Showing posts with label croatia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label croatia. Show all posts

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Chamber Music Repertoire for Didgeridoo?

T here are a few orchestral works that include didgeridoo (Sean O’Boyle and others), but for conservatory recital or chamber performances there are currently only about 3 dozen chamber music compositions that are readily available. Most of these are indexed at the Australian Music Centre (Duos, Quartets, Quintets, Sextets, Octets; Solo with vocal ensemble). You may also want to consider Peter Sculthorpe’s String Quartet No. 12 with didjeridu, and ‘Lorin’s Piece’ for didjeridu and voice; Neal Corwell’s ‘Aboriginal Voices’ trio for tuba, didgeridoo, and voices; Philip Glass’s ‘Voices’ for organ, didgeridoo, and narrator; and Dubravko Lapaine’s ‘Rescribi’ trio for piano, didgeridoo, and percussion.


    [50-sec clip, Dubravko Lapaine, ‘Kosmopterix’, ‘Rescribi’, 1.6MB MP3]

and ‘Putnik’:

    [50-sec clip, Dubravko Lapaine, ‘Kosmopterix’, ‘Putnik’, 1.6MB MP3]

T  he aboriginal people have a great deal to teach the western world about wind playing in general and lip reeds in particular. The trombone may seem old when compared to western orchestral instruments, but it is only a five hundred year-old baby when compared to the possible forty thousand-year-old tradition of the didjeridu.”
  — Stuart Dempster, 1979.

V irtuosic double- and triple-tonguing in the didgeridoo repertoire have parallels to ‘cursus’ in classical Latin oratory and medieval chant (see Eklund, link below), and you might consider that idea in preparing a program. Rhythm—the patterning of accents in speech or singing—establishes expectations; it entrains the listener and the speaker, phase-locking them to the pattern. Accents in Latin fall on at least one out of every three syllables. But in English and other languages the gaps are longer—you can often go for five or six syllables between accents. The didge literature tends to emphasize prosody and oratorical aspects—not only because of your vocalizations into the didge, but also because you have just the fundamental (and pedal), plus a few harmonics (‘toots’, ‘trumpets’) to work with. (Years ago, Juilliard professor Ivan Galamanian famously drew an analogy between instrumental (violin) playing and speech, in which he asserted that attacks are consonants and the sustained notes are vowels, and performers should treat them as such. The analogy is true enough for strings and other instruments, but it’s hardly even an ‘analogy’ in didgeridoo playing: given all of the tongue, jaw, and vocal tract technic involved in didge performance, the vowels-consonants assertion is a self-evident fact of how the didge sounds are produced.)

V  ocal and instrumental rhythms are sometimes direct translations of a poetic meter. In other words they may be sung or played, interchangeably. Far more often than not, however, vocal and instrumental rhythms create what we might call ‘rhythmic counterpoint’ when heard with reference to the poetic meter—the interplay among two or more rhythmic threads or voices. By continually altering the durational relationships and varieties of accent in a succession of syllables, musicians can elicit the close attention of listeners.”
  — Michael Tenzer, p. 43.

I n thinking about other instrumental repertoire that might be suitable as-is or transcribable for chamber didge recital, you might explore pieces whose articulation and accents entail sound-envelopes that are marcato ‘thrust-followed-by-decay’, an accent that resembles a plucked string instrument like a double-bass. With the didge, the decay is because the outflow of air from the cheeks that occurs while you are inhaling through the nose in circular breathing can’t be as forceful or sustained as the outflow of air when supported by the diaphragm. In general, highly rhythmic, marcato pieces in low register are likely to be feasible and stylistically coherent with didge performance practice, regardless whether they are for winds, strings, or percussion. There are pieces for tympani (for example, Daniel Jenkyn Jone’s ‘Sonata for Unaccompanied Kettledrums’) that could be performed as-is or transcribed for didgeridoo. And there are a number of chamber pieces for bass clarinet or low brass that are plausible. More links that you may find useful follow.

