He was ready for his close-up and then some. Jonathan Tetelman, the Chilean American tenor on the fast track to superstardom, opened Los Angeles Opera’s season (and made his company debut) singing a sumptuous and clarion-toned B.F. Pinkerton in Giacomo Puccini’s beloved Madame Butterfly.
Seen on Saturday and running through Oct. 13 at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, this reimagined Butterfly, originally mounted in 2002 by award-winning director Mario Gas for Madrid’s Teatro Real, featured soprano Karah Son in the title role (and also her LA Opera debut). Yet despite having sung the role some 300 times, Son needed much of the first act to warm up before fully coming into her own and matching Tetelman’s robust and powerful vocalism.
This production is set in the 1930s, with the action taking place on a revolving set that could have sprung from MGM — Ezio Frigerio’s scenic design might best be described as Hollywood Orientalism. This Butterfly is replete with all of the accoutrements of filmmaking — lights, cameras on cranes — to record the drama. The concept is that the singers are filming a staged version of the saga and, in the process, create a meta-setting of the work. Perhaps not surprisingly, this stage business often proved a distraction on Saturday; the filmed goings-on were projected in real time above the supertitles but were not actually in sync with the live singing.
For Butterfly newbies, the opera tells the tragic story of a 15-year-old former geisha, Cio-Cio-San, who is married off to the American naval lieutenant Pinkerton in turn-of-the-20th-century Japan. But with Gas’s update, the tawdriness of the arrangement seems even more pronounced, especially as the #MeToo era continues to call out men’s bad behavior toward women.
That said, this is opera, so let us revel in Puccini’s score. The libretto, by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa, is based on a short story by John Luther Long and a play by David Belasco. (That Hollywood produced several Madame Butterfly films, notably a 1932 version starring a very young Cary Grant and Sylvia Sidney, is testament to the story having, well, legs.)
Teeming with gorgeous melodies, from the opening buzzing string motif to the hauntingly beautiful aria “Un bel dì” (One fine day) to the whisperlike sounds of the humming chorus to Tetelman’s gorgeous rendition of “Addio, fiorito asil” (Farewell, flowered sanctuary), the opera in LAO’s production was beautifully sung and superbly conducted by Music Director James Conlon. The chorus, prepared by Jeremy Frank, was in good form, and let’s not forget the stage crew “on set,” attired in 1930s garb.
Through the music, we are transported to a land of colliding cultures, not least of which is Butterfly’s transformation from obeisant kimono-clad wife in the first act (her resplendent bejeweled garment is credited to a pair of kimono specialists) to a jaunty bobbed-haired woman in T-straps and shirtwaist dress in the second. (Franca Squarciapino is the production’s costume designer.)
It is also in Act 2, when three years have passed, that Butterfly is absolutely convinced that Pinkerton, who has since abandoned her, will return. Singing “Un bel dì,” Son, in full and glorious voice here while moving from a plaintive pianissimo to a heart-wrenching fortissimo, had me believing that she could bring her man back by the sheer force of her singing alone.
Son had able support from her devoted handmaid, the magnificent mezzo-soprano Hyona Kim as Suzuki — especially when they sang the perpetually lovely Flower Duet, the wisteria above them accentuated by Vinicio Cheli’s lighting design.
Suzuki is the only true friend Butterfly has. Her uncle, the Bonze, sung forcefully by bass Wei Wu, renounces the heroine during her wedding celebration arranged by the marriage broker Goro (tenor Rodell Aure Rosel, assured in his quasi-comic delivery.) Goro returns in Act 2, trying to persuade Butterfly to marry his moneyed client Prince Yamadori (baritone Hyungjin Son). But she scoffs at this notion, saying she’s already married.
As Sharpless, the American consul, the always engaging bass-baritone Michael Sumuel did not disappoint, his sound resonating in the never-ideal acoustics of the Pavilion.
In Act 2, we learn Butterfly has a son, conceived with Pinkerton. But another surprise awaits, when, in Act 3, Pinkerton comes ashore with a new wife, Kate (soprano Gabrielle Turgeon, in what has to be one of opera’s more thankless roles). Kate asks Suzuki to convince Butterfly to do the unthinkable: give up her son. As the drama agonizingly mounts, with the music a study in ominous chords, Sharpless delivers the very bad news, and Butterfly commits seppuku with her father’s dagger.
Overall, this was a lavish Butterfly, but one with too many moving parts. Son, Tetelman, Kim, and Sumuel collectively and individually triumphed over the production’s busyness, however, and left powerful impressions both visually and sonically. In their hands, the great opera’s emotions were palpable and burrowed their way into this reviewer’s heart.
