Opera Maine's Sweeney Todd: A Cut Above

For its 30th anniversary, Opera Maine broke new ground with a theatrically compelling, musically excellent production of Sondheim's Sweeney Todd. Guided by Artistic Director, Dona D. Vaughn, a superb cast moved thrillingly across the original 1980 tour sets (created for Angela Lansbury and George Hearn) offering cinematic sweep and operatic force. The audience responded throughout with audible gasps, laughter and long ovations punctuated by cheers. 

Commanding in voice and presence, Michael Mayes' Sweeney went from quiet brooding to malevolent rage with turn-on-a-dime precision. His revenge-obsessed barber reached fever pitch in a chilling Epiphany that stopped the show. As his partner-in-crime, Mela Sarajane Dailey's beautifully sung Mrs. Lovett, balanced Sweeney's darkness with impeccable comic timing, in a performance far more delicious than her legendary pies. 

As the Beggar Woman, Megan Marino drew uncomfortable laughter while simultaneously breaking our hearts. Todd's concluding explosion of grief was among the most wrenching I've seen. It was no surprise to learn Marino and Mayes are married in real life, adding a palpable frisson as he threw himself across her ragged, lifeless body.

Portraying the young lovers was yet another married couple; Michael Adams and Mary Feminear. They were a delight. Feminear easily sailed through Johanna's highflying music, while Adams' plush baritone added a welcome richness to Anthony, his big number, Johanna, bringing down the house. 

Oozing equal amounts of pomposity and sleaze, David Pittsinger and Nicholas Nestorak were perfectly despicable as Judge Turpin and Beadle Bamford, and made the quartet with Anthony and Johanna a highlight. 

As Adolfo Pirelli, Maxwell Levy was clearly having a grand time, hamming up every moment as the elixir selling faux Italian barber, with comically endless high notes adding to the fun.

David Marino’s touching voice and presence won all hearts as the simple Toby, his duet with Mrs. Lovet, Not While I'm Around, easily the most touching moment of the show. 

Sweeney, for me, recalls Britten's Peter Grimes - each relying heavily on its chorus to provide not only suitably grim Victorian atmosphere, but to move their stories forward. Opera Maine's Chorus delivered spectacularly, with two notable stand outs:  God, That's Good, where tricky rhythms and amusing word play garnered laughs, then, in City on Fire setting up the brutal, final sequence. Few directors move people across a stage as convincingly as Vaughn, and in Sweeney we were treated to some of the finest work in her thirty years of leading this company.

Conducting with precision and elan, Israel Gursky brought Sweeney's assorted motifs and themes to life, creating an atmospheric soundscape that perfectly matched what we saw onstage.  His broader tempo for My Friends evoked Debussy, adding even more layers to Sondheim's sophisticated score. I can't recall it more beautifully sung or played.

James Kennerley’s playing of the show’s ominous organ music on the mighty Kotzschmar, was an unexpected treat, and a deafening roar went up from the house as the backdrop of London lifted revealing organ and organist. No one seemed to want to leave. I certainly didn't.

(Photos from Opera Maine)

A Grand Night For Aida

Opera Maine - The Little Opera Company That Could  just did.  "Did what, you may ask?  Enter into the world of Grand Opera in a way only they could. Over the years, Boheme, Tosca, Butterfly, Carmen, Don Giovanni, Figaro (both of them) Traviata, and everything else . . . even the Dutchman, all fit and felt perfectly suited to the shallow stage of Merrill Auditorium, but how would something considered as grand as Aida fit?  Quite comfortably. And spectacularly, actually.  And to a packed house, as well. Not something you read about a lot these days.

For the 29th production by the company, Director Dona D. Vaughn re-enlisted the service of Mexican set designer  Germán Cárdenas-Alaminos who had given us 2022's splendid  Der fliegende Holländer. A unit set comprised of a pair of platforms flanking a sort of central tiered "altar" with a staircase ascending to a larger platform served perfectly for all of the action scenes ,adapting easily for all seven scenes. A bonus was that each of the side borders of the proscenium, as well as the boarders going all the way back, were decorated with hieroglyphicss, adding to the sense of Egyptology.  

Scene locations achieved by a series of shifting, stunning, vivid 3-D rear projections by Camilla Tassi. Tassi created a sort of 21st century version of old fashioned painted scrims and flats that respected tradition, but also pushed it forward.  Beautifully lit by Jimmy Lawlor, a number of moments stood out spectacularly. My favorite of the night was the Nile Scene, as an Egyptian byblos boat floated up the river in the moonlight. The effect was stunning.  