DSM bari sax didge standpoetry feeDSM and didj
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Sunday, November 9, 2008

‘Just War’ According to Dialogos: Rhetoric, Memory, Violence & Medieval Theater of Cruelty

Dialogos (left to right): Albrecht Maurer, Katarina Livljanić, Norbert Rodenkirchen
I   f the number and variety of versions—and widespread and enduring popularity—can be any criterion of greatness, the tale of Judith, it must be conceded, is one of the great stories of the world’s literature.”
  —  Edna Purdie, The Story of Judith in German and English Literature.
The staged musical production of ‘Judith’ by Katarina Livljanić and members of the ensemble Dialogos tells the biblical tale of the beautiful enchantress, Judith, who seduces and then beheads the Assyrian general Holofernes to liberate the Hebrews. The score also includes a medieval 5-string fiddle, a lirica (Croatian traditional stringed instrument, tuned in ‘archaic’ manner), and archaic flutes. The beauty and Croatian authenticity of Livljanić’s voice, the narrative and discursive power of the instrumental parts, the elegance of the staging and lighting, and the poetics of the carefully devised, historically informed Glagolitic text (and translation that is sympathetic to the needs of the audience, as opposed to Livljanić’s fellow scholars)—all of these combine to achieve a compelling artistic result, just as with ‘Vision of Tondal’ and other of Dialogos’s productions.

Character development in Livljanić’s version of ‘Judith’ is fuller than in the simplified accounts of the story that are familiar to us, and far more complex than in the synoptic artworks through which most of us are acquainted with it ... Klimt and Caravaggio and Reubens and so many others.

Holofernes, the general of the Babylonian King Nebuchadrezzar, whose decapitation by Judith is referenced in the Old Testament. Holofernes, the powerful general of King Nebuchadnezzar’s army. A number of provinces of the Second Jewish Commonwealth had withheld their assistance from Nebuchadnezzar and his government—had declined to join the coalition of the willing. So now comes Holofernes, the guy Nebuchadnezzar dispatches to give them an offer they couldn’t refuse.

The historical general did lay siege to Bethulia. The city was on the verge of surrendering but was saved by Judith, a beautiful Hebrew widow who preyed upon Holofernes’s huge vanity, deceived him, drank him under the table, sliced off his head in bed. Judith, she who then returned to Bethulia displaying the severed head, after which the Hebrews went on to beat Nebuchadnezzar’s now-generalless army. Morals: Be careful who you drink with, and be sure to drink responsibly.

Katarina Livljanić
Ensemble Dialogos
  • Katarina Livljanić (voice)
  • Albrecht Maurer (5-string fiddle)
  • Norbert Rodenkirchen (flutes)
  • Sanda Herzic (staging, scenography and costumes)
  • Marie Bellot (lighting design and direction)
Livljanić’s voice—alternately, narrator/seductress/warrior/mind/spirit—leads the listener through this biblical story of Judith, transformed here into historically-informed music theatre, instantiating characters who hail from the old biblical and Croatian Glagolitic texts to become amazingly relevant to contemporary society—both in terms of gender issues, and in terms of calling into question what is ‘justified violence’ and whether or not there is such a thing as a ‘just war’. Renaissance Glagolitic chant forms the musical structure of the performance. Accompanying Livljanić’s voice, the medieval lirica and 5-string fiddle and flutes give Marko Marulić’s Glagolitic text vivid, dramatic color.

Dialogos’s Judith is essentially ‘Eros and Thanatos’ rendered using fragments of medieval Glagolitic ‘disputationes’ that alternate with the main ‘Judith and Holofernes’ story. These interpolations are a narratorly gambit to reveal the characters’ thoughts; for example, as Holofernes’ head is severed, his thoughts ‘separate’ into a dialogue between his body and his soul. Another inner dialogue—between Judith’s mind and her soul, a sort of schizoid soliloquy—occurs as she prays for God to help her kill Holofernes.

According to Livljanić’s program notes, the ancient text of Judith survives without music, and the poetic metrical structure of the text closely corresponds to the meter of archaic Glagolitic melodies used for storytelling in medieval Dalmatia. The text refers to texts sung in the liturgical offices, and these clues enabled Livljanić to reconstruct, using Dalmatian and southern Italian musical sources, melodies plausibly correlated with indications in the original Judith text. This liturgical repertoire, sung in Croatian Church Slavonic, did function in the Latin mass, and was preserved over the centuries in manuscripts written in Glagolitic in medieval Croatia.

Livljanić performs all of the roles and uses a variety of vocal effects and a few costume changes to keep the roles distinct. Surpassing the phenomenal scholarship that goes into preparing their productions, the musicianship and historically-informed performance of the members of Dialogos ensemble are iconic.

