WNO: A Butterfly for Our Times

What do you look for when you revisit such a frequently performed work as Madama Butterfly?  I prefer to see new or rarely shown works, but will also go to a piece I almost know by heart if a new production or a new singer promises to be interesting.  I went to the Washington National Opera's new staging of Madama Butterfly because I was curious to hear tenor Brian Jagde for the first time and wanted another impression of Ermonela Jaho, who was a poignant Suor Angelica a few years ago. In the end, what I took home Saturday night - to digest and store in memory for further contemplation - was the spellbinding blend of light, color and design of the WNO's fresh offering of the Puccini classic.

The media photos of women in polka-dot kimonos against a bright orange or magenta background betray little of the magic they produce when combined with all other stage effects. In the picture below, the characters may look like a group of hausfrauen in schlafrocks, parodying a Japanese party at a parlor game, but on the stage these costumes are integral parts of pictures that bring to mind the art of Alma Thomas.  

The kimono-clad women floated up and down a ramp, that symbolized a hill with Cio Cio San's house on top, in a perfect geometrical order with ringed parasols hovering over their heads like different-color halos. With matching-hued ribbons streaming behind, and brightly lit stage, they were a sight to behold. The dazzling flow of visions, ranging from cheerful to dark and dramatic, became a moving art exhibition, enhanced by drama and sound. Occasionally, video projections, although abstract, suggested the passage of time or the power of the emotion.

Japanese artist Jun Kaneko (who lives in Omaha, Nebraska) has produced this marvel in close collaboration with lighting designer Gary Marder, choreographer Adam Noble and many others involved in the project. The result is sensational.  Kaneko says in his production notes that Madama Butterfly has been "one of the most difficult challenges and one of the most exciting creative experiences" in his life.  He passed the test with flying colors, literally.

The performers cooperated with his artistic vision and worked well as an ensemble. Ermonela Jaho's passionate portrayal of the unfortunate girl-turned-woman garnered enthusiastic response from the audience.  Jagde's physical and vocal size added to her projection of vulnerability. In looks and voices they were well matched and convincing: Jagde as a robust American sailor and Jaho as a dainty Japanese doll.  Although a little rough around the edges, Jagde softened in the right places of the powerful Act I duet. And his rendition of Addio, fiorito asil was sensitive and appealing. I will be looking forward to this tenor's next endeavor.

In this production, Pinkerton does not rush on the stage in the final act to sob over Cio Cio San's dead body, but rather calls her name from behind the curtain.  Good idea!  That scene can otherwise be as embarrassing to watch as, I am sure, it must be to perform. 

Kristen Choi is an experienced Suzuki and it was obvious on Saturday. For those of us who had not heard of her before, she was a pleasant surprise. I am glad her Suzuki was able to express love and concern for her mistress without being syrupy. Choi is another singer I'd like to hear again. So is Michael Adams who gave us such a charming Yamadori that one wondered why Butterfly did not get over the braggart who had left her in dire straits, and moved on with the rich guy. 

Troy Cook's Sharpless was somewhat disappointing as was Ian McEuen's Goro. Although secondary roles, these can stand out in the hands of masterful performers. 

The orchestra under Philippe Auguin's direction excelled again on Saturday.  He is becoming one of my favorite conductors.

The highly stylized WNO's production of an operatic staple is an example of how Madama Butterfly, perhaps my least favorite opera, can be moved from the traditionally kitschy milieu into a powerful and unforgettable work of art.  Chapeau to WNO's artistic director Francesca Zambello for the strong finale of a season that also gave us Jake Heggie's Dead Man Walking.  Perhaps not as memorable as the previous one, but who can beat a line-up with Wagner's Ring in it, and such a magnificent one at that.

WNO's Dead Man Walking

On Saturday evening I witnessed an execution by lethal injection. OK, it wasn't a real execution, but an operatic one, terrifying nonetheless. A nervous but defiant "convict" stood center stage in a pair of underpants with a clearly visible diaper stuffed inside. His fear was palpable, his desperation permeated the theater as they dressed him in a white shirt and pants and strapped him to a gurney.  A nurse injected deadly substance into his arm. The audience stopped breathing.  Then his heartbeat, ticked off by a monitoring machine, began to slow down until it became a steady sound signaling death.   

The performance was Jake Heggie's Dead Man Walking, offered for the first time by the Washington National Opera. I am somewhat familiar with the work through a recording of the 2000 San Francisco production, but it did not prepare me for the impact this opera can have in a staged performance. Staggering!

Contemporary operas can be quite an ordeal to sit through. Composers are pressured to offer some new and groundbreaking concept, which usually means hard-to-like music, black-and-white scenography, and absolute absence of tradition. Melody is anathema. I came to Dead Man Walking almost directly from a performance of La Ciudad de las Mentiras (City of Lies) an opera by Elena Mendoza at Teatro Real in Madrid, which bore all these characteristics.

