Recap: O19 Soars
Two years ago I left Philadelphia Opera’s inaugural O17 Festival feeling tremendously impressed. In two days I attended four operas, three of which were world premieres: Kevin Puts & Mark Campbell’s Elizabeth Cree, Daniel B. Roumain and Marc Bamuthi Joseph’s We Shall Not Be Moved, and David Hertzberg and director R.B. Schlather’s The Wake World. Plus, I got to see the legendary Barrie Kosky production of The Magic Flute at the stunning Academy of Music, which apparently has lost little of its luster since its opening in 1857. It was an exciting, illuminating weekend, similar to diving into a Ring Cycle, except full of unknown works and much younger audiences.
I missed last year’s edition, but this year I returned for O19, a slightly smaller but equally ambitious third iteration of what has quickly become the company’s signature event (2 world premieres, 2 company premieres, plus performances in partnership with the Curtis Institute, Philadelphia Fringe, and a free, outdoor video presentation of La Boheme on the mall).
My takeaway is Opera Philadelphia (OP) is well on its way to becoming the most interesting opera company in America, and might already be there. Full houses, diverse audiences, standard rep and world premieres, all offered over the course of a single weekend or spread out over twelve days. True, one can find a similar model of programming in Santa Fe, but not quite with the same level of artistic risk that is becoming a trademark of the OP experience. And it is an experience, thanks in no small part to creative artistic and administrative staffs that are firing on all cylinders. Below are capsule accounts of what I saw, in chronological order.
Sergei Prokofiev’s The Love for Three Oranges is seldom seen in the U.S., and on paper it’s not all that hard to understand why: it has a ridiculous name that sounds like absurdist nonsense (never a big draw for us Americans); it’s by a Russian composer, the same one who made a very long opera out of Tolstoy’s War & Peace; it requires a cast of about three dozen singers, plus a chorus, and did I mention it has that ridiculous name? At least one can get a sense of what The Fiery Angel might be about from the title.
So it’s little wonder hardly anyone has seen it and that’s a damn shame because it’s incredibly entertaining, the music is Russian fabulous, and I doubt this rambunctious English-language version directed by Alessandro Talevi, with crazy-fun sets (designed by Justin Arienti) and costumes (created by Manuel Pedretti) is going to be topped anytime soon.
Talevi’s production is rooted in commedia dell’arte , but it also has echoes of vaudeville and burlesque. That’s not all that surprising for an opera by a Russian composer, which originally had a French libretto based on an Italian play, and was intended for American audiences. The story revolves around a young Prince who happens to be a hypochondriac (Jonathan Johnson) . As a result of his condition, he doesn’t enjoy anything, which dismays the King (Scott Conner). To raise the Prince’s spirits, and get a laugh out of him, he hires the jester Truffaldino (Barry Banks) to stage a carnival. That provides opportunities for schemers like the Prince’s sister Princess Clarissa (Alissa Anderson) and her louche lover Leander (Zachary Altman) to hatch a plot to end up in control of the kingdom. They engage the evil Fata Morgana (Wendy Bryn Harmer) and Chelio (Brent Michael Smith) to make sure the Prince doesn’t laugh. But when Fata Morgana trips up and shows her ass so-to-speak, the Prince finds it uproarious. Furious at being ridiculed, Fata casts a spell on the Prince, causing him to fall in love with three oranges. So off he goes, with Truffaldino in tow, eventually to the American Southwest in search of his beloved citrus. Many funny things happen along the way to the happy ending, the best of them courtesy of Zachary James, appearing as a very large chicken in a toque wielding a fierce ladle. Like The Cunning Little Vixen, Three Oranges should be part of the standard rep, not a rarity, and OP’s production (appropriate for adults and children) is a rare opportunity to see it that shouldn’t be missed.
I’m not really a fan of Baroque music, and I’m just as likely to hate a Handel opera as I am to love it. My response depends on the production, since frankly I can’t distinguish the merits of one Handel score from another (but I can tell you Rodelinda is my favorite). James Darrah’s production of Semele fell somewhere in the middle, which means I was engaged by the cast, but neither they nor the production could prevent me from wishing it was an hour shorter (at least) and eventually growing somewhat bored. The combination of a production limited to a two-tone color scheme, a largely static set design, and endlessly repetitive arias consisting of one or two lines sung inelegantly executed trills couldn’t hold my interest for the three full hours. Part of the problem was the casting: I’ve been admirers of Alek Shrader and Daniela Mack since they were in San Francisco Opera’s Merola Program- they’re marvelous vocalists and true a pleasure to watch on stage. They excel in Mozart operas and bel canto rep, but little I heard at this performance convinced me Handel is something they should be pursuing at this point. Amanda Forsythe impressed in the title role, as did Alex Rosen in the small role of Cadmus/Somnus. In a silent role, dancer Lindsey Matheis created a big impact, and a welcome one. As Iris, Sarah Shafer made the greatest impression - she possesses a bright, clear tone and has marvelous enunciation and control. As Athamas, countertenor Tim Mead had to go head -to-head with Shrader for Semele’s attention, a match-up that seemed unreasonably unfair on every level. I should note the audience loved it, and Darrah’s production, now in its third iteration, has received a lot of acclaim from other quarters.
The world premiere of Joseph Keckler’s Let Me Die, presented in partnership with the Philadelphia Fringe Festival, left me with the feeling this show should have a life far beyond O19. Essentially a well-conceived spoof on that most hoary aspect of opera, Let Me Die re-enacts a succession of opera’s greatest deaths, along with some fairly obscure ones. At first it’s quite funny, but as it progresses the cumulative weight of all that death starts to create a different, more profound impact, dramatically and intellectually. Let Me Die could use some more fine-tuning (I heard it was tweaked right up to the last minute), and feels long at 90 minutes, but proved to be a gripping performance, aided by countertenor Darius Elmore, mezzo Natalie Levin, dance/actor Saori Tsukada, soprano Veronica Chapman-Smith, and accompaniment from violinist Lavinia Pavlish and pianist William Kim. In its current state, Let Me Die’s audience might be more limited than need be— I overheard two young audience members on the way out saying they would have gotten more out of it if they knew more about the scenes used in the piece.
Philip Venables and Ted Huffman’s Denis & Katya is this year’s notable world premiere. It’s a charged, minimalist drama based on the real-life story of two Russian teenagers who ran away from home and holed-up in an apartment with guns, booze, and the internet, livestreaming the last three days of their lives. It’s sad, terrible , and compelling, especially as Venables’ score for two vocalists performing six roles and four amplified cellos (each positioned in a corner of the stage) grows increasingly aggressive and intrusive as it punctuates dialogue and projections of text messages. Thankfully Huffman and Venables are more interested in probing the audience’s reaction and voyeuristic tendencies rather than creating shock value, and two days later, Denis & Katya is still sitting uncomfortably in my mind, accompanied by the sound of celli going rat-a-tat-tat-tat. It’s a Wozzeck for our times. The cast alternates between Theo Hoffman and Sienna Licht Miller, and Johnny Herford and Emily Edmonds. I saw Hoffman and Miller, both of whom handled the work’s unique challenges with dexterity and confidence.
O17, Opera Philadelphia’s season-opening festival, runs through September 29. By all means go.
Save the date for next year’s version, which runs 17 - 27 and features a major role debut from Sondra Radvanovsky and at least two world premieres.
