All language subtitles for The.Oratorio.2020

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It's been said that music gives
a soul to the universe.

And life to everything.

Almost about 200 years ago,

this grand space was the site

of a long forgotten event,

the first of its kind.

An oratorio staged
as a benefit concert.

And I think it's appropriate
that it happened here,

in this neighborhood,
at the intersection

of the old world
and the new.

And this concert happened
at a crucial moment

in the cultural history
of New York City

and firmly set the city
on course to become the diverse

and very vibrant center
for the arts it is today.

You have to imagine
New York City

in the early 1800's.

Now, at that point, it was
the largest city in the country

and it was growing day by day
with immigrants from Europe.

But culturally it was still
kind of a backwater.

It was lagging
far behind Philadelphia

and especially Boston,
where the arts were thriving.

So you can understand
how meaningful

that night in 1826 was
to the life of this city

when 2300 people crowded
into this great space

to hear what was billed
as an event to far surpass

anything of the kind
ever produced in the union.

Now, for many members
of the audience,

it was their very first
exposure to music

sung in an operatic style.

The oratorio is one ingredient

in this explosion
of musical culture here

in the city, and it began here
at the old cathedral.

It's remarkable, the history of
the Old St. Patrick's Cathedral

and it's really been
an untapped gem.

Most New Yorkers aren't even
aware that it even exists.

The walls are original,
as I mentioned.

This used to be the exterior
wall of the church...

People are always rediscovering
the fascinating history

and--and connections
to this church.

...in the very spot
I'm standing on,

this is where the baptism scene
of "The Godfather" was filmed.

Michael,
do you renounce Satan?

I do.

Now we have one more stop
in front of this statue here

before I take us up into the
choir loft. Over here we have...

During one of my tours,
I bumped

into these two gentlemen
from Italy.

And it wasn't until afterwards

that they
revealed to me who they were.

And as a result of that meeting
and introduction,

they had the Italian
government finance them

to return here to recreate
that very oratorio

that took place here
over 150 years ago.

The opera company,
the Teatro Lirico di Cagliari,

is working to recreate
that evening from 1826.

So it's a gift from Italy
to America,

from the old world to the new.

We are in the crossroads
of New York City.

You know, just geographically,
if you look at us on a map,

you can see where we are.

We're in the very center
of this vitality and creativity.

But just a few years before
the cornerstone was laid

in 1809, the city of New York
was not here.

This was rural up here,
and people complained

about coming to
the consecration of the church.

This was still outside
of the city:

muddy roads and...

orchards and farmland.

But then, with immigration,
the city of New York went

from little to very big
very quickly, and this was

the cathedral church during
that tremendous age of growth

with an immigrant population
that settled in this area

basically Irish in the fore part
of the 19th century.

And then some years later,

there was also this Italian
movement from Europe.

One of the first and certainly
one of the most influential of

these early Italian immigrants
was Lorenzo da Ponte.

I had only known of him
as Mozart's librettist,

not knowing of his connection
to this very church.

But it turns out
that he was the man

behind the staging
of the 1826 oratorio.

It's quite fascinating
to--to ponder

that Mozart's librettist
ended up here

in this neighborhood.

In his old age,
he was a bookseller

and a humble grocer,

and he was a parishioner
at this church as well

and lived
a fascinating life.

His life is somewhat
controversial, but you really

have to get inside
the mind of this man.

He was Jewish up
until 14 years old,

and right after his bar mitzvah,
he was converted to Catholicism.

His father could not
afford to house

and board his own children,
so Lorenzo da Ponte

was persuaded to enter
the priesthood.

Now, his stint as a priest
was short lived,

he had a little bit of
a controversy in his life.

He had numerous scandals
as a priest.

He was chased out of places
for being a libertine.

He consorted
with all sorts of women.

Venice was a free-for-all
in those days.

Da Ponte himself was
a real Casanova,

so it's no coincidence
that he happened to be friends

with Casanova.
Ha ha!

He lived
a very promiscuous life.

There are all kinds of stories
about his time there,

including fathering
two children to his mistress

and living in a brothel.

So, not surprisingly,
he was accused

of living a lifestyle
unfit for a priest.

He fled the region and in his
absence was sentenced to prison.

