Francesca Zambello’s production of the Gershwins’ Porgy and Bess at the Lyric Opera of Kansas City, its rich jazz-inflected score ably conducted by Michael Ellis Ingram and the scenes vividly choreographed by Eric Fogel and Eboni Adams, does this epic story full justice.
Eric Greene made for a very striking Porgy, with his warm and clear bass-baritone. Both his voice and his persona sustained the community, gave it a weight. Furthermore, Greene is a great actor whose smallest gesture seems to carry weight. In his first encounter with Bess, his hand, sculpted half in shadow, half in light, reaches out to rescue her from the police – a beautifully observed moment of grace. He showed off a range of vocal emotion, from the carefree lightness of his “I got plenty o'nuttin’” to the heroic declaration (or indeed prayerful invocation) of his final song, “O Lord, I’m on my way”. He sings his way to immortality: as he limps off stage at the end in quest of Bess, we recognise him in the canon of heroes who leave home and risk all.
Michelle Bradley showed off her creamy, theatre-filling soprano as Bess. Her ample voice catches the ear as much as her disruptive appearance as a ‘scarlet woman’ does in the shabby environs of Catfish Row. I loved it. It's the kind of voice that wakes everyone up. Bradley and Greene played well together, their voices blending together with lyrical feeling and generous timing in their lovely Act 1 duet. She played the role straight: at the start, uncomplicated, enjoying her life as a light woman, and going off at the end, happy and high on dope, not looking back.
Brandi Sutton as Clara lulled us into momentary peace with her elegant rendition of “Summertime”. Jermaine Smith as Sportin’ Life and Donovan Singletary as Crown were a bit thin of voice in places, but both were tremendously believable as pimp and bully respectively. Katerina Burton was a strong Serena. La’Shelle Allen was a striking presence as Maria, the community matriarch. She’s Porgy’s female counterpart – the other person who quietly sustains Catfish Row, watching over its people, trying to protect them from anti-social elements. Whether she sang or spoke her harangues, she was spot-on.
Porgy and Bess is such a great chorus opera because it is essentially work about a tight-knit community in their many incarnations – pleasure-seekers, workers, idlers, Christians, victims (of the law and of nature). At times, I wanted a little more heft from them, but the feeling was all there. The funeral and the storm scenes were both highlights, with strong individual voices emerging as intercessors with the divinity. They really gave a sense of the urgency of their predicament, the passion behind their vocalised prayer. All the crisis moments – the murders as well as the hurricane – sent us into cathartic overdrive. The percussive thuds in the orchestra, the voices becoming wordless shrieks, we purge both pity and terror: unforgettable.
Peter Davison’s sets are strikingly good and elaborately detailed. Catfish Row is dingy but oh so intimate, a perfect place for the mingling of lives and stories, for the bonds to be tight and the outsiders suspect. Bess is ultimately let ‘in’ (not just by Porgy; note the scene where Maria gives her a hat for the picnic and calls her sister), but ultimately rejects what it means to belong. As if to prove Jake’s cynicism, that woman was a sometime thing. But Porgy keeps faith.
