I've been watching this old movie called Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. The storyline, dialogue, lyrics and characters are ludicrous, but the dancing is awesome.
This was the first film made by the director, who for whatever reason (according to his commentary on the DVD) did not realize that movie directors are allowed to film multiple takes. So the intricately choreographed, athletic dance sequences were rehearsed and rehearsed, then shot in one take. The young brothers were played by four dancers, a gymnast, and a former baseball player, so they were used to performing under pressure; still, something entirely new and magical happened in this sequence, for example.
This was the first film made by the director, who for whatever reason (according to his commentary on the DVD) did not realize that movie directors are allowed to film multiple takes. So the intricately choreographed, athletic dance sequences were rehearsed and rehearsed, then shot in one take. The young brothers were played by four dancers, a gymnast, and a former baseball player, so they were used to performing under pressure; still, something entirely new and magical happened in this sequence, for example.
What remarkable energy!
One of the exciting yet daunting aspects of liturgical music is the pressure of "live" performance. Mistakes can happen. Techniques may be under-rehearsed. A choir could make a wrong entrance; a cantor can become tongue-tied. The whole thing could fall apart at any moment and instead of contributing to the liturgy, detract and distract.
Yet the "live" aspect of liturgical singing is also its most exciting quality. We're HERE, NOW, and we're SINGING. God is being praised NOW; our hearts are lifting up our voices NOW. Sometimes a choir will bring all its gifts together in a single marvelous moment. Sometimes a cantor's voice will be filled with understanding of the text being sung, and will have the authority to communicate meaning.
One of the exciting yet daunting aspects of liturgical music is the pressure of "live" performance. Mistakes can happen. Techniques may be under-rehearsed. A choir could make a wrong entrance; a cantor can become tongue-tied. The whole thing could fall apart at any moment and instead of contributing to the liturgy, detract and distract.
Yet the "live" aspect of liturgical singing is also its most exciting quality. We're HERE, NOW, and we're SINGING. God is being praised NOW; our hearts are lifting up our voices NOW. Sometimes a choir will bring all its gifts together in a single marvelous moment. Sometimes a cantor's voice will be filled with understanding of the text being sung, and will have the authority to communicate meaning.
St. Augustine was converted by the human voice: the preaching of St. Ambrose, and the singing of the people of Milan. May we learn to speak and sing the word of God so that it may have its effect.
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