Displaying items by tag: Opera

Sometimes history has a way of repeating itself and it’s not always for the better. Try as we might to learn from history, some of us are simply doomed to repeat it. But not everything that is repeated is necessarily bad. Historical music, art, and opera transcend history, where repetition is not only encouraged, but exalted. There is something magical about watching a live performance of an artform that was performed for audiences over two hundred years ago and think about the audience’s reaction then and now; did they laugh the same way? Did they like it as much then as we do today? Did they really use the word ‘b*$%h?’ There is truly a magical and historical connection happening at The Lyric Opera as they put on one of the most beloved operas of all time, The Marriage of Figaro.

The Marriage of Figaro continues the plot of The Barber of Seville several years later, and recounts a single "day of madness" (la folle journée) in the palace of Count Almaviva near Seville, Spain. Rosina is now the Countess. Dr. Bartolo is seeking revenge against Figaro for thwarting his plans to marry Rosina himself, and Count Almaviva has degenerated from the romantic youth of Barber, (a tenor in Paisiello's 1782 opera), into a scheming, bullying, skirt-chasing baritone. Having gratefully given Figaro a job as head of his servant-staff, he is now persistently trying to exercise his droit du seigneur – his right to bed a servant girl on her wedding night – with Figaro's bride-to-be, Susanna, who is the Countess's maid. He keeps finding excuses to delay the civil part of the wedding of his two servants, which is arranged for this very day. Figaro, Susanna, and the Countess conspire to embarrass the Count and expose his scheming. He retaliates by trying to compel Figaro legally to marry a woman old enough to be his mother, but it turns out at the last minute that she really is his mother. Through the clever manipulations of Susanna and the Countess, Figaro and Susanna are finally able to marry.

The company of The Marriage of Figaro at Lyric Opera of Chicago.

For those who have never seen an opera before, I could not recommend The Marriage of Figaro enough. The storyline is easy to follow despite the number of colorful characters. The opera is a musical comedy in four acts that first premiered in Vienna in 1786 and follows a comedy of errors as the players scheme and plot to catch each other in lies, all centered around a lascivious man who wants to have his way with a brushing bride, and the many men and women who don’t want that to happen. Mix in some humorous cross-plots and you’ve got yourself a comedy of errors that could have been written today. Composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, audiences old and young will instantly recognize the harmonies and familiar songs that have been featured in everything from Charlie and The Chocolate Factory and Mrs. Doubtfire, to countless Looney Tunes cartoons, and even viral TikToks. Considered one of the greatest operas ever written, The Marriage of Figaro is consistently ranked as one of the top ten most frequently performed operas. While the opera is sung in Italian, don’t worry, there are English translations displayed above the stage for the audience to understand what is being sung. With a minimalist but grand stage, vibrantly colored costumes, and voices of actors that are remarkably otherworldly, The Lyric Opera pays homage to history of this opera with their production. Helmed by incredible talent from Peter Kellner as Figaro, Ying Fang as Susanna, Federica Lombardi as Countess Almaviva, and Gortdon Bintner as Count Almaviva, this opera is an incredible introduction to the artform for both seasoned and novice operagoers.

When we look back in history, we sometimes wonder if those from the past thought about how they’d be perceived by future generations. Did Mozart know his masterpiece would still be played hundreds of years later? Do the opera singers feel history captured in the libretto they are singing? Not everything in history that repeats itself is bad. The things that bring life, laughter, love, and light into our lives should be repeated, and frequently. When history does inevitably repeat itself, be sure it is pulling you into the light and not into a pit of despair. After all, we could all use a little bit of light and laughter in our lives right about now. So make a night of it in Chicago and see The Marriage of Figaro at The Lyric Opera (20 N Wacker Dr, Chicago) during its limited run through Nov 30^th. Tickets are available at www.lyricopera.org.

Terence Blanchard's "Champion" delivers a powerful blow to the stage, not through physical force but with its emotional resonance. Based on the life of  boxer, Emile Griffith, the opera is told through the memories of an older Griffith, (played by Reginald Smith, Jr.)  Suffering from dementia and a lifetime of pain and regret the older Griffith  prepares for a meeting with Benny Paret Jr. the son of his one-time opponent, Benny “The Kid” Paret. (both Parets are played by Leroy Davis)

We travel to St. Thomas, where, abandoned by his mother, little Emile, (played by Naya Rosalie James, exhibits signs of sensitivity which his fanatically religious cousin view as demonic. Cousin Blanche verbally and physically abuses him. Having him stand in the island sun holding a cinder block above his head only served to make him physically and emotionally strong.

Confident in his abilities as a singer, baseball player and hat maker, Young  Emile Griffith (played by Justin Austin) arrives in New York City.  He reconnects with his elusive mother (Whitney Morrison) and is introduced to Howie Albert (played by Paul Groves ) the owner of a hat manufacturing company. Albert notices Griffith’s muscular frame and guides him to the boxing ring becoming his manager.

Emile Griffith’s life is a stark reminder of the era he lived in. In the hyper-masculine realm of boxing during the 1960s, homosexuality was an unspoken taboo, a secret that could destroy careers and lives. Griffith's inner conflict is palpable - he is a champion in the ring, yet forced to live a double life, constantly repressing his identity from a world that would not tolerate it.

