(Source: Source: Brittany Hosea-Small)
Kaija Saariaho died in early June 2023. Her opera “Adriana Mater” was premiered a few days later with the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra. The semi-staged performance itself appeared to be a ritual in honor of the well-known Finnish composer.
The tale of human suffering at war was staged with depth and finesse by San Francisco music director Esa-Pekka Salonen. Four singers and a choir sang the roles in French, and renowned director Peter Sellars was on hand to present the work in moving detail. Both Salonen and Sellars were friends and colleagues of Saariaho. It was clear to everyone that they brought both their personal and artistic feelings to the production. It was more than moving. The text by Amin Maalouf, born in Lebanon in 1949, told the story of the war. Originally the opera was about the Bosnian war and the violence in striking detail, but it also told the story of Adriana’s rape.
A special work
“Adriana Mater” extends over two acts with seven scenes. Each scene has a special focus and reveals a unique story. For example, the first act contains “Clartés (Light)”, “Tenebres (Darkness)” and “Deus coeurs (Two Hearts)”. The second act includes “Aveux (Confessions)”, “Rages”, “Duel” and “Adriana”. The overall theme was, “Time is the present in a country that is about to go to war.” The plot centered on the conflict between Tsargo and Adriana. The outbreak of violence between them. The outbreak of violence in the world around her and the need to deal with the child born of Tsargo’s attack on Adriana. Additional tension was created by the anger of Adriana’s sister Refka, who is “worried about the unborn child” and worried “whether the child will resemble Cain or Abel.”
The language was both metaphorical and literal. It was both expressive and informative. One of the central and most telling images is Adriana’s concern for the two hearts beating in her chest. She then spoke of “the fields of my heart” and “the right to sit on my bed.” “How can you forget the war when you carry my child?” “You are my revenge.” “The war ended for me the day you were born.” The peculiarities of the narrative easily transferred to other countries and others transmit wars. That was one of the significant effects.
The structure of the music emerged from this language, paired with an array of instruments that did an excellent job of expressing the intense feelings and associations of the story. There was a wide range of string, wind and brass instruments, as well as a wide range of percussion instruments, including glockenspiels and tubular bells, tom-toms, hanging cymbals, bamboo glockenspiels, vibraphone, celesta, temple blocks, fife and electronics. Each instrument offered a rich sonority and sonority. The ringing of the bell at crucial intervals always pulled the listener back to the heart of the story and conveyed an undercurrent of Saariaho’s recent death. Although the pacing was excellent, the richness of the haunting narrative made it difficult to fully digest all the emotional and musical richness of the piece. Content issues came quickly. Emotionally, it was difficult to process them all. Nonetheless, Salonen knew this music well and made sure we all heard it, fascinated or not. Certainly more than just two or more hearings were required.
Beautiful voices
The voices were both well blended and distinctive. Among the four singers was Adriana, sung by the extraordinary mezzo-soprano Fleur Barron. She is a mentee of Barbara Hannigan. The depths she sang from was a perfect place for the sadness and sadness from which she told her part of the story. The gentle depth of her singing gives her presentation a dreamlike aura. This literally expressed her dream as she sang the realistic details. Physically, in the first half, she communicated vulnerability and self-exploration with compassion for herself and others. The legato of her voice held us spellbound no matter what she was describing. At times she reminded me of the character Perdita from Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale. She was one of the lost who would one day be redeemed.
In the second act and in the finale she seemed to say and convey too much. Scenes six and seven took a little too long. There was too much of too much so instead of deepening we were rushed with more information and variations on it. Her hope seemed to be reinforced rather than discovered. Even when the text ended the story, her smile, while adequately convincing, wasn’t entirely.
