General director of Opera Theatre St. Louis Magazine
By Jeannette Batz Cooperman
Photograph by Peter Newcomb
What would people never guess about you? That I had long hair and played French horn in a rock band called Blue Marble Faun.
Do people avoid opera thinking it’s overblown and melodramatic? Yes, we even see that in commercials making fun of the helmets and spears and shrieking and shattering glass. We’re crazy if we don’t admit those stereotypes exist—and if we are not capable of laughing at them, too. Because they are pretty funny.
What advice would you give an opera lover on dragging along a reluctant spouse? Choose carefully and, if possible, prepare. We have 20-minute lectures before each performance that give the signposts, what to listen for, the musical highlights. Tell them to just let go and not worry about getting confused. If they listen to the music, they will be able to tell what’s going on. Then tell them it’s just like going to a musical—it is only going to last at most three hours—and they can have a drink afterward.
What do you say to the opera lovers who groan, “Oh God, another Rigoletto”? We haven’t done Rigoletto since 1981! Planning the season is all about balance. You don’t want all spaghetti and meatballs Italian opera, and you don’t want four courses of seaweed salad. The masterpieces are the touchstones for the Rep. But opera also has to be a living, dynamic, contemporary art form, if it is to survive.
In your 20 years with OTSL, what has been the most nerve-wracking moment? Oh God. The Sunday night performance of Eugene Onegin in 1991, when Tatiana, the lead soprano, lost her voice. She’d taken so many antihistamines they’d completely dried her up, so she couldn’t even phonate. Colin [Graham, artistic director] stood in the doorway of the ladies’ chorus dressing room and called, in clarion tones, “Would the Tatiana cover please come to the stage manager’s desk?” And no one came. There wasn’t a Tatiana cover. Then I remembered that one of the singers in the chorus had auditioned with Tatiana’s letter scene. She was backstage cowering in her babushka saying, “Please don’t make me do it.” I said, “You can save the performance.” And she did. And at that moment I resolved that we would always have a cover.
OTSL is mentioned alongside the world’s major opera festivals. What’s your favorite comparison? “Glyndebourne without the snobbery.”
And is it true? When people come to St. Louis—last season we had ticket holders from 42 states and 15 countries—they witness the phenomenon of the tent after performances and say, “Anybody can go there? You don’t have to be a patron or a board member?” That’s very, very unusual. Most opera settings are much more stratified.
Are we the farm team for the Met? In a way, we are. Of about 200 singers on the Met’s roster, 62 have sung in St. Louis, usually at the very beginning of their careers. One of the biggest names right now is Susan Graham, who was still in grad school when we hired her for her first leading role. This week, she’s singing Octavian in Der Rosenkavalier at the Met.
How much power are you able to wield outside St. Louis? Right now it’s subtle, but I think Opera Theatre has a certain influence. More companies are highlighting young artists, including new works and trying new ways of staging the classics. There’s even more picnicking before the opera, although not everybody has the perfect setting we have. And I’m chairing Opera America, so there are crusades I’m able to put on the agenda.
Are you as private and self-possessed as you seem? I can let loose now and then. And I have my meltdowns—usually when there are six different things I’m supposed to be doing at that moment, and all the circuits short.
What do you listen to when you wash your car? I’m a big Bing Crosby fan. I love the Beatles. Sarah Vaughan, Nat King Cole, Norah Jones. Even a few kinds of rock things, I don’t object to.
OTSL is famous for presenting operas in English. Now you’ll be projecting the English text on the side walls of the Rep. Is that in any way an admission of failure? I see it as an admission of reality. We live in the age of technology, and audiences have become attuned to instant information. Projected text is probably the most effective means of reaching new audiences, because the No. 1 fear is, “I will go to the opera and I won’t understand it.” I know some people will be unhappy about this and believe we should be able to absorb the whole experience without any assistance. But the number of people who live and breathe opera is shrinking.
What do you believe most deeply? I’m very, very drawn to Buddhism, and many of the teachings of the Native Americans are very moving to me. The concept of acknowledging spirit in all things, in all creatures, even in inanimate objects—I love that.