The opera's most poignant moment comes in the aria “What Makes a Man a Man?” Griffith grapples with society’s toxic definition of masculinity. Blanchard's haunting jazz-infused score underscores the question, making the audience acutely aware of the psychological toll that repression and denial were taking on a man trying to conform to an impossible standard.

The pivotal moment of the opera is the fateful fight with Benny “Kid” Paret. Paret's homophobic taunts, cruel words wielded as weapons, pierce Griffith's carefully constructed facade. While audiences may have suspected Griffith's private life, like the unspoken reality of JFK's affairs, public discussion remained taboo. Benny “The Kid” Paret crossed an unforgiveable line in the mind of the very proud Griffith.  In a burst of blind rage, Griffith's pent-up pain and frustration violently boil over, and he delivers the tragic blows that end Paret's life ten days later.

The libretto missed an opportunity for deeper exploration. Instead of delving into Emile Griffith's inner world at his career peak and aftermath, it presented extraneous scenes. A fabricated marriage, a warning aria from his mother, and a sexually charged encounter in a gay bar, though interesting individually, felt tangential to the core narrative. These detours could have been replaced with moments that illuminate Griffith's psyche, motivations, and struggles, offering the audience a clearer understanding of the complex man behind the champion. Additionally, the inclusion of Griffith’s adopted son and caretaker, Luis Rodrigo Griffith's (played by Martin Luther Clark)  story and the development of their relationship could have offered a powerful layer of complexity and provided a window into the challenges and triumphs of navigating identity and love in a complex world.

Through Griffith's journey, "Champion" shines a spotlight on the lingering prejudices within the world of sports. Even today there are athletes who feel they must hide their sexuality for fear of rejection, discrimination, or even violence. Their struggles are real. Their stories deserve to be heard.

Blanchard’s score is a masterful blend of jazz and classical styles. It mirrors the turbulent emotional world of Griffith, sometimes mournful, sometimes furious, always stirring. The opera leaves a lasting impression, resonating long after the curtain falls.

In collaboration with “Champion” is an exhibition of Patric McCoy’s seminal collection of Black male photography, curated by Viktor L. Ewing-Givens of Southern Android productions. “Concrete, rose” is an exploration of Black men wanting to be seen. “Champion," becomes a mirror in which the striking portraits of "concrete, rose" are reflected. Both the opera and the photographic collection delve into the often-concealed lives of Black men, their struggles, their sexuality, and the delicate dance they perform at the intersection of personal truth and societal expectations.

"Concrete, rose" exhibit (left) and photographer Patric McCoy

The characters in “Concrete, Rose” and Emile Griffith could easily be contemporaries, existing in worlds that have evolved but are still shaped by the same biases and expectations. Sports, much like other arenas of public life for Black men, are often hyper-masculine spaces, leaving little room for the fluidity of gender and sexuality.

“Champion” is a testament to the psychological toll exacted on those forced to compartmentalize their true selves. And, like “concrete, rose,” the opera stands as a reminder of the ongoing struggle Black men, particularly Black LGBTQ+ men, face in a world that often rejects those who dare to exist outside of narrow societal definitions.

More than a story about a boxer, "Champion" is a story about the battle for acceptance — for oneself and, more broadly, from a world still grappling with the nuances of sexual identity. In its collaboration with "Concrete, Rose," the opera expands a necessary conversation, bringing to light voices that are often unheard, revealing truths that have long been veiled.

When: 2 p.m. Jan. 31, with four additional performances through Feb. 11

Where: Lyric Opera House, 20 N. Wacker

Tickets: $49-$339

Info: (312) 827-5600; lyricopera.org/champion

Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete? Proving nature's laws wrong, it learned to walk without having feet. Funny, it seems to by keeping it’s dreams; it learned to breathe fresh air. Long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else even cared.

― TUPAC SHAKUr

www.lyricopera.org/shows/upcoming/2023-24/champion/concrete-rose/

Ahoy matey! Climb aboard Lyric’s thrilling, new-to-Chicago production of Wagner’s ‘The Flying Dutchman’ This spooky, nautical classic opens the 2023/24 season and is a perfect way to kick off the Halloween season. While short by Wagner standards, this two-and-a-half-hour opera is performed without intermission, but the cinematic score and dazzling theatrics make the time sail by. This Dutchman leaves its audience spellbound all the way through the final curtain call.

Despite its fantastical elements, ‘The Flying Dutchman’ might be one of Wagner’s most straightforward and easy to follow operas. Based on a century’s old myth, ‘The Flying Dutchman’ spins a yarn about a ghost ship doomed to sail the sea for all eternity unless the supernatural captain can have the true love of a mortal maiden. When the Dutchman suddenly appears on sea captain Daland’s ship offering riches for his daughter Senta’s hand in marriage, an eeriness starts to creep into the port town where Senta awaits her father’s return. If the Dutchman can have Senta’s unwavering love, he can remain mortal and bring about his sinister plans on land.

What’s always striking about Wagner’s operas are how much they sound like today’s movie scores. Though sung in German with English subtitles to guide you, there’s something immediate about the way Wagner’s score conveys emotion. A creepy plot paired with abundant full-cast choruses all add up to an exciting and suspenseful final act.

Dialed-up vocals up under Christopher Alden’s direction really pay off. Part of what keeps people coming back to the same operas time after time are the beautiful moments of song that seem almost fleeting amidst something as sprawling as an opera. Such moments are plentiful too many to count in this production. This is especially true of Tamara Wilson as Senta. Not only can the Chicago native sing to the rafters, but she can also act. The same can be said of her co-star Tomasz Konieczny as the Dutchman.

