Review: ‘X: The Life and Times of Malcolm X’ at Seattle Opera is unflinching

Opera review

The air felt electric at McCaw Hall on Saturday for Seattle Opera’s West Coast premiere of “X: The Life and Times of Malcolm X.” Since debuting in 1986, the work had languished but was recently revived in a co-production that went on to play the Metropolitan Opera last year, gaining buzz along the way. The audience — which appeared somewhat more diverse than usual and included “X” composer Anthony Davis, librettist Thulani Davis and story author Christopher Davis — seemed anticipatory.

And they were rewarded with a deeply resonant show that is unflinching in its depiction of racism in America and the painful, necessary truths the slain civil rights leader spoke. The opera puts authentic Black culture front and center, and shows us that this isn’t just a story of the past, but one that’s very much a story for today. 

The lights come up, showing a stage over which looms a structure that looks like a spaceship — an integral part of director Robert O’Hara’s and set designer Clint Ramos’ Afrofuturist design. The dissonant stacked intervals emanating from the orchestra pit highlight Louise Little — Malcolm’s mother — while she frets, waiting for her husband to come home. It turns out Malcom’s father has died — run over on the streetcar tracks in a racially motivated hate crime that was dismissed as a suicide. As soprano Leah Hawkins (who plays the dual roles of Louise and Betty Shabazz, wife of Malcolm X) strikingly pays homage to Louise’s pain, the spaceship displays the names of so many Black Americans killed by racist and/or police violence: Emmett Till, Tamir Rice, Charleena Lyles and more. 

The story follows young Malcolm Little (played with surprising gravitas for his age by Rex Walker on opening night, and alternating with Jace Johnson on different nights) as he moves from the countryside to New York City, the grand dissonant chords effortlessly sliding into jazz, incorporating this uniquely African American art form into the operatic tradition. 

It is in New York where Malcolm is first told “if you try to change things, they’ll take your life.” However, Malcolm also sings that “my truth could kill, my truth is fury.” These contending pieces continuously go head to head throughout the show. The truth is dangerous only because America is not ready to hold up a mirror — then or now.  

That mirror point is driven home when during the aria “You want the story, but you don’t want to know,” the rich bass baritone of Kenneth Kellogg, as Malcolm, carries throughout McCaw Hall, and the house lights come up on the audience. With a steely gaze, he tells the audience: “You want the truth but you don’t want to know.” Just like the names streaming across the ominous spaceship, it’s a reminder that this is not a boxed-in period piece. “X” is a living history that echoes in our stories today.

“X” is deliberate in its choice to show incarceration as a subjugation that continues to affect the U.S. and the Black community today. The scene “In the devil’s grip” shows Malcolm’s time in prison (he served 6 ½ years for burglary) and how overincarceration is the natural evolution of slavery. The beauty of Anthony Davis’ work is in the discomfort. Harsh beams of light shine down on the stage to represent jailhouse bars, a long line of Black men staring at a majority white audience. 

However, Malcolm’s life was not only filled with strife. His clashes with the carceral state, police and the Nation of Islam seem far away in a scene when the stage is filled with beautiful warm lights, transporting the audience to a mosque. The serene calm conveys the peace of mind and stillness of the soul that prayer and faith brought to Malcolm — a rare portrayal of Islam on a classical stage. 

Kellogg carried the title role with depth and the mix of charisma and passion that Malcolm X was known for. He commanded the stage, strategic lighting and negative space portraying how Malcolm’s commitment to equality was both fulfilling and isolating. Hawkins was phenomenal as Betty Shabazz, though a three-hour opera could not contain all the ways Shabazz was a civil rights activist in her own right. 

Similar to the Black American church tradition, the chorus is particularly moving, blending together to raise their voices to the rafters. The baritone-bass section provided the bedrock for many of the ensemble numbers and showed how “X” is a love letter to Black men in particular, a rare sight in the world of opera. Similarly, the dancers gave life to the world of Malcolm X by seamlessly using their bodies to go from angels carrying young Malcolm like a biblical prophet, to New Yorkers on the street trying to stay safe from police violence. Though at times the orchestra, under Kazem Abdullah’s baton, was overpowering against the chorus, I found the wind section and lower strings particularly sublime.

What is so refreshing to see is how the show centers Blackness, never shying away from making cultural references, regardless of who may be in the audience. It is heartening to see Black culture displayed with the authenticity and dignity that European operas are typically accorded. 

Malcolm X’s death is not sensationalized at the end. Instead, splashed across the looming spaceship above, we understand what will happen next. What happened to Malcolm X has happened to so many Black Americans, and unfortunately may happen to many more. It is that relevancy that makes “X” timeless and so necessary for today.