BUTTERFLY DREAM

Kangmin Justin Kim and Mark Stone

(photo by Curtis Brown)

With our eyes closed, we might have thought the scintillating voice was that of a soprano; but no, it was the scintillating voice of counter-tenor Kangmin Justin Kim whose expressive instrument and superb control of the upper register was absolutely perfect for the role of Chinese opera star Song Liling. The opera M. Butterfly, commisioned by the Santa Fe Opera, is about deception, among other things. We humans are inclined to deceive ourselves based upon our wishes, our experience, and our preconceived notions. M. Butterfly tells the story of a minor French diplomat who falls in love with a male Chinese opera star who portrays female roles. Until confronted with the "naked evidence" the diplomat never accepts the fact that he has fallen in love with a man--not even after a years-long relationship.

The story originated as a play by David Henry Hwang whose tales of China have entertained us going back to his play The Dance and the Railroad. The play M. Butterfly upon which the opera is based, was a huge success at its Broadway premiere and once again at its revival and then again as a film. We have enjoyed every iteration and was looking forward to the opera ever since it was announced.

So, we are wondering why, in spite of some dazzling performances, we were somewhat disappointed in the opera. To cut to the chase, the story worked just fine as a play.  The play did not yearn for music, not even the fine music of Huang Ruo. The references to Puccini's Madama Butterfly, scattered throughout the score, only served to point out the superiority of Puccini's vocal lines. Mr. Ruo's instrumental writing is eclectic and interesting, but the vocal lines were not. This complaint of ours is not unique to Mr. Ruo. Most contemporary operas seem to have the same deficiency.

Although Mr. Hwang and Mr. Ruo have worked together before, we did not feel the union of libretto and music that we hoped for. The "recitative" (95% of the opera) was declamatory, prosy, and repetitive. The nail was hammered so hard it went right through the wood! Is it not taught to dramatists to "show, don't tell"? There were a couple arias in Act III that allowed the artists to show their stuff but were not at all melodic.

Perhaps we were alone in our assessment because there was a standing ovation at the conclusion; however we believe the thunderous applause was meant for the performances. Baritone Mark Stone sang the role of the duped accountant/diplomat René Gallimard with fine rich tone whilst creating a sympathetic and believable portrayal.

Mr. Kim's lustrous counter-tenor added to his consummate acting skills. We can see how Mr. Gallimard was fooled! All of the gestures and movements were as feminine as one could imagine and, at the end, when he appeared as a man (in full frontal glory) it came as a shock, even though we knew the artist was male.

This kind of gender fluidity is far less shocking than it was some decades ago and we do admire Mr. Hwang and Mr. Ruo for tackling issues of racial, cultural, and gender stereotypes, along with the issue of cultural misunderstanding.  The references to Puccini's opera serve to remind us how many changes have occurred in the past century.

Let us return to the quality of the performances and the production. We particularly enjoyed hearing mezzo-soprano Hongni Wu as Song Liling's communist "handler" who set the espionage in motion. We always feel great to see Asian artists cast in Asian roles, although there are other opera lovers who think it doesn't matter.

Tenor Joshua Dennis (a former apprentice) livened things up as Mr. Gallimard's tennis-playing childhood friend, appearing as a memory. Bass Kevin Burdette was fine as the somewhat arrogant French ambassador to China who promotes Mr. Gallimard, seems to admire his acquisition of a Chinese mistress, and then sends him back to France.

Adding greatly to the production was the choreography of Seán Curran who managed to combine communist tropes with the movements we have seen in Chinese opera, an art form we particularly enjoy.

Maestro Carolyn Kuan led the orchestra with a firm hand; our only regret was that more Chinese instruments were not employed. We liked the way she brought out the references to Puccini's Madama Butterfly.

Once more, we admired Chorus Master Susanne Sheston for creating a behind the scenes choral rendition of Mr Ruo's very own "Humming Chorus". The apprentices sounded great there and also as they portrayed members of French society in several scenes--as bored expats living in China, and as French citizens laughing at Mr. Gallimard's benightedness.

Director James Robinson kept the action moving along and Allen Moyer's set design was superb, especially Ms. Liling's sexy red boudoir. Christopher Akerlind's lighting made an impressive addition. James Schuette's costumes were right on point. Even the projections of Greg Emetaz were fine since they contributed location information instead of the distractions produced by other projection designers that we have found annoying.

