NEW YORK — Logic suggests that it’s an advantage for an opera’s librettist to be the same person who wrote the novel it’s based on. After all, no one knows the story better. But the world premiere of The Tin Angel, presented by Teatro Grattacielo at La MaMa on June 28, pointed out a flaw in that logic. Paul Pines perhaps knew the intricacies of his 1982 novel too well, preventing him from distilling a clear essence for the libretto of Daniel Asia’s musical treatment. Nevertheless, it was an intriguing experiment with moments of gorgeous poetry and some very fine singing.
Asia and the late Pines, who died on Asia’s birthday in 2018, were longtime friends who had been working on this opera for decades. In pre-concert comments, Asia made a point of saying that many characters from the novel had been cut to focus the libretto. Nevertheless, in the current version there are still too many characters representing too many threads, and keeping track of them all without enough background information is distracting.
Director Chloe Treat staged the piece imaginatively, taking advantage of the clean acoustics of the Ellen Stewart Theatre. She used the proscenium stage for the orchestra while placing the action on the floor where nightclub-style tables were set up. A bar was built on a dais in the middle, and a high, square mini-stage at the foot of steeply raked bleachers was also used (set design by Hayley E Wallenfeldt). The audience on the bleachers sat at the back end of the hall; some were also seated along the walls on both the main floor and the balcony level, and a few at the club tables.
This open design made set changes understandably impractical. However, it was odd that lighting (Bailey Costa) was not used more effectively to differentiate scenes. For example, when characters from the Tin Angel visit another nightclub, it looks just like theirs.
Asia describes this piece as “not a jazz opera, but an opera about jazz.” His style hews closer to Aaron Copland than to Charlie Parker. There are some jazz elements — syncopation, bebop-inspired dissonance, intensive use of horns — blended into the score, but there is no jazz at all onstage. The only in-libretto performance is a character named Black Hattie singing “My Favorite Things” (with the original melody, not the Coltrane meanderings) at Ponce’s memorial. The lack of actual jazz reads as a lack of evidence. Over and over, the characters sing about how essential jazz is, how they’ll never let it die, how they’ll fight to keep the club open. Yet the audience is asked simply to take their word for it.
Just as lacking was emotional connections to the characters. Anguish and grief were skillfully wrought in the poetic words — “Make my heart a place where friends are dancing without shoes” — and in the music. But there were too many details and relationships to keep track of, preventing deep empathy. When Hattie kills a man named Babar, who had seemed to be her lover, Pablo himself is surprised to learn that they are mother and son. If he didn’t know, how could we?
Despite these issues, there was a lot to admire about the work itself and its execution. The 15-member choir, often split into two lines on facing side lofts, had a rich, moving sound when delivering Asia’s skillful choral writing. Indeed, the chorus provided some of the most emotionally accessible moments, even if their occasional presence as homeless people on the Bowery, bothering a maple sapling planted by Pablo, was not well explained.
Conductor Enrico Fagone impressively wrangled both the 13-piece orchestra and the singers scattered throughout the large space. Hugo Moreno on trumpet and Julie Dombroski on trombone (Asia’s original instrument in his youth) stood out in particular for their mastery of the score’s rhythmic and harmonic complexities.
As Babar, bass Michael Mensah made the floorboards rumble with satisfying low notes. Although baritone Zachary Angus didn’t have much stage time as the wily, mob-connected Caviar Henry, he made good use of it, slithering through his role. Playing the Tin Palace’s bartender, Diamond Jim, countertenor Jordan Rutter-Covatto’s colorful, reedy timbre enhanced a warm characterization. It would have been rewarding to learn more about the ghost of Ben (bass-baritone Justin Ramm Damron), Pablo’s Holocaust-survivor father.
As Pablo, tenor Spencer Hamlin supplied a brilliant voice and a likable manner. With a clear, fluid soprano, Victoria McGrath sang Ponce’s grieving sister, Maria, who becomes Pablo’s lover (or perhaps already was — it was hard to tell). Powerhouse mezzo-soprano Chantelle Grant sounded thrilling as Black Hattie.
This is Asia’s only opera, surely quite a different undertaking from the several song cycles he has written. Teatro Grattacielo’s original announcement about The Tin Angel described it as lasting two-and-a-half hours with an intermission. This performance packed all three acts into an intermission-less 100 minutes. The fact that the supertitles did not always match the singing suggests that the longer version was under consideration until very recently. Maybe reinstating those excised 50 minutes is exactly what the opera needs to make it work.
