你定义的歌剧是什么?

文：司马勤（Ken Smith） 编译：李正欣

从语法的角度来看，拉丁语中的“歌剧”（opera）只不过是“作品”（opus）的复数形式（拉丁语中的opus是指单一“作品”的意思）。因此，倘若我们宽容些，大可以将阿什利·福雷（Ashley Fure）所创作的《万物之力：实物歌剧》（The Force of Things: An Opera for Objects）视为一个简单的语法计数错误。

但是，福雷毕业于哈佛大学，跟她共事的都是聪明人，所以这一小“错误”背后多半藏有乾坤。这部历时50分钟的作品里包含了很多东西：沉浸式体验、丰富的声效，以及时而产生的视觉刺激——有一部分要归功于她同样聪明的哥哥，建筑师亚当·福雷（Adam Fure），是他设计了整个演出的实质环境。作品甚至还包含了一个政治导向正确的概念，试图让观众注意到“在我们周围有不断增长的、因为生态问题而引发的焦虑的嗡嗡声”（这是作曲家在节目介绍中提到的）。但还是应该实话实说：这不是一部歌剧！

大概从普契尼逝世的那天起，我们就一直在思考：是什么构成了“歌剧”。毫无疑问，我们比那群活在16世纪文艺复兴后期的佛罗伦萨文人更加深究这个问题。当年，他们认为自己只是在重建古希腊戏剧。

然而，如今，没有人会考虑要“重建”任何东西，就算——或者尤其是——当他们的确在“重建”的过程中时。一切必须“新颖”，即便完全缺乏新意。大概半个世纪前，披头士乐队（Beatles）把不同歌曲的主题连接起来而“开辟了新天地”。当时却没有人提出这个棘手的史实：比他们早150多年前，舒伯特与舒曼已把这个创意付诸实践：一个时代的声乐套曲（song cycle）可以变成下一个时代的概念专辑（concept album）。

如果“概念专辑”有相互关联的角色并最终串联成一个故事时，又应该如何归类？涉及到 “谁人乐队”（The Who）的主音吉他手、曾经谱写了《汤米》（Tommy）与《四重人格》（Quadrophenia）的皮特·汤森（Pete Townshend），宣传方会称之为“摇滚歌剧”（rock opera）。那么描述美国西部荒野的史诗影片呢？“牛仔歌剧”（horse opera）。还有那些情节稀里糊涂、如同刻意插播推销给家庭主妇的洗涤剂广告的日间电视剧的作品呢？“肥皂歌剧”（soap opera）。

从这里你发现了什么？尽管歌剧爱好者与从业者热衷于争论歌剧的定义，局外人借用这个名词，仅仅是因为用上“歌剧”两字，立刻身价十倍，无论内容与音乐戏剧舞台能否扯得上任何关系。

现在我们已经进入了21世纪第二个十年的尾声，大家都认同歌剧再不需要用上传统的吟唱形式（嘻哈音乐与朋克摇滚套在歌剧里的个案，效果令人信服）、不必避开口语对白、再没有固定长度、舞台规模大小均可。但是，唯一不可或缺的是故事性。让我大胆地做出这个假设：只要作品有某种戏剧叙事性和某种带有韵律的发声技巧，大家都可以以此为据，把作品纳入“歌剧”之列。

在林肯中心2018年莫扎特音乐节上演出的《万物之力》

然而《万物之力》上述的两者皆缺。啊，差点忘了，演员名单上包括两名声乐家（vocalists），尽管他们制造出来的听觉效果，与管乐、打击乐演奏的同样抽象、同样脱离人性化，他们发出来的声音没有任何创意可言。观众聆听得到的声音——作曲家预先声明，很多的声音因为频率过低，人类的耳朵无法察觉——都是过去这50年来前卫音乐家早已发明的现代主义演奏技巧。具有讽刺意味的是，这部作品于2016年在德国达姆施塔特（Darmstadt）新音乐夏季课程首演——1950年代，达姆施塔特正是培育音乐创新的前卫艺术重镇。

今年夏季，《万物之力》在林肯中心莫扎特音乐节（Mostly Mozart Festival）亮相，演出场地是布鲁克林的柯克兰艺术中心（Gelsey Kirkland Arts Center）。作曲家形容这部作品是对气候变化所引发的焦虑情绪的音乐隐喻，她更要观众感受一下自然世界的慢节奏。对我来说，作品只有一系列任意的音响，它们没有连贯性，抓不住我的注意力。

如果硬要把《万物之力》归纳为歌剧，就像硬要将瑜伽吟诵与《罗摩衍那》（Ramayana，印度史诗）相提并论。但后来我觉得还有个更确切的描述会引起共鸣——比如说，“哲学性的声音装置”（philosophical sound installation）——但听起来又毫无吸引力。