When an opera takes place on the sea, staging is crucial. Kudos to the cast for doing this entire show on a diagonally slanted stage. Allen Moyer’s vision is more or less minimalism with touches of the old school. The ghostly wedding alone is worth spending two hours in the dark for. Each act though similarly staged provides an uneasy sense of suspense to match Wagner’s haunting music.

Some operas are just plain fun and ‘The Flying Dutchman’ much like Gounod’s ‘Faust’ is a devilishly good time. Wagner’s classic has a little bit of everything and it’s here you start to hear the beginnings of what would become musical theater as we know it today. An enormously talented cast of singers along with reliably sumptuous staging will have audiences under its spell and wondering where the evening went.

Through October 7 at Lyric Opera of Chicago. 20 N Upper Wacker. www.lyricopera.org (312) 332-2244.

Some reviews are as easy to write as 1, 2, 3; an intro, a body, and a conclusion. Some reviews are more difficult to write, even when following that simple formula. Even time is broken into three parts: past, present, and future. Well, I cannot go into the past to change watching The Queen of Spades, now playing at the Lyrics Opera, and I cannot predict I won’t read the Russian novel the opera is based on sometime in the future. But presently, I find three large issues with this opera that prevent me from simply writing a review.

The Queen of Spades is a story of obsession and deceit, following Gherman (Brandon Javanovich) an officer obsessed with gambling who also fancies a young noblewoman Lisa (Sondra Radvanovsky) who is engaged to another. As luck would have it, Lisa’s grandmother, the countess (Jane Henschel) could hold the secret to Gherman winning the girl and a fortune as the countess holds the secret to 3 winning cards that won her fortune. The countess has already revealed the secret of the cards to two people, and if she tells one more person she will die. Gherman manipulates and uses Lisa to get close to the countess and learn the secret of the 3 cards. These three characters' lives are intertwined and obsession eventually leads to everyone’s demise. 

The sheer talent that goes into an opera is astounding. The stage, the orchestra, and most importantly, the singers. It’s such a rare and exceptional gift to sing such powerful lyrics in this way, and Javanovich and Radvanovsky were no different. The audience frequently ooed and awed at their musical prowess. But their acting fell short, and it was difficult to decipher what the characters were feeling through the body language, staging, and acting portrayed. In one scene, it was unclear if Lisa  was fighting her feelings of love for Gherman, or if she was fearful that he would take her virtue. In another scene, it was impossible to understand if someone was paralyzed with fear or simply forgot their lines. The story is intricate but it’s not complex, so it might have been that the opera singers are simply not triple threats in singing, acting, and dancing, but just uniquely talented singers.

Russian is a difficult language. It’s difficult to learn, to speak, and even more difficult to sing in if not a native speaker. Chicago is home to a large Russian population, a population that represented a large portion of The Queen of Spade’s audience. Throughout the opera, Russian speakers could be heard exclaiming, “that’s not what they said,” as the English translation of the Russian lyrics displayed across the prompters for the audience to read. One Russian couple behind me was frustrated with the translation and wanted a Russian or cyrillic counterpart. At times, there was no translation at all. Multiple lines belted out in Russian only for no translation to appear on the prompters, no doubt adding to the confusion around what the audience was hearing and what they were seeing. Did we miss a character’s motivation? Wait, why is she crying? The Russian couple did not return for the second act and the remainder of the play, and intermissions were time for native Russian speakers to remark about how bad the accents and pronunciation were. I have sympathy for the opera singers as the language is not easy to learn and native speakers are not very forgiving to those who do not speak, or sing, the language well. 

The third and final issue of The Queen of Spades is that the opera is very long. The Queen of Spades novella can be read within an hour, so the opera lasting over 3 hours is difficult to sit through. Tchaikovsky as a composer composed a beautiful opera, but it convolutes the story and is challenging to follow. There isn’t a gut wrenching climax or surprise twist, and (spoiler alert) there isn’t much surprise when the three main players die. The opera is just left wanting. Perhaps it was merely this interpretation and production of The Queen of Spades, or perhaps it was a combination of acting, storyline, and translations. Afterall, a good story needs three elements: character, setting, and plot. If one element is lacking, the others won’t be able to support it. All three are needed to put on an exceptional play.

In Russian, the number 3 is “troika” which means “satisfactory.” Unfortunately, even with so much illusion and elements of 3, this play did not satisfy the opera scene in Chicago.

Remaining performance dates for The Queen of Spades are February 23, and 26 and March 1 at the Lyric Opera House, 20 N Wacker Dr., Chicago. For tickets and information visit lyricopera.org/spades. The Queen of Spades is performed in Russian with projected English translations. Estimated running time is 3 hours 45 minutes, including two intermissions.

It’s interesting to view the world through the lens of an early 20th century Italian opera composer. When “Madama Butterfly” by Puccini premiered in Milan in 1904 it was met with abysmal reviews. Audiences clamored that he had recycled music from his previous hit “La Boheme” which seems like the least of this opera’s problematic themes by today’s standards. After some quick revisions, “Madama Butterfly” emerged as one of the most recognizable operas in the world. Lyric Opera kicks off 2020 with a thrilling revival. 