The oratorio is different
from an opera in that there's

no drama per se,
it's more like a concert.

This oratorio has sacred texts

in Latin and English
and sort of a hodgepodge

of composers and styles.

I'm not an authority on opera,
that's for sure,

but I did grow up listening
to it, or perhaps I should say

listening to sections
of operas and arias.

A couple of hours before
my mother and father got home

from work, in the apartment
I would sit there

and play these old 78s
my uncle gave me, and I wasn't

the only kid in the neighborhood
with these experiences.

Many of my friends and I in our
teenage years - we'd get tickets

to the old Met, the old
Metropolitan Opera House,

way up in the cheap seats
or even the places where--

with just standing room, and
we'd sort of look down and just

marvel at the spectacle
of the opera as best we can.

My grandparents,
who came from Sicily

around 1910,
they only spoke Sicilian,

and they would sing occasionally
as they were working in the

house, which was another way
I heard opera when I was young.

I truly feel that music
and the daily lives

of Italian Americans
are wedded forever.

Now, the other key element
of music

in this city and down here
were the Italian festivals,

Italian feasts we call them,
and that's where we really

became aware of all
the old Italian music,

the Sicilian folk songs,
Neapolitan folk songs.

They would have people
in a bandstand from Italy

and come and sing two, you know,
two or three nights in a row

till about00
in the morning.

And 'O Marenariello is
a very important piece of music

that always ended the festival,
'O Marenariello, and I use it

at the end of "Mean Streets."
It ends the film.

Jared Lamenzo is
the organ master here

at Old St. Patrick's.

He's the one who has to
maintain this beautiful machine,

which was built in 1868.

All right. Here we are.

I have an engineering
background.

That's how I learned how to
tinker with mechanical things.

That is not good.

Those skills came in handy
dealing with the Erben organ,

which I need to tinker with
to have it work.

When you encounter
an instrument like this,

you know a lot of great
organists must have played it.

So one of the first things
I looked into

was who those people were.

And I went to find
newspaper clippings,

whatever other references
in various books

about the musical activities
in churches.

And that's how I ran across
the 1826 program

for the oratorio.

It was in an article
written in 1903

in a book about the history
of Catholic New York.

As far as I know,

this is the only surviving
account of this event.

An event which, until now,

remained entirely lost
to history.

I couldn't believe I had
found this.

It was just
this incredible glimpse

into the musical life
in New York City,

and there's very little
from that time period available.

It mentioned this was
the first Italian opera company

ever to arrive
on the shores of America.

And clearly that was
an important moment

in the history of music and
really an international story

waiting to be told.

So immediately when I
found the program,

I wanted to recreate it.

I just didn't have all
the music to do it,

so I'd been looking around
over the years

at various sources
to find the music.

But some of it was just
impossible to find.

I had no idea the answers
were waiting to be found

halfway around the world.

Francesco Zimei is
a world-famous musicologist.

He's been working to recreate
the original musical program.

And he's had the task of finding
pieces of the original

Italian arias that have
since gone missing.

So after fleeing Venice, Da
Ponte finds his way to Vienna,

the musical capital
of the world,

and he is appointed
the court poet.

Just by a simple recommendation
of Casanova,

he's in the court
of Emperor Joseph.

He was once again able to enjoy
his libertine lifestyle.

And so it's no surprise
that while in Vienna,

he happened to cross paths
with another libertine

living a similar lifestyle

by the name
of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

As Mozart's librettist,
Da Ponte was responsible

for the dramatic text around
which the music is based.

Together, they created
dramatic effects

that had never been
heard before.

The music was married
to the drama in a whole new way.

Da Ponte helped Mozart write
"The Marriage of Figaro,"

"Così fan tutte," and one
of my all-time favorites,

"Don Giovanni,"
which, by the way,

is supposedly a narrative
of Mozart's life,

but looking
at Da Ponte's life,

he was really the Don Juan
between the two of them.

After several scandals,
love affairs,

scheming,
and prima donna behavior,

Da Ponte had fallen out of favor
with the new emperor...

and was banished
from Vienna.

Da Ponte is forced out
of the very city

that would have been
his bread and butter,

the city of music, and he
has to reinvent himself.