One can't help jump to the obvious question: What about the Triumphal Scene?  It naturally had to be scaled down when one compares it to La Scala, the Met, Verona, but there's the funny thing: one needn't (and shouldn't) compare it. It's unnecessary. What was achieved was a marvelous synthesis of space, illusion, and the ability to stir excitement both onstage and in the house. The company may not be able to accommodate a cast of thousands, but dozens, they can field, and that was plenty enough to make it work. This was especially evident during the Triumphal March where a new level of endearing operatic kitsch was welcomed, as a giant blue, mechanical wooden elephant strode 'cross the stage bearing a lovely celebrant waving at the crowd. The effect was electric, causing an instant ovation of applause and cheers, proving opera can fun, too!  Of course, none of this would have meant a thing without a deeply satisfying musical presence and on that front, Israel Gursky, in his seventh production as conductor had as firm, authentic a grip on Verdi's score freading of the score as one is likely to encounter today. 

Maestro Gursky shaped the opera in an arc that mirrored perfectly the 360° feeling Verdi gave to this story. Verdi has packed Aida with every kind of emotion and situation in the human panoply: war, love, honor, religion, patriotism, betrayal, pageantry, duty, family, despair all bookended by music of a delicate, gauzy intimacy that transported us into another world: a romanticized ancient Egypt, and what a fun place to spend a few hours.

Opera Maine assembled a cast that I can't imagine being bettered at this point, notably in its three big roles. Courtney Johnson met every musical challenge of the title role with a sense of ease and confidence, while maintaining the character of the anxious Ethiopian princess in a strange land. The voice is, in a word, gorgeous. Bright and warm, with a quick but smooth vibrato it was a thrill to hear this role sung without the unnecessary heft too often heard in Aida performances today. Ritorna vincitor, with its exquisite pianissimo at "numi pieta ..." was ear ravishing and caused the first major ovation of the night. The kind a singer will never forget, nor will its audience.  An even bigger ovation was to follow at the end of O patria mia, with its killer ascent to one of opera's most notoriously difficult and frequently botched High C's. Ms. Johnson nailed the moment in a way I've heard very few sopranos get up and stay there.  In fact, throughout the night this maintained that same level of beauty and power that puts her on a list of young singers to watch out for - and listen to.  I look forward to hearing more from her.

Radames was Taylor Comstock and for beauty of sound he was a perfect match for his Aida. Comstock's big, bright voice easily sailed over the orchestra and chorus, was clear throughout  the ensembles, but also capable of scaling back, which he did to end Celeste Aida. Whereas today most tenors blast the final B flat on "vicino al sol" - Verdi clearly indicates it is to be sung pianissimo with an added "morendo" - or dying off quality. Comstock did precisely that, landing squarely on the note so gently, then softening it even more. My heart may have skipped a beat hearing it as written. 

A perfect foil to Aida and Radames, Hyona Kim's Amneris was incendiary, lighting up every moment she is onstage with fiery passion right up until her too late epiphany at the end. The voice is not large in weight, but is powerful in a way that made everyone sit up and take notice, and with a penetrating volume that could pin you to the back of your seat. As an actor, she combines a sense of of classic old-school operatic style with the abandonment of say, Theda Bara in Salome. This Amneris grasped, clawed, shoved, and threw herself across the floor, climbed up the steps on her belly . . . it was gloriously over the top in a way we just don't get to see anymore. The audience loved every bit of it.  The Judgement Scene gives Amneris a chance to shine in the best possible Verdian way, and with Gursky's support, urging the orchestra through that violently insane music with its exaggerated rhythms and punches, Kim made th is one of the finest highlights in a night filled with them.  Happy news than t hat Ms. Kim is the scheduled cover for Elīna Garanča's Amneris in the Met's upcoming new Aida.  I certainly hope she gets the opportunity for at least one performance. One I'd love to be at. 

Brian Major (Amonasro),  Daniel Sumegi (Ramfis), Matthew Anchel (Pharaoh), Peter Drackley (Messenger) and Alaysha Fox (High Priestess) were all vocally superb and theatrically each at the top of their respective game, turning in performances that contributed to the truest sense of ensemble work Aida must have to be effective. . 

Virgil Bozeman's chorus grounded this Aida throughout the many choral scenes with beauty, energy volume and presence both on and offstage. The chorus contribution - exciting in every scene - cannot be overestimated. They were a joy to watch and listen to.

In her eleventh season, Millie Hiibel designed the seemingly countless costumes required for Aida. From the uniformity of the priest's robes, to Amneris sparkling (almost 1930's style) gowns, Aida's softly flowing pastel robes, to the military costumes and defeated Ethiopians, Hilbel's costumes aided enormously in the telling of this marvelous story.

The strong hand of Ms. Vaughn's clear, balanced direction was felt throughout the evening, propeling the story in a manner that made the time seem to fly by in an instant.  There were no awkward moments or scenes, nor indeed any of the other myriad components that can go wrong in a live performance. Instead, what we partook in last night felt natural, and magical, and . . . all of the things we want in opera. It's the reason we go.   