“Madama Butterfly” is itself an adaptation of an 1898 short story by John Luther Long. Puccini worked with librettist Luigi Illica to bring this tragic semi-true story to the stage. The beloved opera has since been adapted many times since, mostly notably as “Miss Saigon”.  Puccini’s opera tells the story of a teenage girl who marries an American naval officer on a tour of duty in Japan. To him it’s a fake marriage so that he may sleep with her. To her, it’s true love. Predictably, the naval officer Pinkerton (Brandon Jovanovich) abandons her and she is left with a naïve hope that he will return to her. Despite other offers of marriage, Butterfly clings to the fantasy of Pinkerton while her maid Suzuki (Deborah Nansteel) shields her from a bitter reality. 

The opera was originally written in two acts, but audiences were left confused and disappointed. Puccini split the second act in two and inserted a hauntingly beautiful entr’act. Is this the best Puccini opera? Probably not. Where it excels at drama, it somewhat falters in the catchy melodies traditionally expected of Puccini. Afterall, it is Puccini whom we have to thank for influencing some of the best modern musical theatre composers like Andrew Lloyd Webber and Boublil/Schonberg. 

Lyric’s gorgeous revival directed by Louisa Muller seems understated. A subdued orchestra puts the spotlight on the cast, who more than delivers. Lyric stage favorite Ana Maria Martinez and Deborah Nansteel give two powerhouse performances. Martinez has a sung the role many times in her storied career and Lyric’s current production should be considered a real treat. 

Puccini and Illica’s perception are that Americans take what “fortunes” they want around the world with little regard to those they hurt. Puccini even goes so far as to sample the American national anthem many times throughout the opera. It’s deployed at such opportune moments that it would be impossible to read as flattery. Though, Puccini’s problematic orientalism in many of his operas often makes patrons bristle at unintentional stereotyping of Asian culture. While some of the themes of “Madama Butterfly” make modern audiences uncomfortable, what can’t be denied is that Puccini gave us some of the most accessible and entertaining operas ever composed. “Madama Butterfly” despite its flaws achieves what good theatre should. It grabs us by the heartstrings with an enchanting score and a compelling script. 

Through March 8th at Lyric Opera Chicago. 20 N Upper Wacker Drive. (312) 827-5600

Usually it’s the other way around that a show is developed by Lyric and sent on the road. Scenario Two Ltd. instead brings their critically acclaimed production of ‘Light in the Piazza’ from London to Chicago starring our own Renee Fleming. Those looking to warm their hearts without the glittery holiday schmaltz will enjoy this romantic alternative. 

Fleming would call Lyric her home-base, but what a rare treat it is to see the iconic diva perform in Chicago. ‘Light in the Piazza’ is a bit of a departure from the epic operas Fleming is ordinarily associated with. Composer and lyricist Adam Guettel’s adaptation of Elizabeth Spencer’s novella, is a light opera that’s closer to traditional musical theatre than opera.

 
‘Light in the Piazza’ premiered in 2004 and was eventually nominated for the Tony Award for Best Musical. It’s about a wealthy American mother and daughter spending an idyllic summer in Italy during the 50s. Upon arriving in Italy, Clara (Solea Pfeiffer) falls in love at first sight with Florentine Fabrizio (Rob Houchen). It’s unclear why Clara’s mother Margaret (Renee Fleming) is initially so opposed to the union. It’s revealed that Clara is developmentally challenged as a result of an equestrian accident. Her mother fears she is not capable of rational decision making. 

Guettel is the grandson of renown composer Richard Rogers who at one time had ambitions to adapt the novella in the 60s. Guettel’s score is beautiful, and Renee Fleming’s vocals are incredible, but there’s an emptiness to the lyrics that the heavy amount repetition can’t compensate for.

 
The source material is fairly short for a full two-act musical. The book by Craig Lucas delivers some emotional punches that rise above the flat lyrics. Solid performances by Solea Pfeiffer and Rob Houchen are where the strengths of this production lie. The final emotional conflict of the show is bittersweet and haunting. Miss Pfeiffer’s performance is a hidden weapon here. Such simple choices yield huge emotional response.

 
If ever given the chance to see Renee Fleming, obviously do. Seeing Fleming do a romantic musical is an experience few will have. That said, she is an opera singer and that’s a different kind of acting. It would be interesting to see how an actress with a more traditional musical theatre repertoire would approach this complex character. Fleming’s vocals are full of an unmatched passion for the craft, but the segments of spoken dialogue feel disconnected from the depth of the script.

 
Directed by Daniel Evans, this is a lush and grand production of a musical that is generally done on a smaller scale. The luxurious staging by Scenario Two make this tour comparable to the over-the-top sets Lyric audiences are used to. The plot of ‘Light in the Piazza’ has the makings for a tragedy but the unexpectedly romantic path it takes makes for an enchanting and easily digestible evening at the opera. 

Through December 29th at Lyric Opera Chicago. 20 N Wacker Drive. 312-827-5600

What separates a musical from an opera? Technically an opera is a story in which all the dialogue is exchanged through song. Hence the term rock opera, which describes modern musicals that have little to no spoken dialogue. Such semantics may seem trivial, but as the world moves forward traditional opera must too in order to thrive.

“Dead Man Walking” is by no means a new work, as it had its world premiere at the San Francisco Opera in 1999. It’s composed by Jake Heggie with a book by Tony Award winning playwright Terrence McNally. It is an adaptation of the 1995 film for which Susan Sarandon won an Academy Award for Best Actress. Based on the true story of Sister Helen Prejean’s special relationship with two death row inmates in Louisiana, “Dead Man Walking” is an excellent example of what the future of opera theatre might look like.

