My association with Dead Man Walking began two years ago with San Francisco Opera’s search for the lead baritone. I was living in New York when a friend of mine got a call to audition for the new opera. I watched through the stage doors while at least forty baritones vied for the part of Joseph de Rocher. My baritone friend was called back to sing for librettist Terrence McNally and director Lofti Mansouri. We stood in awe of the legendary figures. A few months later, the audition process continued at the War Memorial Opera House. Deservedly, the role went to Mr. John Packard.
A year later I was in Los Angeles studying voice when my husband, Atlantic jazz recording artist Brian Culbertson got a call from composer Jake Heggie. Jake needed someone to do the arranging and producing of the two pop songs in the opera. Dave Koz, a mutual colleague and friend, recommended Brian. I found myself reintroduced to this new opera. Having been disappointed by new operas in the past, I decided to find out who this Jake Heggie was. That day I went out and bought a CD of Jake’s songs, Faces of Love. I instantly fell in love with Jake Heggie’s piano and melodies and I eagerly awaited the arrival of the two pop songs, “Watching You” and “A Kiss In The Dark.”
The next week, Brian began his transformation of the two pieces. A couple of days later, Heggie and Koz arrived at the house with chocolate chip cookies in hand. As we ate our cookies, I discovered that Heggie was the nicest guy one could ever hope to meet. Gracious and humble, he was the guy next door. I had the opportunity to ask the composer what drew him to this story in the first place and he told me, “It was Terrence McNally’s idea, and it struck me as brilliant right from the start. It’s a powerful story about contemporary America, and yet it is universal and timeless. Also, it is about the huge emotional conflicts that make great opera — love, anger, redemption, damnation, forgiveness, vengeance — the kinds of powerful emotions that would impel people to sing. But above all, it says a lot about who and where we are as a community of people in America today.”
I wondered if he minded that the story had already been a movie, and his reply surprised me. He said, “I felt it was of vital importance that the subject of the opera be somewhat familiar to the audience. It’s a lot to ask of people with a new opera: new music, new characters, new language, new story, new visuals, etc. At least part of the story should be familiar to them. In past times, composers almost always went to a familiar story — (Le nozze di Figaro, La bohème, Butterfly, Rigoletto, Carmen, and on and on … including old legends and fairytales) — so it makes sense that composers will look towards film. There are a lot of great stories being told that way.” Naturally, I became curious to know if the fact that Dead Man Walking did begin as a film influenced his handling of the story. “No.” he answered, “it just allowed us to work with characters that were not completely unfamiliar to the audience. We were not out to re-create the movie, or make a documentary, or a biography about Sister Helen. We were out to tell the story on the opera stage, with music and all the elements of great opera — most especially: voices.”
Later that month we met up at the studio to record the pieces. I have to admit, I became a little jealous when I saw jazz and pop friends of mine — who have appeared with artists such as Styx and Celine Dion — getting to record for an opera before I have. They loved it, though, and walked around the studio singing every word that came out of their mouths in true operatic fashion. Jake and I sat back and listened to his music being transformed. Several months later when the premiere finally arrived, a group of us went off to dinner and then on to the opera.
The excitement was unmatched by any other opera I have been to. Television cameras were everywhere. Jake walked up gleaming with excitement. The rehearsals had been going so well that Jake had nothing to fear. I am sure that a bit of nervousness crept up on him, however, as he watched the audience filing in. Would they accept the new opera by this virtually unknown composer? I watched as Julie Andrews snuck into the opera house trying to avoid the growing crowds. Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins were being photographed and interviewed. I stood a few feet from Robin Williams, a favorite actor of mine, and walked over to introduce myself. He was very sincere and in true Robin Williams form, he parted with the words, “You both are dressed so elegantly and here I look like a priest. Well, I thought, it suits this opera.”
It truly was becoming a magical experience. We made our way to our seats. The first notes slithered out of the pit and set the mood for the night. The curtain went up onto a couple — a very naked couple I might add — romping around on stage to the notes created in the studio months before. The song was playing on the car radio in the opera’s first scene. The car radio was turned off and these innocent lives taken in a few fleeting moments. The opera was on its course to either winning over or disappointing the eagerly awaiting audience.
