ENDING WITH A WHIMPER, NOT A BANG

The Santa Fe Opera Chorus in Doctor Atomic (photo by Ken Howard for Santa Fe Opera)

It would have been wonderful if the onstage nuclear scientists waiting for detonation of the atom bomb at Los Alamos had been accompanied by a real live storm but there was only a brief shower. We reflected upon the night at the Santa Fe Opera when the final scene of Verdi's Rigoletto was accompanied by real thunder and lightning, making for one exciting operatic experience.

Well, Doctor Atomic is no Rigoletto and John Adams is no Verdi; we doubt that audiences will be clamoring for this work in the 22nd c. However, if we accept the message of the evening, there may be no 22nd c. The part of the evening we enjoyed the most was the pre-opera lecture by Director Peter Sellars in which he made some very good points about the nuclear age and why he chose to present it as contemporary, with Gabriel Berry's costumes belonging to our present day. Although we strongly disagree we enjoyed hearing his rationale. 

We enjoyed even more the talks we heard from three of the Downwinders--an elderly woman, her daughter, and her niece--all suffering from crippling anxiety related to the decimation of their family by cancer, a consequence of the 1945 detonation of the world's first atomic bomb. Apparently, the government's fund to compensate the victims of fallout and radiation has not been extended to New Mexicans, a condition the Downwinders have been fighting for several years. The stories they shared were terribly tragic. The government did not evacuate them for fear the press would find out that "something was going on".

The production of Doctor Atomic, taking place just a stone's throw from Los Alamos, seemed to be a risk for the Santa Fe Opera but they put all their resources behind it and succeeded in selling out the entire run. Not only did we get to hear the voices of the afflicted but we got to watch members of nearby pueblos performing a corn dance onstage, a form of prayer for healing and for water to nourish their corn crop. The stage was filled with Downwinders who probably had as many tragic tales to tell as the three we heard in the lecture.

Our desire to learn about this tragedy created by the military/science complex was not matched by an appreciation for the opera itself, in spite of some stellar performances by artists we know and love. This lack of affection for the work is not due to the fact that it is political.  Verdi himself wrote several operas with political themes, both overt and covert.  But he did so with glorious music and singable melodies.

Although there were a few moments when Adams' orchestral colors pleased our ears, for the most part the music is harsh and dissonant. Peter Sellars' libretto is nothing if not "wordy". The text was derived from government documents, wire-tapped conversations, surveillance reports, first-person accounts, scientific data, and poetry loved by the Oppenheimers; none of it is singable, nor is the vocal line melodic in any way, shape, or form.

The fact that the voices were amplified, as Adams stipulated, did nothing to enhance the listening experience. NATO would describe the opera--No Action Talk Only.  There is only the conversation about the Manhattan Project, the waiting, and the concern with the weather. Emily Johnson's choreography involved some highly generic modern dance to give the illusion of movement--eye candy that was more sour than sweet. David Gropman's set was bare, save for a huge suspended reflecting ball.

Now that we got the negatives off our chest, let us relate the positives, which involve some pretty swell performances. Bass-baritone Ryan McKinny establishsed the complex character of Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer whilst the exceptional soprano Julia Bullock excelled at limning the character of his neglected wife Kitty. Most of her singing involved texts of poet Muriel Rukeyser which was abstract to the point of incoherence. We have written that Ms. Bullock could sing the phone book.  This came close.

In the sympathetic role of the physicist Robert Wilson, tenor Ben Bliss' youthful timbre was just right for the part. His "aria" whilst climbing to the top of the tower was probably the most musical part of the opera.

Contralto Meredith Arwady lent her distinctive sound to the role of Pasqualita, Kitty's Tewa housekeeper. Her singing of a Tewa native song was rather more listener-friendly. 

General Leslie Groves was the U.S. Army Commander of the Manhattan Project, a demanding, aggressive, and overweight man; bass-baritone Daniel Okulitch got the first two qualities just right but the banter about his weight and his diet didn't make sense since Mr. Okulitch is admirably fit. 

Bass Andrew Harris portrayed the physicist Edward Teller and baritone Tim Mix took the part of the chief meteorologist for the Trinity test site. General Groves was casting shade on him for not producing better weather!  

