Vancouver Opera, soloists, cond. John DeMain, dir. Michael Cavanagh, scenic designer Erhard Rom, costume designer Parvin Mirhady, lighting designer Harry Frehner, projections designer Sean Nieuwenhuis, choreographer Wen Wei Wang, sound designer Andrew Tugwell, chorus director Leslie Dala, Queen Elizabeth Theatre, Vancouver, British Columbia, 13.3.2009 (BJ)

If Vancouver Opera’s desire was to make a point about the sheer range of the operatic medium, the company could hardly have chosen two more starkly contrasted works than the ones that began its 2009/2010 season. Bellini’s Norma, reviewed here in December, may be called a gem of bel canto art. John Adams’s Nixon in China is a much rougher kind of diamond. This performance constituted the Canadian premiere of the work, which has been seen around the world–and recorded twice–in the 23 years since it was first presented in Houston.

Whatever you or I may think of the work librettist Alice Goodman and composer Adams brought into being, I have no hesitation in calling the Vancouver production superb. With the help of Erhard Rom’s sets, Parvin Mirhady’s costumes, Harry Frehner’s lighting, Sean Nieuwenhuis’s projections, and Wen Wei Wang’s choreography, director Michael Cavanagh has crafted a continuously fascinating visual presentation. The effects range from film-like simulations of Nixon’s airplane landing to a suspended strip of images morphing gradually from Nixon at one end to Mao at the other–a telling comment on the sameness of politicians. The technology is ambitious yet simple, and it all works. (The only small complaint I would level at Cavanagh concerns his adherence to the apparently obligatory directorial disagreement with the normal uses of furniture: at one point in the action Mao wants to sit down–there are four chairs and a table on stage, but, this being opera, he naturally chooses to sit on the table. And the surtitles, though mostly excellent, perpetrate one howler when Kissinger addresses Chou En-lai as “Premiere,” surely an inappropriate questioning of the Chinese prime minister’s sexual identity.)

When I listened recently to the 2008 Colorado recording of Nixon in China conducted by Marin Alsop, long stretches of the vocal writing seemed to me so ungainly that there was not much the singers could do but shout it. Now, in Vancouver, the principals all managed to do some real singing–clearly, sound designer Andrew Tugwell has fulfilled his responsibilities in managing both vocal and instrumental amplification (mandated by the composer) to excellent effect, and conductor John DeMain deserves his share of commendation for keeping the large orchestral and vocal apparatus at once trim, powerful, and lucid.

All six of the principals achieved dramatic and musical results of the highest quality. The first entry of Robert Orth, as Nixon, emerging from Air Force One at the top of the steps, drew an appreciative chuckle from the audience: his exuberant wave to the welcoming committee awakened memories of the real Nixon’s arrogant gesture of supposed triumph when he left Washington in disgrace. Orth is a singing actor of rare subtlety, and he managed to capture both the irrepressible cockiness of the great presidential crook and a touch of the almost sympathetic human weakness that underlay it. Sally Dibblee as Pat, Alan Woodrow as Mao Tse-tung, and Tracy Dahl as the poisonous Madame Mao were no less convincing, and Thomas Hammons simply was Henry Kissinger “to a t” in appearance and demeanor.

But the outstanding portrayal was Chen-Ye Yuan’s Chou-En-Lai. His seductive baritone voice was the only one that managed to extract some personal character from the vocal line, and he made it irresistibly clear that, so far as the opera has a moral center, Chou is that center. When the other politicians were all indulging their egotistic preoccupations in a little dance, he held aloof. It was appropriate, then, that he should have the last word, in a final soliloquy–questioning “How much of what we did was good?”–that is one of the few truly ravishing passages in the work, the voice supported by an exquisite tissue of chamber-musical writing for the orchestra.

All in all, the evening was a triumph for Vancouver Opera. Whether it was a triumph for Nixon in China is a quite other question. I suppose the repetitiousness of the voice parts draws apt attention to the propensity of politicians to say everything several times over. But what they say in this work seems to have little cohesion–aside from what everyone remembers from the momentous event that Nixon’s move to detente undoubtedly was, there really is no story in this opera, or at any rate no operatic story. The vocal writing, again, is non-operatic, in the sense that the characters all sing the same kind of music, lacking the kind of vocal characterization achieved by the great opera composers from Monteverdi, Handel, and Mozart onwards.

Certainly, Adams can sweep his audience up with sheer animal exuberance, in such numbers–the showbiz term seems appropriate–as the eupeptic ensemble that closes Act 1. But for the most part his constant exploitation of progressive rhythmic foreshortening (a sort of simplified version of metrical modulation) has the paradoxical result of making variety sadly predictable. Such writing gives new currency to the oxymoronic phrase, “the same difference”: if everything is different all the time, then really nothing is. And though some of Adams’s rhythmic procedures have led commentators to draw comparisons with Stravinsky, there are many places in the score where the affinity is with a much lesser master–Carl Orff; several passages in Act 2 sound like an unholy amalgam of Carmina Burana with the signature first-movement rhythm of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony.

In my view, then, Nixon in China is no masterpiece. But if it can bring new audiences, previously indifferent to the art, into the opera house through the technologically savvy treatment of a near-contemporary subject, it has undeniable value, and Vancouver Opera’s production reinforces that potential in the most convincing way possible.

The Opera Theater took a big risk this year as part of its series of presenting contemporary operas in English. After four years of successful modern productions – including a 2008 heartfelt rendition of Benjamin Britten’s Rape of Lucretia - Stage Director Charles Roe and Musical Director Thomas Cockrell decided they finally had the vocal and orchestral talent to give a good account of Robert Ward’s opera The Crucible, based on playwright Arthur Miller’s searing drama.

“It’s an opera I always wanted to do since I was a senior at Baldwin-Wallace College in Cleveland, Ohio,” Roe said at a rehearsal about three weeks before the November performances at Crowder Hall at the University. “Melvin Hakola, my voice teacher at the time, sang the lead role of John Proctor, and I was very impressed with the drama and music and hoped some day to participate in a production. Obviously, I finally got my wish.”