F   rom the standpoint of the history of rhetoric, the presence of dramatic elements in discussions of torture presents a tremendous predicament for scholars, who have long been troubled by Aristotle’s casual inclusion of torture as one of the factual, ‘inartificial’, or extrinsic proofs to be discovered by orators during the inventional process... Inartificial proofs are those which ‘have not been furnished by ourselves but were already in existence, such as witnesses...’ What is so striking about the evidence ... is that, during rhetorical ‘inventio’, the ostensibly extrinsic proof that torture represents functions as an avowedly unreliable intrinsic proof. The rhetorician theorizes the inventional proof of torture as a verisimilar process that causes torture to appear to be an unshakable extrinsic proof, when in reality it is just as ‘intrinsic’, just as ‘creative’, just as fictional, just as ‘dramatic’ as other modes of rhetorical invention... Its ‘facts’ are evaluated on the basis of their potential persuasiveness as fashioned probabilities and then, in a process of reaffirmation, judged as factual on the basis of their verisimilitude. At issue, then, is less the truth of the law or the historical occurrence than the spectacular probabilities of the rhetorical presentation, which is born of materials extracted through punishment... Torture enters the scenario with its own role to play in the transformation of hypothesis into fact.”
  —  Jody Enders, Medieval Theater of Cruelty, p. 28.
Cranach the Elder Judith
Let’s do something I alluded to in the previous CMT post: illuminate this musical performance by drawing parallels between it and several works of art. Most of us know the story of Judith primarily through the famous representations of ‘Judith Slaying Holofernes’ in paintings.

The Christian church fathers embraced Judith, but went to extra trouble to ensure that the story was cast in a certain light that was favorable to the Church. When the Church hierarchy commissioned paintings and sculptures of Judith, the artists were compelled to make Judith into not so much an allegory of faith as an allegory of Christian virtue writ large—especially that prototypical virtue that most fascinates priests, chastity (as in the Cranach the Elder painting above). And then came Artemisia Gentileschi. Artemisia, without the strings of any Church commission attached. Artemisia, who had herself been raped. Artemisia Gentileschi did not make ‘nicey-nicey’.

Artemisia Gentileschi in 1620 was the first to paint a ‘feminist’ Judith. Her father Orazio had also painted Judith—a conventional Judith. Michelangelo, Botticelli and Caravaggio had painted Judith. Donatello had sculpted Judith. Gentileschi’s painting is dark, darker and more dramatic than Caravaggio’s and others’ Judiths. A theatrical spotlight is trained on the action, on the struggling limbs. The shadows on Judith’s arms force us to acknowledge the sawing, crunching, ‘why-is-this-neck-gristle-and-bone-so-tough?’ sword action she uses to get his head off. The extent of the blood splayed around the scene gives us a pretty clear idea that Gentileschci believes this was not a quick death, nor should it have been. Nor was this murder a workmanly job ineptly done. No, there is a realist’s quality of gratuitous suffering; of ‘extraordinary rendition’ as they say; of cold-blooded torture. The feminist righteous violence of Artemisia Gentileschi’s painting(s) is very close to the moral quality that Livljanić projects in the Dialogos production of Judith. Livljanić’s text has Holofernes’s dying going on and on...

Gentileschi Judith
As portrayed by Gentileschi and by Livljanić, Judith’s violence is righteous—premeditated but justified—vigorously justified ex-post facto by Judith. But not some pious, patriotic perp intent upon pleasing the patriarchs. This is cool, calculated, cathartic revenge by a woman who has been raped. ‘You, Asshole, are not f’ing getting away. You are f’ing going to die, right here, right now.’ And, naturally, heroic, cathartic righteous horror is invariably exciting. After all, ‘bloodied virtuosity’ is titillating, as American (and other—) filmmakers seem to know so well. The ‘pride goes before the fall’ tragic position of Holofernes’s arrogance and hubris just seems not to have many ‘takers’ these days. Nobody views the character and deeds of Judith as subversive and offensive anymore. Nobody thinks of Holofernes. We are all self-vindicating terrorists now. We are all Judiths or would-be Judiths if given the chance. Just not as chaste as a Church father or an Imam might prefer...