Well, I think
that all churches

are generally filled

with a motley crew of people,

but I think because

St. Patrick's is

filled with such
a unique combination

of multigenerational Italians,

Dominicans, we're close
to Chinatown.

And it's also because it has
such a sense of community

that it attracts Catholics
from throughout the island

of Manhattan, that it's
a very eclectic group.

And so she--I can never get her
to leave when church is over.

She's always like, "Let's stay
and talk to the weirdest people

here," 'cause you--after church,
you will find the most...

There's someone who brings
a dog, like "My dog's Catholic."

The dog's painted.
It's not just a dog.

The dog is painted
a different color.

So like on Easter, it's like
Easter-colored painted dog.

It's like, yeah, that's the
person with a dog at our church.

Anywhere else in
the world, people are like,

"You can't bring
a painted dog to church."

But it's like, "All right,
it's New York."

Great day, guys.

This church has become just kind
of central in our lives.

Yeah, it's interesting
to look at the church

and to see that, you know,
it's a piece of history

and it has this presence
in our life.

Got married there,

had all our kids baptized
there and, you know,

and I'll probably die there.
Ha ha.

So to truly understand the story
of this old cathedral,

you have to understand the
story of its chief benefactor:

a freed slave by the name
of Pierre Toussaint.

He was originally laid to rest
in the north cemetery here,

but because of his
benefactoral work and charity,

he's been put
on the path to sainthood

and he was removed
from the cemetery here.

He's actually up
in St. Patrick's in Midtown.

He's now the Venerable
Pierre Toussaint.

Very intriguing story and most
people haven't even heard of -

started off as a Haitian slave
and was brought over here

by a French family;
it was actually the family

that owned him, the Bérards.
Mr. Bérard had passed away.

His wife was left
with no source of income now,

and so Pierre decided to
become a hairdresser

and he became so talented
and successful,

he actually tapped
into the cream of society.

This man was doing the hair
of Mrs. Hamilton,

Alexander Hamilton's wife,
and Mrs. Livingston,

all the wealthy women
of New York.

And we're talking about women
who spent over a thousand

dollars a year on hair.
This was in the late 1700s.

Now, he was able to support
the woman that owned him,

the entire family,
and so in exchange for that,

she allowed Pierre to buy
his freedom, and he

bought the freedom
of his sister, his niece,

and the woman he would
ultimately marry.

Now, through all
of these challenges,

he remained
a devout Catholic.

He actually never missed
a morning mass in 66 years.

And then when St. Peters planned
to have the cathedral built,

he was the first one
to step up and said,

"I will finance the
construction of the cathedral."

He was the biggest contributor
to having this church built.

St. Patrick's was my church.

I lived just around the corner

in a walk-up tenement apartment
on Elizabeth Street.

In the 1920s, this was
an Irish neighborhood,

but by the time I was growing
up in the 40s and 50s,

it had become Italian,
or I should say

that it was Sicilian
on Elizabeth Street,

Neapolitan on Mulberry,
and sort of mixed

on Mott Street somehow.

My grandparents'
and parents' time,

it was actually building
by building -

people from a small village
in the old country

found themselves
in one building,

then from another small village
next door, and so on.

This church was really
the center of all the activities

of this neighborhood,
and it goes way back.

This courtyard, for example,
was very important.

We played in here all the time.

We hid in the graveyard and,
you know, all kinds of things.

It was kind of a refuge;
come in here and, you know,

you hide out if you're
in trouble, whatever.

But...as we got a little older,

we stayed out very late
on Saturday nights

and stumbled
into the30 mass.

And we stood up in the back
usually and came in

a little late, you know, and
come in late and leave early.

And after a while, the priests
caught on to that

and they would insist
that we come and sit down.

But this place was,
in a sense, something

that ultimately affected the way
I view the world

and the way I hear the world
and through my work.

And this is where it came from,
this area right here.

Growing up here,
you know, in 1949,

all the way up to 65, 66,

music was something that was
in the air - it was constant.

And, you know, this place was
not a - it was not that private,

everyone could hear everything,

everybody knew what was going on
in the other apartment

and also they listened
to the music; if your taste was

a certain kind - playing
a record over and over again -

that's what you heard.
Then you had jukeboxes here,

too, and jukeboxes had
that incredible sound,

the sound that would just go
through the streets at night.