Now that Roe and Cockrell are firmly partnered in their quest to present exciting operas in English, specifically from the second half of the 20th Century, the duo was ready and able to tackle Ward’s opera. The result was a gripping dramatic and vocal production based on the theme of the 1672 Salem Witch Trials, still recognized today as a metaphor for the McCarthy HUAC hearings that so divided our nation in the late 1940s and early 1950s. The opera was an immediate success at its premiere at New York City Opera in 1961 (it was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Music) and had the added benefit of a Bernard Stambler’s libretto which he skillfully adapted from Miller’s play.

But the obstacles Roe and Cockrell faced in doing justice to The Crucible were in the details. The opera, which has 16 singing parts and 39 orchestra members, is the largest performing group the duo has had to work with since their first collaboration of Mark Adamo’s Little Women. Ward’s music is heavily orchestrated, quick moving and demands a range of vocal expressions from the singers. Right from the start of Act One, the cast has to delineate a text filled with declamation that quickly moved into a parlando style interspersed with lyrical phrasing – which it must project over orchestration – that moves faster than a speeding bullet.

Faced with such a dynamically charged score it would be unrealistic to expect every artistic endeavor to be met with equal artistic output, but as the opera unfolded, it became apparent there were plenty of dramatic goodies on hand to do justice to Ward’s work. If the November 20th performance showed the company’s musical preparation and execution had reached a professional level that surpassed the Opera Theater’s previous productions, the one on November 22nd proved to be the dramatically intense ensemble Roe, Cockrell and the performers could really be proud of. Perhaps a third showing would have sealed their performing enjoyment.

The Arizona Symphony Orchestra under Cockrell’s leadership played with such musical harmony that each section – brass, percussion and strings – seemed to join together and then separate and meet up again making every act sound as one musical line from beginning to end. Best of all, Cockrell kept every dynamic in check so that Ward’s powerful orchestration never dominated the performance, but shared the opera with the singers.

And what quality singing there was!

Eight characters out of the 16 in the cast have the most important roles in the opera. Fortunately all eight were so dramatically and vocally convincing, they became equal partners with the orchestra in the opera’s successful outcome.

Representing the Elders of the Church who had to decide the fate of those accused of witchcraft were bass Christopher Herrera, as the Rev. John Hale, who pleaded for clemency for John Proctor and his wife Elizabeth; tenor Dennis Tamblyn as the Rev. Parris, who was torn between saving his ministry from the onslaught of the accusers and his own reputation: and tenor David Gustafson, the unforgiving judge who wants those convicted of witchcraft to hang. Because the three singers were able to give full vocal value to their dramatic readings, they were able to express the characters’ personal turmoil and conflict that Ward and Stambler had so carefully developed. Their contribution was of utmost importance to the overall drama.

On an equal footing were the Elizabeth Proctor of Robyn Rocklein and Seth Kershisnik’s John Proctor, two hold-overs from last year’s Lucretia, lending a repertory company feel to this outing. Rocklein’s role is the more difficult to get across since the character is the most passive of the women. It was in the second performance that the mezzo-soprano was able to exhibit her natural talent by showing Elizabeth’s personal strength through voice and action. It was most apparent in Act Four when she and John are saying their goodbyes before he is about to be hanged. The couple created a moving duet with plenty of vocal warmth.

John Proctor is the most vocally-challenging role in the opera. In an interview in Opera Journal from 2000, Ward admitted his fondness for the baritone voice. “I had to admit that I always felt that baritones were somehow more noble than tenors.” Ward not only covered every note possible in that range, but filled it with every dynamic, which Kershsnik matched with vocal aplomb. John Proctor’s role is loaded with many emotional changes, expressed vocally from piano to mezzo-forte and then forte. One of best examples of his range was at the end of Act Two when Proctor realizes he will have to reveal his sexual relationship with Abigale in order to save Elizabeth from hanging. Kershsnik’s vocal climbs and descents were exemplary singing. There were times, however, when his stiff stage demeanor lessened the effect of those dramatic moments that were rightfully his.

The last three roles that were crucial to the story were soprano Jennifer Beauregard’s Abigale, Bethania Baray’s Mary Warren, a soprano with some coloratura touches, and the Tituba of mezzo-soprano Kaitlin Bertenshaw. The last two, again, were in last year’s cast.

Beauregard’s vocals matched her character’s underlying hatred for what she perceived as Elizabeth’s mousy personality. In her Act Three secret meeting with John Proctor, her seductive poses momentarily raised the man’s passion to an uncomfortable level which he fought to dispel. Here, set designer Sally Day’s dusky blue backdrop fronted by a black hill in silhouette complimented Ward’s alluring romantic music which sparked a titillating thrill.

Baray’s acting as Mary Warren clearly defined how a youthful, confused young girl can be trapped by her own lies in the town hall meeting in the second scene in Act Three. If Baray’s light tone was covered off and on by the full density of Ward’s music in this climatic scene, she never let go of her persuasive interpretation. Bertenshaw’s full mezzo brought the right resentment to Tituba’s forced servitude. Her lament in Act Four over the devil’s broken promises was neatly delivered. Erika Burkhart’s Sarah Good, Tituba’s cell mate, added a clean soprano melisma highlighting their sorrow.

In such a large cast, there’s bound to be varying results in terms of performance. Kyle Connor’s Thomas Putman demonstrated the necessary strict attitude in holding to his belief that there are witches in Salem; however, the baritone’s soft-grained vocals did not always project over Ward’s orchestration. Katherine Mendelson as his wife Ann had a better grip on her role in the second performance. Kristan Islas as Rebecca Nurse had a nice turn as the only voice of reason in the proceedings, but was too young for the role. Shaun Kastner was a bit flaccid in delivering Ezekiel Cheever’s court proclamations . Tenor Christopher Hutchinson’s Giles Corey, however, sang his impassioned plea to the court with ringing tone as he exposed T. Putman’s land- grabbing greed in the town hall meeting in Act Two.

Sally Day’s set accurately depicted the interior and exterior look of Salem in the 17th Century. But her design for the Act Four jail setting detailing the suffocating feel of imprisonment, ranks very high in her artistic output. Obviously, Roe wanted a traditional look for the costumes and Adam Dill obliged him, especially those for the elders. He dressed them all in black, wearing knee length coats with long straight dark wigs that definitely show the austerity of the time.

There was one downside to the overall proceedings, but it had nothing to do with the quality of the production. While both performances were healthy in attendance, there were far too many empty seats that gave the impression there was a lack of community outreach.