One would be hard pressed to experience a finer Aida right now.  A point made clear to me as in the weeks leading up to last night, I watched three recent major productions, and truth be told, this was, overall, my favorite both musically and dramatically.  

Opera Main proved yet again that good things really do come in small packages. And now, grand things as well. 

Opera Maine's Cinderella: Goodness Triumphs!

 

There is no doubt in my mind which opera is Rossini's greatest comedy: Il Barbiere di Siviglia often takes that prize, but for me La Cenerentola sings rings (or bracelets) around the more popular of the two masterpieces.  Last night in Merrill Auditorium, Dona D. Vaughn's sparkling new production for Opera Maine made Rossini's alternate title, Goodness Triumphs (La Bonta' in Trionfo) abundantly clear. 

With what appeared to be a nod to a sort of fairy tale noir, set and lighting designer Christopher Akerlind's created a series of backdrops that felt like a picture book fairytale wed to a Warner Bros. cartoon.  Diaphanous, almost transparent pinks and purples defined Don Magnifico's fading estate. The look was completed with an old-fashioned stove, and colorful stairway leading up to the unseen living quarters for Cinderella's cold-hearted, scheming stepfather and stepsisters. With a wink and a nod to the classic Disney classic film, Vaughn deployed human sized mice who hid and scurried about aiding in the scene changes. The effect was both hilarious, and enchanting.  Hilarious and enchanting is also the most accurate description of her entire production.

Blessed with a cast that I cannot imagine being bettered today, Vaughn created magic before our eyes. The intricacy of choreographed movement between the large cast and chorus was picture book perfect, the exquisite delineation of each character made the story pop with life. Recitatives came off like well written, witty scripts connecting arias, duets and ensembles with a life force, not something to get through until the next big tune.  The comedy was never overplayed, but with Rossini's champagne bubble score, felt and looked funnier than I can recall ever before - and this was perhaps my 20th Cenerentola. I cannot remember the last time I heard actual raucous belly laughs at the opera.  No, this was not the gentle comic tittering so often heard in the opera house but genuine, house ringing laughter. I would occasionally take my eye from the stage to look around the house and saw nothing but teeth from huge, open smiling mouths, and . . . yes, my heart kind of exploded seeing that kind of reaction from an entire audience. 

Few directors know how to move a chorus onstage as well as Vaughn, and she proved this yet again with this Cenerentola.  Each entrance of the Prince's chorus of servants - men of all sizes - paraded on, each identically bewigged, in pink stockings and classic 18th century livery. The effect was both regal and ridiculous and yet beautiful as well.     

 Everything about the production is memorable, but those many moments I will single out a favorite:  the Act One finale. The entire company is here displayed in gorgeous array, as the insanity of the score increases with its gurgles, dance-like bouncing, as it threatens to erupt into the chaos, the libretto describes:  are we confused? Dreaming? Is the earth quaking? The dizzying confusion grows in the pit as onstage, now plunged into blue strobing light effects, we watch these characters singers spin out of control; rising, falling, crashing into one another all while in perfect Rossinian symmetry and harmony.  When it finally stopped, the roar of cheers that rose from the entire house as the music was still hanging in the air, was instant and deafening.  

Also worth a mention: the Proud Mary style choreography for the famous sextet of Act Two.  Here, too, was more of the spirit of hilarity and yes, sweetness.

What can one say about the costumes of Milly Hiibel? Delightfully eye-popping, brilliant of color, at times almost architectural, they were a perfect visual match for this production, adding immeasurably to the entire effect.  The purple and green creations for Clorinda and Tisbe were over-the-top in elegance and ridiculousness, yet entirely beautiful.  Don Magnifico's pajamas then his preposterous fancy man ensemble was given an extra comic punch up by having a train on his coat trailing behind him in a design that would've made Floria Tosca jealous.  Brilliant. Likewise, Amanda Clark's hair and makeup designs worked in concert with Hiibel's costumes to make sure everything looked well . . . fabulous is the only word that will do. 

And now onto the singers.  What an extraordinary cast we were treated with last night: true bel canto artists who fearlessly navigated the intricacies, dangerously vertiginous coloratura of Rossini even adding fioritura that sounded as natural breathing.

I hate to doom a singer to a single role, but Hongni Wu could have a career singing nothing but Cenerentola. The beautiful Chinese mezzo had everything needed, vocally and every other way, at her disposal; expressive features, a voice with a big bright top, a girlishly warm middle voice, and an easy plunge into the lower register.  The speed and accuracy of her coloratura was never less than dazzling, even possessing an impeccable old-school trill that thrilled. There were subtle differences in her acting as well. The first time we hear Cinderella's opening, wistful ballad Una vola c'era un Re (There once was a king) it's plaintive . . . almost mournful, but when she repeats it in the second act, there is a change both vocally and visually, and it’s these subtle little details that stand out and make all the difference.  Ms. Wu was an absolute delight in every aspect of the role, and in Nacqui all' affanno ... Non piu mesta one of the composer's great razzle-dazzle ending scenas, she quite brought down the house. Once again, as at the first act curtain, the audience went wild with applause and cheering. Bonkers would not be inaccurate, as the ovation went on and on.

