What about that old adage that blood is thicker than water, which suggests that loyalties among blood relatives should be stronger than those between unrelated people?  Media and personal observation reveal an abundance of examples that belie that cliché.  A somewhat contrary notion suggests that despite growing up with the same immediate kin, the further apart siblings are born, the more they are raised in “different families.”  This premise relates to differences caused by birth order and the changed economic and social condition of the family as it evolves.

“Bald Sisters” is about the clash between two sisters dealing with funeral preparations for their deceased mother, with flashbacks to earlier days which flesh out the relationships among the three women.  Acting by all five actors is adept, and the San Jose Stage realization meets its typically high production standard.  While the script touches on interesting cross-cultural matters and deals well with a number of family crises, the conflicts simmer rather than sizzle or startle.  But along the way, the play is funny and thoughtful.

The title alone should intrigue anyone unfamiliar with the work, but it is quite literal and highlights a divide between the sisters.  Him, the name of the older daughter, is undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer and covers her hair loss with a scarf.  Sophea, the younger, has a new buzz cut in recognition of her mother’s passing. It represents the baldness of a Buddhist monk’s foregoing of worldly things.  (One can accept that many actresses would bristle at going with a completely nude pate).

If the name Him for a female raises eyebrows, the family is Cambodian.  The older daughter was born in their ancestral land, though the family immigrated to Dallas.  Unless the playwright simply wanted to highlight this name as reflecting a cultural difference, it is not clear why he chose a character name that in English contradicts the person’s gender.  Him does not appear among http://www.momjunction.com’s list of 176 Cambodian baby names, so there are many alternatives.   A further confusion – the mother is called Ma, but it is pronounced as in matter or mask.  So it is not clear whether this is the daughters’ idiosyncratic rendering of the English word or if it is the Cambodian proper name.

Anyway, Sophea was conceived in Cambodia and born in the U.S., but the father died before Ma and Him left the squalid conditions of refugee camps in Thailand.  These “different family” factors play into the underlying dynamic between the sisters.

Although she dies in the opening scene, Keiko Carreiro is an absolute scream as Ma.  Totally irreverent and uncensored, this drama queen is the show’s comic center.  She humorously dresses down her daughters by calling them bitches in her scratchy-squeaky voice and otherwise swears like a Marine.  But as much as she tells others what to do, she doesn’t reveal much about herself.  In fact, the girls know nothing about Ma’s expectations for death ceremonies or body treatment.  What’s more, she’s left no will.

Nicole Tung plays the understandably subdued Him, weakened and leaving the room frequently to vomit from reaction to the chemo treatments.  She is married to a white pastor, Nate, who is deftly portrayed as earnest but diffident by Will Sprinnghorn, Jr.  Given her Christian marriage and having stayed around Ma for the duration, she has proceeded on the basis that Ma would receive Christian burial rites.

Conversely, Sophea resettled to New York City and has not been seen in four years.  Believing that Ma would want to be treated in Buddhist death tradition, she bristles at Him’s dismissiveness about her ideas.  But Him has little confidence in Sophea and that she can do anything right.  Rinabeth Apostol performs as the wayward one who seethes and snarls. 

The final character, the lawn guy Seth, played by Zaya Kolia, has no strategic significance to the plot.  He does have his shining moment reciting a Syrian prayer, and he does act as diversion fodder elsewise.

While “Bald Sisters” doesn’t reach for much in terms of plot development, the situations and interactions do offer a rewarding experience.  Cultural and family matters are well depicted. One enrichment to the storytelling would be having hair and costume changes for the sisters in flashback sequences.

One final issue of note to some, unlike most all theaters that this reviewer has attended this year, San Jose Stage holds to the pandemic practice of offering no physical program – not even a one sheet listing of performers and artistic contributors.

“Bald Sisters,” written by Vichet Chum, is produced by San Jose Stage and plays at its theater at 490 South First Street, San Jose, CA through October 8, 2023.

With the backdrop of their grim, ghoulish, and ghostly digs, we hear the familiar repeated four-note melody and finger snapping of the Addams Family’s theme, and we know that we’re not in Kansas anymore.  In the tradition of the likes of “Rocky Horror Show,” “Beetlejuice,” and “La Cage aux Folles,” the intersection of conventional folks with the off-kilter provides for hilarity.  Novato Theater Company takes on the stage musical version of “The Addams Family” and presents a highly entertaining affair.

