By Travis Cohen
By Travis Cohen
By Hannah Sentenac
By Hans Morgenstern
By Ciara LaVelle
By Ciara LaVelle
By Briana Saati
The best show in town happens to be an opera. Puccini's Madama Butterfly is just the first offering of the Florida Grand Opera's 2004-2005 season, a varied feast that promises other mega hits such as Lucia di Lammermoor and The Magic Flute, as well as a tasty rare treat in January: Benjamin Britten and W. H. Auden's unclassifiable musical Paul Bunyan. For all that, though, it will be tough to match the freshness and impact of the company's revival of one of the world's favorite operas. This Madama Butterfly works, and it works beautifully.
The story is as simple as it is brutal. Premiered in Milan in 1904, Madama Butterfly is a tale of racism, sexism, and heartbreak, of one woman's blind faith and one man's careless cruelty, of a clash of irreconcilable cultures.
A vulnerable Japanese girl named Cio-Cio San has grown up in unspeakable poverty and shame since the death of her father, a disgraced government official. She is forced into prostitution and, by the time the opera begins, she is still only fifteen but has lived and seen more than most people endure in a lifetime. Along comes Lt. B.F. Pinkerton, an American naval officer stationed in Nagasaki, who wants to marry her and take her away from all this. The catch is that this is only an arranged, "temporary" marriage for the ugly American. All he really wants is a nubile geisha in his bed for as long as he's in town, and he's willing to pay for it.
Cio-Cio San, nicknamed Madama Butterfly, is happy to meet him in Act One -- moving in with Pinkerton surely is an improvement on her life so far. But she goes further, fatally, by both falling in love with the American and actually willing herself to believe that he loves her in return. He does not, of course. And the tragedy that follows is inevitable.
It is also gorgeous. True, the sentimental melodrama of Giuseppe Giacosa and Luigi Illica's libretto has proved hardy, inspiring other pieces as varied as the hit play M. Butterfly and the even bigger hit musical Miss Saigon. But it is Puccini's music that has made Madama Butterfly timeless. A hundred years on -- and the Florida Grand Opera production is nicely timed for the work's centennial -- Madama Butterflyremains not only one of opera's greatest hits but also one of the most profoundly moving and satisfying stage works of all time. The drama, of course, is in the music; that is the genius of Puccini. And from a purely musical standpoint, the Florida Grand Opera's Madama Butterfly is often stunning.
The lion's share of the praise must go to Stewart Robertson, the company's music director, for an interpretation that brings surprise to a familiar score while sacrificing none of its emotional impact. Robertson may not be a born Puccinian, but he is an intelligent, sensitive artist with genuine insights into Puccini's opera. From the score's opening passages, he drew deliciously clear articulation from the strings, not rushing tempos but rather letting the music breathe naturally. The sensual ebb and flow of his phrasing never followed any metronome markings but rather echoed the wild patterns of a beating heart. Orchestral portamentos (fluidly sliding from one note to the next), may be rare today but surely were a virtue in Puccini's lifetime, and they came as a revelation in Act Two and especially Act Three. The Humming Chorus alone, a ravishing feat of balanced textures and sublime rhythms, would be reason enough to experience this Madama Butterfly.
Eva Jenis, in the title role, was not quite on that level. She has an attractive if not especially powerful voice, with interesting colors in the middle and worrisome narrowing on top. The subtleties of portamento -- or the rudiments of legato, for that matter -- were nowhere to be heard. Her private asides to Pinkerton were throwaways, and her two big arias were not the highlights they should have been on opening night. She eschewed traditional interpolations in her entrance, which is fine. But she also didn't make much of the high B-flat in "Un bel di" or of the long musical arc of the demanding final scene. Still, she did not really get in the way of the score. And she was surrounded by talent, not just from the orchestra pit.
Tenor Andrew Richards is a real find in this tenor-starved age. His horny cad of a Pinkerton could use a little polish dramatically, but the young American's singing of this fiendish role was winning and splendid. Dead-on attacks, easy passage between registers, a thrilling bloom at the top of the voice, heroic vocal colors but also true spintoflexibility -- all this in addition to bona-fide good looks make Richards a singular singer.
Melina Pineda, last season's Szulamit and still a voice in progress, was a harmless cipher as Suzuki. James Westman, on the other hand, was both touching and complex as Sharpless, the American consul. Douglas Perry was everything one might wish in a Goro the pimp. As Prince Yamadori, the suitor who might save Butterfly if only she will let herself stop loving Pinkerton, Timothy Kuhn made a major impression in what is usually a minor role. Douglas Kinney Frost's Florida Grand Opera Chorus was luminous as a too-brief sunrise of hope at the end of Act Two.
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