In a program note for 10 Days in a Madhouse, composer Rene Orth describes opera’s “long tradition and fascination with madness and women, often resulting in watching women suffer trauma and eventual death”. Her new work, which opens Opera Philadelphia’s Festival O23, serves as a corrective to this narrative, dramatizing one woman’s quest to expose the ways society itself exploits misfortune and pain at the expense of the female sex. Across 90 breathless minutes, Orth and librettist Hannah Moscovitch both affirm and critique the operatic myth of the madwoman, courting the listener’s discomfort through a jagged, dissonant musical language that stands as a proper soundtrack for their storytelling.
The plot revolves around a true historical event. In 1887, the investigative journalist Nellie Bly feigned what would have then been called “hysteria” to enter a mental asylum on New York’s Roosevelt Island. Once inside, she experienced firsthand the violent treatment imposed on the patients by their caregivers, and she determined that many of her cohort were merely victims of circumstance rather than legitimately ill. Working backward from the end of Bly’s confinement, Moscovitch suggests how exposure to abuse and repeated disillusionment can break a person’s spirit – it’s hard to tell at times whether Bly is an expert faker or succumbing to the symptoms of psychological distress. An omnipresent female chorus alternate between crazed guttural utterances and lyrical vocal lines, indicating the blurry demarcation between mania and peace.
Throughout the work, Orth uses music in dramaturgically interesting ways. Subtle amplification distorts the human voice in moments of distress, and prerecorded loops represent the stormy thoughts that only certain characters can hear. (Robert Kaplowitz and Chris Sannino designed the sound.) Staccato notes stab the air in what sometimes feels like a literal deconstruction of the bel canto mad scene. A heavy focus of percussion and pizzicato suggest the free form of jazz, leaving the audience unsure of the music’s progression. As the narrative moves toward the end of Bly’s journey – and her groundbreaking advocacy for those committed to asylums – the sound world becomes more melodic but heavier, as if inflected with the knowledge she gained. Conductor Daniela Candillari masterfully handled the thorny stylistic shifts.
Director Joanna Settle infuses the story with a rising sense of psychological terror. The scenic design, by Andrew Lieberman, compresses the cavernous stage of the Wilma Theater to a slim playing area, with only a dimly lit hallway as a potential means for escape. The performers feel trapped in a spectral world and, before long, a sense of claustrophobia washes over the audience as well. Lieberman, who also acts as lighting designer, uses shadow to indicate a loosening tether on reality, as normal profiles distort into funhouse mirror effects. The net effect is something dire but recognizable, leaving the viewer aware that anyone could meet this unfortunate fate.
I did not think it possible that Kiera Duffy could top the bravura performance she delivered when she premiered Missy Mazzoli’s Breaking the Waves with Opera Philadelphia seven years ago. Yet as Bly, she commanded the stage as both crusader and victim, toying with the audience and her captors and slyly showing the mounting anguish beneath her journalistic façade. Her remarkable coloratura soprano fearlessly ascended to the glassy highs of Orth’s vocal score. She found a theatrical equal in Raehann Bryce-Davis, who slimmed her opulent mezzo-soprano to a hush as a fellow patient whose grief is mistaken for madness. Bryce-Davis is a riveting stage presence, the kind of actor who evokes worlds of emotion while standing absolutely still.
Will Liverman conveyed stern warmth as Dr Josiah Blackwell, the master of the asylum, who believes (however misguidedly) in his work. Soprano Lauren Pearl infused the matron with malicious intent and a dark, memorable dramatic sound. The performances, music and staging illuminated the perseverance of a woman intent on challenging the status quo and changing the circumstances for her sisters. 10 Days in a Madhouse does what only great art can: it enthralls and confronts its audience in equal measures.
