The Met’s uniformly well-cast new production of the famed American opera paints a vivid portrait of a complex place. 

ByHeidi WalesonSept. 24, 2019 5:30 pm ET

New York

In the 29 years since “Porgy and Bess”—by George Gershwin, DuBose and Dorothy Heyward, and Ira Gershwin —was last seen at the Metropolitan Opera, the piece has become almost an opera house staple, thanks in part to the much-traveled Francesca Zambello staging. The debate over whether it is a musical or an opera has surely been decided by now—but, if not, the sheer sonic grandeur of the Met’s new production (shared with the English National Opera and the Dutch National Opera), which opened the season on Monday, should do the trick. Additionally, the suggestion that the work traffics in racial stereotypes should be answered by the thoughtfulness of James Robinson ’s staging, which portrays Catfish Row as a rich, complex community, bound together by common values and beset by struggles that can afflict any society. 

Michael Yeargan ’s set—a two-story, open, wood-framed tenement building—made interiors visible and revolved to offer different perspectives of Catfish Row (the inner courtyard, the boats drawn up outside the gate). Catherine Zuber ’s costumes—print dresses, work clothes—spoke of frugality and simplicity. Between scenes, Luke Halls ’s scrim projections of houses on stilts, and the recorded sounds of waves and seagulls, gave more geographical context, while Donald Holder ’s lighting limned both time of day and extremes of weather, including the hurricane, throughout. 

The splendid chorus inhabited the space as though its 60 members lived there. It sometimes felt a little crowded, but it was worth it for the opulence of their singing in the prayers, dirges and celebrations that are the tent poles of “Porgy.” Mr. Robinson’s detailed directing always made them seem like individuals rather than a mass. 

The show was luxuriously cast, from the title roles to the smallest cameos, so the drama of the disabled beggar Porgy and the drug-addicted Bess, whom he tries to rescue, grew out of this community context. Bass-baritone Eric Owens stressed Porgy’s strength and generosity, and his position as a leader. With her poignant lyric soprano, Angel Blue brought out Bess’s vulnerability rather than her toughness; her Bess clung to Porgy for protection in her new life, but when he wasn’t there, she was easily drawn back to the abusive Crown and the oblivion of cocaine. 

Tenor Frederick Ballentine ’s Sportin’ Life, the drug dealer, was lithe, handsome and a complete sleaze, tempting not just Bess but the whole community into his nefarious worldview with “It Ain’t Necessarily So.” His two principal antagonists were worthy opponents: Denyce Graves was a fierce, no-nonsense Maria, wielding her fish-gutting knife to drive him off; as the devout Serena, Latonia Moore was riveting, her luxuriant soprano rising to a wail in “My Man’s Gone Now.” As Clara, Golda Schultz brought an innocent simplicity to “Summertime.” 

Bass-baritone Alfred Walker was a terrifying Crown; Ryan Speedo Green a powerful, confident Jake; and Errin Duane Brooks (Mingo), Chauncey Packer (Robbins) and Reginald Smith Jr. (Jim) were vivid in the rowdy Act I craps game. (The game became a fight, staged so realistically by David Leong that it was surprising that only Robbins was killed; Porgy’s execution of Crown in Act II was equally shocking.) Soprano Leah Hawkins had a brief, exquisite moment as the Strawberry Woman; Tichina Vaughn (Lily) and Chanáe Curtis (Annie) had lively, witty cameos.

Camille A. Brown ’s choreography for eight dancers ranged from manic social dancing to ecstatic worship, matching the ensemble’s mood. Conductor David Robertson built the opera’s grand arc and exposed its jaunty and passionate heart. 

—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).

At Opera Philadelphia’s annual fall festival, works included Prokofiev’s ‘The Love for Three Oranges,’ the world premiere of ‘Denis & Katya,’ and James Darrah’s revised production of ‘Semele.’

ByHeidi WalesonSept. 23, 2019 5:33 pm ET

Philadelphia

The fun show of O19, Opera Philadelphia’s annual 12-day fall festival, which runs through Sunday, was Alessandro Talevi ’s production of Prokofiev ’s “The Love for Three Oranges,”which captured the piece’s zany anarchy at the Academy of Music. Who can resist a hypochondriac prince, cursed by a sorceress, who goes on a quest to find three beloved fruit? Scenic designer Justin Arienti and especially costume designer Manuel Pedretti artfully merged visual references to the story’s 18th-century origins with the early 20th century of the opera’s creation—there were, among other things, a king who looked like Emperor Franz Josef, suffragettes, and courtiers in towering Louis XVI wigs tinted pink and purple—while conductor Corrado Rovaris gave Prokofiev’s brass- and percussion-laced score all the joyous abandon it deserves. 

Standouts in the large, game cast included Jonathan Johnson, a sweetly youthful-sounding Prince; Barry Banks (the clown Truffaldino); Wendy Bryn Harmer (the sorceress Fata Morgana ); Tiffany Townsend (the princess Ninetta, who emerges from one of the oranges); and especially Zachary James, an extremely tall bass, who sang the formidable Cook while dressed as a hen and wielding a lethal ladle like a golf club. David Lloyd-Jones ’s witty English translation added to the happy mayhem. 

