Displaying items by tag: Quinn Middleman

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.