John Adams: Still Going Strong With Antony and Cleopatra

 

After reading Zachary Wolfe’s dismissal of John Adam’s latest opera, Antony and Cleopatra, referring to it as his “dullest” and how its three long hours “slump(s) to a subdued finish,” and ultimately damning it as “a dreary disappointment,” I was uncertain what to expect.  

Insomnia bade me to give it a whirl tonight, and I thought, at worst, it could cure this sleeplessness.  The effect, however, was entirely opposite of that.  While there were several moments in the first act that had me wanting to push the whole thing forward, most of it grabbed me, propelling its way to a rather thrilling conclusion that, orchestrally at least, hinted the Act One finale of  Doctor Atomic.  What I was not prepared for, however, was how its longer second act felt as though it passed before my eyes and ears in a matter of minutes.  

Indeed, through its tautness, sheer theatricality and best of all, magnificent performances by a terrific cast, Adams second act bounced, danced, wriggled and writhed, exploding from strength-to-strength. Indeed, I felt breathless for its first forty-one minutes (hitting pause to get some water, so noticed the time).  While its pace at that point, slowed down, it did so appropriately to the storytelling, all the while ever gaining in intensity up until its tragic, and literal, denouement.  

Antony and Cleopatra frequently finds Adams more traditionally lyrical than in the past, but anyone acquainted with his output is never at a loss as to whose music this is.  There are moments of turgidity, fire, and horror, too, if different than those we experienced in his other operas.  A genius of orchestration, the composer brings in his old friends the cimbalom and hammered dulcimer, which introduce a slight tang that musically highlights the exoticism of the storytelling.  I’d happily pit this score (no pun intended), after a single hearing against any of his others for sheer expressiveness of sound and beauty.  Music Director Eun Sun Kim, leads the San Franciscans in a reading that captures every nuance of the complex score, weaving it and holding it together with marvelous fluidity, nuance and strength.

San Francisco Opera clearly pulled out all the stops for this centenary celebratory work, from the powerfully dramatic direction of Elkhanah Pulitzer, to Mimi Lien’s never less than stunning 1930's pseudo-Hollywood design which morphs instantly from minimalistic and intimate to theatrically overpowering with near cinematic seamlessness.  

That commitment extended to the cast which, I cannot imagine being bettered.  Gerald Finley’s voice is one of those that seems ageless, and at 62 remains one of the most beautiful baritones I’ve ever heard, with that unique sense of clarity of sound that allows text to sound as clear as though it were being spoken.  Finley is marvelous as Antony, and captures the complete essence of the heroic romantic warrior from first to last.  Here is every aspect of a complex persona, his hubris, humanity, bitterness, jealousy, fear, rage and despair all worn, as Iago says, “upon his sleeve for daws to peck at.”  

Then there is the Cleopatra of Amina Edris.  Having never heard of the soprano before, and knowing she was a late substitute for Adams’ favorite Julia Bullock, I had reservations. They were dashed about as quickly as she opened her mouth.  Add to the fact she’s a lovely singer in face and figure, her being Egyptian born seemed to add an additional frisson to the proceedings.  Edris’ crystal clear soprano, immaculate diction (in sung Shakespeare, no less) made her Cleo the perfect match to her Antony.  Adams’s writing for the character is of a certain “all over the map” style requiring the singer to wrestle with the language at both the top and bottom of the range, and Edris never – not once – faltered.  Even at the top her diction was flawless, rendering the titles unnecessary.  As to that last statement, this was fairly true of the entire cast.  She fairly owned the second act, and her scenes at Antony’s demise, and at the hands of Caesar’s rubes, and ultimately her suicide found this young soprano clearly making a mark for the big time.  

Paul Appleby’s Caesar offered him in one of the best roles I've seen him in.  His power-grab scene rousing the masses played off brilliantly and horrifically with a sense of showing how little the world has really changed.  Ever.  

Alfred Walker has never disappointed me and here, as Enobarbus, he only makes me wish he’d get more prominent assignments in our houses.  Hired for Masettos and Crowns this is a voice with Wagner and Verdi stamped all over it.  

The balance of the cast, Elizabeth Deshong, Taylor Raven, Brenton Ryan, et al., contribute and help complement the evening into a worthwhile operatic experience.

I’m pleased to learn the opera is a co-production of several companies, including the Metropolitan Opera, which means I may actually get to see this one live.  Until then, I’ll do my best not to fall on Antony’s sword.