Stage set for La Ciudad de las Mentiras, Teatro Real, Madrid

Mendoza used four stories by Juan Carlos Onetti to explore theatrical and perhaps some musical possibilities, but her sopranos, tenors and baritones never sang. They recited lines from the stories so intertwined that only those familiar with Onetti's work could hope to understand what's going on. The English language surtitles kept the uninitiated out of a complete fog, and a written introduction gave some clarification, but I had to agree with a friend who argued that a work of art that needs so much explanation is not a good work of art. If Mendoza's singers did not sing, neither did the musicians played much music. At one point a man appeared on the stage with an accordion only to tap his hand on it a couple of times. An actor portraying a bartender scratched a metal tray with a knife, a piano player hit the keyboard a couple of times and the orchestra produced some "atmospheric" sound, sort of like a distant wind howling. Overall, it was an interesting, innovative stage production, but it was not an opera.

Dead Man Walking definitely is. Heggie did not veer off the traditional operatic structure, or as some would say formula, proving that what worked for Verdi and Puccini works for today's composers as well. The build-up, the drama, the climax - it was all there and it worked. It opens with a young couple frolicking by the lake to the sound of popular music, but disaster is already in the air. And it strikes swiftly. From then on the action moves energetically forward so the first act breezes through without any longueurs. Sister Helen's entry into the death row, with a chorus of men yelling profanities at her is a most powerful scene, musically and theatrically.

The second act starts with the title character, prisoner Joseph de Rocher, exercising in his cell to pass the time or to keep his muscles from trembling.  A great opening!  After that the energy drops and there are scenes, such as Sister Helen's conversation with Sister Rose, and her encounter with the convict's mother that one could do without. Tension returns to the stage full force with re-entry into Joseph's prison cell. He knows the hour of death is approaching and his desperation rises to a fever pitch.  Still defiant, but more dependent on Sister Helen's support, he finally feels compelled to confess his guilt. 

The death scene is one of the most powerful pieces of theater I've seen in recent years. I wish the opera ended right there. The final repeat of a religious song that served as a leitmotif throughout the opera was forgettable and unnecessary. In spite of minor quibbles (occasional clichés of sorrow and sentimentality) chapeau to Heggie and his librettist Terrence McNally for impressive work.

Kate Lindsey and Michael Mayes in WNO's Daed Man Walkong, photo Scott Suchman

In terms of production, this was one of the operas in which a simple, mostly black stage for once worked very well. The black scrim was lifted often enough to break the monotony and create a sense of movement. I usually don't pay much attention to lighting, but this time I thought it played a significant role in creating the right mood at the right time, whether it was camaraderie, anger, children's lightheartedness or dark depths of a tortured soul. Francesca Zambello, riding the wave of her recent success with Wagner's Ring, proved once again that she is an operatic force to be reckoned with.

Heggie's music is unapologetically beautiful throughout this opera, something that the audience loves and music critics condemn. It is the only modern opera I know in which the recitatives sound as good as the "arias" and blend seamlessly together. Dead Man Walking is unmistakingly American in the theme, language, and music expression. At times it sounds more like a musical than opera. But other than that, it was a classical opera in almost every sense. 

The singing and acting on Saturday were excellent throughout. In terms of voices, I would wish a stronger mezzo for the role of Sister Helen than the otherwise brilliant Kate Lindsey. Also, I am not sure if it was a good idea to cast Susan Graham next to her in a minor role. Graham reminded those familiar with the San Francisco recording of her outstanding interpretation of Sister Helen, and she overpowered Lindsey when they appeared together. Lindsey's Sister Helen was a gentle nun, different from the real life person the character was based on.  But such people can wield a power of their own quiet kind and so Lindsey's interpretation worked well, especially juxtaposed with Joseph's belligerence.

Dead Man Walking is one of the most frequently performed American operas at home and abroad, for a good reason. It is one of those works that makes you want to see it again in the same or a different production. Unlike Ciudad de las Mentiras, for example. It's an opera that you can just listen to without seeing it on stage, like La Forza del Destino or Porgy and Bess. If it does not break any new grounds, perhaps it proves that there is no need to keep fixing something that ain't broke. It's a pity WNO offered only four performances of what is arguably its most impressive production of the season, but I feel lucky that I caught the last one.

Kurt Weill's Lost in the Stars at WNO

Kurt Weill's last work Lost in the Stars is set in South Africa, but in the new Washington National Opera's production it could be set in the United States or India any other country beset with racial and class divisions. Weill's opera - I would call it a musical - based on Alan Paton's 1948 novel Cry, the Beloved Country explores common humanity among divided people that emerges in the face of tragedy.

I read Paton's book as a teenager and I'd never seen or heard Lost in the Stars before Friday night, so I could watch the WNO performance with an open mind - almost. I lived in South Africa for four years in the early 1980s when apartheid was still firmly in place and that experience could not be entirely ignored.

Sean Panikkar as The Leader in WNO's Lost in the Stars

The first thing I noticed in the WNO performance was the scarcity of the distinctive South African accent except for the valiant efforts by Wynn Harmon, Paul Scanlan and Thomas Adrain Simpson to emulate it. All three were portraying white South Africans: farmer James Jarvis, his son Arthur and the judge. The black singers spoke in accents that could have been from anywhere on the continent or in the United States, but I would not immediately place it in South Africa.

The lack of insistence on the authentic accent works in favor of this production. The more I watched, the more I was reminded of Ferguson and Black-Lives-Matter movements in America, and less of the segregated South Africa I knew. The opera's distinctly American music idiom added to the sense that the story unfolding on the stage is taking place in the United States.

