The Metropolitan Opera has gone all-in on contemporary works, opening its 2024-25 season with Jeanine Tesori’s Grounded. Based on the acclaimed one-woman play by George Brant, its explorations of American imperialism, drone warfare and civilian bloodshed are uncomfortably timely. It charts the rise and fall of Jess, an American fighter pilot whose unexpected pregnancy forces a career change into operating fighter drones in the Middle East.
It’s a story with immense theatrical potential: abortion, post-traumatic stress disorder, public surveillance and insubordination are just a few of the moral and ethical quandaries at stake, though Brant’s libretto packs in so much that none of these themes are properly developed. And the sheer American jingoism of the piece – “Boom goes Baghdad!” gives an idea of the textual subtlety – is grating, especially following a minor scandal at the opera’s Washington premiere last year when it emerged that the season donor was a drone manufacturing company.
But no matter the qualities of a libretto, the question that remains for any new opera is why this text needs to be sung. Jeanine Tesori is a composer who makes sense for this type of material: her award-winning musicals Kimberly Akimbo and Caroline, or Change marry complex, ambiguous plots with scores that are both intelligent and accessible. But like many composers writing for the Met stage, she and director Michael Mayer seem determined to turn it into grand opera, and in doing so risk overwhelming the drama.
Though Met music director Yannick Nézet-Seguin’s orchestra and chorus are on peak form, Tesori’s score is unmemorable at best and cloyingly sentimental at worst. There’s no doubting Tesori’s technical skill – vocal lines are lyrical and flatter the singers while allowing for every word to be understood, and the shifting, turbulent orchestration is vibrant without overwhelming the singers. And Tesori respects the operatic tradition she finds herself part of, with nods to Barber, Menotti and Floyd along with a repeating brass motif that recalls Verdi’s Don Carlo. But the 100-minute score drags, with too much film score-like filler and a relentless pleasantness at odds with the extreme subject matter.
Similarly, Mayer’s production goes big with a two-level set and shifting LED screens projecting what look like screensavers. The chorus and bevy of minor characters also distract from the central drama, though the disembodied kill chain emanating from the speakers act as an effective, disconcerting Greek chorus. Commander Greer Grimsley sounds dry rather than frightening, though baritone debutantes Kyle Miller and Timothy Murray impress with rounded, resonant tone and crystal diction despite their small roles. Soprano Ellie Dehn brings luscious, radiant tone as Jess’ alter ego, intertwining her sound either in harmony or dissonance as a manifestation of the character’s declining mental state. Ben Bliss sounds and looks exquisite as Jess’ love interest Eric, though the role is musically and dramatically underdeveloped.
Thank goodness, then, for Emily D’Angelo who turns the evening into compelling theatre. The Canadian mezzo-soprano may only be thirty years old but already has the intelligence, charisma and confidence needed to pull off opening the Met season; in Jess she finds an ideal showcase for her vocal and theatrical capabilities. She captures the character’s ambitions, neuroses and eventual breakdown with harrowing intensity, and her mezzo, though not large, is full of colour and projects nicely. It’s worth seeing for D’Angelo alone – if only she had a vehicle worthy of her talents.