James Marvel, Classical Singer’s 2008 Stage Director of the Year, is attaining the standards his surname sets. The San Francisco Chronicle noted his “kinetic and visually striking” staging of The Rake’s Progress with the Merola Opera Program. The Times Picayune praised his direction of Lucia Di Lamermoor with New Orleans Opera as “straightforward and effective.” The Augusta Chronicle declared his production of Gounod’s Faust at Augusta Opera—complete with a mosh-pit scene—the “Best Production of the Year.”
Marvel, a New Orleans native who specializes in audition preparation (when he is not directing a show) makes a similar impression on singers. Soprano Elisabeth Russ recalls that before she worked with Marvel, she used to feel awkward in auditions. “He opens up a realm of different emotions and subtleties,” she says. “He helps solidify my intention, so there is no second-guessing or floundering. Now I don’t feel awkward or out of place. My audition exemplifies who I am as a performer. I can feel as organic in that five-minute slot as I do on stage mid-performance.”
Soprano Lucy Tucker Yates describes Marvel as an artist “whose own essence is a poem: strict, fluid, and pure.” Spectacular imagination and deep gentleness, she writes, are “precious complements” in his work, as she describes in this poem:
From James we have learnt sonnets of sinew,
diamond-tipped thirst,
cataracts of absolution,
unsouled objects’ lives.
Where he goes suns swim,
walls breathe,
angels explode,
the dying comfort the living.
All these true things he can teach—o wonder!—inside an hour.
“As our time is short,” he likes to say, “we will need to work slowly.”
Although Marvel is on the road “approximately 260 days a year” and has a busy season ahead of him—including engagements at Juilliard Opera Center, Orlando Opera, and Opera Tampa—he made time to sit down with Classical Singer to discuss his background, methods, and goals.
When did you first become interested in classical music?
In early childhood. My mother played the piano, and she used to listen to opera when she came home from work. When I was 7, I attended my first opera, which happened to be A Masked Ball with Carlo Bergonzi. I was riveted.
Whenever an orchestra was playing on TV, I’d name all the instruments. My favorite conductor was Seiji Ozawa, because he was so expressive. All this made an impression on my parents, and they soon arranged for me to take violin lessons with a member of the New Orleans Symphony.
What about acting?
My father worked as an actor in New York, and this was in the back of my mind as I started doing plays in high school. The theater director at my school was a graduate of Northwestern’s MFA program, and he was excellent. He had a tremendous influence on me.
Later, I attended Sarah Lawrence [College], and even though my major was world literature, I continued to act, write, play violin, and, because there were so few men at Sarah Lawrence, I danced as well. I also directed a few productions there. But my plan at the time was to pursue creative writing or get a Ph.D. in literature. I had no idea I’d end up in theater.
What happened after graduation?
My aunt works in the theater department at Temple University, and she found out about a really interesting MFA program in Tennessee that focused on international theater. I had spent my junior year at Oxford University and a summer at Charles University in Prague, so the international aspect was appealing to me.
It was a great experience. Students received free tuition, $8,000 a year, and free international travel. They sent us to places like Scotland, Poland, the Czech Republic, and Hungary to see how they made theater in these places, and directors from around the world also came to visit us. That really expanded my sense of what was possible. Until my second year, however, I didn’t realize that by doing this program, I was committing to a life in the theater.
How did you end up directing?
After grad school, I was acting on stage and in film, and I was also playing the violin and writing plays for a children’s theater in New Jersey, but I never really derived a lot of joy from these things. A year to the day after Sept. 11, I woke up and thought, “I’m not going to do anything I don’t want to do ever again.” I got out of bed, called the bosses of my various survival jobs, and quit. I adjusted the way I lived so that I would only be working as a director. I’ve never looked back, and I’ve never been happier. That was one of the best days of my life.
When did you start directing opera?