Sister Refka, sung by Axelle Fanyo, had a strong voice and offered rich power. It formed a striking contrast to the indescribable sound of Adriana. Fanyo was often rich and defiant, aptly playing off her sister’s defiance and self-declared protective instinct. Their bond broke the spell Adriana’s introspective explorations had cast. She forced us to consider the needs of the world around her. This strengthened the importance of opera as a whole. Both were necessary. She remained devoted all the while, thoughtful in her pleading, appropriately vindictive, fearful, and filled with regret. I liked their sound and their feel.
“Tsargo”, sung by baritone Christopher Purves, began with a deep, powerful and euphonious sound. It was a surprise if you followed the music and the two voices until then. While his lines remained vicious, his seduction through protection as he sang “I’ll come to the roof and look for danger” worked his magic. Who among us could resist such an offer? Especially in times of extreme danger? And yet we felt his anger build and erupt because we knew what he was up to. We watched carefully. He was reserved. Yet his voice never lost its lyricism, despite being urgent and demanding.
Yonas, Adriana’s son, was sung by tenor Nicholas Phan. He appeared at the beginning of the second act at the age of 18. His anger and frustration dictated most of his storyline and sound. His melancholy stayed adeptly in the background until, in the final moments of Act II, all the vulnerabilities of the characters were united in an energy of hope. That was good and touching. While it was understandable that his anger and pain dominated his presentation, Yonas was hard to deal with. Especially at the beginning of the second act he focused too much on his problems. He showed little sympathy to his mother and later to his aunt. Even when it came to the attempted murder of his father, he seemed to play a role rather than expressing actual anger. Holding the gun longer than seemed necessary emphasized this point. We spent time contemplating when he would pull the trigger rather than feeling a crescendo toward his intent. This, too, after he had “given up”. But why so long? What happened to his intention? Where did he “go” with this ban? That broke the anger. As a result, his recognition of the need for compassion, while sincere, felt less solid and grounded than it could be. As he sang and revealed his softer sensibilities, he was very moving.
The San Francisco Symphony Chorus was conducted by guest director Jenny Wong. She added another dimension throughout. This strengthened and accentuated the inner emotional life of the characters. In the final tableau, scene seven, the doubled repetitions of ‘I Should Have’ between chorus and soloists heightened the work’s emotion and its relation to our own human foibles. However, when we try to resolve our conflicts, we often feel a sense of lack, perhaps even failure. If only. Who among us can overcome this? Especially in fights as massive and overwhelming as what Saariaho presented on stage?
Simple and perfect
Being a semi-staged version, the simple platforms and props were perfect. The costumes, designed by Camille Assaf, looked like jazzed up streetwear. The lighting, created by James F. Ingalls, emphasized what needed to be told. Violence was red and orange, introspection and sadness were purple and pale blue. For the before and the before, there were brighter, whiter lights. For an opera of this intensity, the simplicity of the setting was outstanding. It gave us a chance to focus on what we needed to focus on and reminded us of the overproduction of many productions these days. How many projections do we need to see a full story of violence, jealousy, or death? How literal do we have to make our opera in order to feel and hear the beating heart of Otello or Death in Venice? A recent concert performance of Die Walküre with Lise Davidson and Jonas Kaufmann is another example of the beautiful simplicity of a simple concert performance. However, we also don’t want to miss out on a scene in the cabin from “Nowhere,” with a long-haired heroic tenor clad in silver-plated armor and a dramatic soprano with her matching flowing hair.
Saariaho’s music was great. The story described by the sound was great. Its importance was undisputed. It allowed us to delve into its heaviness and importance. Several musical themes reminded me of Britten’s Peter Grimes, with the haunting sounds of loss and disruption of human connection, particularly as Grimes hovered between the human and the suspect. This fundamental need for human connection and its rupture through violence. This inevitable shrinking of our emotional spectrum and our consequent isolation was shown and hinted at in Saariaho’s work, as well as in so much of Grimes’ and other Britten’s work. I remain a fan
Saariaho’s offer kept us there. It was appropriate to honor and thank her for the extraordinary power of her work.
