COOPERTSTOWN, N.Y. — Rob Ainsley took over as artistic and general director of the Glimmerglass Festival in 2023. An amicable Brit, he’s a protégé of Francesca Zambello, his predecessor here, having worked under her at Washington National Opera, where he headed both the highly regarded Cafritz Young Artist Program and the development of new operas. As the 2023 Glimmerglass season had been put together by Zambello, this summer’s festival is the first season Ainsley assembled, making it an opportunity to assess his impact.
The Pirates of Penzance
Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Pirates of Penzance (seen Aug. 1) arrived onstage at the Glimmerglass Festival via a production by Seán Curran that debuted at Opera Theatre of St. Louis in 2013 and then visited San Diego and Atlanta, among other places. How well you like the production might depend on your tolerance for camp and slapstick. That said, the seamless execution of this high-energy vaudevillian romp is likely to win you over.
As was the case last season here, every production has a choreographer. But for this one, director Curran is himself the choreographer, and some combination of dance and infectious physical comedy took over every scene. For example, as Frederic romanced Mabel, the maidens lay on their backs, gyrating pelvises. Later, the police corps, sporting identical mustaches and helmets, marched around stiffly, then swayed from side to side in unison, like metronomes, as they sang, “When the foeman bares his steel.”
The sets, by James Schuette, seemed lifted right out of a Victorian theater, with colorful, cartoonish painted backdrops and a model of the Tarantula (the pirates’ ship) that could be rolled onstage when called for. Schuette also designed the costumes. The maidens got proper Victorian dresses as usual, but the pirates’ outfits were more playful, seeming to lean on the concept of their perpetual adolescence and winking at androgyny: Oe carries a teddy bear all night, and another is busy with his knitting.
Projected titles were deployed for the singing but not the dialogue, which was often unintelligible due to the accents of the cast. The exception was tenor Christian Mark Gibbs, who sang the role of Frederic clearly, without mannerism or accent. It worked because his voice was so pleasant. He looked, moved, and sang like a guileless young man. Soprano Elizabeth Sutphen was a phenomenal Mabel, her old-fashioned fast vibrato perfect for the role, delightful in the demanding coloratura, and secure in the high notes. Mezzo-soprano Eve Gigliotti was a scene-stealing Ruth (Frederic’s nurse), with her agile voice and expressive face.
As the Pirate King, a role sung by King Charles III when he was in boarding school, baritone Craig Irvin portrayed the requisite gruff exterior and kind heart. His voice is versatile and expressive. Troy Cook’s Major General wasn’t quite as boisterously full of himself as is usual, but he aced the all-important “I am the very model of a modern Major-General” patter song, opting for a final, sped-up round, a feat of bravery that turned into something of a blur. Conductor Joseph Colaneri, music director here, kept things moving briskly.
Ainsley made a pre-curtain begging speech, a tradition established by Zambello. Wearing a pirate hat, he suggested that “our treasure chest could use a few more doubloons.” Zambello also established the formula of including a classic American Broadway musical as one of the four mainstage productions each season. And while Pirates might not be American, it’s had its share of Broadway success, notably in a 1981 production starring Kevin Kline and Linda Ronstadt. (It returns to Broadway in April 2025 with Ramin Karimloo as the Pirate King and David Hyde Pierce as the Major-General.)
Pagliacci
Of the four adult operas this season (there’s also a commissioned children’s opera, Rumpelstiltskin and the Unlovable Children, by Jens Ibsen with libretto by Cecilia Raker, which had its premiere Aug. 6), the only conventional staple is Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci (seen Aug. 2). It’s relatively short and is traditionally paired with something else, usually Mascagni’s Cavalleria rusticana. I asked Ainsley why it didn’t get a partner, especially in a season with Elizabeth Cree, another short work. He granted that shorter attention spans were a factor but noted that “our audience has to drive home in the dark” and questioned whether Cavallieri rusticana, which he felt was “more of a concert piece,” would work as well here. He might be right. Perhaps in an attempt to address the same problem, Cav and Pag last appeared here in 2002 via a daring production by Robin Guarino that reversed their order and combined them into a single opera, with action from one intruding into the other. It didn’t go well. Ainsley said he thought this production of Pagliacci was strong enough to stand on its own, and he was right: It’s a killer.
Brenna Corner’s production ratcheted up the verismo factor and the violence, setting it in an authentic-looking 19th-century Italian village visited by a gritty little theater company and leaning into nicely researched commedia dell’arte tropes. Sets, by James Rotondo, consisted of shabby stage wagons and stacked crates, leaving just enough room for maneuvering. Period costumes, by Erik Teague, included authentic designs for the players.
Deploying the Young Artists, Community Chorus, and Children’s Chorus as villagers, Corner filled the stage and notched up audience engagement by having the choristers enter and exit repeatedly via the aisles as they sing. In this production, Nedda had a young child, nicely integrated into the action, and this helped explain why Nedda could not leave Canio.
