Lisa (Lauren Worsham) confides in the man-turned-dog Prince (John Kelly) credit: James Matthew Daniel
Dog Days may be the only opera with a score capable
of causing acute physical distress. Regardless, composer David T. Little and librettist Royce
Vavrek's first full-length opera offers much more than just shock value.
So much, in fact, that I returned for a second viewing during its stay last
week at Montclair State University's Alexander Kasser theater, equipped
with earplugs and Dramamine.
Produced by Peak Performances and Beth Morrison Projects, the opera is based on Judy Budnitz' short story about a family struggling to survive in a
dystopian near future while an unnamed war rages on American soil. Director
Robert Woodruff stripped the staging and acting of the inessential, leaving an
unflinching focus on the erosion of societal and familial bonds, and ultimately
the characters' humanity.
Struggling for survival under the duress of war and winter credit: James Matthew Daniel
At the heart of Dog Days is the relationship between Lisa (soprano Lauren Worsham), an
adolescent girl, and Prince (performance artist John Kelly), a man who has abandoned personhood to live as a dog. Lisa, with little comfort from her family,
finds solace through befriending Prince.
Kelly effectively delivered his
role without uttering a word, while Worsham's acting and vocal skills gave
great depth to her character. She excitedly sang of her changing body–high
cheeks, pointed hips, and washboard ribs–which her character believes is the
result of budding womanhood, but is actually the wasting away of a starving
child. The impact is magnified by a giant video projection of Worsham gazing
into a mirror.
Baritone James Bobick powerfully portrayed a father
struggling to fulfill his role as provider, while soprano Marnie Breckenridge played a mother who withdraws from the
world into numbness. Brothers Pat and Elliot (tenors Peter Tantsits and Michael Marcotte) struggle with impetuous early
manhood in a haze of pot smoke and pornography. Although mostly convincing,
Marcotte's Broadway-inflected vocal gestures occasionally came across as
parallel to, but not part of, the work's vocal aesthetic.
Pat (Peter Tantsits) and Elliot (Michael Marcotte) credit: James Matthew Daniel
While the dramatic elements were
first-rate, Dog Days' musicality
never played second fiddle. Brooklyn Philharmonic's Alan Pierson led Little's
chamber ensemble, Newspeak, which performed with the signature
swagger that the group is known for. The score slides between minimalism and
post-rock, with particularly brilliant writing for bass clarinet and
percussion.
Despite the overall excellence,
most of the post-performance
lobby chatter focused on the last scene, which caused the aforementioned
psychosomatic provocation that almost sent me hurling (please forgive the pun)
out of the theater: As Lisa slowly performs a final act of catharsis, the
signature 60Hz hum of a guitar cable appears in the instrumental mix. Not a
single character sings. As the scene reveals the depths of the
characters' desperation, the hum intensifies with insufferable patience
until it swallows all other sound.
Yes, it is a shock tactic, but,
despite my physical response, the ending does not
prescribe an emotional response,
and this is notable. One of opera's biggest assets is its ability to command
affect through musical conventions (what David Lang has called the management of emotional life). Dog Days' closing
hum reverses this completely. Moral certitude is not provided, and the
audience is left to think through the opera's allegory for itself. For both
those who bemoan contemporary art as apolitical and those who criticize modern
composition for alienating listeners, here lies a stark example of the
contrary. This is sheer brilliance.