In sum, Santa Fe Opera can be commended for commissioning a provocative and original work and for giving it a first-rate production. It is just our personal taste that wanted a more memorable vocal line and a more poetic libretto. Still, it was an interesting evening in term of getting us to think about the issues mentioned earlier. But for sheer auditory pleasure and a climax that leaves us shaken, we will choose Puccini.

© meche kroop

AN OPERA IS AN OPERA IS AN OPERA

Cast and Production Team of Ricky Ian Gordon's 27 at New York City Center
(photo by Erin Baiano)

Regular readers will be shocked to learn that we have seen a new opera and enjoyed it.  We have about given up on hearing a new opera that has melodic arias.  That just isn’t going to come out of the 21st c., especially not in the English language. What we have been seeing are “plays with music”.  But the music has been mostly unmusical. Last night we saw and heard an opera in which many positive factors came together to produce an absorbing and enlightening experience. 27 was commissioned by The Opera Theater of Saint Louis in 2014. This New York premiere included a new expanded choral section written just for Master Voices.

Composer Ricky Ian Gordon chose a subject dear to his heart, a subject that inspired him, the life of Gertrude Stein, the renowned writer, poet and art collector, a major influence in the worlds of art and literature.  He avoided the trap of trying to set her texts to music as Virgil Thompson did.  Instead he chose librettist  Royce Vavrek who constructed a conversational libretto of short uncomplicated phrases that did what the English language does best. There was sufficient repetition of phrases to bind the work together in a manner that was reflective of, but not imitative of Gertrude Stein’s writing style. 

Several successive periods of Ms. Stein’s life were illustrated—a creative life that spanned two World Wars.  The theme running through all these epochs was her relationship with the incredibly devoted Alice B. Toklas who performed innumerable functions including emotional and practical support. Their love story takes center stage.

The earliest period illuminated her involvement with young painters like Pablo Picasso and Henri Matisse; then we visited her salon during the privations of World War I when food and coal were hard to come by. Next we witnessed the post-WWI period of "the lost generation" when her salon was visited predominantly by young writers—“Scotty” Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway. Finally we visited her during WWII when her political affiliations were suspect.

Mr. Gordon’s music was powerful when it needed to be and gentle when called for. The romantic duets for Ms. Stein and Ms. Toklas were beautifully written as were the ensembles. The music for wartime utilized percussion to evoke the bombing of the Luxembourg Gardens and the anxiety of those Parisians enduring it.

In addition to the compelling story and the exciting music, the casting of the singers and their performances were extraordinary.  As Ms. Stein, mezzo-soprano Stephanie Blythe’s larger than life performance perfectly suited the larger than life character of Ms. Stein. The deep and muscular timbre of her voice and her acting had us believing that she was the ghost of Ms. Stein right there on the stage of New York City Center.

Soprano Heidi Stober perfectly portrayed helpmate and wife Alice B. Toklas.  The opera opens with her alone, after Ms. Stein’s death, knitting a bulky garment, knitting up the scenes of their life together. The opera ends at the same place—a superb framing device letting us experience the memories along with her.  Ms. Stober’s bright soprano was perfect for the part and blended beautifully with Ms. Blythe’s.

The other characters in the opera were portrayed by three fine artists for whom we have nothing but praise.  Tenor Theo Lebow was effective as the timid and bibulous Scott Fitzgerald-- but he was absolutely remarkable as the young Picasso. Thanks to the imaginative costuming of James Schuette, he entered dressed as a matador wearing the head of a bull.

Baritone Tobias Greenhalgh gave an excellent portrayal of the photographer Man Ray but was most impressive as Ms. Stein’s brother Leo who strutted around in an enormous raccoon coat, denigrating his sister’s salon and choice of paintings.

Bass-baritone Daniel Brevik impressed as Matisse and later as Hemingway, dragging an elephant behind him.  Oh yes, did we mention that the work was salted with a great deal of humor?

The funniest scene of the opera involved the “wives of geniuses” who bored Ms. Toklas with their talk of perfume, hats, and furs. Just imagine if you can, these three highly masculine singers in drag, singing an unforgettably clever trio.

A trio of soldiers, portrayed by the aforementioned Mr. Lebow, Mr. Greenhalgh, and Mr. Brevik appeared in various scenes together. Their voices harmonized so incredibly well. Their working so well as an ensemble is understandable, given that they portrayed the same roles at the St. Louis premiere.

The set design by Allen Moyer had a great big “27” to indicate  the address on Rue de Fleurus where all the famous and soon-to-be-famous gathered. The stage was littered with paintings and some chairs. 

