A Surprising Premiere

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The New York Sun

At first blush, it seems exceedingly strange that a mature opera written by one of the foremost composers of the last century should have had to wait 66 years for its New York stage premiere, but that is exactly the case with “Daphne” by Richard Strauss, the refulgent production with which City Opera has opened its new season. (The piece was presented at Town Hall in 1960, but in a concert version.)


It is indeed praiseworthy that the company should espouse this unjustly neglected work, containing, as it does, some of the finest music that Strauss ever composed. Its selection highlights the forward-thinking direction at the New York State Theater. This is the company, after all, that scooped their neighbor some years ago by offering Schonberg’s “Moses und Aron” to rave reviews, even after James Levine argued passionately but unsuccessfully for its local premiere at the Metropolitan. That City Opera chose to make “Daphne” the curtain raiser for their entire season speaks volumes for their commitment to musical excellence.


There is an inverse relationship between the popularity of Strauss’s mature operas and their dates of composition. After “Salome,” “Elektra,” and “Rosenkavalier,” all written by 1911, the remaining works descend quite literally step by step in public acceptance and staying power as the sensitive composer turned ever more inward and toward the intimate. By the premiere of “Daphne” under Karl Bohm in 1938, Strauss had added layers of poignancy and disillusionment to his worldview. Many of these late operas are as exquisite in their sadness and modern in their harmonic language, though in a decidedly different manner, as the revolutionary early stage pieces that made Strauss a star before World War I.


Since performances of the work are so rare, a brief outline of the plot. In the shadow of Mount Olympus, Daphne, the daughter of a fisherman, is deeply devoted to nature and especially the Sun, but not at all interested carnally in any human creature. Nevertheless, her beauty inspires two suitors. Leukippos the shepherd tries to win her by donning women’s clothing, while Apollo transforms himself from the maiden’s favorite celestial body to attempt a union with her in the guise of a herdsman. Apollo, overtaken by the general hormonal stew, kills Leukippos and, to atone for his urges, begs Zeus to give him Daphne forever in the shape of the ultimate sun-worshipper, a lovely laurel tree. Forevermore she will provide the wreath that celebrates the finest heroes, both intellectual and corporeal.


Sunlight is indeed at the heart of this new production directed by Stephen Lawless. Ultimately, I was reminded of the most famous representation of Daphne, that glowing statue by Bernini. The set – there is only one – by Ashley Martin-Davis, engulfed the entire cast in a dome with the consistency and pattern of a wasp’s wing. Through this geodesic and often kaleidoscopic structure filtered the lighting designs of Pat Collins, emphasizing the glory of the Sun and most effectively creating a nimbus for Apollo, although the Douglas Sirk colors of the kiss sequence were just a tad over the top.


A complementary radiance marked the performance of soprano Elizabeth Futral. Hers is close to the ideal voice for this particular character. Combining an ingenue quality with a solid and throaty bottom, her individual notes were perfect pairs, lovely and dark by turns. I could close my eyes and imagine a young Kiri te Kanawa. Transitions, though, were often harsh: with a little more effort they could have seemed effortless.


By far the best of the rest was Swiss contralto Ursula Ferri as Daphne’s mother. Employing a rich and powerful instrument, she embroidered her performance with an entire palette of coloristic variations. It was quite heartening to hear her receive the most enthusiastic ovation at the close. Roger Honeywell as Leukippos was quite fine as well. His voice can best be described as a baby heldentenor, not ready for Siegfried but more than adequate to express youthful longings. Perhaps it was opening-night jitters, but Robert Chafin as Apollo had a difficult time hitting many of his pitches until a fine recovery near the conclusion of the piece. In fact, his purity seemed to crystallize only after the murder, emphasizing in a primeval way the mythic nature of the evening.


The male choristers were well deployed. Dressed as winged brown shirts, they reminded of the composer’s off again, on-again relationship with the Nazi party during this period. In the best Greek tradition, their voices surrounded us all; when they left Daphne defenseless, we could still hear their lament from up in the rafters.


All of this was held together nicely by conductor George Manahan and the expressive City Opera orchestra. Their passionate handling of the instrumental interlude at the opera’s conclusion – Frau Strauss’s own personal favorite music – was a febrile accompaniment to the heroine’s apotheosis.


The story of Daphne was the basis for the very first opera ever composed, Jacopo Peri’s “La Dafne” of 1597. That score is unfortunately lost; otherwise, this innovative company might just try and stage it here in New York.


The New York Sun

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