In case anyone doesn’t know, the macabre Addams family comprises a bizarre concoction of living, dead, and undecided in which normal human desires are largely perverted or inverted.  For instance, to accommodate wife Morticia’s desire to visit Paris, husband Gomez gleefully seeks to stay in the worst hotel he can find and to take her on the tour of the Paris sewer system (okay, real tourists actually do that as well!).  Their son, Pugsley, will try to obstruct his sister Wednesday from leaving the family home as he would miss her torturing him on the rack.  Get the picture?

The setup is that, despite her own aberrant lifestyle, Wednesday falls in love and wants to marry a “normal” boy, which Gomez protests.  On the family’s annual gravesite tribute (think Dia de los Muertos) they don’t just honor the deceased, but the ancestors emerge from their graves.  Uncle Fester will enlist the deceased to assist Gomez in hopes of terminating the lovers’ relationship when the boy and his family come for dinner.  Another hitch that becomes significant – Gomez doesn’t tell Morticia what’s afoot, which becomes part of the broader theme of full disclosure.

Of course, the play is full of dark and campy humor as well as clever songs, and the cast is fully up to the task.  Bruce Vierra plays Gomez with verve and joy.  Smiling and a bit conniving, he hits the right notes – and singing them as well.  Composer and lyricist Andrew Lippa has written a score of pleasant melodies and clever lyrics.  “Trapped” is one that is full of patter about the conundrum that Gomez faces with his daughter and wife, which Vierra delivers with great aplomb.

Morticia is performed delightfully by long-time Novato Theater favorite Alison Peltz.  Although in the prime of her life, Morticia shares many of the insecurities stereotyped to women.  Concerned about losing her youth, she even sings beautifully about death being “Just around the corner,” yet, when it’s time to turn up the sex quotient, she sizzles. But when she finds herself doing things that she swore she never would, she bemoans that “I’ve turned into my mother!”

The pivotal character however is Wednesday, a web of contradictions, played with dead-pan assurance by Harriette Pearl Fugitt.  Although good acting would be pretty sufficient in this role, Fugitt displays serious singing chops with incredible power and range.

“The Addams Family” bursts with sight gags, witticisms, and one-liners harking back to the prime of the Borscht Belt.  There is homage to early television with “To the moon, Alice,” and, concerning the mother who has long lived with Gomez and Morticia, “My mother?  I thought she was your mother!”  Although it is far from a morality play, a number of messages seep through.  Playwrights Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice do take occasional jabs that probably say something about their socio-political leanings, including the inadequacies of home schooling and the isolation of moderate right wingers.  And while it is easy to nitpick the script, it’s looking to make people laugh, and not provoke them intellectually as with a serious drama.

Marilyn Izdebski’s orchestration of the artistic contributions yields an appealing look and feel that speaks highly of what smaller theater companies can produce even without big budget production values.  Although the set is spare, the ancestors, all dressed in different white outfits with white face, often fill the stage and provide movement and great contrast to the living who are mostly in black.  All of the unmentioned principals play their parts well.  The singing is mostly very good and sometimes adequate.  One weakness on opening night was the Act 2 quartet, which sounded murky.  Otherwise, a good time was had by all.

“The Addams Family,” written by Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice, with music and lyrics by Andrew Lippa, is produced by Novato Theater Company and plays on its stage at 5420 Nave Drive, Novato, CA through October 8, 2023.

Hats.  At times in European and American societies – de rigueur.  Other times – almost absent.  Often superfluous, sometimes functional.  Most hats today explicitly celebrate one’s tribe or experience.  The dominant form is the baseball cap, marked with the identity of, say, Aruba or St. Louis Cardinals or John Deere tractors.

Men’s styles have usually signaled conformity.  Picture strolling, stuffy London bankers all in bowler hats with umbrellas as walking sticks.  Recall black-and-white photos of the stands of baseball stadiums in the ‘50s with seas of men in near identical fedoras.  For women, distinguishing and often expensive hats have more often represented class and fashion.

But in no realm has the hat been more joyously and extravagantly donned than among church-going African-American women.  Playwright Regina Taylor has adapted the book “Crowns” to the stage, honoring these determined women.  She’s added a gospel-dominated song score to highlight the talent of the cast and energize patrons into hand clapping response.  The result is an energetic, audience-pleasing homage to African-American women and the hats that they wear.  But it is not a mere feel-good style show.  It also deals with social issues of the time and the tragedies that befall us all.

