The summer program features the American debut of Tobias Picker’s ‘Lili Elbe’ alongside satisfying stagings of ‘Rodelinda,’ ‘The Magic Flute,’ ‘Eugene Onegin’ and ‘Madama Butterfly.’
By
Heidi Waleson
Aug. 10, 2026 at 4:46 pm ET
Lucia Lucas and Sylvia D’Eramo in ‘Lili Elbe.’ BRONWEN SHARP
Santa Fe, N.M.
Tobias Picker’s “Lili Elbe,” which is having its American premiere at the Santa Fe Opera this season, is a multilayered work. Aryeh Lev Stollman’s skillfully crafted libretto is based on the story of the trans Danish landscape painter who began to live openly as a woman in the 1910s and died in 1931 after a series of gender-affirmation surgeries. Positive experiences—her early forays in female clothing; her loving relationship with her wife, the painter Gerda Wegener; and the support of their bohemian community in Paris—are counterbalanced by cruel rejection from some family members and the scathing portrayal of the medical professionals who exploit Lili’s desperation to be “a real woman” and a mother by performing experimental treatments including a uterus transplant.
The most successful parts of Mr. Picker’s score include atmospheric ensemble passages that evoke Lili’s inner longings, such as the chorus “Everything everywhere transformed” that celebrates her social debut as a woman—who has attracted a man—and suggests that the future will be magically smooth. The opera grows progressively darker, and other potent scenes musically probe the tale’s tragedy, including a vicious outburst by her mother and a nightmare—which includes choral Sprechstimme—as she begins to awaken in agony from one of her surgeries.
The title role was written for the trans singer Lucia Lucas, but her worn baritone made little of Mr. Picker’s vocal writing. Soprano Sylvia D’Eramo captured Gerda’s brightness and complexity. Other notable singers were mezzo Lindsay Ammann as Lili’s mother and bass Andrew Harris as the doctor. Conductor Roberto Kalb luxuriated in the rich orchestration.
Director James Robinson adroitly staged the swift changes of scene and mood. Allen Moyer’s set used conveyer belts to slide furniture in from the wings; Greg Emetaz’s misty videos included projections of Orpheus and Eurydice, a subtext in the work. Marco Piemontese’s striking period costumes conjured the artists’ milieu, and Marcus Doshi’s lighting evoked both festivity and the tragedy of the ending.
Meridian Prall and Lucy Crowe in ‘Rodelinda.’ BRONWEN SHARP
The most satisfying musical performance of the week was Handel’s “Rodelinda,” expertly shaped and paced by conductor Harry Bicket, the company’s music director, who knows how to make a modern orchestra—boosted by continuo instruments and recorders—sound like a period-instrument band. In this tale of an imprisoned queen, her supposedly dead husband, and her struggle against a usurper, brilliantly characterized arias succeed each other like jewels, ratcheting up the emotion. By the end of Act 2, when the separated spouses were finally brought together only to face death, their farewell duet was incandescent.
The stellar cast included Lucy Crowe (Rodelinda), whose expressiveness made up for some loss of clarity; countertenor Iestyn Davies, embodying both the vulnerability and explosiveness of her husband, Bertarido; and tenor Anthony Gregory, capturing the volatility of the usurping tyrant Grimoaldo. As Bertarido’s sister, Eduige, mezzo Meridian Prall had splendid low notes and agility; countertenor Hugh Cutting was exquisite as Bertarido’s faithful aide Unulfo, and William Guanbo Su brought a potent bass to Garibaldo, the real villain of the piece.
R.B. Schlather’s stark production, inspired by noir cinema, used blank walls, giant shadows, and a lot of darkness (Masha Tsimring did the lighting) as an effective backdrop for this intense emotional journey. Doey Lüthi’s Victorian costumes were a plus; so were acute directing choices, such as having the insecure Grimoaldo drink himself into a stupor during the farewell duet, thus accounting for his erratic behavior in Act 3.
Matthew Goodheart, Joélle Harvey, Josh Lovell and Sunghoon Han in ‘The Magic Flute.’ BRONWEN SHARP
Christopher Luscombe’s production of “The Magic Flute” wittily transformed Mozart’s Singspiel into a British pantomime, a closely related theatrical tradition. Sung and spoken in a smart, idiomatic English translation by Jeremy Sams, it became a sparkling comedy of archetypes—the questing lovers; the exemplars of wisdom and darkness; and, of course, the clown Papageno (Will Liverman, who enters riding an ostrich). Simon Higlett’s toy-theater set had side boxes, scene-changing flats, a flying boat for the Three Boys and a mummy case for the first entrance of Papagena (Jazmine Saunders). Robert Perdziola’s lively costumes included a classic Wicked Queen headdress for the Queen of the Night (Jeni Houser) and a top-hatted villain getup for Monostatos (Spencer Hamlin). Even the serious moments had hints of comedy, yet the bits were never overdone.
The singers embraced the madness with brio, especially Mr. Liverman, who invited audience participation, including a singalong. Joélle Harvey was a luminous Pamina; Josh Lovell a stalwart Tamino, even when the joke was on him. Alexander Köpeczi and Le Bu showed off weighty low notes as Sarastro and the Speaker. Mr. Bicket paced the orchestra buoyantly, matching the high jinks on stage.
Olga Kulchynska and Mattia Olivieri in ‘Eugene Onegin.’ BRONWEN SHARP
Two satisfying revivals completed the season’s program. In 2021, Covid-19 protocols meant that the chorus had to sing from the side of the stage in Alessandro Talevi’s fantastical production of Tchaikovsky’s “Eugene Onegin.” Fully integrated this time, they made the Act 2 name-day party exponentially more nightmarish for poor Tatyana, crowding the room along with the dancers sporting animal heads. As Tatyana, Olga Kulchynska restrained her rich soprano until the end of the Letter aria, but she and Mattia Olivieri (Onegin) ignited in their Act 3 duet. Iván Ayón-Rivas’s striking tenor made for an unusually acerbic Lensky; Ya-Chung Huang was a weirdly creepy Monsieur Triquet; Ms. Prall’s rich mezzo impressed as Filipyevna. Keri-Lynn Wilson was the stylish conductor.
Stephen Costello, Karen Chia-ling Ho and Sun-Ly Pierce in ‘Madama Butterfly.’ BRONWEN SHARP
Previously mounted in 2010 and 2018, the Lee Blakeley production of Puccini’s “Madama Butterfly,” with its elegant Japanese house (designed by Jean-Marc Puissant) and handsome costumes (by Brigitte Reiffenstuel), got realistic, unsentimental direction by Melanie Bacaling. Karen Chia-ling Ho brought a big sound and sincerity to the title role. Her Butterfly is no pathetic victim—having chosen Pinkerton, America and modernity, she finally accepts that they will destroy her. Stephen Costello was an assertive Pinkerton; Jarrett Ott a mellifluous, nuanced Sharpless; Sun-Ly Pierce a fine Suzuki without illusions. John Fiore’s conducting was serviceable. As in “Lili Elbe,” optimism and romance drain steadily over the course of the story, and here Rick Fisher’s lighting took the tale from the fairy-tale sunset of the beginning to the bleakness of the final tableau.
AndyManshel.nyc 