Boston Lyric Opera

BLO’s ‘Carousel’ Is More Miss Than Hit

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Cast of Boston Lyric Opera’s ‘Carousel’. Photo by Nile Scott Studios.

By Shelley A. Sackett

Boston Lyric Opera’s production of Carousel is being touted on many levels. It is a return of Rogers and Hammerstein’s second musical (written just two years after the smash hit Oklahoma) on the same stage where it débuted in 1945 with John Raitt (Bonnie Raitt’s late father) as the lead, Billy Bigelow. Director Anne Bogart’s program notes stress the tension inherent in staging a show with such strong nostalgic ties to tradition for a contemporary audience. She checks the reverence box by not changing a syllable of the original script or lyrics. The notes refer to checking the innovation box by envisioning the players-within-the-play as “a group of refugees who arrive from a great distance to perform the play, seeking to gain access and acceptance,” but, at least for this viewer, that intention yielded only confusion.

The play tackles a lot of heady, heavy issues, many still timely enough to have relevance without the staging gimmickry of neon wigs, tattoos and clownish costumes. Domestic abuse, violence, darkness, shame —these are unfortunately as germane today as they were 80 years ago.

The production opens with house lights up on Sara Brown’s spare, almost sinister stage as the full orchestra (under Conductor David Angus) plays the songless “Prologue (The Carousel Waltz”). An enormous cast files across the winding bridge of an abandoned roller coaster, like animals descending off Noah’s ark. They traverse the stage, gathering in front of prison-like gates and stare up at the audience.

Edward Nelson as Billy and Brandie Sutton as Julie

As the gates open and the house lights dim, a circus act takes center stage with actors holding poles meant to represent the poles of a carousel. Costume designer Haydee Zelideth’s whimsical outfits of feather-head-dressed pink ponies and even a tiger hold promise of a transporting theatrical event. It is 1873, we learn, and the bustling carnival has arrived at a staid village on the New England coast.

Billy Bigelow (Edward Nelson), the barker, bursts onto the stage clad in leather vest and huge white cowboy hat. All muscle with an animal charisma, he is the ultimate bad boy babe magnet. He meets — and flirts with — Julie Jordan (Brandie Sutton) and her friend, Carrie Pipperidge (Anya Matanovič). Mrs. Mullin (Sarah Meltzel), the carnival’s widowed owner, shows up and witnesses Billy and Julie. She clearly loves Billy, and when he refuses to throw Julie and Carrie off the grounds, she fires him.

Billy, now unemployed and distraught, needs a beer. He also needs a woman’s attention, and Julie is game, even though staying out past curfew will result in her getting fired, too. Their snake-bit romance leads to marriage, a daughter and a tragic end. It also yields some of the show’s best-known songs (“If I Loved You” and “You’ll Never Walk Alone”).

Nelson as Billy (center)

Meanwhile, Carrie confides to Julie that she too has a beau, Enoch Snow (Omar Nahun), a straight-as-an-arrow fisherman.

Billy, increasingly frustrated by not being able to find work, resorts to his ways of carousing all night with his criminal buddy, Jigger. He even hits Julie, earning him the reputation as a wife beater. When Julie announces she’s pregnant, Billy becomes relatively introspective (for him), looking at fatherhood as a chance to wipe the slate clean and focus on the future and his legacy. He vows to take care of his child and provide everything he lacked, especially money. He falls prey to abetting Jigger’s sly plan that, of course, fails. It’s no spoiler to divulge that Billy dies, and a good deal of Act II is spent with Billy in the afterlife, struggling to make sense of, and amends for, his life on Earth.

There are many bright spots in the production, especially Matanovič, whose gorgeous soprano singing and sparkling performance imbue Carrie with light and life. As Enoch Snow, her betrothed, Nahun brings similar energy and the two are a delight to watch. The vocals of most of the actors are sublimely operatic, befitting Carousel’s presentation as “opera theater” (vs traditional musical theater). Finally, Abigail Marie Curran as Louise, Julie and Billy’s daughter, is a whirlwind of fresh air. Her dreamy dance in Act II and pitch perfect combination of innocence and insolence bring the character to life and make one wish she had had more time on stage.

While there is a lot of visual flash and flourish in the production (and the orchestra does a great job), for those without a nostalgic hook to the show (and maybe even for those who grew up singing the songs around the family table), this production misses the mark on many levels. First is the lack of chemistry between Billy and Julie, despite the actors’ vocal ranges and skills. Sutton brings a softness and accessibility to Julie, but Nelson’s Billy is remote and static. It’s hard to believe in their romance, making it even harder to care when things go awry. Then, there are distracting missed lines and glaring miscasting of Theophile Victoria as mill owner and uptight Victorian prig, David Bascombe, and Lee Pelton as Starkeeper. Finally, the pacing elongates several scenes which could be glossed over and glosses over others that shouldn’t.

Anya Matanovič and Sutton

Whether you enjoy Bogart’s Carousel may depend heavily on the connection you already have with the show. By the end, my companion, who grew up listening to the LP, was teary, verklempt with emotion and nostalgia. After three hours (one intermission), I was just relieved it was over. Equity, Diversity & Inclusion Consultant, Kira Troilo, sums it up best in her program notes. “Can Carousel work now? The answer won’t be the same for everyone, and that’s exactly the point,” she writes.