Klimt Judith
Gustav Klimt’s Judith paintings have instead a wasted, absinthe-debauched, sybaritically-bedecked golden Judith-the-Ho tucking the still-astonished dead head of Holofernes under her arm as if it were a handbag. The dramatic lighting is completely lacks the excitement and action of Gentileschi. Judith is here quiet and sated, as though she were a tiger or other predator? “Or the Hillbilly of Wasilla, Sarah Palin,” as one of the commenters in the discussion group that preceded the Kansas City Dialogos performance last night said. “What?! What are you looking at! I did not order these clothes from Neiman Marcus! No, siree! They’re goin’ back. Givin’ ‘em to charity.” Palin’s face and hair even look quite a lot like the Klimt Judith... Yikes.)

Klimt’s Judith gazes off beyond us; she has no regard for us. She appears to be daydreaming, and it is not likely that she is dreaming of murdering generals to save her people or build an actual oil pipeline. She is detached from the damage she has wrought. Klimt shows us not only Judith-the-Ho but also Judith-the-Psychopath and Judith-the-Jihadist. Klimt’s Judith ‘had’ to do what she did, just as Anthony Perkins ‘had’ to kill Janet Leigh’s character in ‘Psycho’, complete with her schizophrenic interior dialogue and ‘disputationes’.

Caravaggio Judith
By contrast, Caravaggio’s Judith is a tentative, horrified, ‘how-can-I-manage-to-finish-this?’ withdrawing, backward-staggering, agast Judith. Not a ‘psycho’ at all. And totally not ‘ho’. She stands back from Holofernes, disgusted—as much by her apprehension of her moral ‘dirtiness’ in the situation as by the physical horror of it. Whereas Gentileschi’s and Klimt’s Judiths are entirely self-assured—self-possessed with feminist and psychotic conviction, respectively; righteously unafraid—Caravaggio’s Judith comprehends that no one comes home ‘clean’. Righteous though your cause may have been, well-intentioned or not as you may have been before embarking on your project, your act has inscribed you now, marked you for life. You will never again be the same. You can never roll back the clock. The deed was morally dirty; ‘just war’ was an elusive myth, not a black-and-white certainty as you might have thought before. Livljanić manages to import some of this feeling into the Dialogos Judith performance. Various reviewers use words like ‘metamorphosis’ or ‘transformation’ or other literary expressions to describe it. Me, I don’t buy it. To me, Livljanić is a realist, one who considers that the historical Judith was—and all of us today are—complex, highly spontaneous ... concurrently ebbing and flowing with various motives and reasons and conflicts. Our confusion and messiness and internal conflicts in general don’t tend to resolve in transformative ways. We’re perpetually ‘becoming’ but we seldom transform or metamorphose. We just extemporize; we just act; we just live then with the consequences. As one of the ‘disputationes’ between Judith’s mind and her soul tells us, our abstract souls and embodied minds are old and not likely to change or suddenly become un-confused:

W   hy are you confusing me, my soul? And her soul answered: Oh, how greatly you confused my heart … I have been given to the body to live with it, and the body cheated me… The mind responded: My soul, your excuse is not good, because your body is made of earth, and you are made of wisdom… Therefore, [you must] overcome your body. The soul said: Woe to me that I hoped to receive from you a consolation, and instead I receive even bigger sadness. You know I have been living on this world for many years… I cannot overcome my body. It is older, cannot move, and cannot do any good...”
  —  ‘Disputatione’ (‘Agony’; a schizoid Glagolitic soliloquy between Judith’s ‘soul’ and her incarnate ‘mind’), ‘Judith’, text by Marko Marulić, adapted and extended by Katarina Livljanić.
W hat more can we make of this—in attempting to understand this production through parallels we can find in other works of art? Well, Livljanić’s rendering of Judith is not a ‘play’. It is instead an act of political-activist remembrance, just as Artemisia Gentileschi’s paintings are acts of protest and activist remembrance. It is an 80-minute meditation on ‘wars of choice’ and ill-conceived pre-emptive wars, as contrasted with necessary wars and ‘just’ morally-defensible wars. Livljanić’s vivid exhortations are not mere scholarly play-acting for us to ‘admire’ for their aesthetic value. No. They are powerful admonishments for us to engage in Shoah-like ‘remembering-so-as-never-to-forget’.