In the Maxwell Anderson's adaptation of Paton's novel black pastor Stephen Kumalo travels from his small village of Ndotsheni to Johannesburg to check on his sister Gertrude and his son Absalom. The former has become a prostitute and the latter a robber.  But when Absalom accidentally kills the son of white neighbor James Jarvis during a botched robbery, the reverend is faced with a dilemma: would he prefer his son alive and a sinner, or dead and righteous. 

Eric Owens owned the role of the rural minister whose family, or "tribe," fell apart after most of it moved to Johannesburg in search of a better life. Owens has distinguished himself in Wagner roles, but it is hard to imagine anyone else doing a better Kumalo than he did.  He shined in the title song Lost in the Stars.

Soprano Lauren Michelle was a charming Irina, the pregnant lover of Kumalo's son Absalom, whose inner strength overcomes her shyness and helps her deal with the ultimate loss. Michelle was a little stiff in her first major aria, but warmed up considerably by her next big number, Stay Well, in the second act.

Eric Owens and Caleb McLaughlin in WNO's Lost in Stars

Other outstanding performers were Caleb McLaughlin as Kumalo's grandson Alex and Cheryl Freeman as fun-loving city girl Linda. They lit up the stage with energy and charisma. One couldn't but wonder how high McLaughlin (sparkling in the Big Mole song) will reach when he grows up. He is already more confident on the stage than many adults. His talent was especially obvious in a joint scene with a peer portraying Jarvis's grandson Edward. Tenor Sean Panikkar was an attractive and striking Leader, although I could not quite understand what his role in the play was  (narrator?). But that's just me. There were also a lot of characters listed in the playbill that I could not identify on the stage. Aleksey Bogdanov as Burton (prosecutor?) was a commanding presence in the courtroom scene. Manu Kumasi's Absalom was earnest, but not quite convincing.

The challenge of Lost in the Stars is in its structure, which is part spoken play and part musical so it requires competent actors as well as singers. The singing in this production was magnificent, with moments of real brilliance and an excellent chorus throughout. But the acting abilities were uneven. Owens's included. Poignant as he was in the moments of tragedy, the acclaimed bass-baritone failed to produce the variety of expressions and nuances required to keep the spectator breathless throughout the performance. The scene in which he comes to plead with James Jarvis to intercede for his son was simply awkward.

Eric Owens and Wynn Harmon, grieving fathers in WNO''s Lost in Stars

In the end, the action of Lost in the Stars actually seems like it is taking place in South Africa. The shared tragedy brings the two grieving fathers together. Their connection, as well as the black and white children playing together in the final scenes, hint at a wider national reconciliation, which for me is more believable in the South African context than any other one.

When they dismantled the apartheid in the 1990s, South Africans established the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that invited victims of egregious human rights violations to give statements. Perpetrators of violence also could testify and request amnesty from both civil and criminal prosecution. Many culprits expressed sincere remorse and many were publicly forgiven by their victims. The process is widely regarded as a key step to a successful transition to democracy in South Africa. Lost in the Stars is a good reminder that we could benefit from it too. 

Appomattox, Take Two

In my previous blog, I noted that technology moves forward but human nature does not. One could add that laws make progress but human nature does not. In just the past year Baltimore, Ferguson, Charleston and university campuses in Missouri have been the most visible examples of how far we remain from securing equal treatment for all our citizens. No wonder Philip Glass saw fit to revise his 2007 opera Appomattox to emphasize that in terms of race relations little has changed in the United States since the end of the Civil War. The new version of Appomattox premiered Saturday at Washington National Opera.

Not having seen the San Francisco performance, I cannot compare the two versions, but one critic described the first take of Appomattox as an "epic-proportioned opera, sensational in its conception, drama and music that had one sitting on the edge of one’s opera seat being witness to history." Much of this could be said of the revised version shown Saturday in Washington. While the production did not have me sitting on the edge of my seat with a particularly sensational conception, it had me sitting back and contemplating.

The opera starts with the final days of the Civil War and the surrender of Confederate Army commander Robert Lee to Union General Ulysses Grant in the village of Appomattox, Virginia. It then moves to a post-war meeting between President Abraham Lincoln and African-American activist Frederick Douglass in which Douglass tells the newly re-elected president he would like to see “voting rights for all free men of color.”

Generals Lee and Grant discuss their correspondence with aides.                Photo: Scott Suchman for WNO

One hundred years later in the second and most revised act of Appomattox we are in the midst of the U.S. Civil Rights Movement, and African-Americans are still fighting for their voting rights.   

Then the opera turns into a political farce in which President Lyndon B. Johnson cleverly handles political adversaries while ridiculing their small-mindedness behind their backs. As it moves to more recent years, Appomattox opens the door to a private conversation between two inmates (real-life characters) convicted of racially-motivated murders committed decades before. One, now dead, got away with a negligible sentence. The other, a former Ku Klux Klan member, will spend his life in jail, but scorns the punishment because for him no price is too high in defense of white supremacy - a state of mind not much different from suicide bombers. 

A group of women calling for the end of the strife and healing of the nation in the final scene concludes the epic on a soothing note.  