Tenor Robert Stahley’s gripping and explosive portrayal of Canio was unsympathetic but recognizable as a classic abusive partner, violently grabbing Nedda at one point. His powerful, clear voice carried the night, amplifying his dark portrayal, but for “Vesti la giubba,” he brought a sweeter sound expressive of his pain. ”Soprano Amber R. Monroe was a charismatic Nedda with a warm sound. Troy Cook sang Tonio with a burnished baritone of ample power. Jonathan Patton sang Silvio with a tremulous baritone.
The hero of this performance was Colaneri. The overture could have been a master class in conducting, and all night there was something especially authentic and stirring about the sound from the pit. Combined with powerful acting from a committed cast, this made for an intense, mesmeric little shocker.
Elizabeth Cree
A more recent murder story was the basis for Elizabeth Cree (seen Aug. 3), an opera by Kevin Puts, whose Silent Night won the 2012 Pulitzer Prize for Music and was a runaway success here in 2018. Cree, with a libretto by Mark Campbell, was first performed by Opera Philadelphia in 2017 and has enjoyed several subsequent productions. Based on a grisly series of murders in 1880s London, it combines fact and fiction in a tightly woven suspense story, with scenes that jump around in time: the murder trial of the title character, her unusual childhood, her music hall career and marriage, the investigation into the murders, and excerpts (staged) from her husband’s confessional diary.
Fast-moving and totally engrossing, the opera’s style echoed both Sweeney Todd and The Rake’s Progress, combining elements of music theater with opera. Some of the best bits are set in the flamboyant English music hall of the period — a butcher who brings his work home, so to speak, and amputates bits of his wife each evening; or a scene where Elizabeth plays Bluebeard’s housekeeper – and these contrast nicely with the unfolding penny dreadful.
Puts’ piano-driven score brilliantly shifts around from ditties to arias, and from melodrama to cacophony. Conductor Kelly Kuo paced things briskly, with plenty of drama at times.
This new production by Alison Moritz took advantage of the large and energetic young cast (more than half from the Young Artist Program here), with constant, nicely choreographed motion and persuasive acting. A rotating unit set by Edward T. Morris functioned efficiently as a theater stage, courtroom, house, and library. Amanda Seymour’s costumes were authentic and, for the actors, vivid.
Irish mezzo-soprano Tara Erraught sang the demanding title role, her voice a blazing success in the coloratura fireworks but sometimes inaudible in the lower part of her range. With formidable stage presence, she dominated every scene. Tenor Christian Mark Gibbs was an absolute delight in his energetic portrayal of Dan Leno, the real-life actor-impresario who hired and sustained Elizabeth. John Chest portrayed John Cree, Elizabeth’s husband, with a dark, focused baritone. His character is something of an enigma, and his portrayal was nicely balanced.
La Calisto
For serious operaphiles, the highlight of the season here was Cavalli’s rarely performed 1651 opera La Calisto (seen Aug. 3). Written when opera was becoming a form of mass entertainment in Venice, it’s filled with catchy tunes — there are 57 arias, duets, trios, and choruses in this sprawling work, and while they are often showpieces for Baroque voices, they also contain “hooks,” just like our modern forms of pop music.
La Calisto was performed here in 1996, when Baroque specialist Jane Glover led an eight-piece orchestra, all period instruments, in a memorable performance, using her own version of the score. This time around, Glimmerglass head Ainsley conducted his own new version, greatly expanding the orchestra and using mostly modern instruments, adding brass and winds while retaining two lutes and, of course, a harpsichord.
The two versions could hardly be more different. In the printed program, Ainsley noted that his edition caters “to our modern ears, accustomed to a more symphonic tonal palette.” That might be true for some in the audience, but after going back to the BBC Music recording of excerpts from those very performances here with Glover, I’m afraid her version gets my vote. Ainsley’s version might be bigger and lusher, but it lacks the taut Baroque energy of a period performance.
Sex sells, and this was apparently as true for 17th-century Venice as it is today. The Calisto libretto, by Giovanni Faustini, is a hot mess of interrelated subplots involving gods and mortals in tawdry, soap-opera episodes of sexual infidelity. And it’s often quite funny.
Mo Zhou’s production made use of a neon light frame built for Wagner’s Die Feen, a production sadly canceled by the pandemic. But it was the striking abstract projections, designed by Charlie Corcoran, that made this one of the most beautiful productions seen here in recent years, dramatically lit by Amith Chandrashaker. The costume designer, Carlos Soto, had a wild, extravagant night.
It’s becoming evident here that Ainsley knows a thing or two about casting. Mezzo-soprano Taylor Raven portrayed the scheming goddess Diana with just the right arrogance, backed up by a warm, commanding voice. Soprano Emilie Kealani, from the Young Artist Program here, sang Calisto, a nymph betrayed by the gods, in a secure portrayal that took advantage of her youthful sound. Baritone Craig Irvin turned in a formidable performance as Jove, dramatically compelling and crude, with a gigantic voice just right for the role. But all were overshadowed by the towering performance of mezzo-soprano Eve Gigliotti, who portrayed Juno, aggrieved wife of Jove, projecting majesty and glamour, with a voice to match.
Choreographer Eric Sean Fogel filled the stage with striking dancing, tableaux, and seamlessly executed movement all night. What a great show!
The Glimmerglass Festival season continues until Aug. 20. Schedule, information, and tickets can be found here.
