have less in common with the artist than they do with the parrot—a gifted creature indeed, but one that cannot create its own melody. This does not mean that the measure of the quality of an artist’s performance depends on their interpreting the story and music in an entirely unique way, distinct from the rest of the cast. In fact, quite the opposite. For a performance by a group of artists to be exceptional, every individual must be on the same page both musically and dramatically to create a uniform whole–a story that makes sense. Naturally, this entails each artist having thought about the roles of their colleagues in relation to their own as well as to the arc of the piece in its entirety.

The type of artist who is in fact intellectually curious beyond being directed is inherently concerned with aspects of performance that, from my observations, do not occur to the mind of a typical singer. For example, the artist will exhibit heightened attention to their physique and movement as it relates to the character being portrayed, will imagine constantly how they appear from the audience’s perspective, will recognize the fact that other cast members’ roles are often more important than their own, and most importantly will know that the best way to learn and improve is by diligently studying the artists who exceed one’s own talent. Though I have worked with and observed many talented singers, some of whom may be familiar to you, I have encountered few artists. I will not reveal how small I think the tally as I would not want to keep anyone from being able to enjoy a production at the Metropolitan Opera. Although Proust said “People never attribute genius to a man they saw the previous evening at the opera,” he might alter his statement to “People never attribute genius to a man they saw the previous evening in the opera,” were he doomed to watch the singers inhabiting the stages of major opera houses today.

What restores my faith in the potential power, beauty and grace of opera as an art form are productions such as Glyndebourne’s exquisitely crafted Albert Herring. My hope is that this recording serves as an example of artists meeting a high standard of intellectual engagement with their art and that this standard will be evident to anyone who observes their work. It is difficult to draw attention to and laud individual cast members’ efforts when they all have done their jobs so thoughtfully. This is a production that may force you to reassess the quality of operas future and past. Your ability to enjoy other productions may be hindered after viewing. You have been warned. So do yourself a favor and sit back, watch and enjoy this stellar cast deliver sheer dramatic brilliance.