By JAMES D. WATTS JR. Scene Writer on Feb 26, 2012, at 3:02 PM Updated on 2/26 at 3:02 PM
Everything that opera should be, Tulsa Opera’s production of “Dead Man Walking” is.
And what, exactly, should an opera be? It should be a theatrical experience that exploits every art form involved — drama, design, music — to its fullest, and is crafted and performed by people working at the height of their individual abilities, to create something that speaks directly and passionately to the human soul.
“Dead Man Walking” is all that, and maybe even a little more. It is opera at its most accessible, with a story and characters that are instantly recognizable and understandable, caught up in events that are all too familiar, yet deal with the most fundamental of issues — life, death, redemption.
And every aspect works so well that Tulsa Opera’s “Dead Man Walking” is absolutely gripping from the start of its elegiac overture to the final iteration of the hymn that, in its child-like simplicity, sums up the hope of us all.
The production is anchored by searing, incandescent performances by Kirstin Chavez and Michael Mayes as the nun and the convict at the center of the story, an exceptional supporting cast, superb direction by Johnathon Pape and a performance by the Tulsa Opera Orchestra, led by guest conductor Jerome Shannon, that made the orchestra practically a separate character in the drama.
It is, simply, a triumph — the best production Tulsa Opera has staged in more than a decade.
Based on the book by Sister Helen Prejean about her experiences working with condemned prisoners in Louisiana, “Dead Man Walking” has been described as “an opera about the death penalty.”
In one sense, that is true — the physical fate of Joseph de Rocher (Mayes) is sealed from the opening scene as we witness he and his brother Anthony (Erik Wolfe) attack two teenagers (Samantha Woodruff and Ian Weddle) as they are making out near a Louisiana lake shore.
The scene is frightening in its viciousness — the vulnerability of the two naked youngsters, the randomness of the violence — and is staged to be just graphic enough to show the brutality and to erase any doubt that Joseph de Rocher might be an innocent man.
But while there is talk of parole and pardon, and while characters question the efficacy of execution, “Dead Man Walking” provides no answers to the issues it raises. Which is what it should do, because the point of the story isn’t about how one man is going to die. It’s about discovering and understanding the value of every soul.
That is why Sister Helen (Chavez) commits herself to serving as spiritual adviser to de Rocher, through one last appeal for parole, a final attempt to secure a pardon and the inevitable walk to the execution chamber.
Sister Helen’s hope is that she can convince de Rocher to give up his facade of innocence, to confess his sins, to ask forgiveness of all those he has wronged — not only the angry, grieving families of the murdered teens, but his own family, especially his mother (Sheryl Woods), whose memories of what her “Joey” once was have blinded her to what he has become.
Heggie’s score is a marvel in many ways. It is profoundly lyrical without relying on conventional “tunes,” so that even in its harshest, most dissonant moments, it never becomes off-putting — there always remains a certain beauty in the music.
It is also highly theatrical, in the way it evokes, supports or even counters the emotional content of each scene. Much of the music for de Rocher, for example, evokes that of George Gershwin — or at least, the same American jazz and blues that influenced Gershwin’s “Porgy and Bess.”
And while Heggie’s music contains all the elements associated with opera — arias, ensembles that weave distinct melodies and clashing ideas into a dramatic whole, chorus numbers — his score does not play as “opera.”
Even the arias — Sister Helen’s as she drives the Louisiana back roads to her first meeting with de Rocher, de Rocher’s own ruminations about his fate (in between a lot of strenuous push-ups), are moments that further and deepen the story and characters, rather than stop the action for a passage of beautiful exhibition.
Terrence McNally’s libretto is constructed with all the finesse and economy one would expect from this award-winning playwright, and is salted with welcome bits of humor in all these death-haunted scenes.
It is a work that requires a great deal from everyone involved, and the group assembled here delivers. Chavez and Mayes are exemplary — they sing this music as naturally as breathing and make these characters as real and believable as can be.
Jeremy Milner as the Warden and Steven Sanders as the prison chaplain Father Grenville portray two sides of the correctional system — Grenville a disillusioned man too ready to give up on a prisoner, the Warden a man who can never get used to the process of executions.
Peter Lindskoog, always a solid performer, gives a scorching performance as Owen Hart, father of the girl de Rocher raped and murdered, making the character’s transition from a volcano of hurt and hate into a man unsure of everything heartbreakingly poignant.
Woods as Mrs. de Rocher is winning as a seemingly simple woman doing as much as she can to protect herself from reality.
Valerie Ogbonnaya, as Sister Rose, Sister Helen’s friend and confidante, was very difficult to hear in the first act; perhaps she was saving her strength for the long, demanding aria where she convinces Sister Helen that she needs to forgive de Rocher herself first, a piece Ogbonnaya performed well.
Conductor Shannon, in his Tulsa Opera debut, guided the Tulsa Opera Orchestra through this score with great sensitivity. There is a cinematic quality to the way the score and libretto fit together, and Shannon’s handling of the orchestra, and its playing in response, could not be faulted.
From any perspective, “Dead Man Walking” is something that must be seen. It will captivate you to the point that the three hours it runs will zoom by, yet the story it tells and the questions it raises will resonate in one’s mind long after the curtain comes down.
“Dead Man Walking” continues with performances at 7:30 p.m. March 2 and 2:30 p.m. March 4 at the Tulsa PAC. For tickets: 918-587-4811, or tulsaworld.com/mytix.
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