Oregon Music News

What if I told you that I recently went to my first opera unprepared?

Foolish?

What if I told you that I did so on purpose, that I wanted to experience the 1904 opera Madame Butterfly as viscerally as possibly, with no preconceived notions roaming around in my head.

Better?

For me, certainly. Because I did not anticipate that Giacomo Puccini, the composer of Madame Butterfly, would thrust the knife so expertly, and then twist it a few times just to be sure that the pain was unbearable. Such was the case with Portland Opera’s production of  Madame Butterfly, which (spoiler alert ahead!) took a situation of racial tension and unrequited love and brought it to a heart stopping climax that could have gone either way, graciously into hope or headlong into despair. Knife twister that he was, Puccini chose despair. The lovesick geisha, whose namesake the opera carries, commits seppuku at the end, leaving her biracial son and her native land behind.

©Portland Opera/Cory Weaver

I had the great fortune of having orchestra seats, just thirteen rows back, dead center. And to my great delight, the seat to my right was occupied by none other than the seasoned opera critic, Mark Mandel, whom I enticed into lengthy conversations during both intermissions.

Needless to say, my experience of the opera was incredible. So, too, was my view of the stage. Throughout the three act opera I was continuously taken aback by just how elaborate the set design was, with its intricate trees that arched over the performers, the little house with its sliding doors and paper screens, the town painted in the background, so perfectly anchored by a sea stretching off into the horizon and a sky that opened up overhead, glowing with a full moon as evening drew near, twinkling with a multitude of tiny stars as the night wore on. Seasons changed on stage, as did the yard that surrounded the little house. I swear, even the bamboo shoots that bordered the stage seemed to grow. Such was the magic of the design.

And then there was the stellar cast, led by Kelly Kaduce, who played the lead female role of Cio-Cio-San (pictured above left). Her voice shocked me to the core. Mark explained that she is what’s known in opera as a lyrical soprano, a mid-range vocal style that encompasses both depth and dramatic agility. It’s as if she were acting with song, using her voice like someone else would use gestures. I was impressed by how well she could be heard though she wore no mic and had to project over the swells and general volume of the orchestra not fifteen feet from her.

If you plan to attend either of the Portland Opera’s last two performances of Madame Butterfly, and I highly recommend that you do, you may want to take the same approach of emotional and intellectual immediacy as I did, choosing to remain mostly in the dark in regards to the story. But, if you’d rather be better informed then here are a few things you should know (taken in part from Portland Opera’s invaluable website).

First performed in 1904, Madame Butterfly, was based on a play of the same title by David Belasco, which, in turn was based on a short story by John Luther Long. Long maintained that his story was based on actual events related to him by his missionary sister, Jennie Correll, who spent years in Nagasaki. However, all three men (Long, Belasco and Puccini) added their own literary flourishes to the story, Puccini’s being, perhaps, the most devastating since Mrs. Correll stated that no one returned for Chô-san or her child, and the most likely fate for them was that of public scorn, since mixed racial (“half-caste”) children were considered “unclean.”

©Portland Opera/Cory Weaver

Puccini originally decided to compose Madame Butterfly after attending a 1900 performance of Belasco’s play in London. Despite his limited English, Puccini was entranced by the tragic tale of Cio-Cio-San, the naive geisha, and applied to Belasco for the rights. During his wait for permission to proceed, Puccini sent a copy of Long’s short story to his customary librettists, Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa so that they could begin work at once. They structured the opera to include a “prelude” of Butterfly’s wedding not included in the play, and then three acts, the first and third of which were to take place in Butterfly’s “little house on the hill” and the second of which was to occur at the American Consulate in Nagasaki. Illica favored the longer ending in which Butterfly survives seppuku and raises her own child. I personally would have loved to see this more hopeful ending, though Puccini objected to it, favoring the stark tragedy of Belasco’s play.

All in all, Long, Belasco, and Puccini have given far more care to Butterfly’s precarious position than their contemporaries or history have done, and they have given a voice to many voiceless young women throughout history, battered by callousness and cultural indifference. Regardless of whether Madame Butterfly is factually or culturally accurate or not, it speaks to the truth of many broken relationships and lives. Perhaps this is why I was sobbing as Madame Butterfly reached its climactic ending.

Experience it for yourself at Keller Auditorium this coming Thursday, February 9th at 7:30 pm or Saturday, February 11th at 7:30 pm.