The show opens on a misdirect, with a teenage girl in Brooklyn performing a rap number.  We soon learn the setup.  Her brother has been murdered, and she is being sent to live with her grandmother in Darlington, South Carolina to avoid a similar fate.  So one of the threads of the narrative is the cross-cultural conflict of a northern urban girl moving to a small southern town.  Of course, she bridles at being surrounded by schoolmates with different, and what she considers backward ways, and by women of an older generation around her grandmother.

Mother Shaw, as the grandmother is known, is a paragon in the community.  She maintains standards and expects her new charge to fall in line.  One of those standards is wearing hats to church.  Like many of her peers, she doesn’t have one or two, but a collection.  One friend owns over 200, necessitating the use of storage at her sister’s house.

The practice of wearing hats derives from the notion of covering one’s head in the presence of the Lord in hopes of catching God’s eye.  But, oh, how they cover their heads!  Bright colors and radical shapes; brims as wide as shoulders; bonnets and dresses in the same material; feathers or fur, right down to having the head of a fox staring at whomever may be across from the wearer.  A woman could be barefoot and in rags but still shine with dignity because of her crown.

“Crowns” brims with laughter and pulls on the heartstrings, but lacking a linear plotline, it has no emotional build to a climax.  Its power comes largely from vignettes and from the ensemble of characters taking turns telling stories that revolve around their lives and the history of fighting oppression.  The wearing of hats as church finery plays significant in its own right, as in slave days, special garb would have to be hidden from the white masters.  The tradition continued, and especially when protesting for civil rights, headgear was off.

Many rules, both functional and social, apply to hat wearing.  One is that another’s hat is to be appreciated and respected, not to be envied or resented.  The special honor accorded hats is revealed in the funny story in which one of the women notes that she would lend her children out before her hats, observing that at least the children know their way home.

The cast of “Crowns” is full of strut and sass.  Each performer is funny and has a fine and powerful voice.  Each has “close ups,” and some numbers involve the whole cast, such as a vibrant version of “When the saints go marching in.”  One annoyance in the script is that characters are not appropriately identified.  Further, publicity materials don’t include songs and singers.  In order to give personal credit for songs or skits, the reviewer would have to work backward from press photos and have either powerful skill for memory or crack note taking.

One character, Mother Shaw, is identified in the show, and she is one of its anchors.  Juanita Harris portrays this gray eminence, and her voice is stunning, wailing in her upper range with clarity and penetration that really rings the bell.  Since Darryl V. Jones is the only male, it’s easy to identify him as “The Man,” who performs and sings with great skill in his many incarnations.  In addition, each of the other cast members (Janelle LaSalle, Constance Jewell Lopez, Antonia Reed, Erica Richardson, and Phaedra Tillery-Boughton) conveys the enjoyment of bringing this rousing play to the audience.

“Crowns” is written by Regina Taylor from the book of the same name by Michael Cunningham and Craig Marberry; produced by Center Repertory Company; and plays at Lesher Center for the Arts, 1601 Civic Drive, Walnut Creek, CA through October 6, 2023.

William Shakespeare’s play about star-crossed lovers was not the seminal work in its genre, but it is far and away the most profound and influential work of its kind, diminishing all pale imitators.  Encompassing young love, warring factions, intermittent humor, and tragic death, its obvious grist for opera has prompted many efforts to adapt the masterpiece to the musical stage.

Of all operatic realizations, none compete with the accomplishment of Charles Gounod’s “Romeo et Juliet.”  The style of the lush and romantic French language version was à la mode at its debut in 1867.  Unlike many operas that draw from literary sources, its libretto hews closely to the original, capturing the drama intended by the playwright.  Along with its fitting and beautiful music, many regard it among the greatest of the Shakespearian operas.  Together with “Faust,” also taken from classic literature, this represents Gounod’s most accomplished and beloved work.

A rubric of many critics is that vital plot points should not be revealed in a review, but exceptions are allowed for classics, especially Shakespeare.  In this case, the prologue telegraphs the outcome, eliminating the element of surprise.  The lead photo herein depicts the climactic death scene of the lovers, but of course, you know that happens.  In sum, the Capulet and Montague families are mortal enemies and members of each clan are killed by the other.  The two lovers from the feuding families defy family strictures, and through tragic miscalculation they separately take their own lives.