The first part of Appomattox struck me as the more operatic and colorful than the second. It opens with a gorgeous all-male choral piece sung by soldiers tired of war. Back home women lament the bloodshed. General Lee and his Union counterpart Grant are juxtaposed on the stage, against the background of huge Confederate and Union flags as each contemplates the other's moves. Their correspondence as well as direct communication are gentlemanly throughout, the interest of American people upmost on their minds. 

The second part felt like a surrealist docu-drama in which historic characters and events presented on the stage blend with those from current news reports, as they would in a dream. You could be listening to Martin Luther King or a reverend in Charleston's historic black church after the racially motivated killing of nine worshipers. The historic marches in Selma were sparked by the killing of Jimmie Lee Jackson, the 26-year-old civil rights marcher at the hands of a state trooper.  Today's Black Lives Matter movement was sparked by the deaths of several black men at the hands of white policemen.  As you watch the former, you think of the latter.  As the opera points out, it took much longer to get the voting rights law enacted than it did to get it repealed.  

The music is a mature and refined Philip Glass, with his signature minimalist style still clearly recognizable in the repetition of phrases that underline the text, or stand alone in their eloquence. The choral passages are unanimously gorgeous, at times angelic and ethereal, like the one that ends the opera, or steeped in the African-American tradition: spirituals and songs like The Battle Hymn of the Republic and Ol' Man River.  Glass even produced his own version of the Civil War anthem We Shall Overcome that brought to mind the original without imitating it.

The singers were mostly superb and well suited for the characters they portray. As the opera moves through the time, some of them could conveniently appear in two different roles without being recognized. Bas-baritone David Pittsinger was the epithome of a southern gentleman when portraying General Lee and sinister as murderer Edgar Ray Killen later on. I could not tell that it was the same singer.

The shining star among his equals was Washington's own Soloman Howard, a graduate of the WNO's Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist Program who has already debuted at the Metropolitan Opera. The 33-year-old bass is the only singer I can think of with the right stature and enough charisma to bring Martin Luther King to life. He also appeared as Frederick Douglass in the first act.

Soloman Howard as MLK in Appomattox            Photo: Scott Suchman for WN

Appomatox is packed with energy and powerful characters, but also (and I know I am going to be crucified for saying this) with occasional longueurs, the recitativi that drag it down like millstone.  In the traditional opera, parlando segments serve to speed up the action and can be as memorable and haunting as any aria. Like this dialogue between Tosca and Scarpia: 

Scarpia: "Or su Tosca, parlate!
Tosca: "Non so nulla."

Or Germont's rebuke: "Di sprezzo degno se stesso rende qui pur nell'ira la donna offende."

Or Eboli's outrageous shriek:  "Voi la regina amate!"

In the modern opera, these half-sung-half-spoken conversations, or monologues as the case may be, sound monotonous and if they go on for too long can become a crashing bore. Not only do they always sound the same, but the voice or the intonation raised in the wrong place or at the wrong time makes me wince. I cannot tell if it is the English language, or a lack of effort, or the belief that modern music should not concern itself with appeal, but few of the modern recitativi - if they are still called that - are memorable. And while they are somewhat tolerable in a staged performance, it is hard to imagine that anyone wants to listen to them at home on CD.

One solution Philip Glass and his librettist Christopher Hampton have found to overcome the tedium is the use of witticism and irreverence in the text, for example in LBJ's conversation with U.S. Attorney General Nicholas Katzenbach. Another trick is following LBJ's "televised speech" with an especially attractive instrumental passage.  Still, the sing-song talk combined with Donald Eastman's unchanged set of pillared facade with a long balcony, creates a static impression, turning the opera into an oratorio at times.

Overall, Glass and Hampton have created a quintessentially American work, focused on voting rights, but sending a powerful message about the legacy of racism that has plagued the world's leading democracy since its inception. The accompanying photo exhibit A Journey from Civil War to Civil Rights is a helpful preview, especially for those of us who missed that chapter in the history book.

During the 1960's rights movement in the United States, I lived in eastern Europe where the assassination of Martin Luther King received no more attention than the deaths of Patrice Lumumba, Salvador Allende, Che Guevara or Haile Selassie. When I came to live in the U.S. capital 20 years later, it was with the conviction that racism and segregation were forgotten things of the past. It took years to realize that racial tensions were not just lingering here and there, but seething under the surface all this time to reach a new boiling point this year.

Washington is probably a better place than San Francisco to introduce an opera such as Appomattox, but the work should be seen by more ordinary Americans than the limited number of shows in D.C. can accommodate. Let's hope that WNO records one of the performances for a nationwide television broadcast in the near future, say during the upcoming dreary months of January and February when many people like to stay at home.

WNO Opens 60th Season

Washington National Opera opened its 60th Season on Saturday and what an eventful season it promises to be! In addition to the complete Wagner Ring, it includes a Philip Glass opera, a Kurt Weill work, Hansel and Gretel and three brand new 20-minute operas based on contemporary American stories. With so many works rarely performed in Washington coming up, it is hardly surprising that the season started with a warhorse such as Carmen.