Ted Sperling, Artistic Director, conducted the Orchestra of St. Luke’s and Master Voices. It is well worth mentioning that the diction of this enormous chorus was so crisp that not a single word was lost. Although there were projected titles, they were superfluous. Everyone’s diction was beyond reproach.

The production was well directed by James Robinson.

Every element worked together to produce a memorable evening about which we had a surprising thought—“I’d see this one again”. We have yet to feel such enthusiasm for a contemporary work.  Our eyes and ears have been opened.

(c) meche kroop

SANTA FE OPERA DOES VANESSA

VANESSA by Samuel Barber at the Santa Fe Opera (photo by Ken Howard)

Samuel Barber's opera premiered at The Metropolitan Opera in 1958 after a long and difficult gestation.  Ultimately, Barber's partner Gian-Carlo Menotti completed the libretto, inspired by the atmosphere of Isak Dinesen's Seven Gothic Tales. Last night the Santa Fe Opera presented this opera with an all-star cast that did justice to Barber's score.  We rarely experience such perfect casting with nary a weak link.

As the eponymous Vanessa, Canadian soprano Erin Wall, whom we have greatly enjoyed as Strauss heroines right here at the Santa Fe Opera, performed the role with total commitment, employing her lustrous soprano to convey a complex character, a woman of single-minded hopefulness but blind to reality. Her voice soared with passion.

No less wonderful in the role of her niece Erika was French mezzo-soprano Virginie Verrez, who not only created a believable character but mastered the difficult task of making the English language comprehensible. This role is her Santa Fe Opera debut and we were thrilled to see her onstage here after enjoying her many performances in New York City. Her delivery of the most famous aria of the opera "Must the Winter Come So Soon" was perfection.

As the mysterious Anatol, Zach Borichevsky utilized his terrific tenor and dramatic skills to create another fascinating character--a glib fellow who has no use for depth of character--an opportunistic rascal courting aunt and niece simultaneously.

As the Doctor, bass-baritone James Morris commanded the stage as he usually does with his marvelous instrument and presence.  With all those complex characters, the story needed one who was straight-forward. A heavy story like this one also needs some moments of lightness, and a score light on memorable melody needed those precious moments when the Doctor attempts to teach Anatol to dance to a beautiful folk tune "Under the Willow Tree". His scene during the New Year's Ball in which he inebriatedly  contrasts his experience with women as patients and women as dancing partners was memorable. His elegiac aria about time and memory was riveting. It tickles us to learn that Mr. Morris was an apprentice here in 1969!

Mezzo-soprano Helene Schneiderman had little singing to do but her onstage concentration as the silent Baroness was compelling. As a very funny Major-Domo apprentice tenor Andrew Bogard demonstrated a winning manner as he coveted the furs of the wealthy guests. Apprentice bass-baritone Andrew Simpson made a fine footman.

For those who do not know the story, we see it as a character study--one of three generations of women insulated from the outside world and cosseted by servants. They live isolated and locked into Vanessa's illusory hope that the man she loved twenty years earlier would return at any time. In what amounts to a folie a deux, her niece Erika plays along, ordering special dishes for dinner and laying a place for him. Clearly, she worships her aunt and supports her.

The elderly Baroness has stopped speaking to her daughter and actually doesn't even speak with the Doctor, only with her niece. Erika confides in her grandmother but has a guilty secret that she cannot share with Vanessa.  This guilty secret is that she had intimate relations with Anatol the night he arrived at their country home after Vanessa had fled from him.  You see, this is not the Anatol that abandoned Vanessa 20 years earlier!  It is that man's son who has heard a great deal about Vanessa from his recently deceased father. He has come to take his father's place. It is likely that he is a gold digger.

Erika's character is just as uncompromising as her grandmother's. Anatol is interested in marrying her, perhaps out of guilt but also for financial reasons.  But Erika, who has fallen wildly in love with him, knows that he doesn't love her sufficiently and rejects him. She does this in spite of her grandmother's urging her to marry him and preserve her honor.

Meanwhile the scoundrel is also courting Vanessa who, lost in her own joy, fails to notice what is happening with her niece. When, after Erika's failed suicide attempt (and miscarriage), she confronts Anatol asking him to reveal all, he gives her the reassurance she has hoped for.  And so does Erika. They all collude to support Vanessa's illusion and Vanessa departs for Paris with Anatol, whom she has wed.  Erika is left behind to care for the aging Baroness and to inherit the lavish manse. 

