THEATER REVIEW: MADAME BUTTERFLY By: Faiz No comments

A scene from Madame Butterfly.

On the wings of lust

By Ed Rampell

Giacomo Puccini’s 1904 Madame Butterfly is among the most beloved operas of all time, and rightfully so. From our 21^stcentury “post-racial” (as if!) perch it’s easy to get up on our high horses and dismiss this early stab (no pun intended) at depicting interracial romance as being stereotypical, even racist. For instance, in commentary accompanying a Turner Classic Movies screening of Son of the Gods, Robert Osborne criticized this 1930 pre-Code film about racism -- sexual and otherwise -- against Asians in America as “cringe-worthy” and “creaky.” The usually circumspect Osborne went on to disparage D.W. Griffith’s 1919 classic Broken Blossoms, which was actually a plea for understanding and tolerance that likewise starred Richard Barthelmess.

In the same vein some may deride Ukrainian soprano Oksana Dyka’s turn as the title character in Madame Butterfly as “Yellowface” -- a white person impersonating a character of Asian ancestry through cosmetics, costuming, mannerisms, etc., which is also true for other “Oriental” roles performed by Caucasians in this production. Perhaps. Racism is certainly America’s original sin and disg-race-ful, and should always be exposed, wherever it rears its proverbially ugly head. But at the same time, in hindsight, we must not throw out the baby with the bathwater. Griffith richly deserved to be protested and picketed for his vile racism in 1915’s The Birth of a Nation, but his subsequent Broken Blossoms, like his 1916 masterpiece, Intolerance, are motion picture pleas against man’s inhumanity to man, and can be viewed as attempts to make up for the harm he did with his racially despicable Civil War epic. Again, I don’t mean for a second to excuse racism and stereotyping, but I am arguing that we must view works of art within the context of their times. Having said all that --

Meanwhile, back at the review:

The splendid first act of Madame Butterfly ranks with the very best work in all of the L.A. Opera productions I’ve covered. Michael Yeargan’s scenery and costuming are evocative of turn of the last century Japan. The libretto by Giuseppe Giacosa and Luigi Illica quickly reveals B.F. Pinkerton’s (Montana-born tenor Brandon Jovanovich) perfidy and opportunistic streak, as he likens the 99-year lease on his home -- which he has a monthly annullment option -- to his marital vows to eponymous character, Cio-Cio-San. Like the shoji panels at his hilltop house overlooking the harbor, he views his marriage -- arranged by matrimonial broker Goro (Manila-born tenor Rodell Rosel) -- as sliding, lasting only during his brief Naval deployment to Japan, until he makes “real” nuptials with, shall we say, “one of his own kind.” 

The thoughtless Pinkerton confides his treachery to U.S. Consul Sharpless (Philadelphia-born bass baritone Eric Owens -- and BTW, since we’re discussing race specific casting, would the U.S. diplomatic corps have had an African American represent U.S. interests overseas in 1904?).

The unfortunate Cio-Cio-San has had to support herself and her family since her father’s hara-kiri death (her revealing of the blade that did the suicidal deed early in Act I foreshadows what is to happen) by becoming a geisha. Pinkerton is clearly smitten by the charming Cio-Cio-San, and likens the kimono-clad beauty to art, flowers and insects; she refers to herself as a “goddess.” It never seems to occur to either of them (in particular to Pinkerton) that this “Butterfly” is merely human, a flesh and blood being with heart, soul and psyche. Indeed, it turns out Cio-Cio-San is only 15 years old, so by today’s standards, Pinkerton is arguably a child molester, if not a child rapist.

Cio-Cio-San is described as having profound feelings for her white “husband”; perhaps because of her father’s fate, and the limited options available to a young lady in early 20^th century Japan, she seeks to escape social restrictions by “marrying” an American and elevating her status. Cio-Cio-San turns her back on her ancestral religion, incurring the wrath of the Bonze (New York-born bass Stefan Szkafarowsky), who disrupts her “wedding” ceremony, and casts a sort of fatwa upon the two star crossed lovers.