Her charming Prince was Jack Swanson who presented a classic handsome prince-in-disguise, and like his Cinderella, had the full arsenal of bel canto necessities – rapid fire technical agility, easily produced high notes, a genuine and all too rarely heard these days, head voice that had a brightness and clarity which helped define his character.  Si, ritrovarla io guiro, his bravura aria with chorus, was easily one of many highlights of the night.  

Bass Baritone, Patick Carfizzi was born for buffo characters like Don Magnifico, and his turn as the comically evil stepfather was never less than bel canto buffo perfection in both voice and character. Capturing the arrogance, and deliciously smarmy sense of entitlement, Carfizzi sang with relish and aplomb, clearly enjoying the great comic bits laid out for him, as he attempted to reign over the stage all while that crazy coat train trailed his every step.

It was a treat to have Opera Maine favorite, Robert Mellon back in town and owning every inch of Dandini. With actorly flair, Mellon relished his role as "Prince for a Day," taking to royalty as the proverbial duck to water.  The comic business devised for his duet with Don Magnifico (involving an ever moving and unavailable chair) had the house in stitches.  

Cenerentola's one serious role is the philosopher/teacher, Alidoro who in Rossini's hands is equal parts Gurnemanz and Fairy Godfather.  It is Alidoro who directs and dictates the shape of the story, and in William Guanbo Su we had one brought out the best of both of those qualities.  With his rich, beautiful basso Là del ciel nell’arcano profondo, flooded the house with a wave of warm sound filled with love and hope, and segued the tale into its first bit of magic, as glitter rained, sparkling down as descending from the heavens a gown for Cenerentola to attend the ball.  I normally don't approve of interrupting the music, but the effect was so special, so breathtakingly beautiful, one simply had to forgive the audience for breaking into applause.

Katherine Henly and Rachel Barg took on the comedy team of Clorinda and Tisbe with such delightful absurdity that they threatened to steal the show at every turn.  Indeed, stealing the show - and the prince - seemed to be their raison d'etre. Once again comic timing and vocal agility provided the backbone of these two gloriously daffy sisters.

Rossini's score is, like all great bel canto comedies, deceptive. On the surface we see and hear music of such delightful charm, bubbling away like freshly poured champagne, but the dirty little secret is: it's hard. Really hard.  With time and key signature changes, music that shifts from legato to staccato, melodies that begin with one instrument that flow into another, accelerandos and ritardandos that come and go without warning . . . it's all standard in the work of one of music's true geniuses. Then there is the balancing of voices against (or rather hopefully with) the orchestra, be it a solo, a duet or an ensemble with full chorus.

The ingredients required are many and holding the entire thing together last night was Maestro Israel Gursky, a man who clearly gets Rossini's magic and knows how to transfer it from the stage and pit directly to the audience. From the outset of the overture, through the dazzling finale, Maestro Gursky kept the Rossinian flame lit with just the right amount of everything: security, control were ever evident as they must be to keep the entire thing from collapsing or becoming a train wreck, but at the same time there was buoyancy and brightness to make it all come alive.  Indeed, it is always something of a joyous miracle to hear all of the intricate coloratura from the singers, particularly in ensembles, perfectly coalesced with the rapid passagework coming from the pit. 

While La Cenerentola was well attended, it was not sold out, and that is a pity. I want everyone I love to be able to see this.  As it so happens, there is one more chance, this coming Sunday afternoon.  If I were you, I wouldn't miss it for the world. 

OPERA MAINE’S ROCKING HORSE: A WINNER

 

I was fortunate to attend the second (and sadly final) performance of Rocking Horse Winner, by Irish composer Gareth Williams opera and Canadian playwright/librettist Anna Chatterton. Based on the short 1926 story by D.H. Lawrence (in turn based upon the lives of real people) Rocking Horse confronts some very tough family issues like a parable or a modern take on a medieval morality tale.

Ava is a difficult woman to like, self-absorbed manner with a hard shell, she exhibits neither patience or love (even while singing of both) for her son, Paul, here an autistic young man of no determinate age, and changed (necessarily) from the little boy in Lawrence’s story.  Both man and child, he senses mother’s sadness over the family’s modest financial status, and works himself into a frenzy in endless attempts to alleviate that sadness.  The impossibility of that task is also, sensed with devastating results.  Lawrence presented this as a type of ghost story, the house itself a character, and defined by Ava’s misery and Paul’s desperation. 