Her isolation is one of disappointment and despair, whereas Vanessa's was one of hope.  But both women covered the mirrors as a denial of the passage of time.

The story has been set at the turn of the 20th c. in a Scandinavian country manse. Director James Robinson has updated the tale to about 1940 to no major disadvantage (or major benefit for that matter). He told the story well in a manner that held our interest throughout.  When we think of opera we think first of the Italians of the 19th c. and then of German and French composers. Contemporary operas in English generally strike us as "plays with music". So let it be noted that this worked extremely well as theater!

But what about Barber's music? He certainly knew how to write melodic vocal lines but eschewed them here with the exception of Erika's aria and the Doctor's. The final quintet however was magnificent. Barber used the orchestra to reflect the various moods of the piece and we have no complaint on that count. Leonard Slatkin's conducting captured the many moods.

Allen Moyer's scenic design was perfect.  The white and grey set reflected the coldness of the clime and the chill atmosphere of the manse.  As part of the design, a huge cracked mirror was revealed when the drapes were opened. A mirror reflects not quite perfectly but a cracked mirror reflects the distorted understanding of the characters.

James Schuette's costumes were appropriate to the period.  Although we would have preferred seeing the fashions of the original time period we were satisfied that the costumes established congruency with the intended updating.

Including this work in their season was a courageous move by The Santa Fe Opera and a wise one. It was an evening in which every element worked together to provide artistry and entertainment both. We have rarely enjoyed a 20th c. opera as much.

(c) meche kroop

GALLIC GLORY AT MSM

Bryn Holdsworth as Andromède

Yeon Jung Lee as Le Feu and Amy Yarham as L'Enfant

It was a night of sheer delight spent with Manhattan School of Music Opera Theater. Credit for this extraordinary success must be attributed to the clever direction of renowned James Robinson, who told the tales with originality that was still true to the origins of the two works; to the beautifully balanced sound of the conservatory's orchestra under the baton of Pierre Vallet; and, above all, to the superb singing and acting of the young artists, mainly graduate level students.

The wisely chosen program comprised two French works of note, the first of which, Jacques Ibert's 1924 Persée et Andromède, has never before been performed in the United States, and the second of which, Maurice Ravel's 1925 L'Enfant et les Sortilèges, we have enjoyed on several prior occasions.

Ibert's librettist "Nino" (a pen name for his brother-in-law Michel Veber) turned the tale of Perseus' rescue of Andromeda on its head. In the myth, she has been chained to a rock as a sacrifice (long story!) and dreams of being rescued from the monster Cathos by a great hero.  Perseus arrives on a winged horse (Pegasus), slays the monster, and carries her off to live happily ever after (sort of).

In Nino's libretto, Perseus is so arrogant when he kills Cathos that Andromeda realizes that she has loved the monster all along and declines to leave with Perseus. Pining over Cathos, her grief brings him back to life as a handsome prince.

But wait! Mr. Robinson's concept is that this all takes place in a French museum with a reproduction of Cesari's 1596 painting of the legend occupying pride of place, flanked by supposed studies for the work. The museum guard must ride herd on a group of uniformed schoolgirls who get too close to the velvet rope and a mother with her two obstreperous children.

A beautiful redhead enters and lies writhing on a bench as she dreams of, what else, a romantic encounter. Soprano Bryn Holdsworth, whom we have written about before, sang with terrific tone and acted with conviction. She even convinced us that she was a natural redhead, so well did she embody her character.  And that's acting! It was a stellar performance, marked by some fine French diction, coached by Bénédicte Jourdois.

The superbly coached schoolgirls acted as Greek chorus, commenting on and giggling over the sleeping Andromeda, just as schoolgirls would. What an inspired concept! Chorus Master Daniela Candillari must have worked very hard to achieve this success.

As the museum guard, bass Hidenori Inoue, was peevish but far from a monster. He serenaded Andromeda with full round tone and tried to ease her boredom with stories and symbolic chess games.

Tenor Taehwan Ku made a humorously arrogant Perseus, waving a silk scarf with an image of Medusa imprinted, in place of the Gorgon's head. The "monster" was not intimidated.

Allen Moyer's set was a fine recreation of a museum while Paul Palazzo's lighting contributed a great deal, adding glowing warmth to the arrival of Perseus. James Schuette's costumes were consistently mid-20th c. and Tom Watson's hair and makeup design was apt.

And oh, that music! Much of it was impressionistic and shimmered with painterly colors, sounding just right for the setting. That made the climactic moment of crescendo all that more affecting. We were curious about the placement of the harps off to one side, and the percussion off to the other. Whatever the reason, it sounded sensational.