Eric Owens as Porgy - Picture © Terrence McCarthy

From SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL OPERA REVIEW
By: Harvey Steiman

The current production of Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess concluding its run at San Francisco Opera revels in the scope and scale of grand opera, the oversized emotions and big gestures, both musical and dramatic, that make the blood rush when opera takes wing. For the most part, conductor John DeMain got all that from a sumptuous cast and a revved-up San Francisco Opera orchestra without losing the essential jazziness of Gershwin’s music, which segues seamlessly from 1930s dance beats to the sweep of a full-throated aria, and the orchestral thrusts that draw out those big emotions.

As Porgy, bass Eric Owens, last seen here as General Leslie Groves in John Adams’ Doctor Atomic, dominated the cast. He just got stronger of voice and more powerful of stage presence as the evening progressed. A big man, both tall and broad, he was utterly believable as a game-legged cripple with the upper-body strength to best his rival in a knife fight. He also has the tenderness of body language to make his duets with Bess feel special, and the velvet in the voice to bring a catch to the throat when, in the final scene, his sang the first line of “Oh Lord, I’m on my way” with a perfect mixture of pathos, wonder and resolve.

In this production, borrowed from Washington National Opera, Porgy eschewed the goat cart, instead hobbling on a makeshift crutch as he dragged one leg, a theatrical decision that made for more physical options in the love scenes with Bess and other interactions with the cast. It also created a heartbreaking final tableau as he limped across the stage into the light streaming from an opened door, disappearing on the final chord.

Bess (Laquita Mitchell) and Sportin' Life (Chauncey Packer) Picture © Cory Weaver

This cast, however, could have performed on a bare stage and would have conveyed the story with no trouble at all. From the title characters to the smallest walk-ons, as actors they grabbed the characters and ran with them. Every word of dialog counted.

As Bess, Laquita Mitchell (who has sung Clara in productions of Porgy and Bess at Los Angeles Opera, Washington National Opera, and Paris’s Opéra Comique) created a full-bodied, full-blooded woman conflicted by her freewheeling past and tender feelings for Porgy. Everything about her, including her sound, was voluptuous and compelling. Her body language was totally right as she alternately taunted and cringed at the “church-going women” of the community, as she fought off an old flame come to reclaim her, and as she warmed to Porgy. The duets with Porgy, “Bess, you is my woman now” and “I loves you, Porgy,” gripped the soul.

Although all the voices rang with gorgeous sound, some of the singers did better than others at finding the elusive common ground between opera and Gershwin’s jazzy style. Aside from Owens, the most impressive was Chauncey Packer as Sportin’ Life, the “happy dust” dealer who also lusts after Bess, bides his time, and eventually spirits her off to New York. Without the benefit of amplification, Packer made his clear, bright tenor dance its way seamlessly through all of the character’s star turns, including a joyous romp with “It ain’t necessarily so” and later in “There’s a boat dat’s leavin’ soon for New York.”

Less impressive were Karen Slack’s Serena and Alteouise deVaughn’s Maria, the two leaders of the community’s women. There was an unfortunate disconnect between the straight operatic singing of, and their perfectly pitched dialect for the dialog. Angel Blue as Clara sang prettily, but missed the jazz sway of “Summertime.” Mitchell’s reprise of that song in the final act got it right.

Samantha McElhaney’s small but vivid turn as the Strawberry Woman in the final act’s Catfish Row scene-setter, gorgeously sung, marked her as someone who could have charmed even more as Clara. As Crown, Bess’s man before Porgy, Lester Lynch displayed the swagger and the rippling chest muscles to convince us that he’s someone who could win back Bess on animal magnetism (aided by a couple of packets of “angel dust”).

The chorus, as important to this opera as it is to Britten’s Peter Grimes or Mussorgsky’s Boris Godunov, brought their individual characters to life with splendid singing and great stage presence. Finally, the orchestra managed to play Gershwin’s music with the requisite sweep while swinging effortlessly on the jazzy phrases.

The totality, compelling and mesmerizing, put an exclamation point on the opera company’s 2008-2009 season.
Cast
Bess: Laquita Mitchell
Porgy: Eric Owens
Sportin’ Life: Chauncey Packer
Crown: Lester Lynch
Clara: Angel Blue
Serena: Karen Slack
Maria: Alteouise deVaughn
Jake: Eric Greene
Mingo: Michael Bragg
Annie: Malesha Jessie
Strawberry Woman: Samantha McElhaney
Lily: Amber Mercomes
Robbins: Michael Austin
Crab Man: Ashley Faatoalia
Peter: Calvin Lee

Production

Conductor: John DeMain
Production/Director: Francesca Zambello
Associate Director: Rita D’Angelo Tikador
Set Designer: Peter J. Davison
Costume Designer: Paul Tazewell
Lighting Designer: Mark McCullough
Chorus Director: Ian Robertson
Choreographer: Denni Sayers

Reprinted with permission from Seen and Heard – Music Web’s Live Opera, Concert and Recital Reviews.

Soloists, Chorus and Orchestra of Lyric Opera of Chicago, John DeMain (conductor) Civic Opera House, Chicago 29.11.2008 (JLZ)

Production:

Director – Francesca Zambello
Set Design – Peter J. Davison
Costumes – Paul Tazewell
Lighting – Mark McCullough
Choreography and Association Stage Director – Denni Sayers

Cast:

Porgy – Gordon Hawkins
Bess – Morenike Radayoni
Crown – Lester Lynch
Clara – Laquita Mitchell
Sporting Life – Jermaine Smith
Jake – Eric Greene
Serena – Jonita Lattimore
Robbins – Barron Coleman
Maria – Maretta Simpson

After a number of years, George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess is back on the stage of Lyric Opera of Chicago in a production rented from Washington National Opera (Washington, D.C.) and designed by Francesca Zambello. This conception sets the work forward in time from being contemporaneous with its creation in the mid-1930s onward to the 1950s, as apparent from the costumes and, to a degree, from the kinds of interactions depicted between the black community and the white police and legal figures. The familiar story of the sometime jaded cripple Porgy falling in love with Bess, a woman of questionable virtue, who was formerly with Crown. Going into hiding after killing Seren’s husband, Crown fails to take Bess along, and she finds refuge with Porgy. While Porgy and Bess grow to love each other, Crown still feels as if Bess is his property, and the tension mounts until Porgy murders him. Yet when Porgy is taken away for questioning, Bess takes off for New York with Sporting Life, a low-life who will, no doubt lead her into more problems. The end of the work finds Porgy taking off to find Bess, and even in this fine production, his prospects of success seem poor, despite’s Porgy’s resilience.

