Composer: Benjamin Britten
Librettist: Myfanwy Piper based on Thomas Mann's novella
Chicago Opera Theater at the Joan W. and Irving B. Harris Theater for Music and Dance, 205 E. Randolph Drive.
Phone: (312) 704-8414; $30 to $97
Runs through May 15
The prolonged peek of male nudity in Chicago Opera Theater's Death in Venice could just be a ploy to lure extra audiences (namely gay males) who might otherwise be frightened off by 20th century opera. Even if this is the case, it's a justifiable tactic to attract attention to COT's emotionally and musically stunning Chicago premiere of Benjamin Britten's final opera.
That exposed body belongs to the fine-toned Anthony Peyla, dancing the mute role of Tadzio to Daniel Pelzig's choreographic routines. Instead of actually being a pubescent lad (as in Thomas Mann's novella), Tadzio here wont break any statutory laws.
But that doesn't diminish the opera's sometimes uncomfortable subject matter: a vacationing elderly man‚s blossoming obsession with a beautiful young man. Audiences could easily vacillate between sympathy or contempt as Aschenbach becomes internally overwhelmed by his suppressed longings.
Britten and librettist Myfanwy Piper's operatic adaptation expertly condenses Mann's novella with harmonic wonder and viscous intensity (still, one is grateful for the projected supertitles to clarify singers‚ sometimes shaky diction). But the opera is also a rueful rumination on the very nature of attraction and the power of physical beauty to influence thought and behavior. The fact that Aschenbach makes this realization so late in life while simultaneously ignoring the growing signs of a Venetian cholera epidemic makes the opera all the more tragic and heartbreaking.
As Aschenbach, British tenor Robin Leggate believably inhabits the respectable widower and writer who is gleefully and painfully shocked at his sudden lovesickness. Just like his ghostly turn as Peter Quint in COT's Turn of the Screw last season, Leggate's precise and reedy tenor eerily recalls that of Peter Pears (Britten's longtime lover who originated Aschenbach in 1973). Leggate is also a consummate dramatic actor who anchors the large supporting cast of singers and agile dancers.
Out director Ken Cazan goes for stark simplicity, relying more on Kevin Knight‚s period costumes and Allen Hahn‚s establishing lighting to set the stage instead of stuffing it with neo-classical piazzas and bulky gondolas. To that end, Peter Harrison's sparse sets are more suggestive (a swirling brown fabric piece to represent dirty canal water; a collection of suitcases suggesting a musty graveyard).
Those expecting scenic spectacle will probably be disappointed. But Cazan and Harrison's minimalist approach keeps the opera‚s focus rightly on the drama and the cinematic musical flow ranging from 12-tone despondency to Balinese-like exoticism (A huge credit goes to conductor Alexander Platt's orchestral control).
Baritone David Holloway is memorable in his many traveler roles, particularly the foppish barber who convinces Aschenbach to try cosmetics for a more youthful look. But Australian countertenor Tobias Cole particularly stands out as the Voice of Apollo. Not only does Cole dazzle with his soaring alto sound, his sculpted figure smeared in gold paint and body glitter would make him endlessly popular at any gay circuit party.
Yet another prominent display of male flesh as a way to make gay audiences sit up and take notice of this challenging opera? Why not? With the paucity of operas overtly dealing with gay subject matter, COT is doing what it takes to lure what should be a built-in target audiences for its exquisite Death in Venice. It definitely deserves to be seen.