But you got to imagine,
particularly in the summer,

with the windows open,
people's radios playing

American pop music,
American standards,

the late 40s,
all the way to swing,

jazz, the beginnings
of rock and roll,

all of this emanating from
everywhere, everywhere,

including classical music
and opera,

which for me was
very important.

And I still have a relationship

to opera and arias of that time.

I'm always allowing that music

to guide me in daydreaming up

new visual stories
or visual images.

I think of like the antithesis

of what I would want
to see is an opera.

I don't know - I don't know
anything about opera.

My grandmother was
an opera singer.

So it's actually - it's in
my blood to like opera.

Opera is amazing.

It's just not like
a mainstream thing anymore,

and if this concert
could bring it back

and bring it to this
neighborhood, that's amazing.

And I would love to expose
my kids to opera because it's in

their roots and then him too,
he needs some culture too.

I need some culture.
He needs culture.

OK, let's do

Breathe.

For me, music is this language.

I'm not somebody who plays
an instrument,

I'm not somebody
who really understands it,

but it's something
that I'm grateful

that we've instilled
in all our children,

because music is
is this rare language

that is the language
of creativity.

One of the really interesting
things about the oratorio

is that it was an early
showcase for Maria Malibran

and she would become the most
famous and beloved singer

of her time, a singer
who defined her era

and truly was the first
opera diva in the world.

After the concert in 1826,

young women living
in households with pianos

wanted to take singing lessons.

They dreamed of becoming divas
like Maria Malibran.

It does not exist, the person
who can sing

this kind of repertoire
and sings everything.

Yeah.

I'm performing, for example,
Domine Deus.

It's an alto register.
And what are you singing?

Yeah, I sing With Verdu Clad

and Let the Bright Seraphim -
with all the coloratura,

it's high and different
from Domine Deus.

Absolutely different.

Yeah, together,
we make Maria Malibran.

I looked... for years
trying to find...

So Da Ponte found himself
banished once again.

He set out for Paris, hoping
to secure a position

in the court
of Marie Antoinette,

whose brother was actually
Da Ponte's most recent patron.

During his journey,
he must have caught word

that the party was over.

So he altered course for London.

Da Ponte could never
pay his bills

and always wanted
to purchase more books.

He was not a good businessman.

He wasn't able to adapt

and was not able to secure
himself financially,

and after several failed
attempts at business,

he got himself in trouble
yet again

and was forced out of London.

He sets his sights
on a new country

still in its infancy
called America,

and eventually finds his way
right here to New York City.

Da Ponte also seemed
to reconnect with his faith,

putting his life of debauchery
behind him

and actually became a devout
parishioner of this cathedral.

So we're now in the south
cemetery of the basilica here.

This cemetery is unique
because we have

this wall around
the whole perimeter here.

Now, we believe the wall was
built a year after

the burning of St. Mary's Church
down on Grant Street,

burned down
by the nativist gangs,

gangs like the Bowery Boys
that were anti-Catholic and all.

Back in 1844, there was

real reaction
against immigrants coming in.

The nativists, the "Americans"
did not want the Irish in.

This was a movement

of first and second generation
born New Yorkers.

They didn't like immigrants, OK?

The wall was actually built
as a defense point

so that the Irish Catholics
of the cathedral here

could defend this church from
ever being burned down as well.

Archbishop Hughes was
the archbishop of the city,

the Catholic community.

But groups called the Know
Nothings attacked the church,

and the church was defended
by Hughes, actually,

gathering the forces and
putting them behind this wall.

They threatened to burn
the church down

and he was kind of a firebrand -
he threatened them

and it didn't happen.

But they did defend
the church from this wall.

So that gave me a kind -
I don't know.

It gave me - when I was a kid, I
heard these stories and I saw -

now these streets are paved,
but it was all cobblestone.

It's like "Gangs of New York"
going way back.

And I wondered - everything
had a story to tell...

the history of the church, not
necessarily what you may feel

about it in terms of
your own personal beliefs,

but the history of this church,
you know, this place was just

breathing stories
and lives long forgotten.

The Irish literally fought
to earn their place here

in the city, so they
became very protective

of the community and they
were very protective

of this church as well...

and then you started
to see a large wave

of Italian immigrants
flooding the city.