Ravel's charming work L'Enfant et Les Sortilèges started life as a ballet with a book by Colette; but this baby had a decade long gestation, finally achieving the stage in Monte Carlo in 1925. It is a favorite of music conservatories since it employs a large cast. It tells the tale of a naughty boy who treats people, animals, and furniture with equal contempt.

When the aforementioned furniture comes to life and turns against him, and the animals speak to him of their suffering, he learns compassion. It is a wonderful lesson for children, but also for adults. Behavior has consequences!

As the eponymous child, Australian mezzo-soprano Amy Yarham sang with beautiful inflected phrasing and easily understood French; moreover she created a most believable little boy bored with his homework, throwing a tantrum of destruction to retaliate against his mother.

The entire cast was excellent and we hesitate to single out only a few but we were struck by the precise coloratura of soprano Yeon Jung Lee who created a lot of heat with her red-sequined gown as well as her singing.

The audience loved the pair of fighting cats--mezzo Rachel Stewart and Christopher Stockslager and the linguistic hijinks of Emma Mansell's Chinese Cup and Gregory Giovine's Teapot.

We have always enjoyed Noragh Devlin who enacted a matronly looking mother, in high mid-20th c. style.  And Michael Gracco's Grandfather Clock created a striking image.

 Again, the sets and costumes were terrific.

Ravel's music for this work is highly eclectic and benefits enormously from a most colorful orchestration. The MSM Orchestra captured every nuance.

(c) meche kroop

SUN SET

Joseph Dennis and Corinne Winters (photo by Ken Howard)

A rebellious young woman enrages her father by marrying his best friend who is already married. A nation emerges from centuries of feudalism and endures chaos on its lengthy pathway toward modernity.  Do these story lines sound familiar?  Do they sound like the stuff of opera?  Yes indeed!

The Santa Fe Opera is notable for tackling contemporary operas every season and this year's entry was  the very worthy Dr. Sun Yat-Sen by Huang Ruo who composed some very interesting music made dramatic by the liberal use of percussion.  Carolyn Kuan's conducting was exemplary.

Listening to the fine singing in Mandarin (and some in Cantonese) one could easily forget how much effort went into learning a language phonetically that is so very different from European languages. Mandarin is actually a "sung" language with words having different meanings depending upon the tones which rise and fall musically.  These tones must be sacrificed to sing on the proper pitch which makes it difficult, even for speakers of Mandarin, to understand.

Notwithstanding, the superb singers rose to the challenge.  Most astonishing was the performance of tenor Joseph Dennis as the good doctor himself.  Mr. Dennis is a member of the Apprentice Program and expected to serve as cover.  In a life-changing twist of fate, he wound up the star and garnered universal praise for his exceptionally fine portrayal.  He is onstage singing in nearly every scene and the music is difficult.  He sounded even stronger at the end than he did at the start.  Such are the benefits of a healthy young voice!

As his love interest Soong Ching-Ling, the superb soprano Corinne Winters gave a sensitive portrayal of a young woman who idealized this humble doctor who gave up everything to fight for China's future.  Her voice is nicely focused and has just the right amount of vibrato.  The love duet in Act II was meltingly tender and our favorite scene.

As Dr. Sun's first wife from a youthful arranged marriage we enjoyed soprano Rebecca Witty, another apprentice getting an opportunity for a breakthrough.  Her sacrifice was to grant Dr. Sun a divorce so he could marry Soong Ching-ling.  She has a touching aria in which she tells of being neglected by her husband who was so busy with politics and often in exile.  There was even a touch of humor when she told of her wish to marry an ordinary man in her next life.

As Charlie Soong, Ching-Ling's father, Gong Dong-Jian employed his bass well, both in friendship for Dr. Sun and later in rage when he felt betrayed.  As his wife, mezzo-soprano MaryAnn McCormick was a sympathetic character and we particularly enjoyed her scene with her daughter as papa lay dying. Charlie's reconciliation with his daughter was most touching.

The Japanese friends of Dr. Sun, Mr. and Mrs. Umeya, were portrayed by baritone Chen Ye Yuan and apprentice mezzo-soprano Katherine Carroll.

Should you know what was going on in China at the time that the United States and Europe were involved with The Great War, you would recognize how the libretto by Candace Chong simplified a very complicated story; there were long years of chaos and revolution as Dr. Sun labored to overthrow the Qing Dynasty and establish a democratic government.