“Dead Man Walking” holds its Chicago premiere at the Lyric under the direction of Leonard Foglia. What is immediately striking is a scene of graphic sexual violence right off the bat. A stark departure from the usual 19th Century fantasies normally produced on the Lyric stage. Though the English subtitles are much appreciated, they’re somewhat unnecessary as this opera is sung in English.

Heggie’s music shares a lot in common with traditional musical theatre. The consistent through-line melody “He Will Gather Us Around” will have you humming into intermission and wiping your eyes by the finale. While Heggie’s compositions are quite good, and very cinematic in their aesthetic, it is the deeply humane storyline of condemned prisoner Joseph De Rocher that will hold your attention. McNally does what he does best, sharp dialogue and tight narrative structure.

It’s not often to hear sniffles during the climax of a traditional opera. No matter how arresting the score, or brilliant the performances, classical opera can sometimes create an emotional disconnect. In this work, we see modern day reality and that feels more relatable than say, Wagner. That’s not to say it’s missing the spectacle. As the case with any Lyric production, the staging is epic and visually stunning.

Though most of the cast is making their Lyric debut, they leave a big impression. Joe De Rocher is sung by Ryan McKinny. A booming voice fitting of an unrepentant killer and he’s able to sing opera in a southern accent. Patricia Racette portrays Sister Helen Prejean. It’s her journey we are on. She knows as well as the audience that De Rocher is guilty, but like her, we hold the slimmest hope that maybe he’s innocent. Her unwavering love for De Rocher is his redemption. It’s her power as an actress and a singer to evoke the spirit of forgiveness. Even as McNally’s dialogue is stretched into soaring arias, there’s an authenticity in Racette’s performance.

“Dead Man Walking” achieves what good opera should, and that is to move its audience through the power of music. Theatre, regardless of the type should comment on the world in which we live. While the classics are so for a reason, they’re becoming less of a draw for younger audiences. “Dead Man Walking” proves that opera isn’t a dying art form. It’s an invitation for audiences to have post-show discussions about real world issues.

Through November 22nd at Lyric Opera Chicago. 20 N Wacker Drive. 312-827-5600

Many operas are funny, but laugh out loud funny is harder to achieve. Lyric Opera opens the season with the ever-crowd pleasing commedia “The Barber of Seville”. Tara Faircloth directs this revival which first appeared at Lyric in the 2013/14 season. This production’s humor comes from an all-star cast of world renown voices and actors.

“The Barber of Seville” is an Italian opera by Gioachino Rossini with a libretto by Cesare Sterbini, from the original play by Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais. In it, Count Almaviva falls for a Doctor’s young ward, Rosina. Doctor Bartolo plans to marry Rosina himself in order to gain her dowry. Through a series of goofy antics, Count Almaviva proves his love for Rosina and gains her love in return. With the help of a charming barber Figaro (yes, that Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!), the two trick Dr Bartolo in order to end up together.

Premiering in 1816 in Rome, “The Barber of Seville” was an instant classic. It remains one of the world’s most endearing operas and with this Lyric production it’s not hard to see why. Full of soaring orchestration and lighthearted arias, “The Barber of Seville” is a delightful romantic comedy.  Theatre director Rob Ashford was tapped to create this production for Lyric in 2013. His Broadway background lends a more traditional theatrical style to the performances, putting an emphasis on the physical comedy of the opera.

In the role of Rosina, Lyric welcomes back Marianne Crebassa who was last seen in the Mozart comedy “Cosi fan tutte” in 2018. If one had to sum up her entire performance in a single gesture, it would be a wiggling foot while being passionately kissed by Count Almafina. A knack for well-executed and unexpected physical comedy seems to be her second strongest suit. The first would be the incredible mezzo-soprano voice. The stage brightens when she enters a scene. There are fewer female voices in this opera, but Mathilda Edge as Berta also has great comedic timing and an impressive soprano voice.

The male ensemble is just as humorous. Adam Plachetka as Figaro has all the cartoonish machismo one would expect of the character, but a voice that backs it up. Though most of the laughs came from the deceived Dr. Bartolo played by Alessandro Corbelli. Lyric’s “Barber of Seville” makes for a lovely evening at the opera. Sumptuous costumes and staging are a feast for the senses, but it’s the Rossini music that really shines. It’s always a treat in any opera when there’s a large chorus on stage (and a real measure of an opera company’s financial standing). Lyric underdoes nothing. From the pit to the upper balconies, "The Barber of Seville" fills the theater with enchantment.

Through October 27th at Lyric Opera Chicago. 20 N Wacker Drive. 312-827-5600

Chicago Opera Theater presented the new opera, Moby Dick, by Jake Heggie and Gene Scheer, in a brave, intelligent, and strikingly beautiful performance last Thursday at the Harris Theater in Chicago. Usually, the old adage that “the whole is greater than the sum of the parts” seems well suited to most COT productions, but what can one say about a production in which all of the parts were truly excellent, yet the work itself did not quite live up to its disparate elements? Moby Dick is a well-crafted, entertaining and enjoyable opera, performed with a wealth of talent in an impeccable production, yet it never delivered the impact which could be expected from such an epic work of literature. Perhaps it is like Shakespeare’s “King Lear” in that respect, a work which is so epic, and which has a central character which is so complex that it defies transliteration. Even Verdi wouldn’t touch it. There are a few epic operas which have complex characters, Verdi’s Don Carlo and Samuel Barber’s Anthony and Cleopatra come immediately to mind, but there are many epic operas whose characters are not that complex, and there are many complex characters in operas which are not particularly epic in scope. It is really, really hard to do both.

