Washington National Opera: Silent Night

It took seven years for Kevin Puts' award-winning opera Silent Night to reach the nation's capital, but the timing could not be better. We just saw our president arrive in Paris to "celebrate the end of World War One"and subsequently heard he could not make it to the Aisne-Marne American cemetery outside Paris, to honor about 2,200 U.S. war dead who are laid to rest there. We saw world leaders and dignitaries attending various remembrance events and finally gathering in the French capital to commemorate the centenary of the armistice signed to end the four-year war. The big anniversary is likely to entice some people to review some of the basic historic facts of the world's deadliest war. Those planning to see Silent Night should be among them.

German, French and Scottish regiments  pray together on Christmas Eve.

If someone had told me I would get a lump in my throat and tear up during a performance of a contemporary opera, I probably would have nodded to avoid offending the interlocutor and privately dismiss the idea. But that's exactly how I felt in Silent Night's crucial moment, when one soldier steps out of his shelter into a minefield, waving a Christmas tree and calling for one night of peace. The first reactions from the enemy lines - fear, bewilderment and suspicion - soon give way to acceptance, resulting more from general exhaustion than any religious feeling or revolutionary anti-war stance.

Based on the 2005 movie Joyeux Noël, which in turn is inspired by a true event, the opera centers on one day in the lives of a French, Scottish and German contingent, entrenched at a WWI battlefield in Belgium. In reality, German Crown Prince Wilhelm sent tenor Walter Kirchhoff to sing for German soldiers during the first Christmas season of the war, in December of 1914. His singing could be heard by French soldiers in nearby trenches who stood up and applauded his performance. And the rest is history.

In the fictionalized version, the visiting singer is a soprano who joins her tenor on the battlefield.

In the opera, the tenor is soldier Nikolaus Sprink (Alexander McKissick) and he is summoned from the front to sing at the crown prince's Christmas party.  This was arranged at the request of Sprink's fiancée, Swedish soprano Anna Sørensen (Raquel González).  She also finagles an official permission to return to the frontline with her soldier for one night. 

In the first act, we get a glimpse into the lives of main characters as they get news of the war. French Lieutenant Audebert (Michael Adams) is saying good-bye to his pregnant wife Madeleine (Hannah Hagerty), Scottish brothers Jonathan and William Dale and their local priest, Father Palmer, enlist as volunteers for what they believe will be a quickly won war. The music is a lively combination of waltz and variations on traditional tunes. The transition from peace to war is marked by powerful music score in which you can recognize sounds of cannon blasts, explosions, gun shots and screams.

The trenches in this production are lined up one above the other with Germans at the bottom, the French in the middle and Scots on top.  After a powerful and very cinematic battle scene, the soldiers in the trenches account for their dead and wounded, and reminisce about peaceful time at home. Jonathan is brokenhearted because his brother is killed and he was forced to leave him on the battlefield. He writes a letter to their mother pretending that both are still alive and swears he will revenge William. Audebert is longing for his wife, his aide-de-camp Ponchel silences his mother's alarm clock which goes off every morning to remind him of their morning coffee together. 

German Lieutenant Horstmayer is disdainful of Christmas gifts sent to his soldiers ("What next? Santa Clause?") and angers the singer who walks out into the mine field and shouts for a night of peace.  The soldiers from other trenches cautiously join him. At their urging, the German, French and Scottish commanders agree to permit a temporary truce. Father Palmer leads the soldiers into prayer and then they bury their dead, share their whiskey, wine, beer and chocolate and even play a game of soccer. 

French, German and Scottish lieutenants shake hands on the truce

This kind of story is always in danger of falling into the pitfall of sentimentality and cliché, and Silent Night is not completely devoid of them. What made me go maudlin was the opera's powerful reminder of what a wonderful world this would be if we all made just a little more effort to get out of our trenches and meet the other side. Silent Night carries a powerful anti-war message with barely a touch of blood or gore on the stage. Moments of humor are frequent, but they serve to make the underlying reality even more bleak. "This will be our most memorable Christmas," soldiers say. "It will be my only one," says Lt. Horstmayer, "I am Jewish." His pun suggests an expectation of an early end to the war. 