But this is opera and such simplification is necessary. Sufficient it is to know that this humble idealist is still regarded as the father of his country, not only by the Chinese but also by the Taiwanese. The libretto was somewhat static with not much happening onstage. Director James Robinson did what he could to move the story along.

The set was designed by Allen Moyer with the outstanding element being bamboo scaffolding, symbolic of construction and change, erected on both sides and rear of the stage.  Other elements comprised a few pieces of period furniture.

The gorgeous costumes by James Schuette accurately depicted what was worn by both privileged Chinese women and by Westerners at the turn of the 20th c.  One could appreciate the style changes that occurred during the scenes set a couple decades later.  Much research must have been done.

The addition of dancers was an excellent choice as they illustrated the hard lives of the peasants during the feudal period.  Sean Curran's choreography bound the scenes together.

It was a genuine pleasure to hear a contemporary opera with great music.  It was also a great pleasure to hear it sung in Mandarin.  Translated into English, the dialogue would have sounded silly.

(c) meche kroop

FUN PASQUALE

Deanna Breiwick, Tobias Greenhalgh, Jeongcheol Cha

What fun we had at Juilliard last night where Donizetti's comic masterpiece Don Pasquale was presented by artists from Juilliard Opera and Juilliard Orchestra.  The story is right out of the commedia dell'arte tradition--a foolish old man wants to marry and gets his comeuppance.  In most productions, we feel great sympathy for the disinherited nephew Ernesto who is so in love with the poor  Norina that he refuses to marry the rich bride his uncle favors, thereby provoking the uncle to seek a bride and produce an heir.

But, in this case, Jeongcheol Cha created such a sympathetic character that our sympathies shifted toward him and less toward the slacker nephew, portrayed by Javier Abreu, a rather unprepossessing fellow who appeared unworthy of the beautiful and spunky Norina, performed by Deanna Breiwick.  The crafty Doctor Malatesta, portrayed by the too young and too handsome Tobias Greenhalgh, initiates a plan to show Don Pasquale how awful marriage is by presenting Norina as his convent-raised sister Sofronia, the perfect wife.  Naturally as soon as the fake marriage contract is signed, Norina proceeds to go through the Don's fortune and to demolish his self-esteem with her wanton ways.  There was a very moving moment when Norina realized how she has injured her future father-in-law; remorse was written all over Ms. Breiwick's lovely face.

Mr. Cha's sturdy bass-baritone served him well in the bel canto style; Mr. Greenhalgh who, in spite of his matinee idol looks and youth, created a dashing image of a doctor who manages to pull off the stunt with panache; his baritone was most pleasant to the ear.  Ms. Breiwick, whose gorgeous golden locks were hidden under a dowdy brown wig, used her lustrous soprano and superior technique to illuminate the coloratura passages with distinction.  Just listen to that liquid silver trill!  Mr. Abreu has a sweet but small tenor and failed to enlist our sympathies for his character.

In a bit of luxury casting, some of Juilliard's finest singers composed the ensemble.  In Swinging Sixties wigs and costumes we had fun trying to recognize them.

The conductor Stephen Lord and the director James Robinson were imported from St. Louis; we were not impressed.  Donizetti's music must sparkle like a diamond and what we heard sounded more like a rhinestone.  Not bad, just a bit lackluster.  The Juilliard Orchestra has sounded better on other occasions.

As far as the direction goes, we saw no reason to place the story in the 1960's, a decade no more relevant to our lives today than the time period in which Donizetti and librettist Giovanni Ruffini placed the action.  This anachronism left us in a disjointed frame of mind when horses and coaches were mentioned.  We were not outraged as we are when serious classics are trashed, just mildly irritated.  There should be a point and there isn't one.  To make matters worse, there were even more contemporary touches like the personal trainer and the green juice drink that didn't belong to the 60's at all.  That being said, these funny bits were....funny.

Set designer Shoko Kambara created a beautiful set for the Don's home with overstuffed furniture and burnished wooden walls that made us think we were going to see an epoch-valid production.  When Norina has the home redecorated, everything appeared to be of the art deco period, another anachronism.

Costumes by Amanda Seymour were colorful and apropos the period.  Still, we were left wondering why Norina, appearing as the modest Sofronia in a black dress, would be wearing bright shiny red stilettos.  In sum, this was a production in which one would do well to forget dramatic logic and just listen to the delightful young artists as they embark on what promises to be some very illustrious careers on the opera stage.

(c) meche kroop