Jake Heggie is an immensely popular, talented and accomplished composer. His canon of nearly 300 art songs has become a staple of the vocal repertoire, and his operas, such as Dead Man Walking, have achieved worldwide acclaim. However, with Moby Dick, while Heggie has mastered the musical language of opera, it seems as though he has not quite found his full operatic voice. Every scene is beautifully written, well suited to the human voice, gorgeously orchestrated and theatrically complete, much like an art song. However, they are more like individually luminescent pearls, rather than one magnificently encircling necklace. Heggie’s music is through-composed, yet the scenes feel as though the next one is of a different style, almost as though it was from a separate work, than the scene before. There is a jumble of styles which are reminiscent of Vaughan Willams, Britten, Stravinsky, Rutter and even the film score of “Lawrence of Arabia”, among a number of others. The result is that moments of tension are lost in transition between scenes, and the work as a whole never achieves the overall dramatic arch leading to the penultimate scene’s destruction of Ahab and his ship. This may be because it is never made clear what the opera is really about, or how any of the several relationships which are explored effect the others in driving the dramatic action to its tragic end. Is it about Starbuck’s struggle with morality and opposition to Godless authority? Is it about the friendship between Ishmael (here called Greenhorn) and Queequeg which bridges racial and religious chasms? Or is it really about Ahab’s self-absorbed and tragically maniacal obsession with exacting his revenge upon the great white whale? Whatever it is about, the audience should have walked out feeling as though they had just been kicked in the gut, not as if they had just seen a Broadway musical. It all seemed rather sanitized and prepackaged to please, rather than move or challenge the audience.

The tragic character in Moby Dick is without question Captain Ahab, with his unreasoning and implacable hatred of the “fish” which took his leg. Ahab’s manic-depressively single-minded focus upon finding the whale is the force which provides the dramatic tension in both the novel and the opera. Although he gave a splendidly well sung performance, Tenor Richard Cox seemed much too well adjusted and reasonable, portraying only a hint at the driving compulsion which takes Ahab and all the men of the Pequod to their watery graves. His aria, “I leave a white and turbid wake” eloquently explained his morbid fascination, but did not express its inherent dread.

Providing the foil to Ahab’s insane fixation, Aleksey Bogdanov as Starbuck was spectacular. Possessed of a booming, velvety smooth bass-baritone voice which easily soared through heavy orchestration, Bogdanov’s performance was powerful, committed, and nuanced. Bogdanov has the kind of voice usually associated with villains, such as Scarpia or Iago, yet his Starbuck was approachable and sympathetically touching.

As Greenhorn (Ishmael), the sweet-voiced tenor Andrew Bidlack was ideal. His thoughtful portrayal progressed from the naïve and unexperienced youth in search of knowledge of the world to the emotionally savaged sole survivor of the voyage with honest sincerity. Wallace’s Greenhorn was the mate every sailor wishes to have as his fellow oarsman.

Bass baritone Vince Wallace as Queequeg was exuberantly vigorous and entertaining, while never allowing the character to become a parody or stereotype. His straightforward humanity provided the structure for Queequeg and Greenhorn to bridge their cultural and religious divide and forge a deep friendship. However, Queequeg’s mysticism which foresees his death and the tragic confrontation with Moby Dick, is rather strangely portrayed as a heart attack, not as the ennui resulting in a spiritually broken heart. Perhaps the composer or director didn’t feel that having Queequeg simply waste away from a broken heart would be obvious enough to hold the audience’s interest.

A curtain speech announced that role of Stubb would be sung by cover Nick Ward. This is usually an ominous sign that the audience should be prepared for a somewhat under-rehearsed and tenuous performance. Not so, in the case of Mr. Ward. He sang impressively, and danced and cavorted around the stage with assurance and gusto, providing a great deal of comic relief with his sidekick Aaron Short as Flask. The physicality of the two was amusing and impressive.

The music for Pip requires the powerful adult voice of a pants role, and as the cabin boy, Summer Hassan sang with a luminous voice, soaring above the combined forces of the all-male chorus and orchestra. Equally impressive were the other male soloists and chorus. Each one was an outstanding singer and actor. They were supported by four male dancers who provided vigorous physicality to many scenes. Chicago Opera Theater does not have a full time professional chorus like the Lyric Opera of Chicago, so to be able to bring together an ensemble of such high quality speaks volumes concerning the commitment of the company to the highest performance standards. Kudos go to Chicago Opera Theater for its casting choices.

Those high standards are also demonstrated by the striking, and extremely functional set by Erhard Rom (whose remarkable whale’s eye at the end was a stroke of genius), the effective, yet atmospheric lighting by David Martin Jaques, and the clean and imaginative stage direction by Kristine McIntyre. McIntyre is a director who truly understands the unique needs of opera and opera singers, never pandering to the audience with unnecessary stage business or requiring the actors to go beyond the limits of good singing. Everything that happened on stage was both interesting and important. However a curious statement in the director’s note in the program may explain the seeming ambivalence of the opera. Ms. McIntyre states, “At its core, Moby Dick is a story about friendship.” While it is certainly true that the friendship is an important part of the story, and we want to find some form of redemption and growth of the human spirit in the story, it is not the driving force which impels the drama or precipitates the tragic end.

