With Ainadamar, by the Argentinian Osvaldo Golijov, at the Théâtre Maisonneuve, the Opéra de Montréal is putting to its credit a powerful and effective performance of one of the eminent lyrical works of the 21ste century.
It’s no wonder thatAinadamar, opera of 2003, revised in the wake (2005), returns to the front of the stage. The work is as strong as it is symbolic in various ways.
The “fountain of tears” (Ainadamar) of Granada is at the heart of many intertwined destinies. Culturally, Granada is in history a crossroads of Christian, Jewish and Muslim civilisations. In the XXe century, Federico García Lorca was executed there in 1936 by fascist militiamen. It is then a voice that we want to silence for many reasons, in particular what he writes and represents, as the vociferous militiaman Ramon Ruiz Alonso, perfectly personified by Alfredo Tejada. The violent imprecations of the militiaman are written in a musical style reminiscent the Arab soil-Muslim of Andalusia.
The fruits of experience
In AinadamarGolijov and his librettist, David Henry Hwang, transcend historical facts (the rise of fascism in Spain and the death of García Lorca) to show, through the central figure of Lorca’s favorite actress, Margarita Xirgu, that art and culture are immortal if they manage to be transmitted.
Ainadamar is this opera of the infinite wheel of history: a music stirring in a thousand-year-old tradition and integrating flamenco as a mode of expression (magnificent integration of dance in the show), but also concrete sounds of life. His booklet organized in flashbacks shows us the edifying virtues of culture; Lorca writing about the destiny of Mariana Pineda, who precedes him, then Margarita Xirgu who keeps Lorca alive after his death and transmits his flame to his disciple Nuria.
The director, Brian Staufenbiel, adds a relevant layer, because if young girls come to grab the hands of executed women and bring them back to life in another decade, one can imagine that they too will, one day, be the expiatory victims of totalitarianism. It is the fatal wheel of history: Argentina 1970s, Iran 2022-2023…
The big winners of the show are indeed Brian Staufenbiel and chef Nicole Payment, who have already come together to Ainadamar in San Francisco in 2013. This familiarity and anteriority serve them well. Nicole Payment’s mastery of the work and her performance are impressive. As for Staufenbiel, he takes up the main challenge by managing to clarify the muddle of the libretto as to periods and flashbacks. It sticks to a clear narration and does not fit into too much symbolism on the theme of “Lorca universal martyr of freedom of expression”. The orange saturation of the final scene (with the prayer to the Virgin) corresponds to the wishes of the composer.
The downsides
The set is very well held by Emily Dorn (Margarita Xirgu), Elizabeth Polese (Nuria), Alfredo Tejada and the always impeccable Alain Coulombe. Difficult to get into a real vocal criticism because of the amplification of the voices.
Indeed, the show has two major flaws. Maisonneuve being a dry and ungrateful theater, where the voices leave in the hangers, it is necessary to amplify. Now this amplification, which should simply “support” the voices, becomes a quasi-cabaret amplification. This destroys the sound reports sinceAinadamar is built on the juxtaposition between acoustics (orchestra and voice) and electronics (concrete sounds). The two mingle when the bursts of gunfire become flamenco rhythms for example. If the voices are so amplified, it destroys the “nature of the sounds”. But from this point of view, it is true thatAinadamar is a puzzle. In Montreal, the orchestra sometimes struggles to do well from the pit. In the absolute, it would almost be necessary to succeed in designing a show ofAinadamar where the orchestra would be on stage…
The other downside is Luigi Schifano, a countertenor, as Federico García Lorca, while Golijov wanted a transvestite mezzo. And we understand the composer. According to Nicole Paiement, Golijov allows substitution, but it takes away a lot, especially when the singer, like Schifano, has such a fragile vocal drive when he descends below the mezzo-forte. There is a warmth, an emotion in a mezzo voice that you don’t find here.
The recourse to cross-dressing is not so much a sexual ambiguity here as an anchoring to the earth (Erda in Wagner’s tetralogy); a countertenor timbre (and Schifano sings well when he sings loud) cannot convey that. Golijov does nothing by chance. But, despite the downsides, it’s worth going to meet the crucible of his inspiration this week in Montreal.