Scored for string quartet and piano, Williams’ opera alternately drones, sparkles, soars and dances as it reaches flights of excitable fantasy and plumets to profound depths of sadness. There are moments, (particularly for Ava) which seem to reach back to the recitativo style of Monteverdi, only to burst forth with the type of luminous energy we often associate with minimalists like Philip Glass, yet remains distinct and individual. distinct. These are but two examples of the wide range of Williams’ musical vocabulary.  That vocabulary is perfectly in tune with Chatterton’s libretto, itself a healthy blend of styles at once poetic and declamatory. Conductor Jackson McKinnon led the ensemble in a powerful reading of Williams’ score that hours later is still resonating in my brain.  I imagine it will for a long time. I also know I will be seeking out more of this composer’s music.

As integral to the story as its pro/antagonists are Paul’s Uncle Oscar, and Bassett, Paul’s caretaker. The pair are racetrack enthusiasts, and discovering Paul’s innate ability to pick “only the winners” exploit the boy’s gift in order to increase the family fortune, as Eva sips champagne, adapting to an easier life in the house that appears to be consuming and destroying them all. 

Christopher Akerlind’s spare set – chairs, benches, rocking horse, etc., achieves a dream-like quality through his dramatic lighting design, drawing us in from the moment the opera begins. As directed by Richard Gammon, every element, movement and effect seems heightened, and strikes a splendid balance between Paul’s sense of the world, and the world as seen by everybody else.

While it is easy to love Paul and loathe Ava, I felt myself pitying this woman who, for me at least, exhibited a paralyzing depression that kept her bound . . . stagnant, unchanging from first to last.

As Ava, mezzo Lauren Cook sang with intensity and managed a difficult balancing act of self-pity and ennui, that made me feel sorry for, instead of hating, her.  Tenor Houston Tyrell was handsome, affable Uncle Oscar disguising his greed and self-interest with a smarmy sincerity and sounding splendid doing so.  It was nice to have baritone Marcel Sokalski back from last season’s The Fall of the House of Usher, to infuse Bassett with perky energy, as well as provide the megaphoned horse race analyses in the scenes at the track.

Pride of place goes to the incandescent performance of tenor Dylon Crain’s Paul. From his “tight rope” like entrance atop the four benches to his final collapse at evening’s end, Crain made me believe in Paul, made me care for Paul and, ultimately, broke my heart as Paul.  Lawrence’s Paul is a little boy, but rather than a treble, Williams and Chatterton wrote the role for a tenor.  Happily, in Mr. Crain we got both; boy and man, the thrilling sound of a tenor perfectly wed to the emotions and actions of a boy.

As The House, Jamila Drecker-Waxman, Emily J. Cottam, Taka Komagata, and Daniel Chiu observed all, propelling the tale through sound and movement, haunted whispers, and full throated singing, frequently with an almost dizzying use of rapidly choreographed gestures that added an appropriate zing of the surreal and helping us steer the action from one point to the next.

Following tonight's performance, Opera Maine’s Artistic Director Dona D. Vaughn hosted a talk back featuring Shilo Goodue from the Autism Society of Maine, Dramaturg M. Calien Lewis, and tenors Houston Tyrrell and Dylon Crain, in a discussion as well as questions and answers from the audience. 

I’m proud of Dona D. Vaughn and my home team not just for the outstanding artistic work they provide year-after-year, but also their ongoing effort of tying in the complexity and diversity of life into the performing arts, and exploring what that means to each of us.

The Flying Dutchman: Wagners Ghost Ship Lands in Maine.

Opera Maine has presented vivacious Verdi, delightful Donizetti, magical Mozart, and perfect Puccini over the years, but for the first time the little company that could, dipped its toes into Wagner’s dark and stormy seas by presenting Der Fliegende Holländer– or The Flying Dutchman.

For its maiden voyage into Wagnerian waters, Artistic Director, Dona D. Vaughan presented a no-nonsense, mostly traditional affair aided by technology and, transporting the action to the rocky coast of Maine, drawing on the history of ghost ships in these here waters.  The result was a perfect introduction for the Company to enter the realm of Wagner and, for many audiences – judging by the roaring ovation that flooded the house – just the right ticket to draw them in. 

Germán Cárdenas-Alaminos’ unit set featured an enormous wooden sea wall onto which various filmed projections effectively set the story’s scenes, from the overture featuring Senta wandering the along the coastline, the tumultuous waves of the sea, the elegant early 19^th century wallpaper for the Dutchman’s home, the Dutchman’s ship, and the dramatic finale. Everything came together beautifully with Millie Hiibel’s costumes, James E. Lawlor III’s lighting designs, Alex Basco Koch’s projections and Karine Ivey’s hair and make-up designs.