Kennedy Center, Saturday evening, WNO season about to begin

I am happy Francesca Zambello came to Washington and took over WNO in January 2013. She had previously impressed me with her creation of the so-called American Ring, her rendition of the Wagner's tetralogy performed here between 2006 and 2009.  She reconfirmed that impression with her staging of Berlioz's Les Troyens at the Metropolitan in 2012. As WNO's artistic director, she is turning an opera house of mediocre Traviatas and Trovatores into an art organization blowing fresh air into a staid cultural atmosphere of the nation's capital. Francesca (and I feel close enough to use her first name) is my only hope that we may see a Berlioz opera in Washington one day.

Having seen several excellent performances of Carmen in the past few years, most recently a live broadcast from Orange, France, with Jonas Kaufmann and Kate Aldrich, I was prepared for a less than exciting evening. But once the lights went down and the curtain up (in this case a set splitting along a jagged line in the middle) magic happened. The more-or-less standard production directed by Loren Meeker had a few novelties to offer, such as a couple of enter-acte flamenco dancers. Since Clémentine Margaine's Carmen was not an especially skilled dancer, it would have been good to see a little more of Fanny Ara doing it for her.

Flamenco dancers Fanny Ara and Timo Nuñez 

Margaine has a beautiful voice, but her entrance was not impressive and it took a while for her to assert her presence. In the first act one could hardly distinguish her from other factory girls and her rendition of Habanera did nothing to make her stand out. Maybe a more strategic wardrobe and makeup would help. Her singing improved in the subsequent acts, but the wardrobe did not.

One problem most Carmens have is how to be seductive without being ridiculous. This one did nothing different than most others before her (Baltimore Opera's Milena Kitić from a decade ago comes to mind) and her trump card was spreading her legs around a guy. Directors should make a little more effort than have the "Gypsy" girl strut back and forth on the stage, wiggling her hips and hawking her wares like a vulgar street girl. That's not sexy. Furthermore, coming from the Balkans, I have seen more Gypsies than an average American opera patron, and none of their women walk like the operatic Carmen. Kate Aldrich changed the routine somewhat in the contemporary Orange production, but in my view, nobody has done a better job of seduction than Elina Garanča for the Met's Carmen a few years ago. She seemed to have a lot of fun with it and everything she did looked natural. A singer who is not good with gestures can be made more seductive with the right clothes and a suitable wig.

Bryan Hymel was an impressive Énée in Les Troyens recently and thus an artist to look forward to in WNO's Carmen. He was a sensitive and convincing Don José, though sharing more chemistry with Janai Brugger's excellent Micaëla than with Margaine's Carmen.

Bryan Hymel and Janai Brugger as Don José and Micaëla in WNO' Carmen

Michael Todd Simpson was a lackluster Escamillo. His entrance failed to electrify the stage as a celebrity toreador's is expected to do, although there was some improvement in the last act. Kenneth Kellog was well suited for the role of Lieutenant Zuniga and Nicholas Houhoulis did well as tavern owner Lillas Pastia. The sets were a slightly stylized take on the standard for the opera, with the faded image of la Nuestra Señora de Guadelupe hinting that the smuggling might be taking place on the U.S. border with Mexico rather than anywhere near Seville.

Overall, it was a solid performance that should please anyone who has not seen Bizet's masterpiece in a while. It was also an appropriate prelude to the new and rarely seen works such as Appomatox and others that will follow. The 2007 opera by Philip Glass will be WNO's first ever performance of a work by arguably the most celebrated contemporary American composer. The reworked version includes a completely new second act, featuring Washington native Soloman Howard as Martin Luther King Jr.

An important company premiere will be a South African production of Kurt Weill's Lost in the Stars based on Alan Paton's novel Cry, the Beloved Country. Bass-baritone Eric Owens interprets Stephen Kumalo, a minister in apartheid-era South Africa who travels from his small village to Johannesburg to find his errant son.

The highlight of the WNO's 60th anniversary without doubt is Wagner's Ring. The cycle of the four operas attracts the world's attention whenever it is staged and people will travel distances to see the Met Ring, the Seattle Ring, the Melbourne Ring, and others, with the Bayreuth Ring remaining a lifelong dream for many an opera lover. WNO performed the four operas separately over four seasons about a decade ago, with the last one, Götterdämmerung given in concert form as the production money ran out. Oh, but what a glorious concert it was - with South African Gidon Kramer brooding his way into the role of Hagen to create the sexiest version of the evil dwarf's offspring ever seen on the stage. The then-WNO director Placido Domingo did a commendable job as Siegmund in the 2007 Walküre. All in all, it was a memorable Ring, the staggered performances whetting the appetite for every subsequent installment - and now making one eager to see how the next year's complete cycle will compare to the first run.

Cinderella And Other Fairy Tales

After more than 300 years the story of Cinderella continues to captivate, whether presented in a movie, opera, ballet or some other form.  Let me be quick to clarify that Cindy is not my favorite fairy tale character.  That honor goes to the princess who kissed a frog and turned him into a prince.  I have kissed a number of frogs in my life and none of them has turned into a prince, but I keep trying. However, I never miss a performance of Cinderella and always discover a new layer to the story.   

Maxim Mironov and Isabel Leonard in WNO's production of Rossini's opera Cinderella.

