Cognizant of their position as “the richest square mile on earth,” the citizens of Central City, Colorado proudly opened a Grand Opera House in 1878. However, the coming of the railroad to Denver and the depletion of the mines meant that both the city and the opera house fell on hard times. Reopened in 1932, the opera house has been producing a summer season of theatre and opera nearly every year since.
My first visit to Central City coincided with a particularly eclectic and ambitious season of opera: the North American premiere of an obscure Handel opera, AMADIGI DI GAULA (which I unfortunately missed); three one-act operas boasting varying degrees of familiarity, Puccini’s GIANNI SCHICCHI, Poulenc’s BREASTS OF TIRESIAS and Weill’s SEVEN DEADLY SINS; plus the inevitable warhorse, Bizet’s CARMEN.
For CARMEN, Director/Choreographer Daniel Pelzig envisioned a stripped-down, industrial setting in which Carmen could create her amorous mayhem. This neutral backdrop allowed the emotions to take center stage. Pelzig’s best ideas brought a visceral energy to the familiar, like portraying Michaela as less passive than usual. At one point she even hauled off and gave Jose a well-deserved slap. Other concepts seem less fully formed. The prelude to the First Act found Jose under arrest at a police station, apparently setting up the opera to unfold as a flashback. The Second Act prelude continued in this vein with the music underscoring his arrest for helping Carmen escape justice. But, after that, the concept vanished. The Third and Fourth Act preludes didn't include Jose, nor did the arrest come full circle at the opera's end.
That said, Pelzig offered a clearly focused and impressively physical production. He excels in using the Chorus to create dynamic stage pictures which subtly enhance the story. Another wonderful surprise is to hear CARMEN done in the opera comique style (with spoken dialog) envisioned by Bizet. Most companies outside France perform the opera with unauthorized recitatives composed after Bizet’s death. While this is the best known version of the opera, there is an undeniable authenticity to hearing the dialog spoken.
In truth, a good chunk of the dialog, particularly in the First Act, has been cut, along with some major choral stretches, but these snips suit the lean and mean concept. Though one regrets missing what Pelzig might have done with the bustling chorale at the top of the final act.
As the eponymous heroine, Kirstin Chavez has the richly voluptuous tone and easy sensuality of a born Carmen. She had no trouble commanding the stage, but her performance was played, for the most part, at one level. She's a good enough actress to find more layers in Carmen's flirtatious bravado. Vocally she delivered the goods, singing with power, passion and style, though with the occasional approximate pitch. (a problem which completely disappeared by the second half) Her Jose, Jonathan Burton, was announced as indisposed, but there was little evidence of illness in his vocal performance. He revealed a clear and unforced tenor sound, backed up by solid musicianship. However, the erotic temperature between the lovers was disappointingly tepid. One couldn't help feeling that this Jose was simply too nice a guy to be led astray by a woman like Carmen. Still both sang the final scene with great energy and admirable commitment.
As previously noted, Michaela was re-conceived as an intelligent woman with a backbone as opposed to the customary simpering innocent. Elizabeth Caballero happily threw herself into this interpretation while singing with warmth and spirit. Gustavo Ahualli proved a suave and far less stentorian Escamillo than usual. All the soloists displayed commendable French diction in both the dialog and the singing.
As the Director of three disparate one-acts from the first half of the 20th Century, Ken Cazan had his work cut out for him. The pieces were written in three languages, by three distinctive composers, under very different circumstances and all of them demand extensive, but varied, resources. Attempting to produce all three in a major house would strain their means. Accomplishing it in Central City with such positive results is little less than a miracle.
Puccini's GIANNI SCHICCHI is a true ensemble piece as well as his only comedy. To illustrate the story of the lowborn upstart who pits his native cunning against the greed of old money family, Cazan updated the opera from its Medieval origins to the more familiar Florence of the mid 20th Century.