W   hy is it more important to remember acts of genocide than simply to learn about them? If literary works are truly the bearers of ontology, then what must be our conduct toward them?”
  —  Amy Hungerford, Holocaust of Texts.
In other words, this is not a docudrama that enables us merely to learn about an historically-explicit, militarily important act of dudicide by some hot chick in ancient Bethulia in the mavericky Second Jewish Commonwealth. No, this historically-informed artwork comes fully armed, locked-and-loaded as a bearer of political ontology: Livljanić is ballistically instructing us about what our conduct ought to be toward our ontology of justice—and about how we ought to be maintaining that ontology (and that justice) in a coherent, continent way. This is not art-as-entertainment or scholarly historiography tarted up as elite musical theater. It is beautiful and diverting, yes. But, more than that, it is art that advances specific and important political, moral, and ontological viewpoints—ones that Livljanić and her colleagues want audiences to take to heart and act upon. It is Art with an Agenda. It is a powerful essay on feminism through the ages, directly relevant to contemporary issues having to do with ‘just war’ as an abstract concept, and with specific unjust wars in-progress today, and with civil society and the problem of terrorism (terrorism that is sponsored by governments, like Nebuchadnezzar’s government or other ones in modern times; terrorism that is undertaken by groups other than the State; or terrorism that is undertaken by individuals, psychotic/psychopathic or otherwise). If you have an opportunity to attend one of Dialogos’s performances, do not miss it!

D   id an on-stage execution really take place in 1549 in the city of Tournai? According to somewhat questionable evidence about the production of Judith and Holofernes in that city, the actor playing Judith actually beheaded a convicted murderer who assumed (ever so briefly——) the role of Holofernes, just long enough to be killed during the play, to thunderous applause.”
  —  Jody Enders, Medieval Theater of Cruelty, p. 202.
Enders book

C   ahun also questions Judith’s response to the applause she receives when she emerges from Holofernes’s tent holding his head—horrified at having killed the man she loves and at their response, which she experiences at first like ‘a child whom one mistreats.’ ‘People!,’ she exclaims without much heroism, ‘What do we have in common? Who allowed you to invade my private life? To judge my acts and find them beautiful? To burden me—I who am so weak and weary, eternally hunted—with your infernal [God-sappy] glory?’ How can we know for certain, Cahun seems to be asking, what Judith’s motivations and desires were—the only person in her town willing to enter Holofernes’s tent? How can we know that Judith lost interest in sex once she was widowed, and that she became pious and chaste and shared her townspeople’s dislike and disdain for the enemy commander? Are not these assumptions based on clichés tied to sexuality? In Cahun’s telling of the Judith story, Holofernes is bestialized before he is dismembered. Judith is portrayed as ‘terrible,’ although Cahun sees her also as ‘abject’. Leiris later admiringly labels her a ‘patriot prostitute,’ but Cahun sees neither patriotism nor prostitution in Judith’s desire.”
  —  Kate Conley, From Sadistic Judith to Human Frontier, 2004.
Bellamy book


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Sunday, February 25, 2007

Glagolitic Ekphrasis and Melisma in Tondal

Dialogos, Vision of Tondal
DSM: Dialogos uses such—What would we say?—onomatopoetical sounds. If Tondal’s spirit is leaving his body, then what better way to represent that movement than by the splitting of vocal lines—the divergence from unison to close harmonies and dissonances, diminished seconds, and so on—and the re-convergence of those lines back into unison! The whole thing is melismatic (that is, many notes per syllable of text)! The extended, braided melismas distort our sense of time! A fantastic effect!

CMT: Yes. In Tondal, all six of the Dialogos members’ voices execute extensive melismas—sometimes in the upper range to express aspiration or anxiety or other emotions; sometimes low in their vocal range to express a pensive rumble. I think that long melismas are such a vivid musical rendering of the self, of the spirit. Incidentally, Bach often does this on the word ‘geistlich,’ and he even works in some irony in his choral settings—for example, when the alto sings the chorale while the soprano and tenor parts accompany—in his Cantatas and in his smaller works (Singet dem Herrn ein neues Lied; Komm, Jesu, komm; Lobet den Herrn; Jesu, meine Freude; and Fürchte dich nicht). The singers bid farewell to life’s vices and passions to gain eternal life, and you would expect Bach to emphasize the joy and eagerness of those expecting salvation. But instead the musical figure of the soprano voices—the way in which they reluctantly release their held notes down a half step—clearly represents regret and doubt. You hear a predominating sorrow—an aporia. Much of Dialogos’ account of Tondal’s Vision is like this—these aporietic melismas!

