By Benjamin Leatherman
By Glenn BurnSilver
By Glenn BurnSilver
By Troy Farah
By Roger Calamaio
By Mark Deming
By Glenn BurnSilver
By Brian Palmer
Glass is the first to suggest that this tag might be a bit charitable. Truth be told, when he and Wilson opened the 3-D digital opera in Los Angeles last May, six of the 13 complex, digital-animation films that Wilson had conceived were not yet ready. It was a potentially disastrous situation that might have devastated more traditional artists, but Glass and Wilson have never been chained to standard concepts of what opera or theater had to be. So, with characteristic postmodern adaptability, Wilson adjusted to the situation and decided to temporarily stage the six scenes that lacked film. To hear Glass tell it, this act of necessity actually helped the two artists to see their work more clearly.
"Gradually, as the films were completed, we substituted films for the performance part, and by December the films were completed," Glass says. "Oddly enough, though, that was not the end of the piece. It still continued to change, as we began to play around with the live-performance element. At first, we had the performers in the pit, and you didn't see them, and then eventually we brought them out of the pit and put them on the stage and lit them. So the relationship of the mechanically produced image and the live performers started changing. So, to be truthful, it has resolved into the final form, but only in the last month. Between May and February, it was evolving."
Glass concedes that a few months ago the piece was not firmly connecting with audiences, but says that all the elements have recently fallen into place. He cites a recent performance in Kansas--which drew 1,800 people and was saluted with a standing ovation at the end--as a definite turning point for the mixed-media work.
The Glass-Wilson alliance goes back to 1973, when Glass became aware of Wilson's unconventional approach to theater, which boldly eschewed time and narrative restrictions, and Wilson became aware of Glass' modern approach to so-called "serious music."
Their partnership crystallized in 1977 with Einstein on the Beach, an opera that seemingly defied all the rules of successful musical theater. It ran for an endurance-taxing four and a half hours with no intermissions. It featured only one soloist and a small chorus that counted out numbers in endless succession. It offered no story, but rather a more abstract sense of changing moods, created by the interaction of Glass' hypnotic, repetitive music and Wilson's images of a train, trial, prison and spaceship. This work not only shook up the opera world, it served as a template for Laurie Anderson's entire career.
Although he and Wilson have collaborated several times since Einstein, Glass particularly longed to team up on a project that could be a touring production. That's how Monsters of Grace came to be.
"I was anxious to do a piece with Bob that I could travel around the country with, 'cause though he's extremely well-known in Europe, he's hardly known in America at all," Glass says. "He's considered probably the pre-eminent director and theater author--if I can put it that way--in Europe today. And he's an American who isn't seen in America.
"My question for myself was: How can I bring Bob's work to the audience, which I have developed myself over these years? There are probably 40 cities where I have played with some regularity over the last 20 years. So Bob and I began with a series of story boards that were basically images. The idea was to do a piece that we could travel with that would have the essence of what our collaboration was about, which was images and music."
Glass and Wilson took the finished story boards to producer Jed Wheeler, who informed them that the opera would require the transporting of three truckloads of equipment, and that it would take three days to load into each city. The concept seemed hopelessly impractical.
"Then [Wheeler] came up with the idea of a film that realized the images in a three-dimensional way," Glass says, "so that we basically could show the way Bob wanted to see the work, but in fact we could take it in one truck and load it into a theater in about eight hours, which is what we do. So we can sometimes do three or four cities in the same week.
"So it began four or five years ago with Bob and I making story boards and drawings and looking at the structure of a piece, and ended four or five years later with a team of animators, maybe 24 or 28 work stations, translating these images into additional computerized formats, which were then rendered into two 70mm films, which were then projected through these 3-D glasses."
In its completed form, Monsters of Grace takes the Glass-Wilson marriage of music and image into a strange but fascinating world that often feels like a more exotic and surreal version of virtual reality. For Glass, a natural collaborator who's written for every imaginable medium (including such acclaimed film works as Koyaanisqatsi, Mishima and The Thin Blue Line), Monsters of Grace was a struggle, because he was composing for images that had not yet been realized.