There are some works that are both oratorio and opera. I think of The Damnation of Faust (Berlioz). (Actually, Berlioz called this interesting piece a “dramatic legend.”) You might also think of Oedipus rex (Stravinsky). These days, people even stage Bach’s passions.
In 2000, John Adams composed El Niño, which is a telling, or a “reimagining,” of the Nativity. It is an opera-oratorio. And last night, it was staged at the Metropolitan Opera. Its libretto was fashioned by both the composer and Peter Sellars.
Around El Niño, there has been a great deal of publicity, not to say hype. Sometimes, operas are pushed as quasi-political projects, or social-justice projects. But the thing is: an opera is a musical work, primarily. Music should not be an afterthought. It is the main and essential thing.
Adams is one of the most famous composers (classical composers) in the world today, and a man with an abundance of talent, naturally. El Niño is an example of minimalism—classic American minimalism, I would say. In addition, there are Latin American and other touches.
Have you ever noticed this? When someone wants to put a work down, he calls it “pastichey.” If he likes it, he calls it “eclectic.”
El Niño has some beautiful and interesting things in it. The children’s chorus at the end is inspired. A big question to ask about a minimalist work (and others, perhaps) is: Does it “catch”? Does it lull, entrance, hypnotize? In stretches, El Niño did, for me.
The performance was led by Marin Alsop, the veteran American conductor, making her Met debut. She is a longtime associate and proponent of John Adams. She conducted El Niño with knowledge and appreciation.
Onstage are three solo singers: soprano, mezzo-soprano, and baritone. They assume various roles. Our soprano last night was Julia Bullock, described in our program booklet as “a trailblazing soloist, community activist, leading advocate for contemporary works, and passionate champion of Adams’s music.” She sang with total commitment to her part, or parts. Her voice is maybe a size too small for the Metropolitan Opera House. Of course, many are.
This leads me to another thought: El Niño, I think, would be better served in a smaller opera house. There are moments of bigness in it—swellings. But overall, I think, it has more of a “chamber” feeling.
Our mezzo-soprano was J’Nai Bridges: smoky, sultry, affecting. The baritone? Davóne Tines. He sang with gusto, to use an old-fashioned word. Zest. He was relaxed, natural. He appeared to be a man enjoying his work. That goes a long way, in music-making.
A major player in El Niño is the chorus—as befits an oratorio (or half-oratorio). The Met’s was dependable—dependably good—as always.
Very appealing was the production, directed by Lileana Blain-Cruz. It incorporates “issues”—such as migration. But mainly, if I may, it is a treat to the eye. It is an explosion of color—but an intelligent explosion, an explosion with a purpose. The sky is ever changing, ever interesting. It has puffy white clouds. Then it is Starry Night-ish. Then it has faces. There is also a statue of Herod, which from my seat looked like a statue of Stalin.
Everything about last night was sincere. Earnest. And there is no question of John Adams’s talent. In all honesty, the evening, which was not very long, felt long to me. There must be a “buy-in” to a work like this. Maybe I could be a better buyer-in.
From the program booklet, I wish to quote something. El Niño, we read,
approaches the traditional story of the Nativity from several new angles. The familiar elements are all here: Mary and Joseph’s arduous journey to Bethlehem for the birth of Jesus, Herod’s barbarous Massacre of the Innocents, and the sacred family’s flight across the desert into Egypt. But to make the story simultaneously more immediate, more universal, and most importantly more dramatic, Adams and his longtime collaborator Peter Sellars vastly broadened their scope, incorporating both biblical and secular texts in English, Spanish, and Latin, ranging from pre-Christianity to the 20th century.
In my view, there is nothing “more immediate,” “more universal,” or “more dramatic” than the Nativity itself, just as it is. To add to it is to subtract from it.