Salome

Salome

Richard Strauss (composer); Hedwig Lachmann (libretto)

Based on French language play by Oscar Wilde

West Bay Opera

 

Among a number of Biblical women such as Jezebel and Delilah whose names to this day connote evil, betrayal, and manipulation, Salome has always engendered much distain, but also much fascination.  After all, as recorded twice in both the books of Matthew and Mark, it is she who demands the head of John the Baptist be delivered to her by her step-father, King Herod, who had promised her anything she desired up to half his kingdom if only she would dance for him.  

The scene of a blood-thirsty Salome with John’s severed head has inspired numerous artists like Caravaggio and Titian and in 1893, provided Oscar Wilde enough fodder for a play steeped in seduction, eroticism, and murder.  Having seen Wilde’s controversial play in 1902, Richard Strauss in conjunction with librettist Hedwig Lachmann immediately began to compose an opera that soon became more famous and more performed than Wilde’s original work — a demanding one-act that West Bay Opera now opens in a production soaring to the heights musically, visually, and dramatically.

Surely few roles in opera require as much from the lead as does Strauss’ demands on this work’s Salome.  The requirements of vocal range that stretch from a soprano’s top notes to a contralto’s depths, the demands of vocal power and stamina, the call for the grace and limberness of a ballerina, and the absolute need to be stellar in a wide range of acting abilities must narrow the field as any artistic director is seeking a Salome.  In Joanna Parisi, West Bay’s José Luis Moscovich hit the jackpot because she rates a ten-out-of-ten in each of those categories.

Even before her initial appearance on the stepped terrace of Herod’s columned palace, her Salome is center stage as the palace guard captain, Narraboth (Brian Skoog) sings in compelling and expressive tenor, “She is like a dove who has lost its way … like a white rose in a silver mirror.”  Upon her entrance and her hearing a mysteriously rich and masculine voice from somewhere in the depths of a locked and gated cistern, Salome immediately entices the adoring Narroboth to release the cellared prisoner whom she is told is a prophet that her step-father and Tetrarch (Herod the ruler) has ordered no one to see or speak.  With increasingly coyness and beautiful notes dripping in enticement, Salome wins; and we get our first of many proofs of Joanna Parisi’s vocal and acting prowess. 

When the dazed, bearded, and bare-chested Iokanaan (known by us as John the Baptist) emerges in only a loin cloth and long, black hair much disheveled, Nathaniel Sullivan’s rich and rigorous baritone sounds out condemnations of Herod and especially his wife, Herodias, who was once married to Herod’s brother before he was murdered by the king.  Even knowing Iokanaan sings of her mother’s sins, Salome becomes hypnotically enthralled with this strange man of God, singing in increasingly resounding, ringing voice as she longs to touch his body, caress his hair, and kiss his lips.  

The more she wants his body “white as ivory,” hair like “clusters of grapes,” or mouth “redder than roses,” the more Iokanann rejects her, his now singing with evangelical strength his warnings she must seek “the son of Galilee” for her salvation.  Each rejection by him first leads Salome to turn her compliments into insults, only quickly to sing of her renewed love and desire.  Not only with a voice that elevates in both pitch and volume to incredible heights but also with simultaneous attempts to conquer Iokanaan with wildly grasping arms and desperate attempts to overcome him one way or another does Joanna Parisi continue to amaze.

And as the opera’s lurid, lascivious story progresses, her Salome only becomes more and more a temptress like none other.  The famous oriental-tinged dance of the seven veils — often relegated in productions to a stand-in dancer — becomes another avenue for this Salome to cause us in the audience to gasp in dropped-jaw at the near-animal-like being she becomes as she at first sensuously, then lustfully, and finally lasciviously removes each veil and swoops around, crawls toward, and rolls in front of her wide-eyed, clearly aroused step-father .  That sequence is only eventually topped by her final act of literally making love to a severed, bleeding head — all the time now singing with a voice fiery and fierce — a voice dripping in evil even while incredibly stunning in power and quality.

So clear it is that the apple does not fall far from the tree as we watch Laure de Marcellus’ depiction of Salome’s mother, Herodias.  With a mezzo-soprano that can send chills down one’s back as she snarls her dislike of Iokanaan and as she eggs on her daughter not to give in to Herod’s offers of riches in lieu of the prophet’s head, her Herodias may be even more evil than the daughter she so watches with creepy, triumphant pride as Salome caresses the severed head.  Kudos goes to this staggeringly vile in vocal tones, searing eyes, and tight smirks, Herodias.

As Herod, Will Upham brings a tenor voice that cuts through the air with an edge along with a demeanor that is less that of a powerful ruler, but one more of a superstitious, near mad-man who has no boundaries when it comes to his lust for the forbidden — be it once his brother’s wife or now, his step-daughter.  While his performance is overall admirable, his Herod does not quite rise to the same level as the portrayals of Iokanaan, Herodias, or Salome.

While this story full of deadly tragedy worthy of any that Shakespeare ever wrote does not have much of the Bard’s humor that he normally inserts via gravediggers, traveling actors, or bumbling servants, a quintet of singing, quarreling Jews provides a few, short minutes of relief as they debate vigorously how good or terrible is God and how holy or not is Iokanaan.  Among them, Kirk Eichelberger’s bass excellence is particularly memorable.

Equal at least to any one role of the outstanding principals of the evening is the superior performance of the thirty-four-piece orchestra.  Time and again, the temptations, the anger, the coming acts of evil, and the sheer madness of the stage are sounded with shattering might, with cinema-like scope, and with complex depth by the musicians surrounding the stage in three positions and conducted so vigorously by José Luis Moscovich.

Much credit must go also to Stage Director Richard Harrell and to Choreographer Daiane Lopes da Silva for their creative and boundary-busting inspirations that shaped the performances of all, but especially of the evening’s Salome.  Peter Crompton’s richly colored scenic projections of a moon and sky whose character transforms from idyllic to hellish as the events progress enhance greatly the atmosphere surrounding the palace court he also designed.  Callie Floor’s costumes often remind one of the pictures that many of us as children saw in the family Bible in our parent’s home .  Finally, the lighting designed by Daniele Ferguson is an array of mood-setting shadows, startling spotlights, and foreboding storm clouds that provide a capstone for the creative team’s total scene-setting effort.

West Bay Opera’s Salome is an incredibly impressive accomplishment for any opera company, especially one that produces on a smaller, more intimate stage than most and one located in the suburbs.  Having said that and having praised so many aspects of this production, I must admit that Salome for me is not particularly an opera I would seek to see soon again.  The final, blood-dripping scene of Salome and the severed head is disturbing and seems to last forever.  There is also little uplifting that I find to take away from the evening.  It is truly a gruesome tale.  But that said, in this West Bay Opera production, Salome is told with a score performed magnificently glorious and with demands more than met by the title lead in ways mind-boggling to behold and to hear.

Rating: 4 E

Salome continues February 15, 21, and 22, 2022 in a ninety-five-minute production (no intermission) in production by West Bay Opera at Lucie Stern Center, 1305 Middlefield Road, Palo Alto.  Tickets are available online at https://www.wbopera.org/ or in person/by phone at the box office Monday – Friday 1-5 p.m. at 221 Lambert Avenue, Palo Alto (650-424-9999).

Photos Credit: Otak Jump