Review: 'Porgy and Bess' is so American, musically magnificent and still very current

From the first chords of “Porgy and Bess,” you just know this will be a different sort of opera experience. The jaunty brass section pounds out its slightly syncopated phrases as a xylophone – and others – skitter around on top of it.

It is so American. Not in a flag-waving way. But there is a distinct sense that this is music unfettered by centuries of rigid musical traditions. Or music written for royalty. This is music for the rest of us.

George Gershwin’s “Porgy and Bess” opened at Music Hall Saturday as part of Cincinnati Opera’s season and runs through July 28.

Gershwin doesn’t wait long to deliver. Moments after the end of that overture, Clara (Janai Brugger) sings “Summertime.” Despite the shantytown look of Peter J. Davison’s set, there is an idyllic atmosphere that permeates the street they call Catfish Row. Some of that is the lush and full-bodied sound of the Cincinnati Symphony, conducted by David Charles Abell.

But “Summertime” is an aria that luxuriates in the stillness and overpowering heat. It’s a lullaby, too. Clara tells her baby that “there ain't nothin' can harm you,” finally reaching up to the impossibly soft and high note at the end. It’s exquisite – the musical equivalent of a high wire act; exciting, but filled with the knowledge that the slightest misstep can bring the whole thing crashing down.

“Porgy and Bess,” based on Dorothy and DuBose Heyward’s play “Porgy,” is the story of a disabled beggar and his love – “obsession” is a better word, perhaps – for Bess, the tawdry girlfriend of a violent dockworker named Crown.

Morris Robinson and Talise Trevigne play the mismatched lovers. Robinson is a hulking man with a deeper-then-deep bass voice that you associate more with roles like Méphistophélès in “Faust” than with Porgy. But he makes it work. And besides, his size and the robustness of his voice add a welcome virility that is sometimes missing in the role. Singing Bess presents different challenges, and not just because of the musical demands. Trevigne is constantly balancing her respect for Porgy against the pull of the coke-sniffing, hard-partying ways she has left behind.

For all their individual strengths, though – and there are many – there is frightfully little chemistry between the two.

Fortunately, Gershwin filled “Porgy” with an abundance of richly drawn characters, particularly Sportin’ Life, a charismatic small-time drug dealer played by a deliciously sassy Frederick Ballentine, the unrepentant Crown, sung by a sometimes terrifying Nmon Ford and Clara’s husband Jake, sung by Reginald Smith, Jr.

In the end, though, the dramatic bedrock of this “Porgy and Bess” are a trio of women in supporting roles – Indra Thomas, La’Shelle Allen and Brugger – along with Henri Venanzi’s vibrant chorus. More than any other single element in this fine production, the chorus defines the struggle, the pain and the resilience of Catfish Row.

Thomas is Serena, who brings down the house with “My Man’s Gone Now” during the funeral for her murdered husband. Later, we see her as a healer who leads an almost mystical prayer over a deathly ill Bess. Allen is Maria, the “keeper of the cookshop.” Fearless as she is stubborn, she is a matriarch to all who live on Catfish Row.

Making this more poignant is that, over and over again, the plot resonates with issues that feel contemporary. This isn’t just a story about doomed lovers. It is about Catfish Row, a sliver of urban poverty where the economic burdens and heavy-handed “justice” are reminiscent of those experienced by many people of color today. For all of its musical magnificence, it’s hard to shake the reminders that “Porgy” feels very current.

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