Pumpin’ Somethin’
by John de Clef Piñeiro ©2008
John Eaton: Pumped Fiction: A Pocket Opera (2006). Presented by the American Composers Alliance on Wednesday, at the Leonard Nimoy Thalia at Symphony Space, NY, NY. June 20
The frivolous obsessions of our time, or of any era, are easily center-stage material for satire. And so it is that the ubiquitously compulsive phallic concerns so prominently displayed in our subway advertising, mass media, and our daily bouts with internet spam play a frontally prominent and protrudingly unabashed role in poet Estela Eaton’s semi-autobiographical, campy, lampoon libretto for composer John Eaton’s latest foray into the realm of the pocket opera. Actually, this is her fourth collaboration with her renowned father in presenting a pocket opera production, a chamber music genre so well suited to a culture rife with attention deficit disorder.
After having convincingly and successfully applied the idiom of microtonality to the iconically historic in his earlier major operatic works (The Tempest (1985), The Cry of Clytaemnestra (1980), Danton and Robespierre (1978), The Lion and Androcles (1973), and Myshkin (1971)), John Eaton proves in his uproariously teasing and amusingly theatrical Pumped Fiction just “how tall he stands” as an innovator, with all of the depth and wit to make the case for applying the microtonal palette from the very heights of dramatic high art to the very depths of contemporary popular culture.
Enjoying its quite enthusiastic world premiere at the Leonard Nimoy Thalia at Symphony Space in upper Manhattan, this tongue-in-cheek parody of the foibles of phallic prowess, and much more, is—yes, I’ll say it—a penetrating comment on the values and lifestyle of the prominent, the inadequate and the shallow, and on how those aspiring to prominence can become twisted along their way to achieving the American (wet) Dream. It all begins with a stark deathbed tableau depicting an inexperienced and unfulfilled young woman, Daphne Dangerfield (intensely and powerfully performed by soprano Linda Larson), as a wannabe-but-not-yet-even-close writer, and her dying mother (forebodingly sung by mezzo-soprano Jennifer Roderer). Daphne soon finds herself employed by the obsessively severe Dr. Bloom (convincingly portrayed by baritone James Bobick), who presides over a successful commercial enterprise specializing in the mechanically pumped up extension and distension of male genitalia. It doesn’t take her long to realize that her medical employer is, himself, heartsick and riven by lust for Eros, a rampant dandy of a porn-star (swaggeringly embodied by tenor Ken Roht), who seems to enjoy taking everything he can tease out of Bloom.
For those who hunger to know where this pregnant plot goes from here, you can fully gratify yourselves by going to the American Composers Alliance web site and reading the entire libretto online. The text is filled with clever linguistic subtleties and innuendos that may not be fully heard or appreciated during the actual performance as one sits enthralled by the visual and acoustic spectacle unfolding on stage, in the wings and on the orchestra floor.
It is often the case that economically produced presentations make full use of personnel by employing an “all hands on deck” approach. And that was certainly the case for this chamber opera, presented by the American Composers Alliance, that ended up enlisting the latent and not so hidden thespian talents of the fine cadre of musicians constituting the core musical performance group on the orchestra floor and on stage. Prominent and surprising among these “discovered” talents were virtuoso pianist Christopher Oldfather who handled his spoken lines as deftly and naturally as he handles his “ivories,” and famed clarinetist Meighan Stoops, who ably met the triple challenge of performing her part, acting a male part and acting like a male part, fully equipped with explicitly-penile headgear. In significant supporting vocal roles were tenor-jazz singer James Archie Worley, and bass-baritone Craig Phillips, each of whom seemed very well cast not only for the parts they acted but also for the self-assured power and delivery of their performance of some rather challenging yet idiomatically effective and evocative vocal parts. Also essential to the acoustic and theatrical success of this production were flutist Jane Rigler, violinist Ana Milosavljevic, cellist Jody Redhage, and percussionist Dennis Sullivan, all under the masterful baton of conductor Karl Kramer. Stage Director Beth Greenberg gets special mention for managing to effectively “choreograph” all of the campy play-acting both on and off stage in such an economical performance space.
A stunning moment in this evening’s production came when Eros initially appears, or rather swaggers, onto the stage, sporting (or was it wagging?) an enormous and unbridled fully erect stuffed penis, supposedly the successful result of Dr. Bloom’s mechanical handiwork. Almost as startling, but just as unexpected, was when Mr. Eaton appeared on the stage for the closing bows, holding the same giant stuffed phallus and waiving it to one side and then the other—all in good clean fun, of course.
In all, it was an impressive stage presentation, impressively performed, and for those who missed it (and the more recent reprise on September 6th), John Eaton has informed me that “other performances are being planned.” So, be on the lookout for somethin’ very big comin’ again your way!
[NOTE: In the interests of full disclosure, John Eaton is an Honorary Member of the New York Composers Circle, and John de Clef Piñeiro is its Executive Director.]
