Comprised of 100,000 couplets, the “Mahābhārata” is the longest known poem ever written.  Logging in at 1.8 million words, it is around three times as long as the Bible, depending on which version is being considered.  So, it is no surprise that trying to transform its multitude of stories into performance art would be daunting. Condensing it in some form into a solo dramatic performance of under two hours is a Herculean task.  This is what playwright Geetha Reddy has accomplished.

Although not designed to be a sacred Hindu religious text, as were the four vedas which preceded it, the epic “Mahābhārata” is considered by most to be the fifth veda.  Written in the 3^rd century BCE and attributed to poet Vyāsa, it retains a wide following today as its cultural narratives still resonate.

Oakland Theater Project produced this play, written by local playwright Geetha Reddy, in 2019, and reprises it now, so OTP is clearly confident of its worth.  As with the premiere, this one-person show is delivered by actor J Jha, whose performance is sterling, with supporting artistic elements orchestrated by Director Michael Socrates Moran.  The spellbinding and fast-paced delivery of the saga is full of energy, conviction, and credibility.

Jha is transgender, which is relevant to the storytelling, because he/she portrays male and female characters, and because sexual ambiguity plays a role in some of the stories.  She/he effectively uses several different voices, and more importantly, displays an emotion to fit every situation.  Jha laughs, cries, rages, moans, and more – all the while in grand gesticulation – dancing, stomping, and breaking the fourth wall in frequent eye contact directly with the audience.  It is a performance to behold.

In the opening vignette from the text of the poem, a woman is setting her son in a basket on a river, reminiscent of the Judeo-Christian story of Moses.  This and other aspects of the work show how universal some literary themes are, but there are also major differences.  One departure from Western religious scriptures is the extent, scope, and candid discussion of sexual matters including polyamory, illicit affairs with outcomes, and menses banishment in the “Mahābhārata,” which is ironic, given that Indian movies are not even allowed to show kisses.

Notwithstanding moral issues, the central narrative concerns the Kurukshetra War between royal cousins, the Pāndavas and the Kauravas.  Its scale is epic with millions of soldiers and more elephants than probably existed on earth.  Its outcome is near apocalyptic.  Of the many subplots in the poem, time allows for few to be told, and so the conceit is used that they will be selected by the storyteller’s rolls of the dice.  Stories like Chitrāngadā, the Warrior Princess of Manipur, luring Arjuna into marriage, and Draupadi’s husband Yudhishthira “losing” her in a dice game, both engage and reveal aspects of Hindu cultural heritage.

The production entertains because of the exoticism and the scintillating performance.  It does beg the question, however – what is the playwright’s objective?  If it is to understand the play at anywhere near the same level of competence as reading the script, that is not going to happen.  Attendees with a nodding familiarity of Arjuna, Ganesh, Krishna, and several others will perhaps grasp more and have a head start in knowing to stay focused when their names come up.  But what about Kunti, Sanjay, and the tens of other names that are introduced, some only once, while others do become main characters?  I only “got” Chitrāngadā and Yudhishthira through research after the play, not from the performance.  Other names did not connect with me at all.

The point is that appreciating “Mahābhārata” at an impressionistic level with some snippets fully comprehended is fairly easy.  Understanding at a detailed level is difficult as three factors preclude accurate comprehension.  As noted, way too many characters are introduced, some of which have no real bearing on central issues.  The solution to that problem is in the hands of the playwright.  Also, Jha’s delivery is exceptionally rapid, which makes it hard to even understand the names.  Rather than rein in the pace and enthusiasm in the performance, this would be the perfect occasion to flash projections with the character’s name and perhaps a visual representation of a character when introduced.  Finally, the house is set up with split-sides audience.  Whenever Jha faces away to one wing of the house, the words are somewhat to totally lost to some audience members on the other side.  These last two issues are controllable by the producers.

Despite these issues, theatergoers with an interest in or curiosity about Indian culture will find this a rewarding experience.

“Mahābhārata” is written by Geetha Reddy, based on the epic poem of the same name by Vyasa, produced by Oakland Theater Company and Z Space, and plays at Z Space, 450 Florida Street, San Francisco, CA through August 20, 2023.

West Edge Opera paired these two short operas onto one bill.

“The Nightingale”

In today’s world, the replacement of human beings by technology grows at an expanding, if not alarming, rate.  At first, robots, and now more human-like androids, are programmed to perform physical functions with greater speed and accuracy than people.  And at first, computers, and now artificial intelligence algorithms execute mental functions of massive complexity that humans can’t accomplish, and at unimaginably fast speeds.