Peter J. Davison’s vivid design works well in and serves the score nicely by allowing for appropriate spaces in which the can occur: this definitely helps to enhance those aspects of the work which are closer to musical theater than conventional opera. Without splitting hairs over distinctions between opera and musicals, the dramatic elements of Porgy and Bess can sometimes isolate the music from the action, and this is implicit in the division of the work into two parts, the first consisting of the overture, first act, and the first two scenes of the second act; the second comprising the last two scenes of Act II and the entire third act. This structure reinforces the tragic rape of Bess on Kittiwah Island and makes the production resemble more a traditional Broadway music, which usual divides into two acts.

As to the production itself, it is a vivid visualization on stage of Catfish Row as a two-story tenement, with doors and stairs accessible for various entrances and exits. It helps to define the community group whose spiritual leader is Maria, performed here by the Lyric veteran Marietta Simpson. (Simpson was part of the memorable production of Blitzstein’s Regina several years ago.) In Porgy and Bess Simpson demonstrated her always fine singing once again, but the drama also allowed audiences to appreciate her acting ability. A sympathetic character, he was most animated during the scene in which she confronts Sporting Life. Likewise, Jonita Lattimore, a voice familiar to Chicago audiences, not only for her work at Lyric, but also at other venues She brought the character of Serena to life convincingly, with her lament “My Man’s Gone Now” at the end of the first act which was particularly moving. Her vocal inflection brought out the emotional pitch of the number, which remains in this production more convincing than the somewhat obligatory spiritual-inspired chorus “Leavin’ for the Promised Land” which ends the act. “Oh, Doctor Jesus” at the end of the second act was, in Lattimore’s hands, memorable.

Of the principals, Gordon Hawkins is a seasoned Porgy, who has performed the role in various places, including the Bregenz Festival (under the direction of Götz Friedrich) and also in the premiere of Zambello’s staging at Washington National Opera. He knows the role well, and it was welcome to hear his nuanced “I Got Plenty o’ Nuttin’” His duet with Bess, here sung by Morenike Fadayomi, “Bess, You Is My Woman Now” was intimate and resonant. In fact, both performers contributed a welcome freshness this familiar number, with their lines intersecting nicely as they celebrated the newfound love. As Porgy, Hawkins navigated the stage well, since the production substitutes a crutch for the cart scripted for the character, and this modification gave him some extra mobility. This detail necessitated adjusting the text, but also added a prop to the staging, which contributed to the crucial scene in which Porgy battles Crown to the death. (While destroyed in the fight, it is remarkable that a replacement crutch appears in the next scene.)

Fadayomi is an equally experienced Bess, who also worked with Hawkins at Washington National Opera. A fine actress on stage, she allowed the sometimes brazen Bess to be a bit understated; her body language and eye contract showed the audience the sometimes difficult relationship she has with the community at Catfish Row. Her voice was sometimes lost in the enthusiasm of this production, but her reprise of Clara’s “Summertime” demonstrated her singing beauitfully. In this production, Bess the lapsed sinner seems doomed to repeat her mistakes, a touch that was convincing enough for some audience members to voice their disappointment as they were leaving the theater.

As Crown, the villain of the work. Lester Lynch made his character believable, and his resonant bass voice ranged through the hall. Audience members who attend later performances this season will find Lynch in the title role of Porgy, and they should enjoy his performance in a completely different. His menacing portrayal of Crown gave the necessary angry edge to the character, an element underscored by the physicality Lynch brings to the part. Likewise, Jermaine Smith was a three-dimensional Sporting Life, whose trouble-loving bent always drew in those near him. The penultimate number in the first half of this production “It Ain’t Necessarily So,” involved some fine interaction between Smith and the chorus. By bending of pitches and rhythms, he added an extra dimension to the sometimes familiar music. In the end, his persona as a drug dealer is strong enough to win Bess away from Catfish Row, even though his more memorable music was in the first part of the show. Other roles were nicely cast, with Laquita Mitchell singing of Clara — her finely pitched “Summertime” opening the first act. Depicting her husband Jake, Erice Greene demonstrated a polished, expressive voice that would be welcome in other roles.

For the chorus, some of the numbers worked well, with the chordal harmony moving with studied precision. In the contrapuntal passages however, the textures became, ambiguous at times, with words and phrases sometimes blurring until the texture resolved in a single word or syllable. The production was well served with the surcaps projected above the stage, so that the audience could follow the text throughout the performance. The chorus did well in the extended opening scene, in which Gershwin creates the atmosphere of Catfish Row. A kind of reflection of Puccini’s La bohème, their number helps to introduce the characters and staging, and the close attention of the audience was a tribute to Zambello’s success in this area. The presentation of the work in two parts, puts across a different aesthetic than when Porgy and Bess is present in three acts. Then, the second act ends with the plight of Porgy in question while in the present production, the emphasis shifts more strongly to Bess. This is not precisely in the score, but modern productions sometimes involve such shifts in dramatic structure.

At some point however questions do arise, perhaps as a result of the updating that is part of the production. Does Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess perpetuate stereotypes in paying undue attention to the references to cocaine and other drugs, sexual promiscuity, and dialect? At another level, is it the fault of the production if the portrayal of Bess seems so wayward that Porgy would be foolish even to think of following her to New York? Or is it best to consider Porgy and Bess as the product of its times, with affinities to some of the naturalistic dramas popular at the time? Such considerations point to understandings of the work as a whole, which differs from the appreciation of some of its popular numbers. Taken out of context, pieces like “I Got Plenty o’ Nuttin’” and others convey different meanings when heard apart from the entire score.Perhaps it is a measure of the success of this production that it raises questions that are important for understanding the place of these well-known piece of musical theater within American culture. With Zambello’s new production and Lyric’s fine presentation of it, audiences have an excellent opportunity to answer the questions for themselves.

Reprinted with permission from Seen and Heard – Music Web’s Live Opera, Concert and Recital Reviews.