＊＊＊

福雷撰写《万物之力》的节目介绍虽然妄自尊大，但我今年夏天曾看过一部更夸张的作品，名为《我们的死亡不会伤害他人，第一部分》（Our Death Won’t Hurt Anybody – Part 1）：毫无情节，全无结构，历时四个半小时，声称受《孙子兵法》所启迪。这是巴塞罗那希腊艺术节与香港西九龙文化局的联合委约。

大家想想有多么讽刺：阅读整部《孙子兵法》都用不了四个半小时；而画蛇添足标注的“第一部分”，令我联想到当代文豪诺曼·梅勒（Norman Mailer）。他那本长达1300页的小说在最后一页竟然标上了“未完待续”。梅勒的读者还算幸运，作家没有机会构思续集就与世长辞了。

《我们的死亡不会伤害他人》是香港邓树荣戏剧工作室与巴塞罗那恩里克·瓦格斯（Enrique Vargas）所领导的感官剧场（Teatro de los Sentidos）的合作项目。演出时所用的语言包括英语、西班牙语、加泰罗尼亚语、广东话——我还依稀听得出几句零星的普通话与法语。几乎每一位观众在演出的某个段落必定会因语言不通而有被排除在外的感受。下个演出季，该剧要在香港首演，到时候效果也应该大同小异——只不过观众对于不同的部分将会给出不同反应。

现在很难说，巴塞罗那的演出版本到了香港会有多少变动。到了香港，演员会再次逐一引领观众入场吗？还会有一名华裔演员展示厨艺，弄一碟豉椒炒蚬，然后请大家试吃吗？观众们还会再次被邀请登上舞台跳舞，而只是面对一场戏中的假空袭吗？

尽管这场演出包括一些相当有效果的场景，整个晚上（四个半小时）却好像工作坊一样，演员之间似乎还没有达到默契。最终，这个演出的最关键问题是：因为整体都缺乏推动力，到了最后也无法营造强烈的震撼感。

不过最起码，《我们的死亡》没有这么大的胆子，敢自称为歌剧。

＊＊＊

诊断演出为什么失败，要比解释为什么演出成功更容易。我禁不住想，《我邻居的天空》（My Neighbor Sky）——一部受胡安·米罗（Joan Miró）雕塑《月亮、太阳和一颗星》（Moon, Sun and One Star）启发的作品——的成功，是归功于它只有50分钟的时长。但这么说对于《我们的死亡》甚不公平。演出成功也不完全归功于舞蹈家小栗（Naoyuki Oguri）和安德斯·科切罗（Andrés Corchero）在胡安·米罗基金会那座雕塑前的演出［还有吉他手努诺·鲁贝洛（Nuno Rubelo）现场伴奏］。

应该这样说，那个晚上的亮点来自两位艺术家——一位日本人和一位加泰罗尼亚人——不仅分享了日本舞踏（Butoh）和现代舞的肢体风格，他们俩对彼此的肢体优势、局限和特性都有充分的了解，并能够互相回应。然而，只凭艺术上的亲密互通，还是难以独立支撑其作品最终的成功。

整晚的节奏缓慢得几乎让观众感到痛苦。试想一下，仿佛是伊索寓言《龟兔赛跑》中的主角变成了乌龟和蛞蝓，其挪动的速度不分伯仲，再用罗伯特·威尔逊（Robert Wilson）的典型舞台风格把故事呈现出来。可是，在这一个小时不到的时间里，小栗和科切罗彻底地宣泄了他们全部的感情，演出接近尾声时观众能感觉两人有明显的改变，但却说不出他们经历了什么。

左、上：在林肯中心2018年莫扎特音乐节上演出的《万物之力》

在圣约翰大教堂举行的大规模合唱《以地球之名》现场

欣赏过这样有强烈表达力却在没有用上语言的舞台呈现叙事方式，让人们更加难以忍受那些使用所有可用的讲故事工具，但仍然无法正确地表达出意图的人。另一个例子是约翰·路德·亚当斯（John Luther Adams）的《以地球之名》（In the Name of the Earth），由林肯中心主办，8月在纽约举行了世界首演。

与《我邻居的天空》中亲密无间的人际设定刚好相反，《以地球之名》动用了大约600多名合唱演员与十几位指挥家。演出原定于中央公园露天首演，结果由于风雨交加，不得不移入纽约的圣约翰大教堂中。

亚当斯——通常被称为“另一位亚当斯”（有时只称呼为“路德”），以避免与写出《尼克松在中国》（Nixon in China）及其他歌剧作品的作曲家约翰·亚当斯（John Adams）混淆——因其管弦乐作品《成为海洋》（Become Ocean）而获得2014年普利策音乐大奖。《成为海洋》以阿拉斯加和美国西北部一带的海洋为灵感；这次的《以地球之名》中也有来自水的灵感，合唱歌手用混合了多种语言的歌词，吟唱着河流、湖泊、山脉和沙漠的名字。