The concept of machines replacing humans precedes its actually happening by centuries.  One such fantasy was a simple Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale in which the Emperor of China is bewitched by the song of a dull-looking nightingale.  However, when a machine that looks like a more attractive nightingale appears, the real bird disappears.  Piqued, the Emperor then banishes the real nightingale, only to suffer regrets.  Yet, as straight forward as the plot is, the characters are not well introduced, leading to some confusion as to roles.

Igor Stravinsky composed the three-act, 45-minute opera at a time that he was abandoning the form.  Though “The Nightingale” was not well received initially as a result of the dissonance of the music, it would later be acclaimed.  But as the composer was turning toward dance at this time, he later extracted the music of the last two acts to become “Chant du Rossignol,” a ballet.

West Edge Opera’s production of “The Nightingale” offers an outstanding representation of the instrumental and vocal components of the work.  The orchestra is well-conducted by Jonathan Khuner, and the singers suit the material well.  As the nightingale, soprano Helen Zhibing Huang displays coloratura and dramatic vocal skills as well as the emotional acting needed for the role.  Bass Patrick Scully as the Emperor provides a warm, deep tone and a commanding presence.  The other five principals, Kevin Gino, Kristin Choi, Alice Chung, Chung-Wai Soong, and Wayne Wong also carry out their parts admirably.

Yet, rarely does an opera production owe so much to costuming and choreography.  Ralph W. Hoy’s costumes are an uncommonly striking cacophony of stunning color and shape that is eye boggling and fits the cacophony of sound produced by the chorus.  Dance occurs throughout, and choreographer Lucas Tischler’s designs and the dancers’ execution of balletic and modern modes adds another creative element that makes this production compelling.

Director Giselle Ty and Scenic Designer Mikiko Uesugi’s set is simple, using shiny, bent metal rods and swaths of solid colored cloth and muted projections on the back wall, but with so much visual stimulation from the costumes and dance, the simplicity of the set is desirable.

“Erwartung” (Expectation)

Arnold Schoenberg was nothing if not innovative.  The father of atonality, his influence has rippled through succeeding generations of serious music composers.  With “Erwartung,” his first opera, he broke a cardinal rule of drama by writing a monodrama without action, but rather with internalized thoughts, though the thoughts are so well expressed that drama results.

In a nightmarish scenario, the terrorized Woman symbolically searches for her lover in a forest.  When she finds him, he is bloodied and dead, presumably murdered.  Conflicting emotions plague The Woman – reminiscing and worrying (“I am alone in the heavy shadows”); pondering his possible betrayal in meeting with another woman (“Where is the whore with white arms?”); and bemoaning a future without him (“What shall I do here alone in this long, endless life?”).

Soprano Mary Evelyn Hangley is The Woman as she meets every challenge the composer puts before her – music that lacks thematic repetition; frequent changes of meter and tempo; as well as dramatic vocal leaps from the bottom of her range to the top and one high note nicely sustained.  Further, the score demands around 45 minutes of musical soliloquy without respite.  And Hangley conveys intimate passions and sustained lyricism while competing vocally with 30 instruments, interestingly orchestrated.

Jonathan Khuner demonstrates particular enthusiasm and precision at the baton in this short but demanding piece, as this is a project he has long wanted to conduct.  His father Felix had been in the Schoenberg Circle in Vienna as a member of the Kolish Quartet, whose founder, Rudolph Kolish, was Schoenberg’s son-in-law.

To ensure that this production is not a static stand-and-deliver solo performance, the artistic contributions are enhanced.  In doing so, the composer’s expressed wishes, which were to show “Erwartung” in a naturalistic forest setting, are defied.  Instead, this version takes place in a hospital.  However, Director Giselle Ty and Scenic Designer Mikiko Uesugi are able to powerfully use dancers as mute characters to strengthen the impact of the soliloquy.

“The Nightingale,” composed by Igor Stravinsky, with libretto by the composer and Stepan Mitusov is based on a tale by Hans Christian Anderson.

“Erwartung” (Expectation) is composed by Arnold Schoenberg with libretto by Marie Pappenheim.

The paired operas were produced by West Edge Opera and played at Scottish Rite Center, 1547 Lakeside Drive, Oakland, CA through August 6, 2023.

“Make a wish – any wish – and it will come true.” Many fantasies offer the protagonist a deal that is too good to refuse. Inevitably, either the recipient of the gift doesn’t see the invisible trap that was laid which nullifies the benefits from the wish.  Elsewise, the beneficiary underestimates the cost of an agreed upon quid pro quo.