Moby Dick was masterfully conducted by Lidiya Yankovskaya. Under her baton the 60 piece orchestra played beautifully with a sumptuous sound. The one quibble is that with such dense orchestration at the beginning of the piece, the really loud playing might have been restrained so that the climax could have been more effective. By the end, the loud bits had become a bit tiresome. However, that is by no means entirely the conductor’s fault. The positive influence of Ms. Yankovskaya’s direction continues to impress in a business which is highly competitive for better orchestra players. Again the commitment to excellence from COT is to be commended.

Good news! The future of American opera is looking very bright, indeed! The beautiful and moving new opera, The Scarlet Ibis, was presented last Saturday and Thursday by Chicago Opera Theater as part of their Vanguard Initiative, a program to mentor emerging opera composers, commission and develop new operas, and connect audiences to exciting new works and creators.

The opera, with music composed by Stefan Weisman and libretto by David Cote, is based on the short story of the same name by James Hurst. If this touching, extraordinary production is indicative of what we can expect in the future from COT’s Vanguard Initiative, this is a great day for opera!

Lyrical and atmospheric, the music draws upon the best of 20th century American opera, not in a derivative way, but as you might say that Verdi’s style organically grew out of the Bel Canto tradition of Donizetti and Bellini, which depended upon compositional elements of Mozart and Gluck, which were spawned by Handel, Vivaldi, and Lully. The greatness of these composers was entirely dependent upon those who came before, and established a knowledge base of how to compose for the human voice. Much of the difficulty that many audiences have had with modern American opera, especially mid to late 20th Century opera, is that the compositional styles of those composers were created out of whole cloth, with no prior vocal tradition which allowed their music to be sing-able. The Scarlet Ibis, however, shows a burgeoning maturity in the compositional style and technique of modern opera. Although scored for a small ensemble, the open harmonies and folk-like strains of Weisman’s music are reminiscent of Copeland. Arpeggios and repeated patterns (don’t call it “minimalism”) hint at influence from composers such as Philip Glass and John Adams, although this work is mostly melodically sweet and flowing, without those driving rhythms associated with works by Adams or Glass. And when called for theatrically, the music becomes nearly Stravinskian, with more complex harmonies and lush texture. However, Mr. Weisman has found a voice of his own, guided by the demands of the drama, and the abilities and needs of the human voice. The vocal writing seemed tailor made for the remarkable cast, and lines that were eminently sing-able carried the listener along for an enthralling ride.

As in Copeland’s The Tender Land, the libretto is artfully crafted to capture the colloquial time and place of the story with succinct economy of language. Nevertheless the narrative is clear, with defining voices for each individual character. Every scene is simple, but imbued with a deep sense of poetry and humanity.

David Hanlon conducted with sensitivity and expertise, bringing out the loveliness and power of the score. Under his capable direction, the nine piece orchestra played superbly, without some of the pitch problems in the strings which have been disappointing in earlier productions. Hanlon was always there for the singers, fluently in control as if The Scarlet Ibis was an opera he’d known and loved for years.

Stage and Movement Director Elizabeth Margolius is the kind of opera director who seems to be more and more rare, these days. She is a director who completely trusts her singers and her material to be inherently interesting on their own, without the need to add a lot of meaningless stage business and movement because she is afraid that the audience will become bored. She understands that a singer does not have to be in constant motion, and that a good singer can remain perfectly still, that time can slow down and stretch, yet there will still be intense focus and attention from the audience. This is especially useful when the leading character can’t walk. Doodle’s “Lie” aria, in which he sat nearly perfectly still, was a stellar example. On the extremely simple, but versatile and attractive unit set, Ms. Margolius used the space with great imagination and skill. Nothing ever happened which didn’t make sense. Every movement, every sound, was expertly motivated and realistic.

Set in the home of the Armstrong family in the north-eastern Piedmont region of North Carolina, just after the Wright brothers had made human flight successful at nearby Kitty Hawk, the imagery of the possibilities of the flight of the human soul pervades The Scarlet Ibis. It is comprised of 13 brief titled scenes in one act, and runs just over an hour and a half, although it seemed to take only half that time. Each scene featured an event in the lives of the small rural family over the course of about six or seven years. The opera opens in a fairly straightforward manner. Six year old Brother, the family’s only child, is joyfully anticipating the birth of the family’s second child, who he hopes can be a companion with whom he can run, and jump, and fight, and play. The focus then shifts to his mother. In a scene unique in opera, in our experience, she is having a difficult childbirth. It is quickly apparent that if the baby survives, something will be terribly wrong. It is a boy, but he is a “caul” baby, a child who is born with part of the amniotic sack covering its head like a cowl. Many mystical qualities are attributed to caul babies and to cauls, themselves. Caul babies are reputed to have abilities such as second sight, great creativity, and unfettered imaginations. Cauls themselves, are prized by sailors to prevent drowning, by lawyers to help them win cases, and are thought by some Adriatic cultures to aid in the peaceful passing of the dying. Most disappointing to Brother, the baby also has a severe, but unspecified disability which leaves him incapable of walking and being the playmate that Brother wanted. In a fit of pique, Brother gives the baby the nickname, Doodle, because the only thing a doodlebug can do is push itself around backwards. However, Doodle is special in other ways, teaching himself to read by the age of four, with a flawless and prodigious memory, and an unparalleled imagination.