Intermission came and we walked over to see Jake. On the way we met Sister Helen Prejean. She was very feisty, if you can call a nun feisty. Her face lit up as we began speaking about the opera. Sister Helen was curious about the words to “Watching You.” I wondered why they were important for her and later learned she was a fan of the King, Elvis Presley. We returned to our seats and awaited the fate of Joseph de Rocher. With tears streaming down our faces, the opera ended and the entire house rose to their feet. I have been to many operas in Chicago, Los Angeles and at the Met, and I have never seen such enthusiasm for a performance before.
We made our way down to the gala and noticed that outside the opera house many people were holding candles in a silent protest against the death penalty. I later learned that Sister Helen spoke to them about the opera and understood that they were only there to emphasize their views. Finally, we arrived at the gala to await the performers.
The room was unbelievably crowded. Our first encounter was with Catherine Cook, the soprano who portrayed Jade Boucher, the mother of the female victim. She warmly accepted our compliments as we made our way through the crowd. I sought out Robert Orth who sang the female victim’s father. I knew Robert from an opera that we both did in Chicago, Shining Brow, in which he brilliantly portrayed Frank Lloyd Wright. I had watched Orth once again give a superb performance just an hour earlier. During our conversation Mr. Orth revealed that the Erato label had committed to record Dead Man Walking.
Susan Graham, John Packard and Frederica von Stade entered the room and Lofti Mansouri began his speech at the podium Terrence McNally ran around taking pictures of everyone. It was was both a shock and a delight for me to see the librettist, a four time Tony award winner, running around like a child on Christmas morning with his new camera. I tried to make my way to Flicka but the crowd encased her in a human jail cell. I noticed her slip through a door making a deft getaway, never to reappear that night. I talked with John Packard and asked him how much his life had changed since winning this coveted role. Even though he was still focused on this opera and understandably quite distracted, he mentioned his career is definitely expanding. John was very nice and gracious. He seemed well grounded and secure, two traits that are undoubtedly helpful to play such a horrible person, Joseph de Rocher, so convincingly. John did his research on this opera very thoroughly. He revealed that he even went to Louisiana to visit the room where inmates are executed. I then noticed Susan Graham across the room. Her role of Sister Helen Prejean was a tough one and Susan portrayed it with a musical grace and uncanny intelligence. “How tired you must be.” I said. “Yes,” she sighed with a smile. “Well, you were tremendous.” We smiled at each other with a singer’s mutual understanding that seemed to say, “I know how hard and rewarding this life is.” She wished me luck and we parted as the crowd encompassed her. I was so exhausted leaving the gala I could not believe that the singers were still standing, but I knew they were on a different fuel than I that night: singers’ adrenaline.
The next morning Brian and I made our way to the brunch given by Elizabeth Barlow, the artistic administration manger of SFO, at the house of Jake’s landlord and friend Jerry Walker. We congratulated Jake once again on his success. Sister Helen Prejean held an eager audience captive as she spoke about the way convicts are treated on death row. “They lose all of their humanity; you are treated like you are already dead before you are,” she announced to the growing crowd. That was demonstrated in the opera as the officers cut the sleeves from Joseph’s uniform hours before the injection. Standing next to a two-time Nobel Peace prize nominee was awe-inspiring yet, Sister Helen’s combination of humor and humanity made her seem like an old friend..
My Dead Man Walking experience will stay with me forever. The opera has made me think on so many different levels. Now, even weeks later I still wake up remembering scenes that touched my spirit. Jake Heggie is definitely a composer that will be watched. I recommend seeing one of his upcoming works: The Philadelphia Choral Arts society will sing a piece with orchestra based on the Hart Crane poem, “My Grandmother’s Love Letters” on March 30 and on April 1. A new song cycle entitled The Starry Night will debut at Merkin Concert Hall in New York on April 18 and on May 18 the Ethical Culture Society will host his new piano concerto. Opera Pacific will stage Dead Man Walking in April, 2002. Further details can be found on Jake Heggie’s website at www.jakeheggie.com.
Frederica Von Stade says it best: “Jake Heggie is my Mozart.” Well, he is our Mozart, too.