Rusalka means water nymph in Czech.  The title character falls in love with a human Prince who cannot see or feel her.  She tells Ježibaba (the Czech word for witch) that she will sacrifice whatever to become a human and receive his love.  In the bargain that she strikes, Rusalka will be mute, and if she loses the Prince’s love, she will lure him to his death and suffer damnation.  Desperate for love, she feels that she can live with the conditions and agrees to them.  The moral of the story – be careful what you wish for.

Although Czech opera flourished during the latter Romantic period, it long failed to get recognition by aficionados of the Italian-French-German tradition, largely based on the difficulty of casting in Czech language.  Fortunately, Smetana, Janáček, and in this case, Dvořák, have entered the repertory.

“Rusalka” ranks as Dvořák’s most popular opera and with good reason.  Applying Wagnerian principles with leitmotifs and in sung-through fashion, it also draws from Czech folk music.  The thoroughly romantic, luxuriant music possesses extractable set pieces of compelling melody and emotion.  The fairy tale story draws on several sources, mixing light and dark, with a resulting dramatic outcome.

This opera represents the opportunity for female performers to dominate and excel, and the artists in Santa Fe Opera’s premiere production of the work rise to the occasion.  Ailyn Pérez portrays Rusalka, winning the hearts and minds of the audience with a rapturous performance.  Well-regarded in lyric roles, she demonstrates her capability to crossover into spinto/dramatic mode with this challenge.  The composer provides one of the most hauntingly beautiful love arias in opera for the title character, “Ode to the Moon” in Act 1, which the artist caresses mournfully and then powers to its dramatic conclusion.

Rusalka faces antagonists of various sorts throughout, the most consequential being Ježibaba, played with sassy flair and sung with deep mezzo resonance and cutting dramatic bits by Raehann Bryce-Davis.  Her highlight is the humorous conjuring aria as she transforms Rusalka.

Another antagonist to the water-nymph-turned-human is the Foreign Princess, performed by the saucy, scene-stealing soprano Mary Elizabeth Williams.  While Marie-Jeanne Lecca’s stunning costumery for female principals in this production emphasizes white-colored and demure, the Foreign Princess stands apart, bedecked in a red dress, hat, and long boots.  She even enters astride a mock golden steed.  Driven by her passion, she wins the attention of The Prince, the clear-toned tenor Robert Watson, with whom she shares a chilly but sparkling duet.

The controversial element of Director David Pountney’s production is scenic design.  As written, “Rusalka” opens in a meadow by a lake which is well-represented by a dank swampy or foresty set.  The whole opera as specified takes place outdoors, and darkness is even mentioned in the libretto.  But Leslie Travers’s full stage set is comprised of massive white built-in looking cabinets which creates unnatural domesticity and artificial brightness that opposes the intent of the story.  Traditionalists will be offended.  An interesting element of the set is a “tree” built of white metal chairs, which Rusalka climbs upon with the audience wondering if and how it will hold.

That said, artistic license triggers interest, and many benefits derive from this depiction.  Modules of the set are portable, so that, for instance, a laboratory table and glass cabinets to display female trophies can easily roll into place. So the staging may be inappropriate in several ways, but it does provide exceptionally strong visuals.

Whatever disagreements on staging, however, performances are superb. Strong, clear-voiced James Creswell as Vodnik, Rusalka’s father, also deserves mention.  Cheers to Lidiya Yankovskaya who conducts with accuracy and great aplomb.  Finally, the opera itself is a wonderful testament to the collaboration of creative minds.

“Rusalka,” composed by Antonin Dvořák with libretto by Jaroslav Kvapil and based on the fairy tales of Karel Jaromir Erben and Božena Němcová is produced by Santa Fe Opera and plays at its home at 301 Opera Drive, Santa Fe, NM through August 22, 2023.

When Claude Debussy discussed a prospective opera libretto, he said that he sought a poetic source in which characters seemed out of place, out of time, and only half disclosed. For “Pelléas et Mélisande,” he found his soulmate in future Nobel Prize winner Maurice Maeterlinck, whose opaqueness suited Debussy so well that he adapted the playwright’s work almost verbatim except for modest trimming. The fit of the composer’s music with the play was fortuitous as it resulted in Debussy’s only completed opera.