尽管圣约翰大教堂是以其强烈的回声效果（引致混乱的声学）而闻名，我也无法想象，这部亚当斯的作品如果按原定计划在户外演出会是个什么样子。当天演出时，一波又一波的声浪涌过来。按作曲家的原意，首演应与主题吻合而在户外表演，但效果肯定会被削弱。这一次选择的室内场地虽然回声过强，但任何具有更好声效条件的场所，对于作品的呈现也不会起大作用。

现在让我们来梳理一下。只用上《我们的死亡》的一小部分时间，亚当斯已带领他的观众度过了一段令人信服的旅程。相比类似福雷《万物之力》的沉浸式演出（两部作品的时长相差无几），同样应对现代文明与原始环境相互斗争的主题，亚当斯所传达的信息更加有效。

我也必须承认，某些功劳得归于圣约翰大教堂，这个地标为活动增添了一点精神上的庄重感（而不特指宗教方面）。从每一个角度来看，作品都具有作曲家深藏的、对自然力量大于人类的认同。

仪式和叙事，或者戏剧效果和真实故事，往往只有一线之隔。但从美学上来说，审美的结果或多或少相同。我不知道亚当斯会如何为这部作品归类——可能是“大规模的合唱盛典”。如果有一天他决定称之为“歌剧”，我也不会有异议。

Grammatically speaking, “opera” is nothing more than the plural of “opus,” the Latin word for “work.”So to be charitable, we can look at Ashley Fure’s The Force of Things: An Opera for Objects as a simple mistake in counting.

On the other hand, since Fure went to Harvard and works with a lot of other smart people, it’s safe to say something else is involved. Her 50-minute piece is lots of things: immersive, sonically rich and sometimes visually stimulating—in part thanks to her equally smart brother, the architect Adam Fure, who designed the piece’s physical environment. It even has a politically correct concept, intending to make us notice the “mounting hum of ecological anxiety around us,”as the composer states in the program notes. But let’s be honest here: it’s not an opera.

Since roughly the day Puccini died it seems we’ve been pondering what constitutes an opera. That’s more than you can say about the literati who invented it in Florence back in the 1500s. They thought they were just recreating Ancient Greek theatre.

These days, though, no one thinks about recreating anything, even—or perhaps especially—when they are.Things always have to be new, even then they aren’t. A half-century ago, when the Beatles “broke new ground”by showing the world how to link songs together thematically, few people mentioned the inconvenient fact that Schubert and Schumann had done the same thing 150 years before. One generation’s song cycle is the next generation’s concept album.

What do you get when a “concept album” has interrelated characters and ends up telling a story?Pete Townshend, the guitarist for The Who who wrote Tommy and Quadrophenia, would call it a“rock opera.” What about those epic American films of the Wild West? Horse operas. What about those silly daytime television dramas, the ones that used to advertise detergent to housewives? Soap operas.

You can see what’s going on here. Even as admirers and practitioners of opera debate what it actually is,plenty of outsiders have co-opted the term merely to inflate the importance of things largely unrelated to the stage tradition.

Now that we’re in the second decade of the 21century, we generally agree that opera need not be sung in “operatic” style (hip-hop and punk rock have been credibly co-opted), need not entirely eschew spoken dialogue, need not be long or even big. Having a story, though, is not negotiable.So I’ll go out on a limb here and say that as long as a work has some kind of dramatic narrative and some kind of musicalized vocalism, you can make a case for it as opera.

The Force of Things, alas, had neither. Oh, there were two vocalists, but they were simply abstract noisemakers treated just as impersonally as the wind players and percussionists involved. Nor were any of these sounds particularly original. The parts of the evening that were audible—many of the sonorities,audiences were told, were too low for humans to hear—owed much to a half century of modernist playing techniques. There’s a certain irony that the work first appeared in 2016 at the Summer Courses at Darmstadt, the site of genuine musical breakthroughs back in the 1950s.

When the piece finally made its way to New York,presented by Lincoln Center’s Mostly Mozart Festival at the Gelsey Kirkland Arts Center in Brooklyn, the composer described it as a musical metaphor for the anxieties related to climate change and the slow pace of the natural world. To me, it was moderately interesting series of random sounds that moved from one to the next with little to engage the mind.

左页、右：《我们的死亡不会伤害他人，第一部分》剧照

So calling The Force of Things an opera is rather like comparing a yoga chant to the Ramayana. But then, I think we all agree, a more accurate description like “philosophical sound installation” just wouldn't be as sexy.