Apprentice Mackenzie Gotcher lent his tenor to the voice of Capt. James Nolan who, as chief of the post hospital at Los Alamos, expressed concern for the well-being of the scientists working on the Manhattan Project. Most enjoyable for us was the chorus composed of Apprentice Singers. They blended onstage with the Downwinders and provided some visual as well as aural interest. 

The evening ended with a standing ovation, dear readers, so our comments are not meant as a value judgment, rather as the opinion of one opera lover who wants to be entertained. Mr. Sellars' libretto might have made good reading but those words we heard never begged to be set to music. Nor was any provided.

(c) meche kroop

HALF SONG-CYCLE, HALF OPERA, ALL WONDERFUL

We don't know what to call it but we loved it and you will too if you can get yourself to Christ and St. Stephen's Church by 3PM tomorrow.  Reading about American history always seemed tedious to us but last night in A Distant Love the history achieved dramatic and musical life that brought tears to our eyes as we considered the sacrifices made by our "founding fathers".  We are only a couple short weeks away from Independence Day and this production is most timely.

The first act--John Adams in Amsterdam: a Song for Abigail--gave stellar baritone Peter Kendall Clark (barely recognizable without his beard) an opportunity to use his sizable round instrument to express the various emotions experienced by the statesman who would become the second president of the USA.  He was not very enchanted with the French but grew increasingly delighted with the Dutch, having been sent there as ambassador and raiser of funds for the struggle for independence.  He writes to his wife (my "dearest friend") and describes his ever-growing reputation in Holland as well as his longing for home and family.  He warmly describes the Dutch as learned, artistic and hard-working with a penchant for skating and mushrooming.  He sorely misses his family and expresses his longing for home and family as well as his fear of isolation from the prospect of being a man of importance on the world's stage.  Ha!

The second act--Abigail in the Colonies: a Song for John--permitted soprano Victoria Tralongo to create a character any woman could identify with.  She is a courageous woman, a feminist and an abolitionist who wants the same freedom for slaves as the colonists are demanding from Great Britain.  But she is still a woman and yearns for "sentimental effusions of the heart" from her husband, enduring a decade of separation with love and fidelity.  If there is one song in the work that best stands alone as a concert aria it would be "Loneliness".  We wish to quote the moving first line: "If you should lie awake and call my name".  There is also a slightly more lighthearted song, lighthearted yet serious in its description of the effect of war on the women left behind--scarcity of food and medicine, inflated prices, the presence of the enemy, illness and death--but above all, a need for PINS!  The stalwart Mrs. Adams wants Mr. Adams to send her lots of pins that she can sell in the colony.

Terry Quinn was responsible for developing the libretto from the actual letters in the historical archive and Gary S. Fagin wrote the music.  Our regular readers likely know how unimpressed we are by contemporary writing; so our praise for this score is doubly remarkable.  The string quartet was an excellent choice for this lyrical and evocative music; string quartets were popular during the latter part of the 18th c.  Mr. Fagin's music held our attention throughout; it had a martial flavor when war was discussed and a decidedly romantic flavor during the recitations of longing.  It was always singable.

Guest conductor of the Chelsea Opera String Quartet was the renowned conductor Jorge Parodi; musicians were violinists Garry Ianco and Bruno Peña, violist Cait O'Brien and cellist Jameson Platte.  Maestro Parodi's affection for the score was evident in his expressive conducting.

The work was given an effective staging and costuming by co-producer Lynne Hayden-Findlay; she wisely kept the singer (and letter writer) in the foreground with just enough movement to illustrate the text and the recipient of the letters in the background going about their daily routine.  The two singers, clearly chosen for their splendid voices, were bewigged by Andrea Calabrese and appeared totally convincing.  We especially loved watching Abigail performing her chores, embroidering and baking bread.  The set by Leonarda Priore was simple but worked well--a writing desk, a table and chair, a coat rack, a quill pen and other similar accoutrements of 18th c. life.

The nine-year old Chelsea Opera, founded by Ms. Priore and Ms. Hayden-Findlay, has a lot of wonderful productions in store for next year but don't wait.  Enjoy this splendid event TODAY!

© meche kroop