Soloists, chorus and orchestra of Los Angeles Opera, Placido Domingo, conductor; Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, Los Angeles. 7.9.2008 (HS)

Cast:

SETH BRUNDLE, Daniel Okulitch
VERONICA QUAIFE, Ruxandra Donose
STATHIS BORANS, Gary Lehman
OFFICER/MEDICAL ANALYST/CHEEVERS, Beth Clayton
MARKY, Jay Hunter Morris
TAWNY PERKINS, Ashlyn Rust

Production:

LIBRETTIST, David Henry Hwang
DIRECTOR, David Cronenberg
SET DESIGNER, Dante Ferretti
COSTUME DESIGNER, Denise Cronenberg
LIGHTING DESIGNER, AJ Weissbard
ASSOCIATE CONDUCTOR/CHORUS MASTER, Grant Gershon
MAKEUP AND CREATURE DESIGN, Stephan L. Dupuis
MAKEUP, CREATURE AND PUPPET FABRICATION, Mark Rappaport’s Creature Effects, Inc.

Those who know David Cronenberg’s 1986 film “The Fly” probably remember mostly its gore. The title character, a mad scientist played by Jeff Goldblum, gradually transforms into a gigantic insect, losing fingernails and various appendages in several memorable “yuck” moments. But there’s a story of human emotions in the film as well, as the scientist and a pretty science reporter, played in the film by Geena Davis, struggle to come to grips with their own love story and its consequences.

Sounds like great stuff for an opera, doesn’t it? Los Angeles Opera thought so, too, and co-commissioned one. It made its U.S. debut Sunday with Placido Domingo conducting and Cronenberg directing (the first performances were in July at Theatre de Châtelet in Paris). The results seem surprisingly tepid.

As in many horror films, the music provides much of the visceral emotional impact. Howard Shore wrote it, and has since gone on to write the scores for other films, including 12 of Cronenberg’s (”M. Butterfly” and “Eastern Promises” among them). He got several Oscars for “Lord of the Rings.” With those credentials, a new opera on “The Fly” by Shore, using some of the material from the film and a libretto by David Henry Hwang, should have been a wow.

Unfortunately, what makes Shore such a superb film composer doesn’t translate to opera, or at least not this one. His music can create a mood, underline a moment or suggest a fleeting emotion without getting in the way of a film’s prime reason for being: the visual narrative. In opera, the music must carry the narrative, or it’s just a play with good background music. And that’s pretty much what we have in “The Fly.” Shore’s music just isn’t strong enough to carry the narrative. Hwang’s libretto, alternately too prosaic or grandiose, doesn’t do it either.

The story is set in the 1950s. The curtain rises on a laboratory littered with piles of trash. A police detective interviews Veronica, who begins to tell the tale. The laboratory remains through scene changes accomplished by wheeling in desks, chairs, hospital beds, and at one point a billiard table and some table settings to represent a bar. Veronica meets Seth Brundle, an introverted scientist, at a party for her magazine’s awards. He shows her what he’s working on—teleportation—and successfully teleports one of her stockings from one “pod” to another in the laboratory, but a later attempt to make it work with a monkey fails.

As they fall in love, culminating in an onstage sex scene, Brundle figures out how to make the teleportation process work with flesh. He transports the monkey, but then with Veronica away to break off an old affair with her boss, Stathis, Seth impulsively transports himself. An unseen but loudly heard fly gets into the pod with him and scrambles their DNA. End of Act I. Seth comes out of the process virile and confident, spouting phrases such as “All hail the new flesh,” and in a marathon night of sex gets Veronica pregnant. But soon the fly DNA starts to make itself more prominent in Seth. In the end, having morphed into a giant fly, he attempts to force Veronica to blend her DNA with his by teleporting at the same time. Stathis rescues her in time, but Seth suffers the fate of the first baboon. Veronica takes Stathis’ gun and kills Seth.

Although Seth is the title role, Veronica is the pivotal part. Romanian mezzo-soprano Roxandra Donose, looking slim and sexy her tight-fitting 1950s outfits, has the stage presence and musical heft to flesh out the character. She has two big scenes, and delivers them with power. But they got a tepid response from the audience because they come after too many scenes of nothing but parlando and recitative. The first 40 minutes of the opera is nothing but scene setting. The music just never opens up vocally.

Daniel Okulitch wielded a sweet lyric baritone as Seth, but lacked power in the lower register, which weakened the character. In the first act he played the role with such a lack of personality that it took away from the narrative. He got stronger in the second act.

Gary Lehman, who recently sang Tristan at the Met, sang powerfully as Sathis, the editor and third member of the love triangle. But Shore’s music never gave him a signature moment or something recognizably different to define his character. Mezzo Beth Clayton made her usual fine impression but in multiple thankless roles. In a brief episode, Seth breaks the arm of Marky, a strongman (Jay Hunter Morris, another Wagnerian tenor), and captures a young hotty (soprano Ashlyn Rust) to satisfy his lust when Veronica tires.

In general, the staging managed to stop short of becoming too hokey. High marks too for the puppeteers who designed and manipulated the monkey, a winsome little capuchin) and in the final scene the distorted body of Seth as the fly. There was also some nice stagecraft to show the suddenly virile Seth tumbling and flipping around, and eventually climbing the walls and ceiling.

The chorus did its part, too, portraying partygoers and bar denizens, but mostly voicing the computer in Seth’s lab. But all those grandiose “new flesh” lines needed more musical underpinning than Shore provided. As purely instrumental music, the scene setting and interludes are highly listenable and effective. Domingo and the orchestra gave them plenty of thrust, but things work less well when combined with voices. Not a good thing for an opera.

In a story that could play well in a comic book, Cronenberg’s movie making and Shore’s music gave the film some unexpected depth. As an opera, not so much.

