Portland State University’s award-winning opera program presented the final concert of its run of 2/3rds of Puccini’s il trittico on April 27. Never a company to shy away from great challenges, PSU Opera was tasked with presenting one of opera’s great tragedies and one of its greatest comedies back to-back, with a performance of the one-acts Suor Angelica and Gianni Schicchi.
Where’s the fun in that?
The opening prayer of Suor Angelica was expertly executed by the company here, and it immediately took one to the time and place—in this case the period setting of a convent in 17th-century Italy. The antics of the novices, almost like young lambs larking about, were funny and engaging. Holly Freiberg as The Monitor was excellent—magnificent projection in the lower range, and she sold the theme of Marian gentility expertly. Orchestra director Ken Selden throughout did a remarkable job of keeping the orchestra well-blended so as not to overpower the singers.
Serena Mason brought pensiveness and brooding to the titular role, and the offstage hymn was beautiful and transportive—I felt totally immersed in the story. Lighting effects were used sparsely on the open, airy set, but turned noticeably dim on the arrival of the Principessa.
Sung by Sequoia Robinette, the Principessa was definitely an ice princess, deliciously cold and yet not remote—for her to be effective, she must be deeply engaged with Angelica, and that she was. She nearly stole the show with her alternations from cold, detached and clinical condescension to visceral reactions to Angelica’s impassioned pleas. Robinette possessed a formidable modal voice, which she brought to bear fully in this role. The emotionless way she crossed herself in front of the statue of Mary was much more a condemnation of Angelica than an act of devotion. And Mason’s Senza Mamma, which I said would not make me cry yet at which I teared up anyway, was affecting in that way which, for me, is found in almost no other art form besides opera. It cut through my defenses as if they weren’t there—opera can be (maybe even should be) uncomfortable at times—and in that way is fully reflective of life. If it were fun all the time…well, where’s the fun in that?
Although this was an historical setting, I couldn’t help feeling that, intended by Puccini or not, there is a strong anti-patriarchal element inherent in this work; although there are no male characters, and Angelica’s suicide doesn’t necessarily point any direct fingers, oppression is everywhere, and one knows all-too-well whence it stems.
Tricky tasks
The most abrupt volte-face possible followed the intermission, as the sparse courtyard of Angelica’s abbey was transformed into the gaudy interior of a 1980s-ish mansion, where patriarch Buoso Donati croaks loudly onstage within the first 5 seconds. The set and costumes were a sumptuous feast for the eyes, with a cleverly not-too-specific yet not-entirely-indeterminate time setting—some stuff was cheezy ‘70s kitsch, from the butterfly collars and velvet curtains, on through the ‘80s with Nagel-esque artwork and much-less tasteful nudes, on through to the 1990 Nintendo Gameboy played by William Worthing as a Butthole-Surfers-t-shirt-wearing, spiky-haired Gherardino whose attention absolutely could not be drawn away from his video game, except for those times where he absconds with the porn stash that had been hidden under Buoso’s bed, or steals drugs from the doctor, or perhaps takes a moment to flip his own father the bird and threaten to beat him.
The kid almost steals the show by being absolutely, disdainfully and hilariously apathetic. From faux-cowboys in polyester to punk rock to hair farmers to sleazy, bewigged belles, all the characters were well and deliciously attired, and the singers portrayed them with 100% conviction—which is of course absolutely necessary to sell a comedy.
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A number of moments and performances stood out. Erik Asakawa’s Rinuccio was affecting as well as corny, and his arias were expertly sung in a warm and well-rounded tenor. Kathryn Thomas as Lauretta, of course, had the job of pulling off the showstopper, and her O mio babbino caro did everything it was supposed to do. Her high a-flats were possessed of an intense, commanding ring without being overpowering—and the stage lighting that served to highlight the action as well as Thomas’ ability to weave comedy into an aria where a desperately smitten young woman is threatening to throw herself from a bridge were yet other examples of a production pulling off a very tricky task.
Izaak Thoms as Schicchi was a special treat. Fantastically attired in black leather, he came onstage with the self-assured flair of Johnny Cash as he immediately dove into weaving together his own brand of fiduciary fraud. Confident, suave, and with a heaping dose of indecorous charisma, he not only sang beautifully in his true voice, but managed to sing quite well the nasally, affected voice of the dead Buoso.
Robinette shone again as Zita, and her ability to do heavy lifting back-to-back as both a dramatic and comedic singer was impressive. She has a penchant for physical comedy, as she soared through the air to land on the bed and pummel the corpse of Buoso in a fit of rage, and facial expressions that were downright hysterical (to continue the ‘80s theme, if you ever socked Soda Popinski in the gut while playing Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out!! you’ll know the look).
This was the funniest Schicchi I have yet seen; there is probably something to be said for the youth of the performers when it comes to a physical comedy, from Rinuccio and Lauretta dry-humping all over the stage with true abandon, to the entire cast pulling a full-on Weekend at Bernie’s with the corpse of the dead patriarch, this is an example of a production where they got everything right. PSU opera has won prizes each of the last two years in its division in the National Opera Association’s Opera Production Competition, third and second place respectively. Hopefully that upward trend continues, because this one sure felt like an award winner to me.
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