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The cast of "27"
Photo by Ken Howard |
Trivia question: what do Pablo Picasso, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Man Ray, Henri Matisse, and Ernest Hemingway all have in common? Answer: they all frequented the Saturday evening salons at 27 Rue de Fleurus in Paris presided over by Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas. And they're all characters in the world premiere production of "27," at Opera Theatre.
The focus in "27" isn't on the famous men who displayed their genius in that salon, though. It's firmly on the two remarkable women who made it possible: expatriate American poet, novelist, and playwright Gertrude Stein and her amanuensis and lifetime companion Alice B. Toklas. The story of their love and their relationship is the backbone of the opera. It's also the basis for its most touching scene: the duet at the end of the first act in which the chiming of bells symbolizes a celebration of both Stein's genius and of the couple's love for each other. It's a lovely image, given shimmering life by Rick Ian Gordon's music, and it crops up repeatedly during the opera's ninety-minute run time.
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| Photo: Ken Howard |
Laid out in five acts without intermission, "27" chronicles the lives and thoughts of Stein, Toklas, and many of the writers and artists who came under Stein's influence. We see Stein's break with her brother Leo (who disapproved of her relationship with Toklas), the couple's hard times during World War I, Stein's championing of the "lost generation" of writers, and Stein's survival during the Nazi occupation of France—controversial because she seems to have done so, in part, by collaborating with the Vichy government. There's a moving death scene for Stein and a final act in which Toklas, now alone, is comforted by the couple's old friend Pablo Picasso. "Picasso sketches an image of Gertrude for Alice," says the official synopsis, "as the bells of genius and love chime once more."
Royce Vavrek's libretto is poetic in a way that pays obvious homage to Stein's own work—especially her fondness for repetition—without ever descending to imitation or parody. It uses a small cast, assigning all the roles other than those of Stein and Toklas to a trio of men who appear first as characters in paintings in the salon. They play all the men who pass through the salon and all the women as well, including a comic quartet in which Toklas laments the banality of the conversations she is obliged to endure with the wives of the geniuses.
At one point they even take on the role of Stein's conscience, questioning the ethics behind her relationship with Vichy, but Mr. Vavrek otherwise plays down Stein's role as a collaborator and avoids entirely her openly Fascist politics (she was an open supporter of both Franco and Vichy leader Marshal Philippe Pétain, whom she compared favorably to George Washington). Perhaps that would have been too much to deal with in an already complex script.
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| Photo: Ken Howard |
Mr. Gordon's score, while obviously contemporary, is clearly tonal and often harks back the musical styles of the era in which the opera is set. There are, to my ears, echoes of classic American popular song as well as the music of Virgil Thompson (for whom Stein wrote two libretti) and other mid-20th century American composers. That doesn't mean Mr. Gordon is in any way derivative, though. He clearly has his own voice. There is great beauty as well as high comedy in this music and I'd love to hear it again—which is not always the case with world premieres.
In her 1963 autobiography "What is Remembered," Alice B. Toklas recalls that Gertrude Stein's voice "was unlike anyone else's voice—deep, full, velvety, like a great contralto's, like two voices." How appropriate, then, that the role of Stein is sung by Metropolitan Opera veteran Stephanie Blythe, whose big, powerful mezzo has garnered praise in everything from "The Mikado" to the "Ring" cycle. Her Gertrude Stein commands attention the way the woman herself did in her salon. She's formidable and supremely confident—a force of nature.
Soprano Elizabeth Futral's Toklas, in contrast, reminded me of the line in "The Hound of the Baskervilles" in which Holmes tells Watson that while he is not himself luminous, he is "a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it." She flits and darts around the stage, always happily helping to illuminate Stein while staying in the shadows.
Mr. Gordon has given Toklas a vocal line that sounds more ornamental than Stein's, and Ms. Futral delivers it with the kind of easy grace you might expect from someone with so many coloratura roles in her pocket. She moves with a dancer's grace, and makes the character fundamentally endearing and sympathetic.
The members of the ubiquitous male trio are tenor Theo Lebow, baritone Tobias Greenhalgh, and bass-baritone Daniel Brevik. They're designated as both Gerdine Young Artists and Festival Artists—reflecting, I assume, the prominence and challenging nature of their roles. They take on a remarkable variety of roles, often with rapid costume changes, and do so brilliantly. Their individual characters are so well drawn that they create the illusion that you're seeing a much larger cast.
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| Photo: Ken Howard |
Director James Robinson has chosen to greatly simplify the action and set elements called for in the libretto. "In order to create Gertrude's salon," he writes in his notes, "we decided that the environment should not evoke the realistic world that is so often seen in photographs." He has opted instead for "an environment of joy and nostalgia, recalling T.S. Eliot's world of 'dust in sunlight and memory in corners.'"
That means a mostly bare stage with flats decorated to look like wallpaper, a large easy chair for Stein, a smaller one for Toklas for her endless knitting, and empty picture frames representing the dozens of paintings that covered the walls at the real 27 Rue de Fleurus. Three large frames, upstage, are occupied by the members of the male trio when they're not playing real people. Everything is done in shades of gray and most of it is made to look as though it had been knitted, since a central conceit of the show is that Toklas is literally knitting her memories into existence.
That simplicity makes for fast, fluid scene changes, but it also makes some of the action unclear. In addition, the members of the male trio, when not wearing character-specific costumes, are dressed in gray singlets, so it's not always apparent whom they're supposed to represent. The only reason I know that they're supposed to be the voice of Stein's conscience at one point, for example, is because I read it in the libretto. On stage it's not at all obvious. That said, Mr. Robinson's direction seems to serve the material well in general. And some of his ideas—like Hemingway's entrance hauling the corpse of a rhino and F. Scott Fitzgerald's toy wagon loaded with liquor—are truly inspired.
The orchestra of (mostly) symphony musicians under Michael Christie performs beautifully—as they generally do.
I don't mean to suggest that I found "27" to be an unqualified success. Mr. Vavrek's libretto felt like it could use some trimming here and there, especially in the final scene. But perhaps that had more to do with the ambiguity of the direction than the text itself. Whatever the reason, "27" did seem to drag a bit at times and felt somewhat longer than its ninety minutes. The opera's positives far outweigh its negatives, though, and brand-new productions are nearly always worth seeing.
The Opera Theatre production of "27" continues through June 27th at the Loretto-Hilton Center on the Webster University campus in rotating repertory with three other operas. To get the full festival experience, come early and have a picnic supper on the lawn or under the refreshment tent. You can bring your own food or purchase a gourmet supper in advance from Ces and Judy's. Drinks are available on site as well, or you can bring your own. For more information:
experienceopera.org.
This review originally appeared at
88.1 KDHX, where
Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.