***

At the other extreme, the arresting world premiere of “Denis & Katya” by composer Philip Venables and librettist Ted Huffman tackled a real-life fatal collision of unhappy teenagers, guns and social media. In 2016 in Russia, the eponymous couple, both 15 years old, ran away from home, holed up in a family hunting cottage, and posted photos and a video of their standoff with the police on social media. The 70-minute opera ingeniously deconstructs this event, recounting it through the eyes of six observers, all of whom are played by two excellent, protean singers—baritone Theo Hoffman and mezzo Siena Licht Miller (a second pair of singers was scheduled for three of the seven performances)—accompanied by four cellists. 

This layered technique offers a nuanced view of storytelling itself, since none of the observers actually knows what really happened or why. It also investigates the impact of the teens’ broadcast activity on the harrowing outcome. As was the case with his shattering “4.48 Psychosis,” Mr. Venables’s music is particularly good at conjuring up emotional atmosphere and building tension. The piece starts out almost boringly placid, with the singers describing bits of the video in flattened speech, and gradually gathers momentum to reach an almost unbearable peak, followed by a reflective coda. 

Each witness has a characteristic musical manner, such as the confusion, sympathy and sorrow of Denis’s Friend, and the hysterical panic of the Neighbor. Accounts are intercut, documentary style. Text messages between the creators, discussing what they should include in the work, also flash onto a background screen, accompanied by musical beeps that sound like a heart monitor. And we see the occasional, callously ugly comment from viewers of the couple’s livestream—a typical example is “Show us your tits before you die.” 

Performed at the intimate Suzanne Roberts Theatre, directed by Mr. Huffman, with scenic and lighting design by Andrew Lieberman, the show was staged like an improv exercise: a square space with a cellist in each corner, a projection screen at the rear, a couple of folding chairs, and ordinary casual clothes (by Millie Hiibel ) for the two singers. In its plainness, it invited the audience to participate in its voyeurism.

***

James Darrah ’s production of Handel’s “Semele,” performed at the Perelman Theater, has been revised since I saw it at Opera Omaha in 2016, but it remains an essentially dark interpretation of the opera, playing down its comic elements in favor of tragedy. The scenic and lighting designers Emily Anne MacDonald and Cameron Jaye Mock use hanging fabric panels to create the opera’s different worlds—the human Semele is carried off to heavenly realms by Jupiter; jealous Juno uses Semele’s desire for immortality to destroy her. The color palette is Stygian in the human realm and neutral in the Elysian.

Gustavo Ramirez Sansano ’s choreography for five dancers and movement for the chorus were fully integrated into the action, giving it an intriguing, ritual look; this was heightened by Sarah Schuessler ’s body-covering black costumes for the mortal choristers and the more revealing beige ones for the immortals. This was all very effective in Act I, making Semele’s forced marriage to Athamas seem like part of a rite by a terrified, misogynistic cult, but the visual change to the world of the gods didn’t make the environment much brighter or happier. A three-hour opera needs some visual variety.

The superb cast provided plenty of thrills, however. Amanda Forsythe was a superb Semele with a pealing, lyric sound and brilliant coloratura; Daniela Mack was bold, fierce and funny as Juno and brought a different, more passionate color to Semele’s sister, Ino. Alex Rosen was a comically sleepy Somnus and Tim Mead a strong Athamas. Alek Shrader ’s Jupiter improved as the show progressed; Sarah Shafer provided good comic moments as Juno’s sidekick, Iris. The eloquent principal dancer Lindsey Matheis was especially striking in the scene when Juno disguises herself as Ino: In this clever staging of the imposture, Ms. Mack (costumed as Juno) sang and seemed to be manipulating the dancer with invisible marionette strings. The fine chorus members aced their singing along with their movement and Gary Thor Wedow led a lively reading from the baroque-style orchestra, with particularly strong contributions from the continuo section. 

***

In “Let Me Die,” a world premiere presented at FringeArts, the singer and writer Joseph Keckler suggests that opera lovers are always waiting for the death scenes, and asks: “What if we gave the people what they came for? Over and over again?” After a rambling half-hour preamble, which included a couple of his own meandering songs and some jokes that weren’t as witty as he thought they were, he lay down in a coffin and let three singers— Darius Elmore, Natalie Levin and Veronica Chapman-Smith —do just that. We got 45 minutes of opera death scenes, cast without regard to gender and sung, for the most part, without distinction, in ugly costumes by Diego Montoya, all basically played for laughs. Apart from the “how many can you identify?” element, it was excruciating. Elizabeth Gimbel directed; pianist William Kim and violinist Lavinia Pavlish were pros.

—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).

Academy of Music

O19

Opera Philadelphia

Kamala Sankaram and Rob Handel’s opera takes a hard look at surveillance in an app-based world.