Nevertheless, afterward, when its bedtime without Bonze, lighting designer Stephen Strawbridge illumines the lovers’ marital bed with the constellations in a dazzlingly romantic expression of their passion. The scene captures what, to paraphrase Spike Lee, could be called “bamboo fever,” as East meets West in sexual bliss.

But alas, as Rudyard Kipling put it, “never the twain shall meet.” Act II greatly encapsulates the action, as Pinkerton ships out, leaving behind Cio-Cio-San and, unbeknownst to Pinkerton, a love child. And unbeknownst to Butterfly, her American has flitted away and wed a fellow Yankee Doodle Dandy. As Butterfly pines away for her feckless gaijin (Caucasian), she sings the breathtakingly beautiful aria "Un bel di" ("One Fine Day"), which Dyka delivers flawlessly and movingly (even if it may be politically incorrect for a Ukrainian to portray an Asian, and anatomically incorrect for a hefty 34 year old to depict a slender teen). Well, when that not so mighty fine day does arrive -- and with it, Mrs. Pinkerton -- let’s just say it’s “ciao,” Cio-Cio-San.

What was Puccini getting at 108 years ago? Madame Butterfly is much more than a mere Mikado minstrel show. (Indeed, from 1915 to 1920 Japanese opera singer Tamaki Miura played the part in America and Europe.) Pinkerton’s rank is relatively low; he’s only a lieutenant, after all. It’s as if the color of his skin and racial pedigree was such that it bestowed a social status that outshone that of another suitor, the wealthy aristocrat Prince Yamadori (Korean-born baritone Museop Kim), who tries to woo Butterfly while her unfaithful “husband” sails the seven seas. His American-ness seems to be the allure for the outcast geisha Cio-Cio-San, who has been spurned by her own people and their cultural codes. Madame Butterfly is subject to interpretation, but I suspect Puccini, who so sympathized with countercultural artistes in La Boheme and political prisoners in Tosca, was criticizing racial intolerance, and not interracial love.

Ron Daniels ably directs the production which has some complex mass scenes, and Grant Gershon wields his baton with all the finesse of a musical samurai, conducting Puccini’s effervescent score.


Madame Butterfly runs through Dec. 9 at LA Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave. For more info: (213)972-8001; www.laopera.com.

 

THEATER REVIEW: LA BOHEME By: Faiz No comments

A scene from La Bohème.

Ending on a high note

By Ed Rampell

Giacomo Puccini is to opera what Gucci is to handbags: The gold standard. The libretto of the prolific composer’s 1896 La Bohème is by Giuseppe Giacosa and Luigi Illica, based on fictitious stories Henry Murger began writing in the 1840s. Puccini’s La Bohème set the template for productions about starving artistes in their garrets, aesthetic outcasts living on the fringes of society -- often in a not so Gay Paree. From Somerset Maugham’s Paul Gauguin-inspired The Moon and Sixpence to the 1990s rock musical Rent, which re-set La Bohème in modern Manhattan’s milieu of struggling artists, works in this genre bear Puccini’s indelible stamp, but rarely, if ever, surpass his masterpiece.

L.A. Opera’s presentation of La Bohème is true to the spirit and letter of Puccini’s four act-er; there’s no screwing around with the basics by way of updating the action to another time period, placing it at another locale and/or whiz bang special effects. These adaptations sometimes work -- as with Pacific Opera Project’s recent mounting of Cosi Fan Tutte, which cleverly transposed Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s meditation on sexuality in 18^thcentury Europe to the American Civil War. But often these new fangled versions merely muddy the waters, add nothing to the creators’ original intent and worse, distract from same.

With his glorious Parisian sets and scrims, Gerard Howland visualizes Puccini’s howling, and are (pardon the pun, considering the opera) to die for. This veteran set designer has not only worked for numerous operatic companies, but also for theater, film (most recently, HBO’s just premiered Spanish Civil War-set Hemingway and Gellhorn), theme parks, Michael Jackson, the Rolling Stones, etc., and Howland faithfully brings his pictorial panache to  Puccini’s Paris-set saga. His renderings of Latin Quarter garrets, rooftops and Café Momus exquisitely express the romanticism inherent in Puccini’s opera. However, Howland’s tavern set in Act III has too much empty space; the stage -- like nature -- abhors a vacuum. And depending on one’s seat in the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, viewers may have to be contortionists in order to be able to see Howland’s Eiffel Tower at stage right.