The angry generals back home won't reach the wisdom of their foot soldiers before they've sent millions of people to early graves and left millions of others maimed, orphaned and destitute.

As a punishment for the unsanctioned truce, one contingent receives the order to withdraw from the Belgian battlefield to the then quieter Verdun in northern France. In less than two years after the brief Christmas truce in Belgium, Verdun became the site of the longest and bloodiest battle of World War I. Mentioning it in the opera was a message that the worst is yet to come after a small reprieve.

This past week we have heard world leaders deliver touching eulogies and saw dignitaries lay wreathes at military cemeteries across the western world.  Silent Night offers an intimate encounter with the kind of people they are honoring.

Much of the cast portraying characters in their respective languages are talented young graduates of the Domingo-Cafritz program. Michael Adams as Lt. Audebert, Raquel González as Anna Sorensen, Norman Garrett as Lt. Gordon, and Aleksey Bogdanov as Lt. Horstmayer stood out for me.

Silent Night may not be modern enough or original enough for some tastes, but it is simply beautiful: the music, the story, the singing, and the production. At times wild, at times gentle and elegiac, or pensive, Puts's score is always hinting at the brevity of peace and goodwill on earth and at something sinister to follow. Librettist Mark Campbell uses generally light touches to expose the absurdity of war, with few exceptions, such as Johnathan's killing of an allied soldier by mistake.  Anna Sorensen's peace activism was another heavy-handed touch but, hey, this is opera.

WNO's Silent Night is an ideal opportunity for skeptics to step out from the safety of Verdi and Rossini trenches and venture into the minefield of modern opera, one careful step at a time. This one is safe.

Nico Colombant - Père Extraordinaire

I first visited Reno, Nevada in 1998 because it was on my way during a 4-week long coast-to-coast trip with friends from Croatia. Maybe we would not have stopped but for the curiosity to see "the divorce capital of the world" which was all we had ever heard about it in Europe. You sort of went to Las Vegas for a quick marriage and then to Reno for a quick divorce. During this first visit, we all concluded that Reno must be the ugliest and most boring city in America and I for one thought I would never see it again. So I was incredulous when my colleague, VOA's Africa correspondent and French-speaking reporter extraordinaire, announced that he was moving to Reno with his lovely family. 

What would a person in my view closer to Europe than to America do in Reno? But Nico's online posts indicated he and his family were thriving in the desert town, which also turned out to be the home of one of the world's leading mezzos Dolora Zajick. First impressions could be wrong, so it was time to give Reno another look, this time through the eyes of local residents and see if one has to turn into a cowboy to live there. I already knew Nico's wife drove a truck.  So I made my second ever trip to Reno this past April.

Well, my French lessons surely paid off because I am not sure their kids would have accepted me quite as well if I spoke only English. I heard more French music with Nico driving us around Reno in his European size car (no, he has not turned into a cowboy), and I felt more at home being a guest in his house than I have in the longest time.  Mostly I was impressed with what a wonderful father he is.  Nico has indulged my request to share his fatherhood experience to inspire other multi-lingual families.  Much to learn from this père extraordinaire.

Nico Colombant, Père Extraordinaire, Reno, NV

French with my Kids in a Francophone Desert
by Nico Colombant, Reno Nevada

There are strict disciples of bilingualism, such as my mother. At dinner parties, these disciples will praise bilingualism to the high heavens. Every research paper indicating bilingualism is good for the brain, for living longer, for being smarter, for being more creative, they clip, repost, brag about.

A Family Tradition

For me, it was easy. My father is French and my mother is a francophile of the highest order. I was born in France, but when we moved to the United States, I went to a French school, where my mom taught English. Most of my friends were French-speaking. My parents had French parties with French food and French wine. I went to France every other summer to be with my grandparents, watching the Tour de France on a small black and white television, drawing water from a backyard well and picking raspberries.

As a kid in Washington, D.C.:  playing soccer was one of the rare activities in which I spoke English

I went back to France for university studies and got my first job in Paris, before going off for adventures in southeast Asia, and then penniless, returning to live for a while with my parents in Washington, D.C. Even though I was mostly French-educated, I felt stifled by the lack of space in France. When asked where I am from, I now say, I am a Frenchman from America.