I had become friends with Darko Tresnjak, who is now the artistic director of the Old Globe Theatre in San Diego, when I was an apprentice actor at the Williamstown Theater Festival. He knew that I could read music, and he invited me to assist him with a production of Orfeo at Virginia Opera. I met his agent at a Christmas party, and we clicked. The agent offered me Cosi fan tutte at a 100-seat theater in a church on the Upper West Side, and he liked the production so much that he ended up representing me for three years.
My next show was at Boheme Opera in New Jersey in a 1,800-seat theater. I was 25. It seemed improbable for me to be in that position, and yet, I’d been around opera all my life, and I loved it, so it felt right.
What has been your best directing experience so far?
Any production in which I have total and complete artistic control and freedom. This was the case with the production of The Rake’s Progress with the Merola Opera program. I had carte blanche to do whatever I wanted, and the cast was dynamic and fantastic. Another favorite was a production of Philip Glass’s Galileo Galilei for Boston University Opera Institute. What was so great about that production is that we literally had no budget. It was a testament to the ability of a group of talented people to create really interesting and visionary work out of absolutely nothing. I found that to be extremely rewarding.
What are some directing challenges you have faced, and how have you coped with them?
A director has to be a diplomat. Some singers have big egos that have to be brought down to a human level, and others are completely insecure and must be brought up to a level where they can perform with a modicum of confidence. There are singers who don’t speak English very well, some who are uncomfortable with productions that are steeped in sexuality, and some who have cultural backgrounds that make certain emotions less available to them. For example, I once worked on Madame Butterfly with a tenor whose culture valued bravado and strength, and he was wonderful at displaying these traits. When he was interacting with Butterfly, however, I had to persuade him to be more gentle and delicate.
My general approach is to figure out the best ways to work with individuals. Some people work best conceptually. Some people work best if I talk about the psychology within the music. Other people learn best if I demonstrate.
The first few days of rehearsal are almost like a psychological experiment. I observe the singers and see their potential areas of strength and resistance. My job is to get the strongest possible performance by the individual playing a part.
You do a lot of work with young artists. Do you prefer to work with them or with more established artists?
I have no preference. Everything depends upon the openness of the individuals and their desire to create great art—but I do enjoy working with singers who have less experience. They tend to have a tremendous openness toward exploring different styles, methods, and approaches.
Generally speaking, the people I want to work with the most are the people who are hungriest for what I have to offer them. It’s like watering a garden. You water the flowers, but you don’t water a stick because it’s already dead. The more you want from me, the more I want to give to you.
You specialize in preparing singers for auditions. How do you go about this?
I work with singers to make them dramatically accountable for every second of every piece so that they attain a new level of confidence in what they’re doing. They don’t have time to be nervous because they’re so emotionally engaged.
You can’t play an emotion in a convincing way if you haven’t decided what it is. There is psychology within the text, psychology within the music—and then there’s the subtext. The text could say, “I love you,” but there are a hundred different ways to say, “I love you.” It’s the music that tells you how it’s meant. The music doesn’t lie.
What are some of the mistakes singers make during auditions?
The main one is insufficient preparation, either musically or dramatically. You have to not only know the music, you have to know the character inside and out, from beginning to end. You should also practice your audition arias every day for three weeks before an audition. If you’re not doing this kind of homework, then you shouldn’t show up for the audition, especially if it’s for an agent.
Another mistake is viewing the audition as a hierarchical arrangement in which the singer is at the bottom. You need to think of the people auditioning you as equals. Your task is to make them feel comfortable in your presence, not the other way around. This approach will also give you something to occupy yourself. You won’t have time to get nervous.
In general, you want to show that you have a positive attitude, bright energy, professionalism, and confidence without arrogance.
To some extent, auditioning is like dating. Everyone enjoys a certain level of flirting regardless of his or her orientation. Approaching the audition with a little flirtation projects energy into the situation and makes it more fun for everyone.
If you’re really prepared, then you won’t be able to wait to audition. It’s an opportunity to blow someone’s mind with your talent.
What general career advice can you offer singers?
Be unstoppable. Don’t get distracted. Do your best to keep focused, even if you have to work other jobs. Make sure to reserve energy every day to continue doing what you’re doing and strive for excellence.
