It started in Los Angeles, went around the world, and tonight, it finally
made it 400 miles to the north, and arrived in Berkeley.

Your correspondent, having witnessed the Philip Glass/ Robert Wilson
"Monsters of Grace:  A Digital Opera in Three Dimensions," has three simple
questions:

   1. What is it about?
   2. What is it for?
   3. Who cares?

Your correspondent, incidentally, has been a fan of Glass for 30 years,
from the very beginning of his career.  But the same enthusiast of
`Mishima,' of excerpts from his big operas, of the recent Cocteau trilogy,
etc.  just sat unbelieving in Zellerbach Hall tonight, overwhelmed by
Glass-as-Tesh, Back-to-Liquid-Days, I've-Got-Only-Three-Notes,
I'll-Soothe-the-Hell-Outta-You.

Seventy minutes of `nice' crossover into the land of the mindless.  For
diversion:  Wilson's images -- viewed through 3D glasses -- running the
gammut from Monty Python feet to incomprehensible images at random.
Nothing soothing, by the way, about a hand reaching out halfway into the
auditorium and then being sliced slowly.

The text, from your friend and mine, "the 13th century ecstatic love poems
of Jalaluddin Rumi," was at first impossible to understand, and then --
halfway through -- the vocal lines managed to rise above the din...  and
the situation got worse.  There was something about a request to "kiss my
lips when I am dead as I begin to decompose, and don't be surprised if I
open my eyes," but I may be paraphrasing.  I am sure the authentic original
goes much better with elevator music and a table floating in mid-air, a
snake moving on top.

I'll take Peter Sellars' Chinese opera instead, any day.

And now for the good news:  of the four singers, Marie Mascari, Gregory
Purnhagen and Peter Stewart were fine.  Alexandra Montano is sensational,
a real find.  Hers is a rich, lustrous mezzo, with an effortless projection
and real presence.  How I'd love to hear her sing something!

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