Lighting designer Daniel Ordower aesthetically illumines the City of Lights with rapturous moonlight and twinkling constellations that likewise give form to Puccini’s amorous tale of Parisian Bohemians in love. They are brought to life by a dazzling, youthful cast, headlined by tenor Stephen Costello as the poet Rodolfo and soprano Ailyn Perez, an ailing seamstress who sews silky roses. Offstage, the performers who incarnate these lovers are not only real life  husband and wife, but both recipients of the operatic realm’s prestigious Richard Tucker Award. (Perez is the first Hispanic to ever receive this coveted honor, opera’s equivalent to the Heisman Trophy.)

The Bohemians include the musician Schaunard (baritone Museop Kim) and philosophy student Colline (bass Robert Pomakov). As is often the price of nonconformity, the characters are frequently stony broke, and to stay warm during Parisian winters must feed the flames of an insatiable stove with their works, used as kindling. The outsiders’ poverty weighs heavily upon them, especially on the consumption stricken Mimi, and the painter Marcello (baritone Artur Rucinski), who romances that Belle Époque belle of the ball Musetta (soprano Valentina Fleer), who aspires to be what Billy Joel dubbed “an Uptown girl.”

Impoverished Marcello has woes because he woos a beautiful gold digger who can attract wealthy, uh, patrons of the arts, to stick the bills with. Musetta and Marcello’s big number at the Café Momus (not to be confused with the Spearmint Rhino) brings down the house, as the sexual frisson between the two estranged lovers explodes with what may be the original table dancing. Their Act II delicious tabletop tangos are in the same scene as the jester Parpignol’s (tenor Ben Bliss, who also cut loose in the title role of L.A. Opera’s production this season of Benjamin Britten’s Albert Herring) clownish antics, in one of the opera’s mass tableaux, which presented 60-ish performers onstage en masse, including members of the Los Angeles Children’s Chorus.

In his L.A. Opera directorial debut, Gregory Fortner (who crewed for Michael Moore’s Oscar-winning Bowling for Columbine) adroitly helms the mise-en-scene, in mass and more intimate scenes alike. Conductor Patrick Summers is a worthy successor to Arturo Toscanini, who conducted La Bohème’s 1890s premiere in Turin.

The plot of La Bohème may be skimpy, but the forte of the operatic medium is to let themusic do the talking, so to say. Puccini’s sonorous score gives aural shape to the story’s lush romanticism, speaking volumes more than plot points and dialogue ever could. And, on a personal note, after experiencing this performance, I could see why La Bohème was my late dad’s favorite opera.

I also believe that Rodolfo’s final exclamation of grief as Mimi is consumed with consumption is where the term “the Screaming Mimis” is derived from. The Screaming Mimis has some off-color definitions I won’t repeat here, but it can refer to expressions of lamentation that are often hysterical in nature. At an after talk following the performance I attended, I asked the young married co-stars Perez and Costello if this was indeed the case, but the charming couple had never heard of this before. Perhaps this discovery -- if correct -- is your humble scribe’s contribution to opera reviewing?

In any case, as La Bohème marks the end of L.A. Opera’s current season, and opera fans will have to wait, alas, for four whole months until the new season starts. I feel like I have the Screaming Mimis. In any case, along with Giuseppe Verdi’s Simon Boccanegra and Mozart’s Cosi Fan Tutte, La Bohème certainly ranks among L.A. Opera’s finest 2011/2012 seasonal offerings. Tomorrow is your last chance to see La Bohème.


La Bohème will be performed Saturday, June 2 at 2:00 p.m. at L.A. Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave. For more info: (213)972-8001; www.laopera.com.