L to R: R. Harrison, N. Krueger, K. Griffeath, D. Tamblyn, A. Shelton,
R. Rocklein and M. Boustani. Ingvi Kallen UA School of Music

In an interview in the Tucson Weekly a week before the U of A Opera Theater’s first performance of Dominick Argento’s Postcard from Morocco on April 4th, Charles Roe, the program’s artistic director stated that although music director and conductor Thomas Cockrell was convinced that mounting Argento’s surrealistic work would be a good step for the Opera Theater’s next venture into American Opera, Roe’s “first impression wasn’t as positive.” After all, Roe had directed two popular works in the idiom – Mark Adamo’s Little Women and Kerke Mechem’s Tartuffe – productions that were not only enthusiastically received, but artistically on the money. It’s true Argento’s opera is a favorite among many university opera programs, but the opera is filled with numerous musical tangents and vocal lines that keep the singers running up and down the scale throughout the work. Besides that, the orchestra was placed over on stage left, out of the singer’s view of conductor Cockrell. Even with stage monitors helping the performers follow Cockrell as he led them through Argento’s musical mix of Ragtime melodies, waltz tunes popping up here and there, and pieces of Richard Wagner’s Ring thrown in as a tribute to one of Argento’s favorite composers, there was a good chance this production could prove to be risky business.

Whatever the musical and dramatic complexities of Argento’s ninety minute opera were, Roe and his forces met every challenge head on. In fact, one could say, this production was one of the most well-prepared and imaginative outings mounted by the U of A’s Opera Theater.

Opera critics have defined John Donahue’s libretto as absurdist, but its slant is more obscure than improbable. Ironically, the opera’s introduction is quite clear: seven travelers waiting for a train somewhere in Morocco, each with a piece of luggage; the character development, however, does rely on the fanciful. All the travelers’ personalities are established by what they are either carrying in their suitcase or what personal item they may have. For example, the “mirror lady,” has a hand mirror in which she admires herself. The “shoe man” is never without his shoe sample kit, and the lady with a cake box misleads the others by keeping her lover inside. Roe decided to eliminate the character’s trappings by labeling each performer by vocal category thereby concentrating on the internal sensibilities of each character, which not only avoided any distracting stage traffic, but gave Argento’s musical mosaic its full dynamic impact. In contrast to many current opera directors whose theatrical ideas seem to be the only ones permitted to show up on stage, Roe skillfully guided his players into developing their own stage personalities, which allowed them to reach their potential as singing actors and blossom into full blown characterizations.

Kristin Griffeath’s Coloratura-Soprano had just the right touches in expressing her character’s concern for her looks by continually looking into her hand-held mirror while saying things that had no relationship to what was going on in the story. Adam Shelton’s Lyric Tenor portrayed his character’s fear of the unknown with body language that didn’t hide his uneasiness. Baritone Robb Harrison’s shoe salesman had the right mixture of jittery insecurity and pasted on bravado typical of many who work in that business. Mezzo-Soprano Robyn Rocklein’s imaginings as a night club singer-cum-pseudo flamenco dancer demonstrated her character’s wishful thinking for stardom. Bass Nathan Krueger disapproved of his fellow travelers’ detachment from reality only to bring a daffy comic sense to his turn as a puppet maker. Meray Boustani’s Soprano and Dennis Tamblyn’s Tenor were the only two who tried to get a grip on reality, but who could not conceal their heartbreak at not being able to embrace it. All these portrayals were complemented by Adam M. Dill’s 50’s-styled outfits whose muted colors and deftly tailored looks very much personalized Roe’s eccentric band of travelers.

Argento and Donahue also interspersed mimes throughout the story to entertain the travelers, as well as the audience. Roe sought out dancers from the UA School of Dance to expand each character’s personality at various moments in the opera, amusingly choreographed and danced by Lorie Heald and Rick Warmer. Somewhere towards the middle of Postcard, Argento composed a medley of themes culled from Richard Wagner operas with dashes of waltzes and cakewalks thrown in. During this orchestral interlude, dancers Claire Hancock and Nathan Cottam delightfully mimed a couple’s courting and subsequent marriage, in a mixture of robust acrobatics and elegant clowning.

It fell to Cockrell to synthesize all these dramatic and musical elements and ripen them into one artistic ensemble. The music director’s skill at easing his cast into all of Argento’s musical styles which in turn helped the singers deal with the composer’s demanding and sometimes erratic vocal lines, was evident throughout the opera. The cast met almost every vocal challenge and turned in vocal performances that they could be proud of regardless of an occasional vocal smudge or a stretch to reach a high note here or there.

Rounding out the production was Sally Day’s evocative set. Projected on the back wall was a large shot of a typical 19th-century train station with its slender iron structure supporting glass vaults. In front, however, was a ship’s mast with two white sails that were constructed to accompany Argento’s final musical tribute to Wagner using various bits and snatches from his opera The Flying Dutchman. Going from the train station to a sailing ship is just one of the many surrealistic ideas that inhabit Argento’s musical farrago. The sign of an outstanding opera production is giving the audience an operatic moment that it can remember long after it has left the theater. Such a moment came at the end when Dennis Tamblyn’s character rids himself of the anxiety that comes from continually waiting for something meaningful to happen and decides to sail into the unknown with a quiet sense of freedom that Argento wishes for all his travelers.

Obviously Floyd felt very comfortable with this regional setting which is reminiscent of his own upbringing as a minister’s son and uses what he thought was a natural reaction by folks who live in such a stark rural setting to Susannah’s spontaneous and frivolous behavior. Even in the 1950s, in the United States, with the McCarthy witchhunters combing the country looking for those with perhaps the slightest connection to the Communist Party, Floyd’s characters might have appeared a tad too quick to condemn what was perceived as Susannah’s immoral conduct and now, over 50 years later, with all the dramatic and diverse social changes that have occurred in American life, the pivotal situation of the plot does seem too pat.

Any opera company that wants to mount Floyd’s opera has to get beyond this flaw so that it can present the work’s many dramatic and musical moments in a coherent and forceful light. And Arizona Opera did just that.

Perhaps the outstanding contribution to the production was Paula Williams’s direction. The director used Peter Dean Beck’s spacious and accurate setting of rural life in Tennessee to great advantage. She moved the chorus about the stage with ease, whether they represented the townspeople at an evening gathering of song and square dancing or had them as church goers pleading to the Lord to save them from the wages of sin. She gave the audience the feeling that it was watching the entire New Hope Valley community acting as one against the sinner Susannah. The director also helped to transmit the same dramatic intent to the featured and principal players, allowing them to build their portrayals with vocal stamina and security.