The other day I was passing by Kramerbooks store at Dupont Circle and noticed in the window a selection of children's storybooks. One was titled Everyone Poops and another The Gas We Pass: The story of Farts. Wow! They did not have those where I grew up. My first reading list comprised Grimm's, Anderson's and Perrault's fairy tales from which I advanced to Aesop and international folk stories.  In my teens I went through a period of obsession with the romanticized stories of the Wild West by Karl May and Zane Grey before graduating to the great classics.

Although I don't often see Perrault's tales in the children's sections of the dwindling number of the area's bookstores, I assume there must be an interest in them, judging by the number of kids at the Saturday premiere of WNO's Cinderella.

The production seems to be targeting young audiences and those young at heart. The colors and the design are over-the-top, screeching and at times ridiculous. But one can imagine a kid building a set like that from lego pieces, with costumes cut out from neon-colored paper. Note for example the prince's blue-and-white patterned shoes. Fussy but simple and geometric at the same time, like everything else in the show. The acting also was exaggerated and clearly meant to make you laugh even in the sad and tender moments. You could not take this Cinderella too seriously, at least not initially. It took time getting used to, but once I got "into it" it became great fun. The first really hilarious schtick was the arrival of the false prince on a white horse. I don't know if it's the same in other cultures, but in mine "the prince on a white horse" is the synonym for every woman's romantic dream of a man. Maxim Mironov's Don Ramiro was absolutely delightful. He looked like a confused young man with no experience with women. I imagine my son was like that on his first date. Isabel Leonard was not as charismatic for me in real life as she was in the Met broadcasts, but she sang beautifully.   The portrayers of the mean stepfather and his daughters, Dandini and other characters were all skilled entertainers both in terms of singing and acting, eliciting outbursts of spontaneous hilarity, with the exception of Shenyang whose Alidoro I thought was too serious for this production.

WNO's Cinderella, the Proposal Scene

Despite the emphasis on the comic, I found more depth in this production of Cinderella than I did in the Met's version a few years ago. Maybe it was the mismatch between the statuesque Elina Garanča at the time and her short and portly prince, maybe it was all the kitsch and confection in the more traditional production - but despite superb singing I never noticed then as I did this time that Angelina, aka Cinderella, was craving family. The playbill notes focus on her forgiveness and magnanimity, but to me she seemed more like a lonely woman who wanted to come to her prince from a home and a family.  Rossini's Cinderella wanted to bring an identity to her marriage, not just assume the husband's.   Even an unloving stepfather and two malicious step-sisters were better than no kin at all.

The not-quite-so-happy ending is a mixture of funny and serious like many other things in this production.  Angelina emerges from her reverie with a broom in her hand, a harsh reality that awaits many a young woman today when she wakes up.  Teenage girls might prefer the standard happy ending in Kenneth Branagh's new movie version of Cinderella. I appreciate that the British star director gave a new dimension to the wicked stepmother, portrayed aptly by Cate Blanchett. In this movie, she is a beautiful and elegant woman whose beloved husband died, forcing her to remarry. She is disappointed to learn that she is not as well loved by the second husband and it hurts even more to find herself impoverished after his death. She is still evil, but more human and easier to understand than a stereotypical fairy-tale stepmother. Branagh's Cinderella, on the other hand, is a girl with a cause, or at least a motto, not just a dreamer. But she is only a half-baked activist as if the director could not quite decide how much to intervene in the classic fairy tale. The sets in the movie are exceedingly Disney-like and gaudy, complete with a pumpkin turning into a carriage, lizards into footmen, glass shoes and tons of tulle. One expected more creativity from a Kenneth Branagh.

Opera in the Outfield

The Washington National Opera has chosen a formula which worked successfully last year with The Magic Flute free-for-all in the  Nationals baseball park.  Various operatic characters walked into the outfield to mingle with the audience and engage the kids.  The production including Jun Kaneko's playful costumes was a hit with the area families.  This year, you can expect Cinderella's mice  (or are they rats?) to greet you on arrival.

It is clear that such a vision of Rossini's opera does not agree with the music critic I saw run out of the theater as soon as the curtain hit the floor. I knew what to expect in her review the next day and she did not disappoint: a slew of poisoned arrows rained from Mount Olympus. But there are many who applaud WNO's Francesca Zambello for bringing approachable opera to the backyard of many families who would never see it otherwise.  The classic fairy tales presented in the way kids can understand teach them to dream of a world in which the good always wins and the evil is punished, something that stories about bodily functions do not.

French Revolution In Opera

Last week I saw two operas set in the time of Robespierre's relentless beheadings.   The first, Andrea Chénier, broadcast from the Royal Opera House in London, was romantic and passionate as it centers around a love story between a poet and a misfortunate young aristocrat. The second, Washington National Opera's premiere of Dialogues of the Carmelites was dark and contemplative, as one could expect from a piece set in a convent. Both operas are based on true events and both culminate with their characters heading for the guillotine. Both made me think of Islamic State terror.

London's Royal Opera House secured Jonas Kaufmann, currently the world's most suitable tenor for the role of French poet André Marie Chénier, who was guillotined in 1794 on Robespierre's orders.  Soprano-du-jour Eva-Maria Westbroek was his lover Maddalena di Coigny.  In reality, Chénier never met such a woman.  But he did write a poem about tribulations of a fellow captive Duchess of Fleury,  whose maiden name was de Coigny.  As fate would have it,  the doomed poet lost his head just three days before Robespierre met the same fate.  The tyrant's death brought an end to the Reign of Terror and the mass beheadings in France. 