I was not alone in thinking “Bayreuth” upon taking me seat and seeing the pit lowered to the point of invisibility. From that pit, Maestro Israel Gursky led a well-paced, stirring reading from the orchestra that beautifully put across the ever shifting moods of Wagner’s score.  One hears and fully senses the fear of the sailors’ restlessness as well as their drunken revelry, Senta’s longing and defiance, Erik’s frustrated humiliation, the Dutchman’s weariness, Daland’s greed and everything in between. Gursky and his players, painted these portraits with committed sound and (pardon the pun) boat loads of nuance, the quick transitions beautifully charted out.

Portland has a strong choral tradition, and its opera company is no exception. Having said that, I will not think twice stating in this was the finest work I’ve heard from the Opera Maine Chorus, who in addition to their singing clomped about slugging suds and making merry.

On to the principals. In a night of such stellar singing, it is difficult to pick out a single performance as “the one,” but I’m going to do just that.  Felicia Moore shook the house with Senta’s pent up passion and obsessiveness over the Dutchman’s portrait hanging above the fireplace mantel. Before her ballad, she ran across the stage, beneath a pair of porticos, striking a frieze-like pose before launching into the tale of the Dutchman’s curse. Here was a voice equal parts lava and silk. The size of the sound was thrilling, with absolutely secure placement, a beautiful warm, and even vibrato, excellent diction and coloring of text.  While trying to stay in the moment, I could not help but think what a sensational Ariadne Ms. Moore would be. Her interactions with Mary, the excellent Sahoko Sato Timpone. Erik, her father, and the Dutchman all filtered through with a natural sense of drama, never overdoing anything, just making it all believable and right.

Cameron Shutza had a nice ringing sound as Erik, and matched Senta’s intensity in their great duet.

Long a fan of Richard Bernstein (whose Met performances I’ve seen are too numerous to count) it was a personal thrill to see him in the major role of Daland.  His take on the opportunistic father brought a few moments of humor to a tale without much (and in some productions, absolutely none). The voice sounds as fit and beautiful as when I first hear him “this” many years ago. He’s still a handsome son-of-a-gun, too.

Similarly, I’ve seen and heard Mark Delavan many times, but it was a joy to hear his Dutchman. His opening monologue after he steps onto land after the storm, properly pointed the direction for the rest of the story. Better than that, each reappearance of the doomed captain grew in intensity until his final hopelessness, misinterpreting Senta’s intentions, led him back onto his ghost ship.

I was wondering how Senta’s sacrificial jump would be staged, and it wasn’t. Instead, Senta, wildly calling out she is the Dutchman’s salvation, she runs off to join him, and we see the image, first of the ghostly ship heading back to the darkness of the sea – then an image of Senta and the Dutchman, transfigured, if you will, and redeemed. Well, as thrilling and gloriously romantic as the famous closing bars, the audience could hardly wait until the final note before erupting into an ovation that matched the entire performance. More full-throated bravos, bravas, and bravis were screamed out than I can recall hearing in years.

It was thrilling to see the wide range of ages in the house. The number of twenty and thirtysomethings gives me hope for the future of Opera Maine.

The Dutchman’s landing in Maine was the kind of success one dreams of and one they can be justly proud of.

Opera Maine Takes on Poe and Glass

 

Despite the issues surrounding the performing arts in this country, Opera Maine is offering a most ambitious season with a pair of big deals.  Wagner’s The Flying Dutchman which opens next month, and Philip Glass’ The Fall of the House of Usher, given last night at the Westbrook Performing Arts Center. 

Richard Gammon’s production is stark, sparse, but effective.  A table, chairs, a bed, bottles everywhere, and a screen projecting live film of the grounds, etc., along with static images of the characters ranging from nearly beatific to demonic, including a jarring set quickly alternating between their normal faces with blood-drenched ones straight from a nightmare.  All set the mood and spurred a tale where not much happens, moving it forward almost breathlessly. 

Updated to the present, we see William, after Roderick’s letter of despair, driving to the haunted mansion, facing us, driving while the road is in the opposite direction, subtly registering his fearful dread.

Another element I found of particular interest was everyone being barefoot.  The symbolism of bare feet is powerful with myriad meanings:  innocence, death, aimlessness, separation from earthly things and entrance into holy spaces.  Subtle, and often unnoticed it adds an element that registers directly into the psyche of a work as evidenced here. 

Contemporary costumes worked, including Madeline’s short sparkling black dress – which quickly disappeared revealing a camisole and boy shorts, all helping define the characters.  William’s tee-shirt emblazoned with a skeleton surrounded by the sun, was perfection.    

Poe’s ambiguous tale has been open to myriad interpretations over a century.  Fueled by mystery, drug and alcohol induced madness, homosexuality, the implication of murder, incest, and most horrifically, vivisepulture, it is a juicy tale of madness.  Glass’ score achieves its desired result beautifully. 