Rodgers and Hammerstein’s ‘Carousel,’ 80th Anniversary Production. Music by Richard Rodgers. Book and Lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II. Conducted by David Angus. Directed by Anne Bogart. Presented by Boston Lyric Opera, Emerson Colonial Theatre, 106 Boylston Street, Boston. Run has ended

BLO’s ‘Champion: An Opera in Jazz’ Tackles Fate, Faith, Forgiveness and Redemption

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by Shelley A. Sackett

Switching gears overnight due to pandemic-related issues, Boston Lyric Opera is to be commended for its recent perseverance and quick-footed adaptability. Instead of offering three performances of “Champion: An Opera in Jazz” as a full opera as rehearsed and planned, the company pivoted to only two concert-style productions with the masked orchestra on stage, costumed chorus in balcony box seats and main performers making do with a sliver downstage.

The only downside to the downsizing was that fewer people were able to experience this ambitious, modern masterwork that brings to life boxer Emile Griffith’s complicated story through a heart-rending melding of music styles and poignant lyrics. By the show’s end — at least in my row — there was not a dry eye. And isn’t that, after all, why we go to the theater and especially to opera? To feel?

The synopsis provided in the playbill is not a spoiler, but an essential guide. The scenes flip from present to past (with the magnificent Brian Major and Markel Reed respectively playing Emile today and during his boxing hey days of the 1960s) and without a roadmap, it’s easy to get lost.

Emile Griffith was not your typical boxer. Born on St. Thomas in the 1950s, he and his many siblings are abandoned by his mother, Emelda. As a youngster, Emile dreams of reuniting with his mother and becoming either a hat maker, a singer or a baseball player. Eventually, he finds her in New York and she introduces him to the hat manufacturer, Howie Albert. But, instead of offering Emile a job making hats, Howie focuses on Emile’s physique and pegs him as a welterweight boxer. He offers to train Emile, and with Emelda’s encouragement (and nose for money), Emile’s artistic dreams fade away.

The trouble is, Emile is gay at a time and in a profession where that is simply not an option. When Benny “Kid” Paret taunts Emile about being a “maricon,” (a Spanish insult for homosexuals) before and during their high-profile match in 1962, it is as if Benny has waved a cape during a bullfight. Emile literally sees red and in seven seconds delivers the 17 blows that will send Benny to the hospital in a coma, where he will die 10 days later.

Emile sits outside Benny’s room those long 10 days, wanting to say he is sorry and begging for forgiveness. His request is denied, and for the rest of his life, that lack of closure will wrack his soul and shake his faith.

Markel Reed, Terrence Chin-Loy and Brian Major from Boston Lyric Opera’s production of “Champion:An Opera in Jazz.”
Courtesy of David Angus, Boston Lyric Opera

Fifty years later, Emile struggles with the chronic traumatic brain injury, the result of “boxer’s brain” and a brutal beating he suffered outside a gay bar. The opera opens as Luis, his caregiver/adopted son/partner, helps dress him, reminding him of a special meeting they are scheduled to attend. Emile’s mind is afloat, uneasily alighting on memories of his fight with Benny and his own beating at the hands of bigots. He is  confused over the smallest action, such as putting on his shoes. He sometimes doesn’t know who or where he is.

Yet during moments of clarity, he remembers his past and the twist of fate that transformed his prized fists into weapons, forever rewriting his legacy from Champion Boxer to murderer.

During these times, he poses some very deep and heart wrenching questions.

“What makes a man a man; the man he is?” Emile wonders. “Who is this man who calls himself me?” Resigned to a life where redemption is beyond his grasp, he accepts his fate, believing he deserves it. “I go where I go,” he explains.

Blanchard’s music keeps the audience riveted and guessing as he winds from the full-throated operatic to slinky, smoky note-bending jazz to a gospel-tinged chorus to a N’awlins style second line. It’s the musical analog to Alvin Ailey’s “Revelations.”

The cast relishes every note. Baritones Major and Reed are nothing short of spectacular as Emile, both as actors and opera singers. Major is a big guy (think Paul Robeson), yet he controls that physicality to appear graceful and vulnerable. Reed is his foil, a compact pretty boy, all sinew and chartreuse satin. And man, can these guys sing.

The rest of the cast are equally noteworthy, from Tichina Vaughn as Emelda to Terrence Chin-Loy as Benny, Jesus Garcia as Luis, Stephanie Blythe as Kathy and Wayne Tigges and Neal Ferreira as Howie and the Ring announcer.

At the end of the day, however, we can’t help but wonder how Emile, in hindsight, might answer this question: was it worth it?

“Champion: An Opera in Jazz.” Music by Terence Blanchard; Libretto by Michael Cristofer. Music Direction by David Angus; Music Conductor – Kwamé Ryan; Set Design by Sara Brown; Costume Design by Trevor Bowen; Lighting Design by Marcus Doshi. Produced by Boston Lyric Opera at the Emerson Cutler Majestic Theatre, 219 Tremont Street, Boston. (Run has ended)