A Disclaimer

If you introduce the short aria “This Is My Box” from Amahl and the Night Visitors into your children’s lives (yours too, for that matter), the following may result:

1. Disruption of otherwise normal moments by hilarious interjections of “This is my box” or “I never travel without my box.”
2. Exuberant singing, dancing, and commenting upon objects (particularly any object resembling a box).
3. Spontaneous outbursts of Point #2 upon random references in ordinary conversation to phrases like “never travel,” “this is my,” or “in the first [second, third] drawer,” and definitely to the word “licorice.”

Fortunately, these have no negative side effects unless someone is taking a nap!

Alright, maybe I overstate the infectious nature of the short aria “This is my Box,” sung by the oddest of the Three Wise Men, King Kaspar. In the story, the kings stop at the desperately poor dwelling of a crippled shepherd boy Amahl and his long-suffering mother. These seekers are in pursuit of a Wondrous Star and bear a load of treasures that include many boxes. But the box in question is not a gift intended for an unknown baby. No, this box contains favorite items, without which King Kaspar simply does not travel.

Amahl, too, has been watching the star. As the work opens, Amahl is transfixed by the celestial phenomenon and its unusual “tail,” frustrating his mother by effusive descriptions of it and by petitions to stay awake longer and watch it.

But Amahl acquiesces and comes in to sleep. Minutes later the exotic visitors arrive, setting things into an uproar as they enter, decked in glittering brocades with a lone servant who drags in their trove of treasures. Amahl’s mother has neither food nor fuel nor a bed to offer her guests. Still, being a practical woman, she goes to gather twigs for a fire. While she is gone, Amahl takes advantage of these precious minutes to approach the kings and ask his own questions. “Are you a real king?” “Have you regal blood?” “Where is your home?” Amahl’s frank answer as to what he does will touch your heart.

Then he asks King Kaspar directly about the box: “What is this?” That is when the fun starts.

Kaspar’s answer “This is my box” may not sound particularly engaging. But it is, once his quirky manner and Menotti’s funny words and bouncy music come together.

The words (libretto) and music in Amahl were created by the marvelous Italian-American composer Gian-Carlo Menotti (1911-2007) under commission from the National Broadcast Company (NBC). The idea of writing an opera for television to air on Christmas Eve, 1951 was both curious and promising. Remember, back then people believed the new medium of television would be just the vehicle to bring fine culture to the masses.

Menotti, already successful as a composer, took the commission gladly, yet was stymied as to how to proceed. The clock was ticking. Then, in frustration, he entered a gallery of the Metropolitan Museum in New York City and experienced a revelation when he passed by the famous small painting by Hieronymus Bosch called The Adoration of the Magi (c. 1475).

This painting instantly reconnected him with the loveliest memories of his Italian childhood. Recalling the feelings of waiting with his brother for the Three Kings to bring Christmas gifts, Menotti’s heart opened and the opera nearly wrote itself. He tells the story charmingly in the introductory minutes of the original broadcast, archived here (go to 23:07 for “This Is My Box”).

In past Advent Calendars, I have written about this work. Also, I related the story of receiving an email from the extraordinary singer Rosemary Kuhlmann (1922-2019) who sang the premiere role of the mother in 1951. Somehow Kuhlmann was alerted to my first Advent-calendar post on Amahl and decided to write an email and express her pleasure at the post. It was a high point of my life to open that email with its reference line “from Amahl’s Mother” and realize who had sent it. I sank to the floor and cried happy tears.

Partly my love of this work stems from sitting as a child, transfixed before its annual broadcast on Christmas Eve. A bigger part of my enthusiasm, though, comes from the fact that every measure of this brief work (c. 55 minutes long) is perfectly constructed. The story itself covers the simplest and most complicated of human feelings. Opening with the heaviness that longstanding poverty and illness bring to people, the opera moves briskly through a full range of emotions as contrasting as frivolity and anger, ending in a wash of awe and joy. The climax of work comes when the mother’s helplessness leads her to attempt a small theft in hopes of feeding her child. A showering of redemption comes quickly (with a musical luxuriousness that is unforgettable), quickly followed by an even greater moment of redemption in an illumined scene capable of bringing shivers to your spine. (No, I’m not going to tell you, but get the Kleenex out.)

If you have never seen Amahl and the Night Visitors, let it be a gift to your family this Advent and Christmas season. There are DVD and VHS versions available, as well as some offerings on YouTube. Next week, on Tuesday December 8, at 8:00 p.m. EST, I will explore the work as part of our free series A Night at the Opera. The session will be recorded also, so I hope you can join us as we delve into this small masterwork.

In an ordinary year, I would also say: “Look for a local production.” Once common, these have become harder to find, in part because of today’s flashy “consumer tastes” and also because the need of a boy soprano capable of singing the role of Amahl. We live in a world, especially in the United States, where the rigorous vocal training routinely found in boys’ choirs rarely exists in many communities. And while a female dressed as a child can make the role work, Menotti was very clear in his instructions that a child’s voice should anchor and shape the magical flow of the music.

Meanwhile, remember that the filmed versions will not have been designed for 60” Smart TV’s with HD quality. If your children are not accustomed to black & white or older films, try not to be put off. Kids will adjust. It may take a second viewing to draw them in, especially if they are new to the idea of sung drama, but show it at a quiet time when things are feeling intimate and “Christmassy” so that its magic can override the noise and bustle of daily life. The story and melodies will speak for themselves.