But now the Italians come in
and they weren't accepted.

There was no doubt
that there were cultural,

language differences
back then, but, you know,

there was also this wonderful
synthesis that took place.

I think that if you just look
at our church records

and you see the amount
of marriages

that occurred between
Irish and Italians,

I think it tells you
a great deal about

what it is to be
an American.

Everything is
in constant change,

but this church, this basilica

has been and remains
a constant, an anchor.

And it was built by people
who flocked here

to start a new life
in this city,

a city where people still come
from all over the world,

a city that for me has
always been synonymous

with America itself,

America at its very best.

The Henry Erben Organ is one

of America's great
musical treasures.

When it's played by a master
and it hits these grand chords,

I mean, you can feel it
vibrating deep within you.

And it means something special
that my grandparents

and my parents, who also lived
in this neighborhood,

heard and felt
the same sounds

bellowing out of
this massive instrument.

It really connects you
with the history that has

taken place
within these walls

and, of course,
the history of this city.

It's not just
an historical artifact

because these pipes
rang out and resounded

through this entire neighborhood
over the years -

cheering troops
returning from war,

comforting people
in the wake of September 11th

and the sinking of the Titanic,

mourning the loss of presidents
from Grant to Kennedy.

And it still plays today,

it's a living, breathing
instrument that's been played

in joy and in sorrow,
in celebration and in mourning.

Ah.

Yeah, the light's just coming in
through the windows right now.

Wow.

This is the organ,
the Henry Erben organ.

It's about the size
of a three bedroom apartment.

Ha ha!

Yes. Yes.
It's fantastic.

This would be my little
Italian sound.

Ah.

Oops. Ha ha ha!

Yeah, there it goes.
Here we go.

This organ's a hundred
and fifty years old,

and after 150 years,
I turn it on,

I don't know if it's going
to play the way

it played yesterday or not.

The Erben has thousands
of parts.

A lot of them are
made out of wood,

and the wood is dried
and cracked

because of, you know, changes
of environment over the years.

The...
OK, is the coupler on?

Oh, they're all
on the floor there,

Right, they broke off.

The holes are worn so badly

that they're just
breaking in half.

With the leather being
150 years old in a lot of cases,

the pollution it's been
subjected to over the time,

every pipe is just
full of dust,

it's a miracle it plays when I
turn it on and it's just

sort of a matter of time until
it stops playing altogether.

In light of its rarity,
certainly, at this point

and in light
of its historic value,

it's time for a comprehensive
restoration of the instrument.

So I'm thrilled that everything
has worked out the way it has.

The choir here...

The restaging of this oratorio
will be a benefit

for the restoration
of this aging instrument.

3, 4.

Music and music making
have their origins

in houses of worship
like this glorious cathedral.

It's a beloved sanctuary for me

and the millions of others who
have walked through its doors

since it was built
almost 200 years ago.

And this performance,
like this cathedral

and the people working
to maintain its relevance

and traditions,
reinforces the importance

of nurturing
the cross-cultural bridges

that make this city
so vibrant and dynamic.

Lorenzo Da Ponte's
whirlwind of a life

landed him right here
in New York City.

His financial woes
followed him

as he fled bankruptcy
three more times

before finding stability by
giving Italian language lessons.

Sharing his Italian culture
must have been an addiction

for him because it consumed
the rest of his life.

He found his way into the elite
social scene of New York City,

no doubt thanks to his charm

and stories of his life
of adventures.

Da Ponte was
a tireless promoter

of Italian culture,

and that included
Italian opera.

Those efforts eventually
led to Da Ponte

staging the 1826 oratorio.

He lived in the neighborhood
and arranged

to put on a performance
of music.

Those very notes resounded
in these very halls

back in 1826

and brought us here tonight.

In 1826, people were
transformed

by the experience
of this music,

so it set the stage
for this cultural awakening

that accompanied the commercial
might of New York City.

"Music is beginning
to do wonders

among the inhabitants
of our gay city."

Those words were written
after the concert

for an editorial in
the newspaper.

It was a real cultural awakening
in the city of New York,

and it extended beyond music
to all the arts.

I'd like to think this will be

an historic stepping stone
to another creative moment,

some new venture artistically
and spiritually.

Music gives a soul
to the universe

and life to everything.