‘… (Iphigenia)’ Review: A Sacrificial Character Finds Her Voice

Wayne Shorter and Esperanza Spalding team up for an operatic retelling of Euripides’ play.

By Heidi Waleson

Dec. 14, 2021 5:22 pm

Washington

Opera is about voices and foundational myths, so what better place to give a voice to the voiceless and retell myths from alternative points of view? “… (Iphigenia),” an intriguing new opera by the jazz luminary Wayne Shorter and vocalist Esperanza Spalding, which was performed at the Kennedy Center’s Eisenhower Theater this weekend, is the latest work to tackle those revisions. Like The Industry’s “Sweet Land” (2020), a multi-collaborator project that explored colonialism, and last month’s Met premiere, Matthew Aucoin and Sarah Ruhl’s “Eurydice,” which told the Orpheus legend from Eurydice’s point of view, “Iphigenia” rewrites a familiar story.

In Euripides ’ play “Iphigenia in Aulis,” the Greek armies, en route to Troy to retrieve the abducted Helen, wife of Menelaos of Sparta, are becalmed at Aulis. Their leader, Agamemnon, is told by a seer that the goddess Artemis will revive the winds if Agamemnon sacrifices his eldest daughter, Iphigenia. An ensuing battle of wills involving Agamemnon, Menelaos, the warrior Achilles, and Iphigenia’s mother, Clytemnestra, ends when Iphigenia agrees—begs—to be sacrificed for the good of Greece. Mr. Shorter and Ms. Spalding suggest that this acquiescence puts the words of the patriarchy into the victim’s mouth; in their “Iphigenia,” she finds her own.

The piece incorporates techniques not typically associated with opera. In the pit, an orchestra heavy on brass sonorities is contrasted with a fleet, improvisatory jazz trio— Danilo Pérez (piano), John Patitucci (bass) and Brian Blade (drums), members of the Wayne Shorter Quartet, positioned on the stage. Characters adopt a range of vocal styles—traditional operatic singing; chanting; and speech, as in the role of the Usher ( Brenda Pressley ), who questions the received narrative. The six Iphigenias, including Ms. Spalding, often sing in wordless vocalises. Ms. Spalding’s libretto incorporates numerous poetically obscure lines (“Her pardon breaks awake your heart in re-earthing”) as well as lengthy quotations from other writers.

In Act I, the sacrifice is enacted several times, each with a different Iphigenia and a slightly different focus, but always stressing the brutal machismo of the Greek warriors with the pounding orchestra and the hectoring male voices (three principals and a chorus of six). Montana Levi-Blanco’s costumes, Lileana Blain-Cruz’s direction and Jen Schriever’s lighting are deliberately over-the-top. As the warriors in their armor and plumed helmets march in circles, indulge in a drunken frat-party, and frantically ride a rocking horse (actually a deer), their antics recall Monty Python skits, but these absurd creatures have weapons. The Iphigenias, each wearing a different color, lie dead along the lip of the stage.

For Act II, the painted backdrop of trees and the stone altar (designed by Frank Gehry ) disappear, and the six Iphigenias are left alone on the dark stage, empty except for the instrumental trio, now revealed in a rear corner. Encouraged by the Usher, the individual Iphigenias sing, speak and chant their own thoughts (the texts are by Ganavya Doraiswamy, Safiya Sinclair and Joy Harjo) in a girl-power circle, supported by the trio, all in a much sparer, mellower musical vibe. The most affecting testimony is the last: As Iphigenia of the Open Tense, Ms. Spalding deploys her trademark vocalizations, the wide, looping leaps that start timidly and then press onward as though she is improvising her way into articulateness. (There’s a parallel moment in “Eurydice,” when the heroine first descends to the Underworld, tries to speak, has no language, and gradually acquires some.)

Act III plunges back into the myth with the men, the noisy orchestra and some new sculptural elements made of crumpled wire mesh (it’s unclear if they are trees or clouds). This time, the text is from the 1904 play “Iphigenia” by Charles S. Elgutter, and the creators exaggerate operatic tropes: Tenor Arnold Livingston Geis (Agamemnon), baritone Brad Walker (Menelaos) and tenor Samuel White (Kalchas, the seer) are practically bellowing at each other in their competitive rage. ( Kelly Guerra, also one of the Iphigenias, signals the opera sendup with a brief appearance as a Metropolitan Opera HD host/opera star at the top of the act.) Ms. Spalding, in a silver jumpsuit and sneakers, starts to play the virgin victim’s role as written, but, encouraged by the vocalizing of the other Iphigenias, breaks character and arrests the trajectory by mesmerizing the men with her own song until finally they take it up themselves and retreat. So much for the Trojan War.

The other excellent Iphigenias included Nivi Ravi, Joanna Lynn-Jacobs, Alexandra Smither and Sharmay Musacchio (though her impressive contralto was ill served by the bouncing vocal line of her Act II aria, made obvious by the sound design). Clark Rundell conducted the Kennedy Center Opera House Orchestra.

“… (Iphigenia)” works better on a conceptual level than a practical one. At 105 minutes, it feels too long and repetitive, especially since much of the dense libretto text is set so that it is incomprehensible without recourse to subtitles and some advance reading. The most arresting musical passages are Ms. Spalding’s vocalises and the ensemble singing of the other Iphigenias (composer Caroline Shaw did the a cappella vocal arrangements); the dramatic contrast between the jazz trio and the orchestra is underutilized. Ms. Spalding is a virtuoso vocalist and bass player, not an actress, and her elfin stage presence didn’t quite fit theatrically, especially in Act III. And there’s a thin line between satire and looking like a bad example of the thing you are making fun of, those Monty Python stomping marches included. Mocking opera for its outmoded aspects is easy; calling it out for its historical treatment of women is justified. The challenge is to successfully use and transform its considerable strengths to say something new.

—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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Appeared in the December 15, 2021, print edition as ‘A Sacrificial Figure Finds Her Voice.’