Jonas Kaufmann and Eva-Maria Westbrok as Chenier and Maddalena

Kaufmann and Westbrook made the final moments of Maddalena and Chénier a truly romantic affair ending in a glorious death.  One left the theater energized and inspired with a, sort of, love-conquers-all, who-cares-about-death feeling. 

Not so, after Dialogues of the Carmelites. Francis Poulenc's mature 1957 masterpiece is powerful in a depressive way. Death in his work is not a way to bright eternity, but rather to a frightening unknown.  It is a sword looming above one's head and rattling one's soul. Much that the nuns invoke their faith to give them strength, and vote to sacrifice their lives for God's greater glory, and defy the authorities even if only in small ways - they are undeniably scared.  No one conveys that more clearly than Dolora Zajick's powerful Madame de Croissy, the convent's ailing prioress who with her dying breath asks forgiveness for being afraid of death. Perhaps she would be more reconciled with it if she knew she was being spared the ignominious death at the scaffold. I have never seen Zajick act so well.  Maybe she was waiting for this role to pour out her soul.

Dialogues of the Carmelites, Final Scene, Washington National Opera

Leah Crocetto offers a warm portrayal of Madame Lidoine, the new prioress who takes over after Madame de Croissy's demise. Layla Claire is convincing as young and jittery Blanche de la Force, as is Ashley Emerson as Sister Constance, a happy-go-lucky peasant-turned-nun.  Alan Held stands out in the relatively small role of Blanche's father.  Antony Walker, whom I know mainly as a vivacious conductor, hopping on the podium while directing mostly bel canto operas at Lisner, acquitted himself valiantly with the complex 20th century work on Monday.

Like Giordano's Chénier, Poulenc's opera is based on a real-life event from 1794.  During the closing days of the Rein of Terror, 16 Carmelite nuns from Compiégne were guillotined for refusing to renounce their vocation. They renewed their vows before climbing up the scaffold and went to their death chanting Veni Creator Spiritus.  Poulenc changed that to Salve Regina. Interestingly, the nuns were executed just days before André Chénier and were buried at the same Picpus Cemetery in Paris. 

Hildegard Bechtler's set design is a simple circular structure that enables a change of scene with a simple spin, and lighting is used effectively to create meaningful shadows.  An early example is a servant's shadow that scares Blanche.  All the audience can see is a vague shape moving furtively across the wall before it is as startled as the audience by Blanche's scream backstage.

Poulenc had a close encounter with decapitation in 1936 when a friend of his got killed in a violent car crash in Hungary.   The experience had a life-changing effect on him.  Soon after the tragedy, he went on a pilgrimage to the Sanctuary of Rocamadour in southwestern France.  While on his knees before a statue of Virgin Mary, blackened from years of exposure to candle smoke, he is said to have had a profound religious experience.  One of the first results was his gorgeous work Litanies à la Vierge Noire.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Xu6PuqUJfw

I learned about Litanies from Poulenc's grandnephew Christophe who produced an intimate portrayal of his famous family member based on personal accounts of people who lived and worked with the composer.  Among them is Poulenc's favorite soprano Denise Duval, who excelled in the role of Blanche.  Christophe's documentary  titled Francis Poulenc: Impressions first takes viewers to Rocamadour where the chaplain, Father Vigouroux, talks about the composer's link to the sanctuary in troubadour fashion, accompanying himself on the harp.

Litanies was followed by Mass in G, Dialogues des Carmélites and ultimately Poulenc's best known work Gloria.

Flooded as we are these days by news of beheadings at the hands of Islamic State militants and henchmen working for Mexican drug cartels, one would be tempted to think these macabre reports have something to do with revivals of works such as  Anna Bolena, Maria Stuarda, Dialogues or Chénier, whose heroes end up on the scaffold.  But grand opera houses usually schedule their programs years ahead of time.  Islamic State began its organized campaign of death and destruction about a year ago and it was not immediately clear how far it would go.  

Whatever the reason for reviving these great operas, they make one ponder on the state of mind of the people condemned to a grisly death by fanatics. Poulenc's opera probably conveys it more accurately,  but Giordano's romanticized version makes us want to believe in his, especially when brought to life by one Jonas Kaufmann.

Florencia in the Amazon: Remembering Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Washington National Opera opened its 2014-2015 season with Daniel Catán's opera Florencia in the Amazon. The work is said to be inspired by magic realism of Colombian writer Gabriel García Márquez. WNO Artistic Director Francesca Zambello brought to Washington her 1996 world premiere production of Florencia in the Amazon from Houston Grand Opera.

WNO Florencia in the Amazon - opening scene

When Marquez's masterpiece One Hundred Years of Solitude first appeared in Croatia in the early 1970s, it dominated conversations at Zagreb cafes, dinner parties, klatch groups and practically every place where people got together for whatever reason. The topic was not restricted to literary or highly educated circles. Since the black-and-white TV carried mostly live broadcasts of Communist Party sessions and overly long and boring "cultural" discussions, while iPhones and computers did not exist, young people in Zagreb flocked to theaters, cafes, bars, and clubs and socialized. After closing time, reading in bed was about the only available form of entertainment.