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Even with its pompous program notes, The Force of Things wasn't the most pretentious thing I saw over the summer. That would be Our Death Won’t Hurt Anybody – Part 1—a plotless, formless, four-anda-half-hour rumination on Sun Tzu’s Art of War cocommissioned by Barcelona’s GREC Festival and Hong Kong’s West Kowloon Cultural District.

Again, think of the irony: it takes less time to read Sun Tzu’s military strategies in their entirety that it did to sit through “Part 1”—which incidentally reminds me of the late Norman Mailer, who once ended a 1300-page novel with the words “to be continued.”Fortunately for readers everywhere, Mailer died before he could contemplate a sequel.

As a collaboration between the Tang Shu-Wing Studio of Hong Kong and Enrique Vargas’s Teatro de los Sentidos of Barcelona, Our Death Won’t Hurt Anybody unfolded in English, Spanish, Catalan and Cantonese—and it seemed like there were snippets of Mandarin and French in there as well. Pretty much everyone in the audience was guaranteed to feel excluded at some point, and the effect will surely be similar—though in different places—when the piece travels to Hong Kong next season.

How much of the original production will remain is more difficult to gauge. Will the actors still initially lead audience members to their seats? Will one of the Chinese actors still stir-fry clams in black-bean sauce on stage and invite the audience to eat? Will audience members still be invited onstage to dance, only to confront a dramatized air raid?

Despite a few effective bits, the evening still had the feel of a workshop, where actors were still getting to know each other. And ultimately, its problem in achieving a climactic sense of devastation was that there was so little momentum to begin with.

Still, the show didn’t have the nerve to call itself an opera.

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Diagnosing why shows fail is so much easier that explaining why they succeed. After Our Death,It’s tempting to say that My Neighbor Sky, a piece inspired by Joan Miró’s sculpture Moon, Sun and One Star, was successful because it was only 50 minutes long, but that would hardly be fair. Nor did it thrive entirely because of dancers Naoyuki Oguri and Andrés Corchero performing the work (to a live soundscape by guitarist Nuno Rubelo) in front of that very sculpture at the Joan Miró Foundation.

Rather, the evening was a success because two artists—one Japanese, one Catalan—shared not only a physical idiom drawing on Japanese butoh and contemporary dance, but also possessed full knowledge of and could respond to each other’s physical strengths, limitations and idiosyncrasies. Still,such artistic intimacy alone hardly guarantees the endeavor’s ultimate success.

The pace of the evening, it must be said, was almost painfully slow. Reimagine Aesop’s “Tortoise and the Hare” as “The Tortoise and the Slug.” As staged by Robert Wilson. And yet, in less than hour,Oguri and Corchero had thoroughly wrung their emotional towels, arriving at a destination palpably transformed without ever signifying that they had ever been on a journey.

Seeing such a strongly expressive narrative exist without benefit of verbal language makes it much harder to endure people who use all the storytelling tools at their disposal and still can’t get it right.Another good example this month was John Luther Adams’s In the Name of the Earth, which also had its world premiere in August at Lincoln Center.

As expansive in personnel as My Neighbor Sky was intimate, In the Name of the Earth featured more than 600 choral singers led by a dozen or so conductors.Originally scheduled to be performed in Central Park,the piece was driven by rain into the shelter of New York’s massive Cathedral of St. John the Divine.

Adams—often called “the other Adams” (and sometimes just “Luther”) to avoid confusion with the composer of Nixon in China and other operas—won the 2014 Pulitzer Prize for his orchestral work Become Ocean, which was characteristically inspired by the oceans of Alaska and the Pacific Northwest. In the Name of the Earth was also aquatically inclined, with choral singers intoning the names of rivers and lakes—as well as mountains and deserts—in a thoroughly inclusive mélange.

Although St. John the Divine is famous for its messy acoustics, I tried without success to imagine Adams’s piece being performed outdoors as originally planned. Waves of sound were the order of the day,and while performing in the great outdoors might send the right signals, the actual sound would be defused beyond recognition. As far as indoor spaces go, any venue with greater sonic precision would’ve been entirely beside the point.

So let’s consider the tally. In only a fraction of the time of Our Death, Adams took his listeners on a far more convincing journey. In as comparably immersive a manner as Fure’s Force of Things (and in nearly the same amount of time), Adams similarly tackled topics of civilization’s struggle with primordial and environmental forces, yet delivered his message with far greater force.

Some of the credit, admittedly, goes to the Cathedral, which did lend the event a certain spiritual—if not particularly religious—gravitas. In literally every direction there was an undeniable depth of intent and an acknowledgement of forces greater than ourselves.

There’s often a fine line between ritual and genuine narrative, or between dramatic effect and an actual story. But aesthetically, the end result is more or less the same. I’m not sure what Adams himself calls the piece—probably a large-scale choral pageant—but if he ever decides to call it an opera, I won’t argue.

左页、上：在圣约翰大教堂举行的大规模合唱《以地球之名》现场