ByHeidi WalesonSept. 10, 2019 4:38 pm ET

New York

Subjects for immersive theater don’t get much more relevant than the insidious spread of surveillance, which is cleverly explored in the opera “Looking at You,” by Kamala Sankaram and Rob Handel, now in its world premiere production at HERE, which co-produced the work with Opera on Tap and Experiments in Opera. Audience members receive lanyard ID badges as their tickets, and are invited to sign in with their “employee numbers” to get free drinks for consumption at their cabaret-style tables; we are attending what purports to be a tech-company party. So far, so benign. But about midway through the 82-minute performance, the tablet on my table started showing images from my Facebook page. My page is pretty tame, but by the end of the show, I had to wonder what else could be found out about me. That’s the point.

Mr. Handel’s artful, well-paced libretto and Ms. Sankaram’s lively music-theater-infused score limn the tale of Dorothy, an ambitious engineer who invents an app, CheckUOut, for Rix, the tech company that she has just joined. It’s supposed to be a relationship aid, as in letting you find out right away if that cute guy at the bar is someone you should date—but it is actually a powerful data miner that instantly collects and analyzes everything the internet knows about that person. Meanwhile, Dorothy’s boyfriend, Ethan (an Edward Snowden figure), has just released 1.7 million secret documents, the product of surveillance by 13 governments.

Gradually, the opera reveals a sinister connection between these two activities: Personal data mined from seemingly harmless social media can be commercialized and accessed by all kinds of entities. This privacy invasion is taken to its logical, weaponized extreme. At the app launch, the Department of Homeland Security swoops in on the audience member chosen as the app’s demonstration target and takes him away.

It’s a serious issue, but the creators avoid didacticism, instead skillfully deploying suspense and humor in their storytelling. Ethan contacts Dorothy from his secret location by hacking her Fitbit; there are sly “Casablanca” references to go with Rix.

The excellent singers deliver solid characters: Baritone Paul An as Raj, the hyper hacker-turned-tech-mogul who sees only how cool (and profitable) CheckUOut is; tenor Brandon Snook as Ethan, who explains his actions in a poignant ballad with the refrain “You don’t know how naked you are.” Mezzo Blythe Gaissert persuasively shows Dorothy grappling with the consequences of her creation. A backup trio— Adrienne Danrich, Mikki Sodergren and Eric McKeever —are the geek engineers who groove along with Raj…until they don’t. Ms. Danrich in particular shines in a soul-inflected aria that concludes, “Because you’re white / You’re not accustomed / To being surveilled.” The accompanying piano and three saxophones sound like a much more varied ensemble; they, along with the computer-generated backup chorus that emanates from the tablets on the tables, give the whole piece an insistent bass beat and murmuring background that contribute to the overall feeling of foreboding.

Nic Benacerraf’s scenic design is dominated by seven screens, with video by David Bengali, that bombard the audience with scrolling text messages, TV news reports, Facebook posts and, most sinisterly, the bits of personal information piling up and the dots that represent the data points swirling into shapes as “the algorithm learns.” Raj’s clownish pink-shorts tracksuit, with giant pockets in a contrasting fabric for his devices, belies his single-minded, amoral pursuit of cool ( Kate Fry did the costumes). Director Kristin Marting, who helped develop the piece, and music director Samuel McCoy wove the live performers and the video into an absorbing, frightening whole.

—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).

at Here. So it begins…(again!)

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Learning from Bryant Park: Revitalizing Cities, Towns, and Public Spaces Hardcover – April 17, 2020

by Andrew M. Manshel (Author)

By the 1970s, 42nd Street in New York was widely perceived to be unsafe, a neighborhood thought to be populated largely by drug dealers, porn shops, and muggers. But in 1979, civic leaders developed a long-term vision for revitalizing one especially blighted block, Bryant Park. The reopening of the park in the 1990s helped inject new vitality into midtown Manhattan and served as a model for many other downtown revitalization projects. So what about urban policy can we learn from Bryant Park?

In this new book, Andrew M. Manshel draws from both urbanist theory and his first-hand experiences as a urban public space developer and manager who worked on Bryant Park and later applied its strategies to an equally successful redevelopment project in a very different New York neighborhood: Jamaica, Queens. He candidly describes what does (and doesn’t) work when coordinating urban redevelopment projects, giving special attention to each of the many details that must be carefully observed and balanced, from encouraging economic development to fostering creative communities to delivering appropriate services to the homeless. Learning from Bryant Park is thus essential reading for anyone who cares about giving new energy to downtowns and public spaces.

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About the Author

Andrew M. Manshel for 10 years was Associate Director and Counsel at the Bryant Park Restoration Corporation and General Counsel and Director of Public Amenities to the Grand Central and 34th Street Partnerships. He now serves as Assistant Commissioner for Franchise Administration at the NYC Department of Information Technology and Telecommunications. Previously he was Executive Vice President of Greater Jamaica Development, in Jamaica, Queens. He is a long-time Director and the Treasurer of Project for Public Spaces, Inc. Mr. Manshel blogs about downtown and public space revitalization at theplacemaster.com.

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Product detailsHardcover: 256 pagesPublisher: Rutgers University Press; None edition (April 17, 2020)Language: EnglishISBN-10: 1978802439ISBN-13: 978-1978802438Shipping Weight: 1.7 pounds (View shipping rates and policies)

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.

***

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).