Opera Review: Death Quits, Then Punks Hitler

Boston Lyric Opera takes on The Emperor of Atlantis.

Death plays chess: Kevin Burdette in The Emperor of Atlantis.
Photo by Jeffery Dunn © 2011 Boston Lyric Opera.

This week, the Boston Lyric Opera staged Der Kaiser von Atlantis, a powerful opera written in the Nazi concentration camp of Theresienstadt. Billed as The Emperor of Atlantis, or Death Quits, this is a scintillating work by composer Viktor Ullmann. Ullmann, an Austrian composer whose teachers included Alexander von Zemlinsky, was sent to Auschwitz shortly after the first dress rehearsal.

The team of director David Schweizer and set designer Caleb Wertenbaker re-imagined the Calderwood Pavilion as a reclaimed disaster zone, its walls covered in duct-taped rolls of white plastic, the entire production lit by white work-lights. Audience members were greeted by uniformed, zombie-like members of the chorus, wearing dark suits and brassards with a mysterious red symbol on their sleeves. They droned: "Welcome to our performance. The venue is under repair. We apologize for any inconvenience. What is your name?"

(And yes, they even fooled a certain jaded New York opera critic.)

Opera Review: Frozen Ghost

Hamlet at the Washington National Opera.
by Paul J. Pelkonen

Act III of Hamlet as it appeared in the Kansas City production.

The Washington National Opera closed out its 2010 season with a brilliant staging of Hamlet, the French adaptation of Shakespeare's tragedy by composer Ambroise Thomas. Recent years have led to a rediscovery of this opera, with its tour de force aria for Ophélie and powerful, baritone title role.

Thaddeus Strassberger's production (updated from its first appearance at the Kansas City Opera) sets the play behind the Iron Curtain, in a chilly, snow-swept Denmark crushed by the Communist boot. King Hamlet's funeral opens the opera, with rallying proletarians tearing down the royal statue amidst much flag-waving. (The parallel to Baghdad, circa 2003 is an easy one.) The choristers sang from the middle of the house in a rally of support for Claudius and his new administration. There are raised-fist Fascist salutes, onstage violence by police against protestors, and a bitter, detached Hamlet, moodily smoking a cigarette, hiding behind a pair of Ray-Bans.

Opera Review: To Rule, He Must Lower Himself

Placído Domingo in Simon Boccanegra at the Met.
by Paul J. Pelkonen

Placido Domingo as Boccanegra.
Photo © 2008 The Metropolitan Opera

The season premiere of the Met's revival of Verdi's political drama Simon Boccanegra gave New Yorkers the rare opportunity to see Placido Domingo as the star baritone in a Verdi opera. Now 69 years of age and nearing the end of his singing career, Domingo, (who first auditioned in Mexico as a baritone) lowered his range and took a chance tackling the toughest baritone role in the Italian repertory.

Opera Review: Roads to Madness

Željko Lucic and Maria Guleghina as the Macbeths.
Photo by Ken Howard © 2007 The Metropolitan Opera.

The Met's new Macbeth.
With his version of Shakespeare's Macbeth, Verdi managed to break new musical ground in the middle of his difficult "galley years." The result: an opera with two murderously difficult leading roles. On Monday night, the premiere of Adrian Noble's new production featured baritone Željko Lucic and soprano Maria Guleghina as the Macbeths, in one of the most exciting performances of a young opera season.

Mr. Lucic is an imposing figure, with a big swagger in his manner and his voice. As his guilt slowly peels away the shell of his sanity, the performance rises in intensity until it becomes excruciating to watch.  Mr. Lucic's performance encompassed noble, deep notes, white-faced terror and all-out rage and despair, everything that is demanded by Verdi. He moved from high-powered grandstanding to the intimacy of deep dementia.

Maria Guleghina gave a strong performance as Lady Macbeth. She began the Letter Scene in spoken word, floated crazy, dissonant notes in the middle of the Act II brindisi and ranged her formidable instrument all over the stave in her final mad scene, giving an acting performance inspired by sufferers of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Barefoot, she walked on a long row of chairs, avoiding stepping on the cracks on the floor of the set. The whole time, she compulsively rubbed her hands.





John Relyea was a fine, resonant Banquo, with rolling deep notes and a warm, fatherly presence. His performance makes one wish that Macbeth's best friend could live a little longer--or at least have some music to sing as a blood-covered ghost! His final aria was magnificently sung, and he gave his murderers a heck of a fight before getting killed.  Finally, the large, burly singer made an imposing, terrifying (albeit silent) ghost in the banquet scene.

Macduff was the tenor Dimitri Pittas. This is a tiny part--one of Verdi's smallest tenor roles. But his Act IV aria was beautifully sung with longing for the character's murdered family. The final stage-fight between him and Macbeth was compelling to watch, bringing the rebellion to an exciting close.

This new production by Adrian Noble emphasizes drama and efficiency over visual splendor. The entire action takes place on a cracked, black obsidian disk, (very New Bayreuth!) with columns at the front and the trees of Birnham Wood toward the back. The trees-to-columns effect leads one to expect these sets (by Mark Thompson, who also designed the company's surreal black-on-black Pique Dame) to be recycled for the Met's next staging of Parsifal. Noble does a good job of coming up with powerful ways to stage the dramatic action of the play, and his inspired singing actors help make the production work.

James Levine conducted with brisk efficiency, letting the formidable Met brass tear into the score, while maintaining the delicate balance between the winds and strings. The Met chorus, whether portraying the Macbeths' party guests, the maniacal witches, or the oppressed people of Scotland, were both superb and tight.