Puccini’s Japanese tragedy Madama Butterfly has somehow been caught in the eye of a perfect storm: between charges of colonialist Orientalism on the one hand and misogynist objectification on the other. Yet its popularity with audiences continues to defy all accusations.
Many productions now go out of their way to address the ‘issues’, be it by manipulating the context or by taking special care with the central roles. The Canadian Opera Company has opted for the latter course, casting in demand Japanese soprano Eri Nakamura as Cio-Cio-San, while the remaining principals, with the exception of Sharpless (a superbly resonant Michael Sumuel) are predominantly of East-Asian heritage. As so often, this creates dissonances, such as having an Australian-Chinese tenor (Kang Wang, strikingly handsome in demeanour and voice) as Butterfly’s stereotypically self-centred American idol.
The original production, Michael Grandage's in 2010 for Houston, Chicago and Geneva, seems to have been little concerned with such matters; nor were any of its subsequent revivals. An insightful essay by Martha Nussbaum accompanied the production’s return to Chicago in 2019, which could usefully have been reprinted in COC’s programme, had its head on straight with regard to political correctness. So too does the Toronto re-staging, directed by Jordan Lee Braun, who upholds the same visual priorities, concentrating on beauty and space rather than authenticity.
Braun may write about the context of the American election and “the unchecked privilege of American male bravado”, but none of this – thankfully – is reflected on stage. If anything, the visuals might be thought overly traditional and conservative. The stage is dominated by a semi-circular ramp leading towards a vast sky, often illuminated by dawn or dusk colours, except for when a larger-than-life moon is beaming during the transition to Act 3. This passage is in many ways the highlight of the staging, as Butterfly, Suzuki and the young child Sorrow (performed charmingly by Naleya Sayavong) look out to sea, awaiting the feckless Pinkerton’s return.
The Humming Chorus and the nocturnal setting offer a moment of quietude – ironic, given the audience’s privileged knowledge – before the stage revolves again to place us face-to-face with Butterfly, gazing into her apprehensive eyes as she tries not to believe in the inevitable. Elsewhere, silhouettes of trees nod politely towards Japanese culture, as does a panel regularly sliding to and fro, partially dividing the space and offering the illusion of domesticity. The use of shadows, as Butterfly changes into her wedding attire, is particularly effective.
Nakamura’s Butterfly was visually and dramatically true to the part, which is saying a great deal. Her flexible and tender soprano, paired with delicate stage movements, made her a believably vulnerable child-bride, caught between tradition and naïve dreams of a new life. Her farewell to Sorrow was hugely affecting. But there was no denying that her voice lacked the penetrating quality required to clinch the most heart-wrenching moments. The much beloved “Un bel dì”, sensitively sung though it is, accordingly received polite applause rather than exultant cheers. And the sheer lack of power was especially evident in her scenes with Suzuki, where Hyona Kim’s powerful mezzo registered the full impact of what was at stake.
Sumuel’s Sharpless was a constant source of graceful empathy, and Kang Wang brought much sincerity and affection to his portrayal of Pinkerton, guarding against descent into caricature. The marriage-broker Goro was convincingly taken by Julius Ahn, providing some comic relief. The undoubted vocal highlight, however, came in Butterfly’s absence, as the trio of Suzuki, Pinkerton and Sharpless discussed the tragic outcome of the lieutenant's recklessness.
Puccini’s genius for harmony, dramatic pacing and orchestral colouring was in the safe hands of Keri-Lynn Wilson. From the bustling opening to the calamitous ending, the orchestra was on top form, giving sumptuous commentary to this timeless tale of betrayal and heartbreak.