The trio of William, Roderick and the wordless – but hardly voiceless Madeline – declaim, shout, and sing beautifully throughout in wonderful vocal lines Glass carefully wedded to the libretto.  The sense of these people knowing, each other, in love with each other, repulsed and horrified by each other came through in every gesture and movement. 

As Roderick, Joseph Tancredi offered clarion tenor tone while wavering between desperation and madness. One felt for the guy whilst simultaneously uncomfortable with this fellow clearly on the brink.  Gabrielle Clutter’s Madeline was lovely and, likewise, spooky.  With a voice of surprising size and beauty, though, Madeline’s wordless vocalises did at several times overpower Roderick and William’s narrative.  Appearing as William, Marcel Sokalski rendered a beautiful baritone, while exhibiting completely the man’s nervous sincerity as well as sense of morbid curiosity and innocence tying the story together perfectly. 

The small roles of Servant and Physician were well served by Miguel Pedroza and Joseph Sacchi.

Jackson McKinnon led the ensemble of about a dozen in an energetic and mesmerizing reading, the pacing, pauses and synchronicity between stage, screen and pit often exquisite. 

Overheard from a visiting couple behind me, “Well, we wouldn’t be seeing this in Arkansas.”  More’s the pity.  There’s another performance on Friday, July 1^st.  Go.

Opera Maine Returns With A Sparkling Elixir!

They're baaaaaack!   

Like nearly every performing arts organization had to over the past year, Opera Maine had to take what felt like an interminable intermission, foregoing its long planned Die Fliegende Hollander which was due to set sail last summer.  (General Director Dona D. Vaughn announced that, after this hiatus, our Dutchman shall arrive next season.  Happy news, indeed!)

While I love Donizetti, I must admit that, since boyhood, L'elisir d'amore was an opera I avoided like, well, you know . . . that word.  Over the years I've grown to enjoy, if not absolutely love it . . . until this past Friday night.  

Vaughn's decision to set L'elisir in 1960 Naples paid off magically.  Against Donizetti's score, Portland's own Christopher Akerlind's (Broadway's Light in the Piazza, 110 in the Shade, Rocky, et al.) set and lighting design, along with Millie Hiibel's marvelous costume design, gave more than a wink and a nod to the feel-good Italian classic cinema. One could almost sense Fellini lurking behind a curtain.  While I may have longed for Wagner, this sparkling comedy felt life affirming andwas the perfect choice to bring back live opera to Maine.  La Dolce Vita, indeed!  

In  Vaughn's vision, the characters are just as stated in Romani's libretto, with the exception of Nemorino, whose legs we see before meeting the rest of him.  That is, he's an auto mechanic (the classic grease monkey, his coveralls - covered in the stuff) and that first appearance is beneath a bright green convertible.  Bright, is in fact the color scheme throughout the production which positively glows and pulsates with life. 

The role was splendidly sung by Joshua Wheeker who - at least in my opinion - stole the show whenever he was onstage, which was pretty much all the time.   A beautiful lyric tenor with lots of ping - or squillo as we call it in Operaland - with a dynamic range that fit his Nemorino fit like a glove.  That he gets the hit tune of the night, Una furtiva lagrima was a treat that earned Wheeker the greatest applause in a night that was positively (in the best sense of that word) clap happy.  A friend said, "he looked really familiar, like a friend of mine."  I explained it was because Wheeker's Nemorino looks like every third guy at Ruski's (a local West End tavern). This was a good thing. Wheeker was also a natural comedian, and his drunken escapades felt "real" as opposed to too frequently employed, stage drunkenness of the "Look at me, I'm drunk - and now I'm putting a lampshade on my head" school.  It was, if there can be such a thing, a refreshing drunkenness.  Like the rest of the cast, he had some pretty dandy dance moves, as well!

Adina was Sarah Tucker whose voice was full of surprises  . . . all good ones.  Moments of flighty, light coloratura delivered with pinpoint accuracy, which could melt into a creamy, more lyric sound.  She could dial up a little acid in the tone when called for but made Adina rather charming, instead of the shrew she can sometimes be.  Everything about Tucker's Adina was a delight,

Baritone, Luis Alejandro Orozco has an absolutely beautiful voice, though at times his projection of it could get a little lost or covered in the mix of the ensemble which is not unusual for a young baritone, whose music is frequently ninety percent dead center of the sound world they're inhabiting.  Almost ridiculously handsome, with great comic flair, a sense of bel canto style, tremendous ego and confidence oozing out of every pore, Orozco makes Adina's attraction to Belcore entirely believable. He was the bad guy you can't help but love.  

