The Glimmerglass Festival presents the world premiere of Jeanine Tesori and Tazewell Thompson’s ‘Blue,’ as well as a shortened version of ‘The Ghosts of Versailles’ and productions of ‘Show Boat’ and ‘La Traviata.’
ByHeidi WalesonAug. 14, 2019 4:19 pm ET
Cooperstown, N.Y.
Jeanine Tesori and Tazewell Thompson ’s “Blue,” commissioned and given its world premiere by the Glimmerglass Festival this season, is a wrenching and remarkably original opera that explores deeply personal emotional truths and gives them universal resonance. It is the tale of one family’s devastating loss—the teenage son of a black police officer and his wife is shot and killed by a white police officer—but it is actually the story of an entire community. Structured like a Greek tragedy, it skillfully uses ensembles to build a sense of ritual around the story. The characters have no names (they are the Father, the Mother, the Son) and the killing takes place offstage, between the two hour-long acts. Act I is a deep dive into the complexities of familial love and struggle; Act II shows how one violent act challenges the foundational beliefs of those left behind.
Mr. Thompson’s unflinching libretto avoids political posturing yet clearly exposes the underlying predicament. Three Girlfriends, learning that the Mother is pregnant with a boy, recoil in horror, and remind her, in a jazzy ensemble: “Thou shalt bring forth no black boys into this world.” (The Girlfriends are a cross between fairy godmothers and Fates—they offer blessings as well as warnings.) At the funeral, the Father, mad with grief, recites the terrible litany of parents to their black sons: “Don’t wear a hoodie. Don’t carry shiny objects. Don’t get a tattoo….” Yet what is interesting about the opera is how those warnings, rather than signaled, are woven into its fabric, as they are into the lives of the people it is about. Equally compelling is the treatment of religion, which dominates Act II. A source of comfort and community, it is also questioned. In the opera’s most heartbreaking moment, the Mother, standing at the casket, gives her child to Jesus with the same gentle words and music with which she handed him, as a newborn, to the Father—“Cup your hand under his head and neck.” But the Reverend, in the opera’s final moments, asks God, “How many sons do we have to give / Before you can’t hold one more?”
Ms. Tesori’s deeply affecting and disturbing music has just the right weight and gravity for the story. Arias and scenes are emotionally specific, and the various ensemble configurations—the trio of Girlfriends, who support the Mother, and one of Policemen, who are the Father’s colleagues, combine as a potent sextet at the funeral—amplify the opera’s themes. The powerful cast, headed by bass Kenneth Kellogg (Father) and mezzo Briana Hunter (Mother), captured the story’s volcanic upheavals and simple everyday-ness; tenor Aaron Crouch made the Son’s teenage rebellion absolutely believable; and baritone Gordon Hawkins brought dignity and doubt to the Reverend. John DeMain led the incisive orchestra, which embraced Ms. Tesori’s big statements. Mr. Thompson also directed, and his detailed staging, complemented by Donald Eastman ’s simple set (a bleached-out projection of a row of Harlem townhouses, a few roll-on props), Jessica Jahn ’s costumes, and Robert Wierzel ’s lighting, let the characters and the music tell the story.
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William M. Hoffman ’s libretto still feels overstuffed with episodes and characters, and many of the numbers go on far too long. It’s nice to have a contemporary opera be a comedy, for a change, but the piece goes overboard, particularly in Act I, with broad jokes and long stretches of frenetic high jinks. There’s lots of orchestral detail, and the Mozart in-joke references blend easily with more modern bits, like the eerie ghost music, and a pretty earworm of a love quartet.
Soprano Yelena Dyachek brought a voluptuous sound and a properly sulky demeanor to the depressed Marie Antoinette. The other roles—more than two dozen—were capably filled by members of the Glimmerglass Young Artists Program. Standouts included the theatrically astute tenor Christian Sanders, as Bégearss, the cartoon villain in Beaumarchais’s opera, who has two lengthy, vehement arias about vermin, and mezzo Katherine Maysek (Cherubino), who shone in her single scene, romancing Rosina ( Joanna Latini ) as part of the aforementioned love quartet. Conductor Joseph Colaneri held it all together. James Noone ’s handsome set used 18th-century portrait iconography, and Nancy Leary ’s attractive period costumes (all white for the ghosts; colorful for the opera characters) helped delineate the different spheres of action, as did Mr. Wierzel’s lighting.
“Show Boat” (1927), by Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II, is a bit theatrically creaky, especially in Act II, but director Francesca Zambello ’s ebullient production, with a colorful set by Peter J. Davison, vivid costumes by Paul Tazewell, and vigorous conducting by James Lowe, helped you forget that. The denizens of the Cotton Blossom were beautifully cast— Lauren Snouffer, heartfelt as the innocent Magnolia Hawks, who learns all too soon the ways of the world; Michael Adams, sexy as the gambler Gaylord Ravenal, whom she loves; Justin Hopkins (Joe), who sang a sonorous “Ol’ Man River”; Lara Teeter, an adept comedian as Cap’n Andy; and Alyson Cambridge (Julie), whose wrenching performance of “Bill” encapsulated all the sad undertones of this show. Eric Sean Fogel ’s snappy choreography—especially the Charleston number at the end—showed off Glimmerglass’s terrific cadre of musical-theater dancers.
The season’s standard repertory offering was a serviceable production of Verdi ’s “La Traviata” (1853), directed by Ms. Zambello and conducted by Mr. Colaneri. It was lightly updated to the late 19th century (Violetta’s Act I dress, designed by Jess Goldstein, looked like a purple version of the one worn by John Singer Sargent ’s “Madame X”) and presented the story as Violetta’s flashback from the hospital where she is dying (Mr. Davison did the sets; Mark McCullough, the lighting). Amanda Woodbury was a touching Violetta; Adrian Timpau a nicely pompous Germont; and Kang Wang came into his own in the second half, bringing tenorial brightness and youthful ardor to Alfredo.
Ms. Waleson writes on opera for the Journal and is the author of “Mad Scenes and Exit Arias: The Death of the New York City Opera and the Future of Opera in America” (Metropolitan).
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