Poulenc:
Dialogues of the Carmelites
Portland Opera, Portland Oregon
March 24, 2001
Portland Opera’s recent production of Dialogues of the Carmelites shimmered with transcendent spirituality, equaling the transparent harmonies and textures bequeathed to us by an overlooked 20th century composer. Portland’s artistic team, headed by David Edwards as director and Marc Trautmann as conductor, brought out the best in the cast and the score. The singers and director alike triumphed in a rare display of dramatic insight and vocal humility.
Blanche’s complaints of debilitating fear can seem overwrought in less subtle hands; Ann Panagulias conquered the role with aching delicacy. Her Blanche was obviously winded by fear in most scenes, but the physicality of the character never trespassed into caricature and the effect was heartrending rather than pathetic. Panagulias’ instrument shimmers rather than imposes in the middle register; her vocal color nicely complemented the character’s vulnerability. Higher notes were delivered with confidence and full-bodied clarity, further contributing to Panagulias’ portrayal by punctuating Blanche’s moments of assertiveness. Panagulias found choreography in the role the way a dancer might, combining her physical insights with vocal surety to bring Blanche to life.
Rosalind Elias delivered a wrenching performance as the Old Prioress, technique untouched by her artistic maturity, which was demonstrated in superb diction, powerful phrasing and majestic presence. Her willingness to put dramatic truth before vanity is admirable.
Constance, sung by Alicia Berneche, was utterly charming in every gesture vocal and physical, the ideal foil to Blanche’s feathery reticence. Her instrument was limpid, liquid and crystalline. It carried well above the orchestra without being piercing or shrill.
Linda Roark-Strummer sang Mother Marie with authority and simmering dramatic resentment. Power and resolute decision rang in every note for this singer, such qualities being requisite in a singer who also has Turandot in her repertoire. Her scenes with Blanche were reluctantly tender; an instinctive or possibly directed detail illuminating the entire role with compassion for one so much weaker. Her final defeat might have been lost in competition with the strangely glorious execution taking place at center; Roark-Strummer held the stage captive from the side in the final scene, imagining each horrifying fall of the blade with silent, guilty agony. Matching her in the struggle for the nuns’ earthly future was Michaela Gurevich as the New Prioress, who sang fabulously and not at all stolidly as this peasant character might well invite. Her vocal assertiveness made up for a slight tendency towards dramatic generalization, which may have been her interpretation of an essentially simple character. Gurevich’s forays into the stratosphere were outstanding when the conductor allowed her the dynamic license her large instrument deserved.
The Chevalier (Adam Klein) was convincingly, oddly petulant and disturbingly solicitous towards his sister, subtly suggesting a desired incest if not a committed one (to account for her disorder, as is occasionally hypothesized). His farewell to Blanche left no doubt that his power over her, of whatever nature, was more important to him than her happiness. Such thoughtful craft recommends Klein to more prominent roles. The Marquis was tortured by a rather realistic infirmity, and was vitally sung by James Wood. Christine Meadows sang an unfortunately short stint as Soeur Jeanne; the delicious chestnut of her voice, as well as the dramatic gusto with which she consistently devours all roles, are always eagerly anticipated by Portland audiences. Andre Flynn (Thierry/2nd commissioner) sang with a gorgeous burnished bronze; his instrument would be better spent and savored in larger assignments.
Generally, the singers handled the challenging tonalities of this score with confidence and accuracy. The nuns’ sacred ensembles were delicately executed with the purity of a boy choir. The Portland Opera orchestra performed with elegance, moving with definition through the score rather than wandering through it as it is sometimes, inexplicably, wont to do with less difficult material. Trautmann provided a sure sense of style and an unobtrusive authority, completing the evening by serving the music and allowing the singers to be comfortable in a rare display of overall cooperation. The production was a labor of love; a renunciation of self in honor of a stunning sacrifice.