Gary Simpson's Dulcamara did what all great Dulcamara's doL  make you almost embarrassed to be laughing so loudly in an opera house.  Introduced with the roar of an offstage motorcycle (what no Vespa?) he enters walking the bike in with a wagon trailing behind him filled with bottles of Bordeaux . . . I mean his famous Elixir.  He owned the role Friday and his arias, duet, asides to the house, and escape plans provoked genuine belly laughs. 

Gianetta is not a major role in comparison to the central quartet, but here Shaina Martinez - in a sort of Rita Moreno mode, was captivating and hilarious from head to toe and beginning to end.

The splendid chorus, here almost ever present, were beautifully integrated into every scene, each creating a uniquely individual character that the production could not be imagined without.  I never tire of saying that in over twenty years of watching her productions, NO ONE uses and moves a chorus quite like Vaughn can. 

A shout out must go to the two old ladies on the bench watching, participating in, nodding . . .  and nodding off to the shenanigans, antics and joy that was taking place before them.   

Israel Gursky led a reading from the pit that made every note of this Elixir sparkle like bubbly, supporting and pacing his singers perfectly, and shading the score with nuance and love that spilled over us all.           

I can't have imagined a better opera to celebrate life, love and happiness after a year of  . . . well, you know. 

Opera Maine's Memorable Three Decembers

Just returned from OperaMaine's production of Jake Heggie and Gene Scheer's chamber opera, "Three Decembers." As I wrote ten years ago of the broadcast premiere of the 2008 revision, the negative reviews of that event made little sense to me:

". . . ungrateful music that lies awkwardly" for the voice” . . . “a score that while threatening to break into melody - never really does."

The music sits in the "sweet spot" for many singers, so “ungrateful” and "awkward" seems odd word choices to describe it. As to melody(ies), the score is virtually bursting with so many lending more of a musical theatre feel to it than an opera. There are (intentional or not) moments that, while not derivative, recall Menotti's early efforts, Bernstein and Sondheim. This is a good thing.

As with the Houston premiere, Portland’ audience was engaged and responsive throughout.

Scheer’s libretto – drawn from an unpublished play, tells the story of a mother and her difficult relationship with her two adult children from 1986 through 2006. A daughter, trapped in a miserable marriage she’s emotionally unequipped to exit; and a gay son, whose partner is dying from complications from AIDS. While these three wrestle with enormous emotions and guilt, there is never any doubt of the love that exists between them, and that they yearn for throughout those years. What on paper sounds like a Lifetime movie, onstage transforms into a compelling, powerful and sometimes funny tale.

Set in intimacy of the St. Lawrence Arts Center, John Sundling's bare bones production – a few props and enormous marquee-style lit up numerals: "1986" "1996" and "2006" identifying and effectively shrinking the stage each scene was a terrific effect, pulling the audience right into the performance. There were moments I couldn’t help thinking of Sondheim’s “Follies.” Likewise, Richard Gammon's direction elicited direct, no-nonsense acting from his cast that breathed theatrical life into this small, high strung and emotionally damaged family making them, for 90 some minutes, real in every sense. It didn’t hurt that Gammon was blessed with a cast that made absolute magic with Heggie’s Broadway-esque score.

As acclaimed actress, Madeline Mitchell, mezzo-soprano Raehann Bryce-Davis gave a genuine, larger-than-life tour-de-force, her beautiful, expressive face lighting up with stage smiles belying the frightened, hard-as-nails mother, desperate for attention and torn apart by hiding a damaging secret from her children throughout their lives. Vocally, Bryce-Davis has a rich, warm, expressive voice, even throughout all registers top-to-bottom. This is a beautiful singer well on her way to an international career. (Note: following this run, Ms. Bryce-Davis jets back to Antwerp where she is a member of the Opera Vlaanderen, for role debuts in Glass's "Satyagraha" and Eboli in "Don Carlos"). She's also one hell of an actress.

Soprano Symone Harcum was daughter Beatrice, and soared through Heggie's higher-lying music with ease and beautiful, lustrous tone. She softened what I felt was (in the original performances) a difficult-to-love, emotionally character and had the audience's sympathies early on.

As son and brother Charlie, Yazid Gray was every bit the equal of his mom and sister. A beautifully produced baritone and touchingly effective actor, Gray brought Charlie's grief and resentment to life without presenting a character that could easily morph into the maudlin. That line was never crossed and Gray’s Charlie seemed to be both balance and anchor of the family.

Music Director Timothy Steele had the difficult task of playing a single piano reduction of the score which did not allow always for nuances that a full ensemble would have provided. But jeez, did he play it brilliantly, and held the entire work together in a most admirable performance.

Interestingly, surtitles were provided for the performance, but they were never needed because of the amazing clarity of diction from the cast, I'm not certain a single pair of eyes ever looked up. How could we? We couldn't take our eyes off the stage.

We don't get a lot of contemporary opera in Maine, so "Three Decembers" was a most welcome gift from Opera Maine. More please!