And so almost everyone read: receptionists, bank clerks, nurses and technicians as well as students of arts and humanities and the so-called intelligentsia. When you stepped into your favorite cafe of an evening, you had to know what everyone was talking about or you'd be excluded. During one particular season in the 1970s, everyone talked about One Hundred Years of Solitude. I specifically remember explaining the finesses of Marquez's magic realism to a typist from the Interior Ministry who may have not graduated from high school, but had the ambition of seducing the son of a rich and famous sculptor. Whether I knew what I was talking about is another matter, but she listened to my exposé with wide opened eyes and baited breath.

I predicted that Garcia Marquez would get the Nobel Prize for literature, which he did in 1982, and then came my most favorite work of his, Love in the Time of Cholera. My fascination with the Colombian author lasted for a good while longer. Long enough to make the 2007 movie with Javier Bardem a must-see, and long enough to be curious about Catán's opera.

An interesting piece of trivia about Florencia has made it even more compelling: the 1996 Houston premiere was conducted by late Croatian conductor Vjekoslav Sutej. The WNO orchestra was led by Carolyn Kuan whom I first saw just last month in Santa Fe, conducting the U.S. premiere of Huang Ruo's Dr. Sun Yat Sen.

Carolyn Kuan with WNO's Michael Solomon,
Santa Fe, August 2014

I went to see WNO's production with another European friend, both of us curious as to how Garcia Marquez's magic realism would translate into opera. As it turned out, the libretto by Marcela Fuentes-Berain was not based on any particular work by Garcia Marquez. It was, as we learned, largely conceived by the composer and worked out with the librettist who was a student of Garcia Marquez.

Florencia Grimaldi, a celebrated operatic diva, tired of her celebrity status, travels incognito on a steamboat down the Amazon to the jungle city of Manaus.  She is looking for the love of her life, butterfly collector Cristóbal, whom she had abandoned to pursue operatic glory.  No one has heard of him in a long time and Florencia is not sure if he is still alive.  But the deeper she gets into the jungle, the more she senses his presence.

Two other couples are on the boat, one young and falling in love, the other long married and bickering.  All are heading for Manaus expecting to hear the famous diva sing.

Almost from the opening bars of Catán's opera I felt I was walking into the world of One Hundred Years of Solitude. There was the water and the jungle and the isolated Utopian world of Macondo,  in this case a ship called El Dorado. Florencia Grimaldi was as solid-looking as I had once imagined the Solitude's immortal matriarch Úrsula Iguarán to be. Video projections, gradually shifting from a jungle setting into a more abstract world, solidified the impression of Macondo.

Catán's music is rich and melodic, sometimes exotic, sometimes cinematic and always beautiful. Reviewers have found similarities with Puccini, Ravel and even Stravinsky in the score, on occasion hinting it is a bad thing. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue" is a bridal formula for a good wedding, why not for a good music score? I, for one, can find similarities in any opera with bits and pieces from another. But it is the complete effect that matters in the end. With familiar elements Catán has created a new ephemeral piece that I would like to hear again at home on CD. He gave all three female characters gorgeous arias, especially to Florencia, naturally. All three singers have acquitted themselves wonderfully in the WNO production. Christine Georke is my new favorite soprano. In between arias are passionate duets, choral passages and instrumental interludes, always changing the mood, hinting at things coming...

The opera is short on action but big on emotion, mostly love between man and woman, but also love of nature, it seems. Love can bring the dead back to life and turn those alive into spirits (of a butterfly?) But it is not static as some have described it. Everything happens on the ship, which is rotating to create a different atmosphere, all in sync with the changing background, and giving a sense of moving through time and place. But it is an exotic and dream-like place, at least for those of us who have never seen a real-life jungle. Occasional sounds of marimba, off-stage chorus or isolated violins intensify the sense of being in a foreign land. Adding to the exotic are the dancers in native American dress that represent river spirits.

Christine Goerke as Florencia at WNO

The spirits, four men and one woman, circle the ship, sometimes impersonating piranhas (do piranhas live in the Amazon?), but seem to be benevolent and sympathetic to human pain. In response to wails of loss and regret, they retrieve Rosalba's manuscript from the river's bottom and deliver Paula's drowned husband alive back on the ship's deck.

On arrival to its destination,  the El Dorado crew and passengers find the city of Manaus in the grips of a cholera epidemic and have to turn back. Just like in a dream, the mission is not accomplished. At least in my dream. I never arrive at a destination and never find what I am looking for in any of my dreams. One setting usually dissolves into another and with it one situation becomes another. So do things in Catán's opera.  The ship's captain tells Florencia: "There is no coming and going.  No one step is ever the same.  No turn is ever a return."

My friend and I left the theater reminiscing about Marquez's literature, or rather what we remember of it today. The most vivid memories on my part were of the story A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings. We agreed that Florencia in the Amazon conveyed the spirit of Garcia Marquez's dream world as well as any of his books, and that for those who have not read any, at least this opera can turn realism into magic, if only for two hours.

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Florencia in the Amazon's short run in Washington ended today. Those keen on seeing it will have another chance in November and December in Los Angeles.