In the summer of 1917, the composer Leos Janacek met Kamila Stosslova. Both were married, and Stosslova was nearly 40 years younger, but they developed an intimate more-than-friendship: Janacek sent her more than 700 letters, increasingly intense, over the final decade of his life.
The relationship — almost completely, and agonizingly, unconsummated — immediately inspired a late-in-life creative flowering. Janacek started writing his smoldering song cycle “Diary of One Who Disappeared” shortly after meeting Stosslova.
The connection is obvious between that fateful meeting — and Janacek’s guilty passion — and the subject of “Diary,” which is playing through Saturday at the Brooklyn Academy of Music in a busy yet listless staging by Ivo van Hove.
In the cycle, a young farmer abandons his home and family to go off with Zefka, a Gypsy woman he falls in love with. Janacek, no surprise, connected Zefka with Stosslova, whose dark hair and features he described as Gypsy-like.
“I always thought about you in that work,” he later wrote to her.
The Brooklyn production, directed by the inescapable, much-debated Mr. van Hove (“Network,” “A View From the Bridge,” “The Damned”) in collaboration with the Dutch company Muziektheater Transparant, clumsily brings this subtext to the fore.
The young tenor protagonist (Andrew Dickinson), here a modern-day photographer puttering around his home darkroom, is doubled by an older male actor (Wim van der Grijn) wearing the same style of suit. We eventually come to realize that the actor represents Janacek, though this isn’t quite clear until the end, when he is burning papers and soberly intones the section of the composer’s will stating that a portion of the royalties from “Diary” and other late works inspired by Stosslova — his “Zefka” — will go to her after his death.
Janacek’s “Diary” is an intimate, enigmatic series of not quite two dozen short songs accompanied by a solo piano, less than 40 minutes in all — as rich, and as transient, as a dream. It was hardly unusual in the classical tradition to create a song cycle tracking the agonies of love — think of Schubert’s and Schumann’s wrenching collections — but Janacek, working with anonymous poems that had appeared in a Czech newspaper, made things a bit more theatrical. The Gypsy love interest is not just sung about but also appears and sings, a haunting presence made even more so by an unseen chorus of three female voices.
The cycle has been staged on rare occasions, but even in concert form, physical movement is suggested: The score indicates the points at which the mezzo-soprano soloist (in Brooklyn, Marie Hamard) should inconspicuously enter and leave, a spectral, passing reminder of a recalled time gone by.
Mr. van Hove has swelled these suggestions into a full-on memory play. Interpolations of new music (Annelies Van Parys, politely unobtrusive) and spoken passages have added 20 minutes or so to the running time, turning Janacek’s jewel-box melancholy into a sluggish, stagy hour.
Objects are angrily swept off a table. An urn full of the ashes of a long-ago lover is emptied into a sink. Lovers roll around on the floor. The music of “Diary” is often passionate, but this melodrama — the kind of needlessly heightened, smugly visceral stage action that’s characteristically van Hove-ian — feels out of place, false.
Jan Versweyveld’s long, horizontal strip of a set is handsome; even more evocative is Mr. Versweyveld’s lighting, which occasionally turns this contemporary live-work space into something like a forest, with golden sunlight filtering through the leaves.
But surprisingly little comes of the decision to make the main character a photographer. This choice feels less like a real reckoning with memory and loss than a way of solving the problem of how we are to know the identity of the woman onstage. (Our tenor has conveniently taken contact sheets full of shots of her, making it clear that she’s the Zefka he’s singing about.)
Some effort is put into fleshing out Zefka’s character, with Ms. Van Parys contributing gentle, sinuous, chant-like settings of texts inspired by poems by Romany women, sung by Ms. Hamard and the offstage choir (Raphaële Green, Annelies Van Gramberen and Naomi Beeldens).
It’s fine to try and give Zefka a fuller personality, but in practice it merely creates confusion, a muddle of memories. The real problem is that in Mr. van Hove’s staging, skulking around in a red dress, the character comes across as an even vaguer vixen than she does in Janacek’s score — less complex, not more so.
There was subtlety in Lada Valesova’s piano playing, and some richness in Ms. Hamard’s voice. But Mr. Dickinson strained toward Janacek’s tensely ardent climaxes.