Opera San Jose’s interpretation of “Romeo and Juliet” benefits from a passel of principals that are youthful enough to represent the roles they perform.  What’s more, they bring their characters to life with great aplomb – singing and acting with exceptional skill.  Despite the lack of surprise, the passion and anticipation make for a compelling drama.

The cast is led by Melissa Sondhi whose light lyric soprano suits the role of Juliet well.  Juliet’s signature, and the most famous music from the opera, is her Act 1 aria about her lack of interest in marriage “Je veux vivre dans la rêve” (I want to live in dreams).  She conquers its coloratura runs with delight and conviction.  By Act 4, her voice has loosened and darkened, yielding an equally persuasive and more dramatic “Amour ranime mon courage” (Love drives my courage).

Tenor Joshua Sanders plays Romeo.  Given his vocal skill, it surprises that this is his first lead role in an opera.  Although his character is more active than Juliet’s, with sword fights and confrontations, Romeo is not given as much in the way of solo highlights.  However, Sanders masters the Act 2 aria “Ah! Lève-toi soleil” (Rise, sun), with his trademark tremolo and slightly twangy Italianate vocal style.  He also sings admirably in his street scenes and in the four wonderful duets with Juliet, which are largely written in one-singer-at-a-time style, but some contain charmingly complex polyphonic quodlibets.  Although the tessitura of Romeo’s role is not high overall, he navigates the higher sections with particular skill and clarity.

“Romeo and Juliet” teems with distinctive secondary principals, and several will be mentioned, although all are accomplished.  Two that die young and early in the action are Bay Area stalwarts that always acquit themselves laudably.  Clarion tenor Alex Boyer is Tybalt, and warm and versatile baritone Efraín Solís is Mercutio.  Courtney Miller as Juliet’s nurse Gertrude not only provides comic relief, but an admirable mezzo voice.  Robert Balonek as Count Capulet once again demonstrates an uncommonly powerful and well-tuned instrument and acting skill that transitions from ebullient to grim over the course of the drama.  Finally, the distinguished Kenneth Kellogg performs the cameo role of the Duke of Verona with great command and gravitas.

The opera’s narrative is more than a simple love story.  It is about the tragic consequences of irrational tribalism; the inevitability of fate (though most would dispute that “fate” exists); the notion that love may cause unintended and undesired consequences; and the importance of time and timing in the affairs of humankind.  Of course, one of the central issues concerns Juliet’s rebellion from being forced to marry Paris in order to solidify a political alliance.  This aspect resonates much differently today than in the time of the original play or the opera, as women’s agency over marriage decisions has become accepted in many societies.

Opera San Jose has added a thematic dimension in the unsung portion of the prologue.  After the clans engage in sword fighting, children make believe they are doing the same – sadly conveying the notion of violence being transmitted from one generation to another by example.

Another interesting aspect of OSJ’s production is Antara Bhardwaj’s Indian-influenced dance choreographed to Gounod’s ballet sequences. One that doesn’t enhance the viewing experience is the set design, which seems driven more by budget than artistry.  The same inexplicable vine covered backdrops appear through the first three acts and become a bedroom wall in Act 4.  The simple and static nature of the set creates a more concert-version sense of the production.  Happily, the book, the score, and performances make for a highly entertaining experience. 

“Romeo and Juliet,” composed by Charles-François Gounod; with libretto by Jules Barbier and Michel Carré; and based on William Shakespeare’s play of the same name is produced by Opera San Jose and presented at California Theatre, 345 South 1^st Street, San Jose, CA through September 24, 2023.

First there was music.  In modern times, the African-American community’s involvement in most American music genres has ranged from highly influential to dominant to seminal.  Its contributions have been profound and often overwhelming in jazz, blues, gospel, rhythm and blues, rock and roll, and rap and all their descendants, to name a few.  Black invention has led to similar innovations in dance – tap, swing, twist, disco, hip-hop, and their many derivatives.  But it wasn’t until 1971 that African-American music and dance received a national platform to broadcast their deserved exposure.  That platform was “Soul Train,” which would run in syndication for 35 years, a record for live performance on American television.

