BOSTON — Articles about Mozart’s Mitridate, re di Ponto typically lead with quasi-apologies for the opera. Mozart was only 14 when he wrote it, dramaturgs hasten to remind audiences. As presented by Boston Lyric Opera on Sept. 13 at the Emerson Cutler Majestic Theatre, Mitridate needs no excuses. A starry cast, plus Mozart’s dazzling score, made for one of the finest operatic evenings I’ve ever experienced.
Mozart followed the Baroque opera seria model for this work. Mitridate consists of a parade of arias (plus a single duet and final chorus) strung together by recitatives, both accompanied and secco (without orchestra). It places great demands on its cast: Each main character sings numerous showpieces, some of which stretch to eight minutes long, with punishing tessitura and relentless coloratura.
The plot also reflects Baroque sensibilities in its tale of royal characters torn between duty and love, with last-minute forgiveness resolving hopeless romantic and political entanglements. Hearing that their father Mitridate has died in his war against Rome, his sons Sifare and Farnace rush to the capital to claim his throne — and his fiancée, Aspasia. She scorns the traitorous Farnace (who has secretly contracted an alliance with Rome) but returns the noble Sifare’s affections. Their love is foiled by the news that Mitridate is alive and on his way home. The enraged king insists on the deaths of Farnace, Sifare, and Aspasia, but the Romans attack before the sentences can be carried out. Farnace, renouncing his treason, and Sifare rush to defend their father. But losing the battle and fearing capture, Mitridate commits suicide. With his dying breaths, he pardons his sons and blesses Sifare’s marriage to Aspasia.
At least, that’s the plot of the opera, which has a libretto by Vittorio Amedeo Cigna-Santi. For Boston Lyric’s production, director James Darrah made a few updates. The trouser role of Sifare was played as female, turning the Sifare/Aspasia relationship lesbian. Farnace’s spurned fiancée Ismene became the piece’s villain, gleefully goading Mitridate to vengeance. In the opera’s final scenes, instead of virtuously defending their father, his fed-up sons sought to murder him. Farnace succeeded and only then experienced his change of heart.
Brenda Rae, left, as Aspasia and Vanessa Goikoetxea as Sifare
The bold staging partially worked. The chemistry between Aspasia and Sifare carried the show, with one surprising moment producing audible gasps. Many scenes contained effective ideas, as when Aspasia played tug of war with an invisible opponent as she lamented her own inner conflict during “Nel grave tormento.” Even cheeky modern touches charmed, such as Ismene’s air guitar and a nod to erotic asphyxiation for two. But Darrah’s overarching choices robbed the story of logic and stakes. To accommodate his plot changes, characters frequently said one thing and did the opposite. He partially bridged this gap with lying supertitles (i.e., translations that didn’t match the words sung) but still left a muddled sense of the action. Plays for cheap laughs undercut several of the opera’s most serious moments. Sifare and Farnace’s constant childish catfights distracted from other scenes and belied their rivalry’s potentially fatal consequences. It was hard to fear for Sifare’s life when s/he was bound with a dainty pink ribbon and threatened with a bottle of (poisoned) Dom Perignon.
Adam Rigg’s white faux-marble set provided a backdrop for striking tableaux. Projections (by Hana Kim) added ominous notes, especially in early scenes when Mitridate’s oversized shadow loomed over the proceedings. Pablo Santiago’s brilliant lighting transformed the whole feel of the stage from scene to scene. Molly Irelan costumed the cast with 1950s-inspired glamor and sly misdirection — the sympathetic Sifare wore a tailored suit of poison-green, while the venomous Ismene sported a concoction of Barbie pink, giant bows, and sparkly tulle.
Although the sets and costumes wowed, the cast could have sung Mitridate in concert blacks to rapturous applause. It is difficult to imagine a more perfect group of singers to tackle this obstacle course. Lawrence Brownlee has evangelized Mitridate because of his love for the title role, which suits him perfectly. He excelled in both the pensive legato of “Se di lauri il crine adorno” and the punctuated, semi-shouted fury of “Quel ribelle e quell’ingrato.” His biting tone carried even in quiet moments, and the tricky high Cs of “Vado incontro al fato extremo” clearly held no terrors. As his fiancée Aspasia, Brenda Rae once again proved herself opera’s reigning queen of coloratura. She nailed every note, staccato or legato, of her role’s many runs with seeming ease. When her part dipped below the staff, she sported a gritty, guttural sound.
John Holiday impressed from his first aria (“Venga pur, minacci e frema”), in which he showed off growling low notes, clean coloratura, and a consistent reedy strength of tone. He delivered “Già dagli occhi il velo è tolto,” one of the most stunning arias in the countertenor repertoire, with melting tone and absolute sincerity, flourishing whisper-soft floated high notes and precise trills. Vanessa Goikoetxea’s thicker, steelier voice in the role of Sifare didn’t have the same agility as her castmates’, a contrast especially apparent in her duet with Aspasia. In the role’s highest notes, her tone took on a strident edge. Still, her chocolatey lower register, dynamic range, and strong dramatic commitment offered plenty to enjoy, especially in her tender delivery of “Lungi da te, mio bene”.
Soprano Angela Yam’s light, bright sound suited Ismene, as did her flouncing air of cheerful menace. In the small parts of Arbate and Marzio, mezzo-soprano Alexis Peart and tenor Charles Sy provided expressive commentaries on the unfolding drama — largely with exasperated eye rolls and conspiratorial wiggles of the eyebrows.
Under David Angus’ capable direction, the Boston Lyric Opera Orchestra proved up to the challenges of the score. From the first notes of the sprightly overture, Angus never let the tempo lag. The orchestra navigated hairpin turns of mood and tricky 16th-note tremolos without losing clarity or overpowering the singers.
The audience’s frenzied enthusiasm was a rare sight at any opera — and doubly so for an obscurity. That this is a co-production with Long Beach Opera ensures at least one other city will experience the magic of Mitridate. Let us hope Brownlee is successful in his campaign to spread it even further.