Jordan Rutter, as Doodle, was a revelation – a term we do not use lightly. He radiated pure innocence with an underlying poetic soul. His countertenor voice, soaring above all the others as the highest vocal part in the opera, is unusually pretty for the type. Mr. Rutter’s singing was moving and affecting throughout, especially in the ensembles and the duets with Brother. Equally remarkable, are Mr. Rutter’s acting skills. As an adult playing the role of a very young child to the age of about seven, he has a directness, simplicity, and economy of movement which are riveting in their expressivity.

Likewise, mezzo-Soprano Annie Rosen was thrilling in the “overalls” role of Brother, playing a boy who ages from about six to thirteen throughout the opera, with a total commitment to her character. She has a gorgeous, clear voice with an extraordinary color palette. She sang with talent, intelligence, and sensitivity, going from boyishly silly or mocking tones to a full, rich sound in moments of deep expressivity. Ms. Rosen is not a large woman, yet she exhibited an impressive physicality and strength as she lifted and carried the adult male actor playing Doodle around in the kind of stage action not usually expected from a female singer. Her future in opera should be brilliant. Both Ms. Rosen and Mr. Rutter made us completely forget that they are adults playing the roles of very young boys.

We have been continuously delighted and impressed with the talent of baritone Bill McMurray. His sturdy baritone is capable of a range of color that bordered on fearsome as Ibn-Hakia in Iolanta earlier this season, but was warm and paternal in this role. He portrayed the role of Father with pathos, dignity, and an uncanny honesty. Every time Father is faced with a crisis, either of sadness or joy, he goes to his shop to build something by hand for Doodle. He is a proud and loving man with little education and few resources, but he has knowledge and talent with wood, so he does the best he can with what little he has. He is not fluent or articulate with words, so he expresses himself through his craft. Each time Mr. McMurray went to his shop, it brought tears to our eyes, either from sadness or gladness. His “Coffin” aria was heart wrenching in the direct simplicity of a father’s pain. Later, when Doodle’s physical disability threatens to also stunt the growth of his mind by confining him to his home, Father expresses his frustration at not being able to afford a bicycle for his son by building him a red wagon in which to explore the world. In his “Red Wagon” aria, McMurray perfectly captures a simple working man’s determination to make his son’s life better than his own.

COT Young Artist alumni Quinn Middleman brought tenderness and a gentle presence to the role of Mother. Her fine, warm mezzo-soprano voice easily met the challenge of vocal demands which included musically notated high notes for sung screams and groans during the first scene’s difficult childbirth. Ms. Middleman musically gave us all of a woman’s pain, fear, agony, joy, and strength while in the throes of one of life’s essential moments. It is common for singers to die on stage, but we have never heard one give birth. However, when Mother discovers a newspaper article about a doctor in Chicago who might offer the possibility of a cure for her son’s disability, Ms. Middleman touchingly exchanged excitement and optimism for the pathos of the forlorn hope of an unattainable goal.

Contralto Sharmay Musacchio sang the role of Auntie. She seemed hesitant at times, as if she needed a little more time with the role to get it into her voice and find the truth in the character. Her performance, while not quite up to the high standard of her colleagues on stage, was more than adequate and did not detract. It’s just that the rest of the singers were so darn perfect in their roles.

It should be noted that music written for three female voices of the same general type and range could have been muddy and undistinguished. However, Mr. Weisman’s excellent vocal part writing, abetted by perfect vocal casting choices on the part of COT, was always marvelously clear and distinct, allowing each of the voices to shine with characterization.

The singers were joined by dancer Ginny Ngo, who portrayed the Bird, the title role, if you will, physicalizing the opera’s overarching and multifaceted theme of flight. Ms. Ngo appeared variously as a doppelgänger for Doodle, a rather spooky owl, as the actual scarlet ibis, and as Doodle’s soul free from the confines of his deformed earthly body. Whether representing the flight of imagination, the flight of the human spirit, or the flight of the human soul, Ms. Ngo’s movement was birdlike, but brimming with human emotion. In the disquieting penultimate scene, the ibis finally appears, storm blown far from where it should be and out of place in an inhospitable environment, like the not-normal little boy.

Scenic Designer Jack Magaw provided the creative and workable set. Charlie Cooper’s breathtaking lighting design was at once clean and atmospheric, while actually being illuminating. Even in scenes which were dark, emotions on the singers’ faces could still be seen clearly. The costumes designed by Brenda Winstead were appropriately plain, yet never uninteresting. An especially nice and amusing touch was Doodle’s goofy pilot’s helmet subtly reinforcing the flight symbolism. How gratifying to see all elements of a production come together in service to the whole of the work. We laughed, cried, hoped, celebrated and mourned with the Armstrong family.

Only one performance remains, Sunday, February 24 at 3:00 p.m. at The Studebaker Theater in the Fine Arts Building. If this review gets posted (without typos) and you are reading this before then, change whatever plans you may have and go see this marvelous production. Let’s hope it will be presented soon and often by other companies. It is a worthy addition to the American Opera repertoire.

Go to www.chicagooperatheater.org or call (312)704-8414.