At just 60 minutes, the evening feels inflated yet stingy. The punch line “and such small portions” came to mind.B:
【扬】【子】【晚】【报】【网】11【月】10【日】【讯】（【通】【讯】【员】 【淹】【野】【轩】 【记】【者】 【郭】【靖】【宇】）【吕】【萌】【萌】【是】【江】【苏】【淹】【城】【野】【生】【动】【物】【世】【界】【的】【工】【作】【人】【员】，【平】【日】【就】【负】【责】【照】【顾】【狒】【狒】。【然】【而】，【最】【近】【这】【只】【狒】【狒】【让】【她】【成】【了】【街】【谈】【巷】【议】【的】【话】【题】。【原】【来】，【几】【天】【前】，【狒】【狒】【趁】【她】【不】【注】【意】，【悄】【悄】【地】【帮】【她】【清】【空】【了】【购】【物】【车】，【双】【十】【一】【的】【优】【惠】【全】【部】【泡】【汤】【了】。
【离】【开】【刑】【部】【后】，【阿】【荷】【告】【诉】【我】，【夏】【苓】【在】【江】【府】【自】【尽】【了】，【就】【在】【我】【早】【上】【离】【开】【欣】【荣】【居】【的】【时】【候】。 【我】【先】【是】【愣】【了】【愣】，【片】【刻】【后】，【道】：“【去】【看】【看】【吧】。” 【车】【夫】【转】【了】【方】【向】【往】【江】【府】【赶】【去】。 【我】【倚】【靠】【在】【车】【厢】【里】，【只】【觉】【心】【劳】【神】【疲】。 【老】【天】【似】【乎】【总】【爱】【和】【我】【开】【这】【样】【的】【玩】【笑】，【当】【我】【以】【为】【所】【有】【的】【事】【都】【已】【经】【了】【结】，【一】【切】【都】【在】【向】【我】【期】【待】【的】【方】【向】【发】【展】【时】，【他】【总】【会】单头想中有点易小数中特是一定是什么生肖【另】【一】【边】，【李】【德】【忠】【手】【下】【的】【太】【监】【们】【正】【追】【在】【那】【小】【太】【监】【身】【后】【快】【速】【的】【走】【着】，【很】【快】【便】【被】【那】【油】【滑】【的】【小】【太】【监】【远】【远】【的】【甩】【开】。 【在】【宫】【中】【不】【允】【许】【高】【声】【说】【话】，【更】【不】【可】【以】【奔】【跑】，【否】【则】【若】【是】【惊】【到】【了】【后】【宫】【的】【主】【子】【们】，【有】【多】【少】【命】【都】【不】【够】【死】【的】。 【可】【是】【那】【小】【太】【监】【却】【似】【乎】【对】【宫】【中】【的】【情】【形】【极】【为】【熟】【悉】，【只】【见】【他】【完】【全】【躲】【避】【过】【了】【侍】【卫】【们】【可】【能】【巡】【逻】【的】【地】【方】，【三】【两】【下】【便】【不】【见】
【这】【个】【开】【天】【境】【高】【手】，【一】【下】【子】【愣】【住】【了】。 【即】【便】【是】【亲】【眼】【所】【见】，【诸】【葛】【瑜】【只】【是】【被】【他】【一】【剑】【震】【退】【了】【几】【丈】，【他】【仍】【然】【还】【是】【很】【难】【相】【信】，【自】【己】【看】【到】【的】【是】【事】【实】。 【毕】【竟】【刚】【才】【那】【一】【剑】，【他】【是】【抱】【着】【必】【杀】【的】【决】【心】。【更】【何】【况】，【无】【论】【是】【修】【为】【还】【是】【飞】【剑】，【他】【都】【要】【远】【胜】【过】【对】【面】【的】【魔】【道】【妖】【人】。 【就】【算】【是】【对】【方】【接】【了】【他】【这】【一】【剑】，【没】【有】【立】【刻】【被】【击】【杀】，【而】【是】【身】【受】【重】【伤】。【都】
【卢】【彦】【丘】【赶】【紧】【进】【去】【把】【这】【个】【过】【得】【去】【的】【消】【息】【说】【了】，【谭】【兰】【欣】【情】【绪】【才】【稳】【定】【一】【点】，【虽】【然】【表】【情】【上】【看】【不】【出】【太】【多】，【但】【是】【感】【觉】【她】【整】【个】【人】，【有】【些】【轻】【松】【了】。 【周】【允】【宸】【挽】【着】【她】【出】【来】，【让】【太】【医】【继】【续】【在】【里】【面】【守】【着】，【不】【过】【是】【尽】【可】【能】【拖】【着】，【若】【是】【知】【道】【了】【中】【的】【什】【么】【毒】，【解】【毒】【就】【不】【难】【了】。 【时】【间】【一】【点】【点】【过】【去】，【长】【时】【间】【的】【神】【经】【紧】【绷】，【让】【人】【很】【容】【易】【疲】【惫】，【谭】【兰】【欣】【眼】【皮】
“【也】【就】【是】【能】【尽】【到】【一】【点】【微】【弱】【的】【责】【任】【吧】。”【路】【修】【远】【想】【了】【想】，【害】【死】【人】【决】【定】【说】【实】【话】。 【事】【实】【上】【也】【是】【这】【样】。 【因】【为】【不】【管】【咋】【说】【吧】，【那】【边】【就】【算】【是】【地】【广】【人】【稀】，【可】【是】，【人】【不】【少】【也】【是】【事】【实】。 【这】【么】【大】【的】【一】【块】【土】【地】，【把】【人】【都】【聚】【起】【来】【的】【话】，【是】【真】【的】【多】。 【所】【以】，【他】【们】【送】【过】【去】【那】【些】【粮】【食】，【说】【白】【了】，【就】【是】【勉】【强】【帮】【得】【上】【一】【点】【小】【忙】。 【虽】【然】【她】【规】【矩】
【勤】【政】【殿】【内】，【暗】【卫】【将】【徐】【陈】【幻】【的】【行】【踪】【汇】【报】【完】【毕】，【朱】【寂】【弘】【眸】【中】【皆】【是】【厉】【色】，【抬】【手】【举】【到】【书】【案】【右】【侧】【的】【端】【砚】【上】，【手】【腕】【下】【垂】，【指】【尖】【摩】【挲】【端】【砚】【边】【缘】。 【天】【子】【不】【言】，【却】【已】【是】【山】【雨】【欲】【来】。 “【所】【以】，【幻】【儿】【先】【是】【寻】【找】【卢】【玄】【塞】，【寻】【而】【不】【得】【后】，【又】【前】【往】【程】【可】【策】【府】【上】？” 【天】【子】【怒】【而】【不】【发】，【暗】【卫】【心】【中】【惧】【之】，【却】【不】【得】【不】【回】【答】【道】：“【正】【是】。” 【百】【里】【骆】