In literary terms, “Pelléas et Mélisande” was the apotheosis of Symbolist opera, a somewhat ambiguous idiom with a reverence for language unbound by traditional meaning, with links to the delight of unnamed things and the mysticism of sound that becomes associated with them. Things are not what they appear to be but have a deeper meaning beneath the surface. The work is also full of symbolism with its metaphorical representations. Notwithstanding, the many symbols depicted are sometimes indecipherable. While many questions can be asked about this work, there are few answers that are absolutely right or wrong.

Musically, Debussy was a contemporary of Puccini, but his musical vocabulary in opera differed greatly. The Italian maestro penned many set pieces like arias, ensembles, and choruses replete with distinct and memorable melodies having wide musical range and leaps.

No stranger to melody, Debussy’s most famous pieces were the lush “Clair de Lune” and “Prelude of the Afternoon of a Faun.” Constrained to a fixed libretto that was not designed to accompany music limited the scope for musical expression in his opera. Thus, Debussy followed Wagner’s thesis of continuous melody with a tighter melodic line, more akin to lengthy but more tonal recitative. Without a chorus or large groups of principals on stage, Debussy’s work plays much like a chamber rather than a grand opera.

The resulting work however was a landmark in turn-of-the-century opera that is conducive to broad staging interpretation. Santa Fe Opera’s detailed and provocative rendering commands the attention and fascinates throughout. Director Natia Jones deserves immense kudos for also designing the complex scenery and projections, as well as costumery. Her only artistic design collaborator is D. M. Wood who is responsible for the also impressive lighting. The overall staging concept is brooding to match the unbroken darkness of the storyline.

The summary narrative of “Pelléas et Mélisande” is simple and well trodden. A prince, Golaud, finds a feral girl, Mélisande, in the forest and marries her. She and her husband’s younger half-brother, Pelléas, fall in love. People die. The end. Fortunately, considerable stimulating drama occurs along the way

Dyadal conflict within a group of well-differentiated characters drives the plot. Performances and voices excel across the board. Central to the clashes of desire is Mélisande. Haunted in character and with a haunting voice, Samantha Hankey portrays the innocence and beauty that trigger the hormonal reaction in the male siblings.

Knowing almost nothing about Mélisande and knowing that they don’t necessarily fit well, Golaud nevertheless takes her as his wife. While tolerant at the outset, he becomes increasingly hostile, symbolizing the abuse of the weak by the powerful, even using his son Yniold as a weapon of his oppression. Gihoon Kim is chilling as a conflicted tyrant who often intends well but struggles mightily with his urges. His emotive, mournful voice equally expresses his pain and his rage, and his portrayal is commanding.

The third member of the triangle is Pelléas, deftly portrayed by Huw Montague Rendall, a youthful sounding baritone in fine voice. In contrast to Golaud, Pelléas hesitates and long withholds his expression of love to Mélisande in spite of its long simmering.

This production is blessed with an exceptional cast of secondary principals. Raymond Aceto is King Arkel. We don’t know if his character has transformed as he readies for death, but for a royal, he is accommodating and empathetic. He holds special concern for Mélisande, despite the fact that her marriage to Golaud upset the king’s plan for a strategic alliance. From the opening words of the opera, Aceto demonstrates his booming resonance and range while he looms as a shell of past power.

Santa Fe treasure Susan Graham plays Geneviève, mother to the half-brothers. The role is small for an artist of Graham’s stature, but she displays both ideal presence and voice. Tweener Kai Edgar is Yniold, the son of Golaud. He is on point as the scared little boy with his penetrating treble (boy soprano).

A dominant metaphor in the Symbolist narrative concerns water. Variously, a body floats in it; a crown falls into it; a ring is lost in it; hair is draped upon it; and the nose is offended by its acrid odor. What does it all mean? Who knows? It’s up to the observer. It could relate to transition or in some cases sexuality. A likely interpretation is that it has to do with danger or threat, but why should that be a focus of the story? Only Maeterlinck knew for sure.

If the libretto doesn’t create enough ambiguity, the staging adds to it. Gloominess and dim lighting signpost this production’s stage design. A flat, gray set acts as the receptacle for changing, colorless projections that dominate the visual field. Three circulating fans appear as part of the fixed set. Are they figurative, fanning the flames; functional, cooling the stage; or something else?

Another directorial conceit involves sometimes having doppelgangers in twosomes on stage. Often, the actions of the two sets of identical characters is the same, but at other times, they diverge. Do the replicants represent alter egos? Do they depict the differing perceptions of the two characters in their relationships? Probably the latter, but who knows?

In any case, this opera fulfills Debussy’s mystical quest, and this outstanding production offers plenty of entertainment and plenty to think about.