Starting with the smaller roles, the mezzo, Korby Myrick gave her Mrs. McLean the appropriate disapproval of Susannah’s public bathing. Glenn Alamilla’s tenor rang out as Susannah’s ambivalent suitor, never failing to express his fear of the unknown. Moving up to Robert Breault as Sam Polk, Susannah’s brother, he filled his character with the right amounts of love and affection mixed with his anxiety for Susannah’s future. He resolved his conflict by shooting the Reverend Olin Blitch, Susannah’s seducer in the last scene. And most times, Gustav Andreassen as the Reverend Blitch forcefully conveyed his staunch alliance with the Lord. The bass was most impressive in his sorrowful and guilt-ridden monologue on having violated Susannah.

The role of Susannah was the only part that was double cast. Fortunately for Arizona Opera, it found two sopranos who could provide this difficult and challenging part with the right emotional impact when needed. Rhoslyn Jones, a physically stronger Susannah than Diane Alexander was a tad uneven vocally, but her forceful sound portrayed her commitment to the role. Alexander projected a softer emotional approach, but was more consistent in showing how Susannah’s misery unfolded. It was a credit to both singers and to Williams how well the rest of the cast never missed a dramatic beat no matter what Susannah was on stage.

Conductor Joel Revzen kept his orchestra committed to Floyd’s overriding musical idiom: that of using many parlando melodies underscored by Appalachian ballads, gospel tunes and square dance music. At times, he drove the orchestra too hard, allowing the musical climaxes that expressed Susannah’s rage or Blitch’s stabs at redemption-to take two examples- to eclipse the singers’ vocal prowess that gave unerring testimony to their talents. This tendency, which made it difficult to catch all the nuances in the colloquial text the composer reveled in, kept the audience’s eyes glued to the titles, causing it to graze by some of the opera’s most intense dramatic moments. But overall, it didn’t detract from the performance which was one of the company’s most fruitful and fulfilling productions in recent memory.

L to R Ken Ryals, Angeline Klein and Nathan Krueger

When Charles Roe, the artistic director of the University of Arizona’s Opera Theater looked around for an opera to produce for the school’s 2007 spring production, he decided on Kirke Mechem’s 1982 work, Tartuffe. The director had heard the opera a number of years ago and was impressed by Mechem’s varied musical score and recognized he had a good singing troupe of graduate and undergraduate students that could give the eclectic score the justice it was due. And as an extra added incentive, Roe wanted a work that would equal if not surpass his successful and moving production of Mark Adamo’s modern adaptation of Little Women which the opera theater presented last year. So Tartuffe it was, and happily for the audiences who attended, the production turned out to be quite an artistic success for the University’s opera department.

Mechem, who also wrote the libretto, pared down Jean Baptiste Moliere’s long, wordy but beautifully elocuted 17th-Century satire of religious pomposity written in verse and came up with a shorter three-act version that better accomodated his bouncy, rythmic and at times plaintive score. This way, Roe and his musical director, Adam Boyles were easily able to channel their resources to effectively meet any of the composer’s vocal challenges in order to give the production a stately professional sheen.

The story of Tartuffe, the bogus religious proselytizer, who has managed to infiltrate the home of Mme. Pernelle and her gullible son, Orgon, and whose ultimate goal is to take over the family’s prosperous estate is one of Moliere’s funniest plays. The opera, like the play, shows how Tartuffe cleverly works out his scheme until, of course, his real intentions are found out and he is banished from the household. The story line is not as important as the way it unfolds, and Roe took full advantage of the opera’s waggish plot by giving each operatic vocal type a slightly zany feeling while keeping the many opera buffa moments from spilling over into caricature.

Without being unfair to the composer’s intention that the best way to play out the opera’s comedy is to present it as an ensemble piece, the reality is that if the singer who takes on the lead role doesn’t give his all in creating a Tartuffe whose hypocritical piety and fleeting lechery is mercilessly exploited, the performance falters. But baritone Ken Ryals did just that and more. From Ryal’s sanctimonious entrance, where he demonstrated Tartuffe’s overbearing influence on the family’s tenuous religious beliefs, to his outrageous and lustful pursuit of Orgon’s wife, Elmire, he showed that his character’s outright funny stance might have been drawn from Ryal’s own DNA. If the baritone’s voice did not always have the resonance to carry the music to its full value, his straight forward delivery and clear enunciation were always in command.

Quite knowingly, Roe brought the other portrayals up to Ryal’s level, buoyed by the cast’s natural ability to pump up the ensemble with an easy zest. Nathan Krueger’s Orgon used his warm bass voice to back up the character’s quirky traits. His Orgon was alternately clumsy, foolishly pious and quite dictatorial in forcing his beleagured daughter, Marianne, to marry the household’s unctuous invader. Angeline Klein’s Elmire, Orgon’s second wife, provided a moving, reflective moment in Act Three singing about the myths of marital bliss; then turned around and hit a comedic high note feigning a delightfully obnoxious cough, a signal to her husband to save her from Tartuffe’s lustful clutches which seemingly took the obtuse Orgon eons to finally realize that his wife was in danger.

Complimenting the opera’s lively pace, but with some minor performance flaws, were Ashleigh Guida’s Marianne, a daughter both perplexed and annoyed because she and her fiance, Valere could possibly be parted. Guida’s substantial soprano sometimes overpowered her music, an unintentional slight to her growing talent, and Adam Shelton made a credible Valere although he couldn’t always negotiate the role’s high tessitura. Robb Harrison as Damis, Orgon’s no-nonsense son, struck the same disapproving attitude too often, but transformed into a very funny rickety baliff bent on Tartuffe’s quick departure during the finale. Kristin Griffeath’s Dorine, Marianne’s maid, thoroughly enjoyed her role as the one who recognized Tartuffe’s sham from the very beginning, but here and there her exuberance led her to go a bit sharp vocally.

Giving the opera a postively polished look was Joseph McGrath’s spaciously handsome living room set that matched so well with Dorothy Dell’s tailored and elegant costumes in what she referred to as “late Sun King.”

Obviously Roe and Boyles knew that the light and airy approach to both the music and the comedy was the way to go in this production making a happy time at the opera their top priority, the proof of which was the audience’s enthusiastic reception for their merry journey into Moliere’s satircal world.