Bilingual Kids

I now have two children of my own. Both were born in Washington, D.C., where I had many French-speaking friends with kids of their own. We now live in Reno, Nevada, a francophone desert of sorts, where French speakers are few and far in between the Sierra mountains surrounding us. For some reason, I'm not ready to give up on French and I don't think I ever will. As a part-time stay at home Dad, besides how to play soccer, I am also teaching my kids how to speak French.

My two boys seem to approve of their lifestyle in Reno, Nevada.

I don't really care about studies touting the merits of bilingualism. To me, it just feels natural. My French language is my culture, and I want it to be a part of theirs as well. French opens the gateway to new ways of thinking, laughing and being. Why not give them that opportunity?

My boys are 5 and 3 now. Most days, they are the only people I speak French to, which also keeps my own French alive. We may have mangled sentences and jumbled words here and there, but French is our way of communicating. Sometimes other boys at a park will run up to us and ask us how to say something in French. My five-year-old is full of pride when he can answer.

Desert Challenges

It's not easy to keep a language going in a desert. We usually listen to music with French lyrics. Alpha Blondy, Manu Chao, MC Solaar, La Fouine, Francis Cabrel, and Stromae are some of our shared favorites. If ever the kids watch something on a screen, it's usually in French. If I buy a DVD, I make sure it has a French language option. We subscribe to French magazines for kids. We read French books. I share Cartesian logic and doubt.

My wife, Kari, an American from Oklahoma, speaks some French, which also helps. We met in French-speaking West Africa as journalists. Even though, we don't exclusively speak French at home, I am always speaking French with my kids. On home base whenever guests aren't around, if they start playing with each other in English, I try steering their play conversation back to French.

Before we were married and had kids, here I am with Kari in Senegal

My Theory of Language Domination

To keep a second language going, I also think it can't be completely dominated by another. Unlike my mother, I am actually more a proponent of multilingualism (rather than just bilingualism).

My older boy is finishing kindergarden at a public school which has an immersion program in Spanish. Rather than complicating matters, I think the schooling in Spanish has helped his French. Sometimes when I pick him up from school, excited to have just played with friends in English at the afterschool program he goes to, he can't disassociate English words from French ones, and speaks in a jumbled way. He'll throw in a few Spanish words as well. I gently rephrase his sentences into better French, and after a few minutes in the car, he's back to speaking mostly French.

The Merits of Multilingualism

When I lived in Africa, I noticed many children spoke four to five languages, one with their father, another with their mother, a third with their friends, a fourth at school and sometimes a fifth at the market. Each language has its purpose, making each useful and alive. I would say, pompously or not, that each language gives a new window on the world, a multitude of possible connections, a broadened compassion for others, and a new perspective on abstract thought.

Buying fresh baguette as a family is part of the experience

Whenever I hear about a language disappearing, I think that's one of the saddest realities of our increasingly futuristic, tech-dominated, elites taking most of the cake world. I am not the same person in French or English, but both languages make me who I am.

Wouldn't it be monotonous, narrow-minded and restraining if everyone just spoke English or Chinese? I find efforts to diversify and to keep a multitude of languages alive on the Internet extremely laudable. I also believe more languages should be taught in schools, and at an earlier age. Language immersion schools should be the rule rather than the exception.

Of course, I'd love my kids just the same if they stopped speaking French. But to me "I love you" and "Je t'aime" don't have the same meaning, so if they were to speak only English, we would be losing out on some of the magic and depth of this curious human world. And the more magic and depth you can handle, I believe, the better.

Maseco likes to draw French flags and the Eiffel Tower.

Zinedine dressed as Super Dupont

Nico Colombant teaches radio and online video in Reno, Nevada, and also coaches soccer.  His wife Kari Barber is an assistant professor in journalism at the University Nevada, Reno.  They work on documentaries together including a current project called Struggle and Hope about Oklahoma's Still Surviving All-black Towns.
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October 11, 2016
It is with great sadness that I have to add an update to Nico's story:  his younger son Zinedine died of inexplicable cardiac arrest in early October.