A Night at the Lyric: Jenůfa
Attended Lyric Opera of Chicago's performance of Janáček’s "Jenůfa" this evening. Let me begin with the positive:
I took myself to dinner at The Florian for the first time in some years (I believe it has changed management twice since I last ate there), where I & a sensuous Bordeaux Blend spent 90 uninterrupted minutes reading a book. The lemon tart at second intermission was perfectly firm & pleasantly bittersweet, creamy & buttery with no flaking (as I prefer). Also got to enjoy another 22 uninterrupted minutes with my book (Sawday’s “The Body Emblazoned: Dissection & the Human Body in Renaissance Culture”, if you’re curious). As always, mad props to the Lyric's bartenders who have absolutely perfected my personalized double vodka tonic order & have it crisply ready for me at intermission.
Now, on to the rest: what is happening at Lyric this season?
“Jenůfa” is a harsh opera, best summed up with Hobbes’s famously truncated line: ‘nasty, brutish, and short'. The opera itself runs a tidy three hours with two intermissions, but the world we explore in that time is one of subsistence, mutilation, abandonment, infanticide, and small-village fanaticism. It is a Czech opera in the glorious Slavic tradition, unsentimental & grim. However, the great beauty of the work—aside from Janáček’s folk-infused score & distinctly Moravian libretto—is that the aforementioned are merely circumstances; the true theme of the work is forgiveness: of enemies, of loved ones, and of oneself.
I was first drawn to this opera for what I view as a rich subtext that examines a grief-adjacent process of remorse, repentance, and redemption, without overreliance on Abrahamic monotheism that places the latter squarely within the purview of God. Janáček clearly understood that to be sorrowful is not the same as being sorry, no matter how remorseful you are; that regret is not the same as responsibility, no matter how repentant you are; and that redemption is not a divine gift but a profoundly Human relinquishment of one’s right to feel wronged. Yes, ‘God’ is pervasive in the work, but not as a singular cosmic arbiter. The debts & the debtors are Human, as are the creditors, & those lines are fluid. ‘God’, in this opera, exists as a mere fact, simultaneously as central & peripheral to the narrative as sex and death—& those godawful chairs that cluttered the stage.
I have seen more than my fair share of hammy, heavy-handed postmodernist navel-gazing masquerading as “clever” staging, but here’s the thing: theatrical symbolism works only in the abstract, in the liminal space between conceptual analysis & concrete object. Placing a literal (is it chicken-wire?) cage center stage for an act intended as a musical flammagenitus on the claustrophobic nature of shame & its ripple effects is not ‘symbolic’, it’s rank hubris. “Jenůfa” is a work that should be performed against the indifferent backdrop of the natural world, not subjected to the aggressive imposition of Human design. By attempting to embody in staging the Humanistic subtext of the opera, the Lyric’s staging effectively robbed the work of its Humanity.
I had the same reaction to Lyric’s September production of “The Flying Dutchman”. At the time, I figured it was just one of those productions that wasn’t for me; they can’t all be winners, after all. But, having now seen “Jenůfa”, I have questions. In no particular order:
What has happened to all the stage lighting?
Why is everything so grey?
How deeply slashed was the costume & wig budget?
When was it decided that all productions must have the same stage angle & boxed-in profile?
Where has the soul of this venerable institution gone?
Who is responsible for this mess?
On that last bullet—
Anthony Freud (Lyric’s General Director, President & CEO) is a, ahem, controversial figure. His 13 years at the helm have been lauded by most, derided by many. It’s all quite complicated inside baseball that no one save opera fanatics truly care to discuss but I will say, as one of those opera fanatics—I have been ambivalent about Freud’s tenure. I believe smart financial choices were made, such as introducing musicals to the season offerings, & I appreciate that Freud made significant efforts to expand the reach & relevance of opera in the 21st century &, more importantly, throughout Chicagoland, but I fully admit the man’s zeal for guaranteeing the artform’s future has alienated a not insignificant constituency of the artform’s past.
Still, on the whole, I have been entertained by, engaged in, & excited for the Lyric’s offerings, each & every season.
But this season feels like Freud is outright trolling us.
Freud will be stepping down at the end of this season in 2024, two years ahead of contract. He cites retirement but there are rumblings that he is being pushed out. I won’t comment on unsubstantiated gossip, but I will say that if the latter is the deal, it kind of makes sense why this season’s productions are all so aesthetically distasteful. Freud absolutely knows his opera, but according to reputation, he is not above pettiness, hence perhaps how we’ve come to a season bursting with phenomenal veteran & ascendant singers, perfect orchestration, & the absolute worst staging possible in a Union House.
I chatted with another pair of regular Lyric subscribers tonight about the disastrous dichotomies of this season so far. We commiserated in our disappointment for a while before pondering how it is that Lyric’s roster of singers has maintained exceptionalism while production quality has plummeted. We ultimately derailed ourselves by discussing singers individually but, on my taxi ride home, I think I identified a relevant analogy.
There is a scene in the “Hannibal” TV series where a character named Tobias (who is also a serial killer) is aware that Hannibal is planning to murder him. Hannibal invites Tobias to dinner, & candidly admits he did so in order to murder him. Tobias glances at the elaborate dinner table, & Hannibal assures him: “I didn't poison you, Tobias. I wouldn’t do that to the food.”
I’ll leave you to parse that one on your own.
In conclusion: watch “Hannibal” the series. It’s all the textured operatic deliciousness the Lyric is currently missing.
Lyric photos: Michael Brosilow
Still from Hannibal S1, Ep8 – Sorbet / NBC