“Pelléas et Mélisande,” with music and libretto by Claude Debussy and book by Maurice Maeterlinck is produced by Santa Fe Opera and plays at its home at 301 Opera Drive, Santa Fe, NM through August 18, 2023.

Love versus duty. All too often, the world’s highly accomplished individuals find that they must sacrifice relationships to achieve goals that will yield personal glory. Conversely, lovers sometimes lack the discipline or motivation for greatness.

Orfeo (Orpheus), demigod and son of Apollo, is challenged to follow strict guidance and not to submit to his personal urges. His attempt to retrieve his beloved Euridice from the underworld is oft retold and revised in every form of literary endeavor. Thus, it should be no surprise that Claudio Monteverdi’s “Orfeo” would be the earliest extant opera that holds a place in the modern repertoire. Santa Fe Opera’s stunning production showcases the work’s music in a fresh and appealing manner and offers a vivid visual interpretation of the narrative.

Composed in 1607, the score of “Orfeo” bridged Renaissance and early Baroque music. In common with musical dramas of the time that would later be known as operas, music was composed to enhance existing dramas. Composers like Monteverdi would create a continuo, a bass line usually played by a keyboard with harmonies and their instruments specified. They would not fully detail the scores for each instrument, leaving that to the individual production.

As a result, this opera has been orchestrated by a number of conductors and composers. Santa Fe Opera commissioned Nico Muhly to premiere a new orchestration that is designed for modern, rather than period instruments. Although the original continuo is observed, the result is a more contemporary treatment that eliminates the sometimes tinkly clanginess of period instruments to provide a warmer, smoother sound.

The most distinguishing feature of this production is its brilliant staging. Overall, scenario goes from light to dark to sunrise in a manner that only Santa Fe can provide. Early sequences surrounding Orfeo and Euridice’s marriage feature La Musica (Music), performed by Lauren Snouffer, who sings with a fine Baroque tremolo. Festivities take place on a stage whose set is comprised of a huge green mound. One assumes that Visual Environment Designers Alex Schweder and Matthew Johnson were purposefully playful with the connection of the hemispheric feature’s shape and color to the composer’s name.

Apart from the main principals who have their own unique costumery, the stage is filled with raucous, gallivanting choristers who don orange and pink garb that is reminiscent of a large gathering of Hare Krishnas. The score utilizes the chorus extensively, and since it is comprised of apprentice singers, the quality of the chorus’s sound is always superb and the acting always as required.

Putting a stop to the gaiety, La Messaggera (Messenger), portrayed by a delightful Paula Murrihy, announces that Euridice has died and descended to the underworld. This occurs in a staging manner that only Santa Fe can offer. For the scenes that occur in the living world, the back wall of the stage is open to nature – the mountain landscape and skies behind. As darkness descends figuratively in the opera, it also descends literally in the natural backdrop. Plus, ominous storm clouds and rain that were developing in the distance at this performance added to the chilling appearance.

Orfeo’s crossing into the underworld to retrieve Euridice provides the most striking visuals. In almost total darkness, the hemisphere lifts to create a giant clamshell-like feature that envelopes Orfeo. This is lead performer Rolando Villazón’s time to shine. Not only is he spotlit on the stage which he has to himself for an extended soliloquy, but he is suspended in air on cables and writhing the whole time. He does a remarkable job to maintain his voice under those conditions.

Director Yuval Sharon does an excellent job with overall production design. Yuki Nakase Link’s lighting also deserves recognition, especially in the fearsome underworld, where in the darkness, light darts and undulates on smoke, and the chorus is adorned with neon features.

The uncontrollables are the Achilles heel. This work is worth seeing for its historical importance, staging, and performances. but to the modern sensibility its weaknesses are that the music and drama don’t meet standards of later operas. The music is pleasant and well conducted by Harry Bicket, but singing is in recitative without melodious arias and without the challenges of singing in high ranges. And while the situations are certainly dramatic, the delivery is almost completely in oratorio style. Storytelling and internal revelations dominate with little action or interaction among characters.

Also, while one of the glories that makes opera such a unique and compelling art is the display of the power of the unamplified, well-trained human voice, microphones were used in this performance. The lead principals sounded fine, but their voices were not properly tested.

“Orfeo,” composed by Claudio Monteverdi and libretto by Alessandro Striggio with world premiere orchestration by Nico Muhly is produced by Santa Fe Opera and plays at its home at 301 Opera Drive, Santa Fe, NM through August 24, 2023.