“Hippest Trip: The Soul Train Musical” is playwright Dominique Morisseau’s homage not only to “Soul Train” itself, but also to its creator and longtime host, Don Cornelius.  The result is an admixture of upbeat music and dance integrated with a serious, warts-and-all biography of a complex man obsessed with the lifelong goal of presenting Black youth in a positive light and securing his legacy as its architect.  For the greater part, the concept works, and the musical entertains.  However, the considerable devotion to dance and the occasionally wandering script sometimes impede the buildup of involvement.

The production values of “Hippest Trip” offer a cornucopia of eye and ear candy, and the performers give memorable performances.  From the first number, the dancers undulate their bodies, shake their booties, and twirl their appendages in a non-stop display of fine artistry.  The opening night audience showed wild appreciation at the conclusion, though there could have been a little positive bias, given an abundance of audience members associated with the TV show and the musical.

Quentin Earl Darrington totally inhabits the role of the imperious, buttoned-down Cornelius, whose single-mindedness and impersonality often isolates him from the people who matter to him.  His unwillingness to accept advice from anyone, most often from his longtime assistant, Pam Brown and his son Tony, who worked for him, agonizes even those closest to him.   Acknowledging his own personal and professional shortcomings, Don sadly notes, “The Wiz is just a man.”  Indeed, one of the powerful elements of Morisseau’s script concerns the difference between the public and private individual, observing that many people in the public eye do not have fairytale lives and suffer behind the scenes.

Like many of the cast, Darrington brings singing chops to the table as well, with a smooth natural baritone as well as a clarion upper register in the falsetto range.  As the more light-hearted yet grounded Pam Brown, the talented Amber Iman counterpoints her boss with a warm, concerned personality and the gumption to confront and sass Cornelius.  She, too, boasts a fine singing voice which drew raves from the crowd.

Of course, music is the foundation of dance, and the score is full of hits that played on “Soul Train” during its era.  Much of the emotion created is through the song selection and performance.  Many are represented by small fragments, but some even recur and have thematic significance.  Such is the case with “Smiling Faces” which addresses hypocrisy and is used to cast aspersions at Dick Clark, who was Cornelius’s nemesis.

Despite its energy, the show doesn’t really gain desired traction until the finale of Act 1, which is a fine rendition of “I Will Survive” sung by several performers.  The momentum created survives intermission, and the highly charged Act 2 is both rousing and poignant.  Interestingly, the key song sung by Cornelius at the climax which pulls at the heartstrings doesn’t fit in the wheelhouse of the “Soul Train” songbook, but is Bachrach and David’s “Walk On By.”

Emmy winning Scenic Designer Jason Sherwood’s set adds another dimension to the musical, contributing to the period look.  As shown in the opening photo of this review, the stage is brilliantly framed as if in an old television box.  Large serpentines with electronic displays extend onto the walls of the orchestra and onto its ceiling, creating a spectacular look like you have never seen in a theater.

Multiple Tony nominee Camille A. Brown’s choreography is breathtaking in its volume and complex design within its idiom.  Dancers deliver with personality, boundless energy, and consummate skill.  However, several issues are of concern, which may derive from writing or direction.  What surprises is that the dance numbers don’t emulate “Soul Train,” so that the sense of the TV show is not well developed.  In addition, the specific dance styles lack sufficient contrast to the untrained eye.  When representing the ‘70s, dancers use detailed gesticulations that were not yet in use, seeming to value virtuosity over authenticity.  Little distinction is shown for variations such as disco.  There is no slow dancing, and the TV show’s famous line dancing (if that’s what is intended in some of the dance solos) is not introduced in the narrative or clearly represented.  While “Soul Train” had couples dancing, the production numbers are in corps style.  Particularly to older observers, the styling may seem repetitive and may diminish the interest over time.

Like Morisseau’s “Ain’t Too Proud,” this production hopes to move from a premiere in the Bay Area to Broadway.  “Hippest Trip” contains many assets including great execution, but tweaking a few conceptual matters might enhance its chances to shine even more.

“Hippest Trip: The Soul Train Musical” is written by Dominque Morisseau, directed by Kamilah Forbes, presented by American Conservatory Theater, and plays at the Toni Rembe Theater, 415 Geary Street, San Francisco, CA through October 8, 2023.

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.