DSM: Buelow notes Bach’s use of melismatic gestures, which he says are “contradictory to all Baroque theory of recitative.” But maybe Bach was harking back to an early tradition. Not only poets may respond to a work of visual art with a creative act in their own medium, transposing the style and structure, the message and metaphors from the visual to the verbal. Composers routinely engage in interartistic transfers like this. Although the musical medium is reputedly abstract, composers, just like poets, can respond in many different ways to a visual representation. They transpose structure and content. They interpret or play with some of the suggestive elements of the original image. This is basically the musical equivalent of what literary theorists call ‘ekphrasis’. Central questions concern the definition of musical ekphrasis in relation to music’s ability to represent extramusical realities or narratives—to relate to reality by way of musical mimesis or symbolic reference.

CMT: You know, listeners don’t have unbounded capacity to track multiple concurrent lines of sound. David Huron found that as the number of concurrent voices in a polyphonic texture increases, expert listeners are both slower to recognize the addition of new voices, and more prone to underestimate the number of voices present. Here is Huron’s plot of experimental data from five expert musicians. This shows voice-tracking errors while listening to polyphonic music. The data show that when listening to polyphonic textures employing relatively homogeneous timbres, tracking confusions are common when more than three voices are present.

David Huron
DSM: The solid columns show mean estimation errors for polyphonic textures of varying textural densities; the shaded columns indicate mean error rates for single-voice entries. For polyphonic textures employing relatively homogeneous timbres, the accuracy of identifying the number of concurrent voices drops markedly at the point where a three-voice texture is augmented to four voices. Beyond three voices, tracking confusions are commonplace. In a study of isolated chords, Parncutt (1993) found similar results. When asked to count the number of tones in chords constructed using tones with octave-spaced partials (Shepard tones), Parncutt found that listeners make significant errors (underestimation) once the number of chromas exceeds three.

CMT: Limitations in the perception of auditory numerosity may be symptomatic of a broader perceptual limitation, since the results of these studies parallel the results of similar studies in vision. Using a dishabituation paradigm, Strauss and Curtis showed that performance degrades when discriminating three from four items, and reaches chance performance when discriminating four from five items. The work of Strauss and Curtis is especially significant since pre-verbal infants can be expected to possess no explicit knowledge of counting. This implies that the perceptual confusion arising for visual and auditory fields containing more than three items is a low-level constraint that is not mediated by cognitive skills in counting.

DSM: These results are consistent with reports of musical experience offered by musicians themselves including composer Paul Hindemith. It strikes me that this is much like the close harmonies and complex dissonances of barbershop quartet singing. Your mind naturally follows and anticipates the divergences and convergences. In fact, that is a major source of the power and charm of such music—the textural complexities.

CMT: Dialogos compounds this further when they circle themselves on the stage. The choral effect is as though the dissonances are massed—one single aggregate collective spirit, despite the continued multi-vocality of it. Then the antiphonal qualities are restored when they disperse from the circle and distribute themselves across the stage—the individualistic contrast is especially apparent when they are performing in a large cathedral, with all of the reverberations that are characteristic of a church.

David Huron
DSM: Temperley addresses a fundamental question about music cognition: how do we extract basic kinds of musical information, such as meter, phrase structure, counterpoint, pitch spelling, harmony, and key from music as we hear it? Taking a computational approach, Temperley develops models for generating these aspects of musical structure. The models he proposes are based on preference rules, which are criteria for evaluating a possible structural analysis of a piece of music. A preference rule system evaluates many possible interpretations and chooses the one that best satisfies the rules.

CMT: Temperley has addressed some of this in his book, as has Taruskin in his. There is the ontology of musical structure: meter, phrase structure, contrapuntal structure, harmony, and key, as well as pitch spelling (the labeling of pitch events with spellings such as A-flat or G-sharp). Musical structures are inferred, but there is also musical ambiguity, “look-back” retrospective revision of our concepts as we continue listening, and sweet anticipation—‘expectation’ in Huron’s sense. Dialogos is masterful in interweaving all of these to make their performances powerfully evocative!




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