© University of Arizona

When Charles Roe, the voice professor and director at the University of Arizona’s Opera Department decided to mount Mark Adamo’s Little Women, a piece Roe readily admits to having fallen in love with on first hearing, he may have had some second thoughts about producing the opera but certainly not with Adamo’s lucid, lyrical arcs of tender melodies the composer dotted throughout his score. And since Adamo also wrote the text, the composer was able to connect the many threads of emotion thereby making more substantial character studies of the four young women growing into maturity during the American Civil War, than Louisa May Alcott was able to do in her very poular novel. Perhaps it was just these two artistic accomplishments that had given Roe pause, for he recognized the opera would not only need singers who could handle Adamo’s challenging vocal leaps but they needed to cope with the quick emotional changes the composer expects from his characters. Well, the director needn’t have reflected too long for he struck gold with the vocal talents he had on hand. In fact, if there was one quality that came to the forefront of this production, it was the singing. Even in roles that might be considered secondary to the principals, Meg, Amy, Beth and Jo, there was plenty of vocal strength and beauty to go around fulfilling Adamo’s intented musical warmth.

Near the end of Act One when Meg and John Brook approach her parents asking to use their wedding vows as their own, Adamo wrote a duet filled with musical reminiscences of Alma and Gideon’s wedding day and their continuing struggle to keep their vows alive. Ashleigh Guida and Ken Ryals expressed their mutual love with careful and graceful tones as Guida’s rich mezzo covered the piece with just the right touch of vocal persuasion. And in Act Two, baritone Nathan Krueger as Professsor Friedrich Bhaer brought both a deep clarity and a gentle lyricism to his aria in which he professes his growing love for an insecure Jo trying to find her place in the world.

Kathryn Mueller and Todd Strang

It was the four voices of the March sisters, however, with their contrasting vocal textures that carried the day providing a musical continuity that dovetailed so effortlessly into the Little Women’s finale. Each singer brought her own vocal interpretation to her character. Kara Harris’s Meg, elegant of manner yet emotionally connected particularly in her well-sung aria showing Meg’s awakening love for Ian Sidden’s amusing and proper John Brook. Chloé Hunter gave Beth a haunting sound covered with sadness but embued it with a rejuvenating passion in her final goodbye to her beloved Jo. Roe found in Kathryn Mueller, a perfect Amy, whose high flying tessitura was filled with the right touch of naiveté in her hidden longings for everybody’s favorite boy, Laurie.

But it was with Martina Chylíková’s Jo, –the most demanding role in the opera–that the work rested. Her Jo was vocally secure and clearly delineated; there are however, so many dimensions to Jo’s character that need to be expressed. Her emotions constantly fly and converge, one minute she’s loving, the next she’s angry, again she feels rejected but always loyal to her family. Chylíková’s interpretation arrived at it’s best moment at the end of Act One, the high point of Adamo’s work. The scene is set in counterpoint: on one side of the stage we revisit Alma and Gideon’s wedding vows but now with Meg and John Brook in a beautifully expressed quartet which underscored the emotional confrontation on the other side between Laurie’s outburst of his love for Jo and her incredulity and fear on hearing of his still unfulfilled passion. Here Chylíková’s Jo hit her best stride reacting to Todd Strange’s Laurie- the tenor’s total commitment both vocally and dramatically put the audience right into Jo’s and Laurie’s heart-breaking conflict. At other times, Chylíková couldn’t find the emotional depth Jo required to bring a total picture to the role. But Roe, did not allow any dramatic shortcomings to interfere with the poignancy and vocal luster the four women brought to their final quartet.

Thomas Cockrell rehearsing the University of Arizona's Symphony Orchestra.

Ainadamar is based on the life of poet and dramatist, Federico Garcia Lorca and his personal relationship with Spanish actor, Margarita Xirgu who was the writer’s protagonist in a number of his plays. Their relationship began with Lorca’s first critical success, Mariana Pineda, in which Margarita portrayed a 19th Century political martyr who would rather die than reveal the names of her lover and his compatriots in their fight for freedom. The theme of woman as sacrificial lamb was one that Lorca succumbed to throughout his dramatic works.

Golijov and his librettist, David Henry Hwang, concentrate mostly on Lorca’s personal tragedy, emphasizing the poet’s execution at the age of 38 by the Falangists who fought against the Republican forces in Spain’s mean-spirited and bloody Civil War which ended up with Caudillo Franco’s long dictatorship.

Where Golijov’s work seems to be mostly an opera, meaning where music, text and emotional execution fuse into a lyrical experience, doesn’t’ show up until the middle of Ainadamar’s seventy-five minute playing time.

It is in this sinewy melodic section of Ainadamar, so named for the fountain of tears set close to the spot of Lorca’s execution, where the music both hypnotic and sensual, reaches out with such intense poignancy, it captures the heart breaking and tragic inevitability of Lorca’s death. Here, Golijov’s lyricism rises to the ethereal level of opera and touches it other worldliness which is essential in making opera. And this quality afforded both, mezzo soprano, Kelly O’Connor, as Lorca and Dawn Upshaw, the lead soprano as Xirgu to express their vocal talents to the fullest. Before this moment their singing lacked the assertive and impassioned qualities necessary to show Lorca’s internal turmoil, primarily due to Golijov’s uninspiring musical ideas.

The other sections of Ainadamar seem only to reach the level of current theatrical trends, showing an eclectic composite of Latin rhythms, rumbas, flamenco and Middle Eastern strains, although the latter are beautifully orchestrated, all giving us the sensation of having heard it before. The fresh beauty of the middle section is just not there.

Director Peter Sellars, brought in to excite the piece, kept it going most times matching action to music. One of Sellars ideas was to put Lorca’s executioner in U.S. Army fatigues which lessened the dramatic effect of Lorca’s death. Dressing the poet’s murderer in the typical Spanish street garb of the 1930’s would have better highlighted the political hatred the Falangists felt for those countrymen who stood for personal freedom in the arts, music and governmental acceptance for all. Lorca’s threat as artistic leader of those who espoused this liberal philosophy, many of whom were suspected of being homosexual, would have been better served. And another idea, a repetitious chorographic move the chorus of eight women performed by raising their arms in gothic pose every time they heard the word “campanas,” indicating the tolling bells that announced Lorca’s death, became especially tedious.

Both Sellars and Golijov gave the impression that this production presented Ainadamar as an accomplished and completed opera, its virtues sufficient reason for it to enter the operatic repertoire when in reality the work reveals a number of uncertain and desultory aspects in too many of its parts that prevents the work from achieving that goal at present. make this performance a wholly dramatic and satisfying experience!