The comedy depends on singers willing to show the uglier side of their nature and this cast was more than happy to disport themselves, warts and all. The opera was ably anchored by Daniel Belcher's winning Schicchi whose generous and beautifully produced baritone effortlessly filled the house. A naturally appealing comedian, Belcher is that rare performer who lights up a stage with every entrance. Noticeably younger and sexier than most Zita's, Peabody Southwell attacked the role with an antic verve which proved infectious while Andrew Harris' Simone matched her step for step as the family patriarch dropping every bit of decorum. As the young lovers in the opera, Norman Reinhardt's acting of Rinuccio proved more impressive than his rather pinched tenor while Joanna Mongiardo's Lauretta easily stopped the show with “O mio babbiono caro.”
For my taste, the frantic slapstick and over-the-top performances seemed occasionally indulgent, but there's no denying that the staging was genuinely funny and delighted its' audience. And if you thought that Puccini and his librettist fashioned the opera with a neat reversal, Southwell and Cazan provided an extra twist at the curtain which I'll long remember.
Kurt Weill's final collaboration with Bertolt Brecht was DIE SIEBEN TODSUNDEN (The Seven Deadly Sins), a genre-defying and savagely funny satire of bourgeois morality. Deliberately schizophrenic, the narrative follows two women Anna 1 (a singer) and Anna 2 (a dancer) as they seek their fortune in the world. Are they sisters, or two aspects of the same person? Anna I's practical mind concocts a plan in which they'll visit seven cities in America, staying a year in each until they achieve their financial goal and can return home to Louisiana to buy a home for their family. And, if at the end, Anna II's spirit is crushed by Anna I's relentless pimping her out, they have achieved the American Dream.
Peabody Southwell sang a richly nuanced and compelling Anna I. Not only does her pliant mezzo easily navigate the opera's vocal demands, but she nimbly changes style to accommodate Weill's eclectic score. Sarah Tallman proved a supple and sympathetic Anna II. The family, written for a Male Quartet with the bass as the mother, was sung with appropriately craven personality by Norman Reinhardt, Phillippe Pierce, Robert Gardner and Andrew Harris.
The typical solution for staging the SINS is to hire singers and a small ballet corps. No doubt money played a part in deciding that Anna II would be the only true dancer, but this choice proved a brilliant solution as it forced the Quartet to portray the men the Annas encountered . While this meant that the choreography would remain less complex, it also forced the singers to relate to the story in a way they might never realize when standing by and commenting the actions of the dancers.
Like cooking their souffles, producing French comedy is risky. A slight miscalculation in timing or ingredients can spell disaster and your buoyant romp falls flat. The danger only increases when your production is a surreal feminist critique of gender roles in which your protagonist, Therese, wishes her breasts away (they are balloons which conveniently fly off) and takes on the male character of Teresias. Meanwhile her husband dons woman's clothing and discovers a way to give birth. To 40,000 children. Appolinaire wrote LES MAMELLES DE TERISIAS (The Breasts of Terisias) as a reaction to the devastation of WWI. Similarly, Poulenc composed the operatic adaptation after WWII.
After appearing as father and daughter in SCHICCHI, Joanna Mongiardo and Daniel Blecherreturned in a different familial connection, as Therese/Terisias and her unnamed husband. Freed from the confines of Puccini's sweet Lauretta, Mongiardo blossomed and revealed herself as a powerful stage animal who sang with high flying excitement. Belcher's sympathetic presence brought a comforting sense of believability to his confused husband and Timothy J. McDevitt made the most of his lovesick Gendarme.
Unlike the other one-acts, MAMELLES requires a full chorus. And, if there is a complaint to be made about the production, it is the clumsy blocking for the crowd scenes. Particularly when contrasted with the slick work done in CARMEN.
Cazan and Scenic Designer, Cameron Anderson neatly solved finding a cohesive look for these disparate pieces by realizing that each opera features a home as an important goal. So each set was dominated by the lopsided, partial framework of a house which could be added to or subtracted from, depending on the needs of the individual opera.
As I write this, Central City's current season is only days from closing, but they've announced next summer's season which will include: OKLAHOMA, THE TURN OF THE SCREW and LA BOHEME. Beyond the mainstage operas are a host of small-scale opera performances and seminars. Not to mention the historic city itself. I can assure you that a trip to Central City is well worth the your time.
For information, visit www.centralcityopera.org or call 302 292-6700.
