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  • Alex Richardson (Molqi), Roberto Perlas Gomez (Rambo), Suzan Hanson (Marilyn...

    Alex Richardson (Molqi), Roberto Perlas Gomez (Rambo), Suzan Hanson (Marilyn Klinghoffer), Robin Buck (Leon Klinghoffer) in Long Beach Opera's "The Death of Klinghoffer." Photo by Keith Ian Polakoff

  • Roberto Perlas Gomez (First officer), Lee Gregory (The Captain), Jason...

    Roberto Perlas Gomez (First officer), Lee Gregory (The Captain), Jason Switzer (Mamoud) in Long Beach Opera's "The Death of Klinghoffer." Photo by Keith Ian Polakoff

  • Roberto Perlas Gomez (First officer), Suzan Hanson (Marilyn Klinghoffer), Robin...

    Roberto Perlas Gomez (First officer), Suzan Hanson (Marilyn Klinghoffer), Robin Buck (Leon Klinghoffer), Ensemble in Long Beach Opera's "The Death of Klinghoffer." Photo by Keith Ian Polakoff

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Opera is about many things: passion, love, courage.

Long Beach Opera certainly has courage. Its presentation of John Adams’ opera “The Death of Klinghoffer,” which premiered Sunday at the Terrace Theater and will be presented there again Saturday afternoon, is in part an act of defiance and courage of the rarest sort in a world where funding depends on corporations that like to keep a low profile.

“The Death of Klinghoffer” has been, since it’s premiere in Belgium in 1991, the center of controversy and conflict. It had its first American performance in Brooklyn just a few weeks after riots between African-American and Jewish populations locally, and it didn’t have another full American performance for 20 years, until the Opera Theater of Saint Louis put it on their schedule in 2011 under director James Robinson, who also directs the current LBO production. It had never been seen in Southern California, despite the fact that it was commissioned by the Los Angeles Festival, among other groups.

The controversy surrounding “Klinghoffer,” the story of the one wheelchair-bound man killed by terrorists in the hijacking of the cruise ship “Achille Lauro” in 1985, has abated in the nearly 25 years since its original production (though the Klinghoffer daughters still object to the work). What hasn’t changed is the critical acclaim for Adams’ music and for the poetic work of his librettist Alice Goodman.

LBO lives up to that reputation in a work that is musically profound, with that passion and love that are also a part of opera. It does consider the Palestinian-Israeli conflict without taking sides in a chorale opening, but as the work progresses and the reality of the unspeakable crime and the equally unspeakable criminals becomes clear, the work does take sides against the injustice and evil at its core.

Much of the opera is chorale and the chorus, directed by Chorus Master Kristof Van Grysperre, is as much a character as any of the others in the story. They are alternately Palestinians and Israelis, sometimes passengers, always singing with deep emotion. Andreas Mitisek directs the 45-piece orchestra with consummate skill and even tenderness, never overpowering his singers but always ready to back them with delicacy and power when needed.

The story begins with the chorus but soon the Captain (Lee Gregory) tells his story. It’s one of love for his profession and his passengers, a consideration that is soon broken as four terrorists — Mamoud (Jason Switzer), Molqi (Alex Richardson), Omar (Peabody Southwell) and Rambo (Roberto Perlas Gomez, who also doubles as the First Officer) — take charge. The Captain tries to bargain with them but Mamoud proves to be intractable, addicted to violence in the face of all other choices.

Only in the second act does Leon Klinghoffer (Robin Buck, in a terror-defying role), physically unable to leave his wheelchair, finally come to the fore, and he confronts the four terrorists. He is unwilling to leave them alone and makes no effort to pacify them. He is led away and eventually killed and thrown overboard.

But it is Suzan Hanson who has the most passion. As Marilyn Klinghoffer, Leon’s wife of 36 years, dying of cancer, she loves her husband with an unbounded love. When the Captain tell her of his death, she is distraught that she cannot remember her last sight of him,and together they bring down the house.

The sets, on the large stage of the Terrace, are panels that suggest the ship’s sides and which swing back to reveal its interiors. A projection screen descends for films that are expressions of the music, and which easily slide out of the way again. The story is told in simple sets; the music is the prime mover.

Controversy still stalks this musically rich opera, but as it is performed in more places, it will certainly become a classic of power and passion.

John Farrell is a Los Angeles-based freelance writer.