Curtis' 'Carmelites' undone by confused production

The chance to see the 20th-century operatic masterwork

Dialogues of the Carmelites

at the close proximity afforded by the Kimmel Center's Perelman Theater promised to be a drop-everything-and-go occasion.

Indeed, when the Curtis Opera Theatre/Opera Philadelphia/Kimmel Center collaboration unfolded Wednesday for the first of three performances, the final scene depicting the Carmelite martyrdom had such operatic immediacy that one lived their execution along with them.

Up until then, though, the production was full of interpretive ideas in various states of fruition and at cross-purposes.

Throughout most of the first two acts in this story of Carmelite nuns driven from their cloister and killed in post-revolutionary France, one could say of the production, "It's not so bad." At least the orchestra under Corrado Rovaris had a solid French accent (aside from flubbed horn entrances). Among the singers, French enunciation was consistently clear.

But whether singers were underacting or chewing the scenery (had there actually been any, since Laura Jellinek's sets were a spare, stylishly diagonal series of panels), you started doubting the fundamental stature of Francis Poulenc's opera. Not a good sign.

Though Jordan Fein's production began in 18th-century France, the Carmelite monastery suddenly acquires modern cleaning implements and plastic chairs. The harassing revolutionaries are 21st-century punks. Point taken: The cloister exists outside any era.

Amid this, the opera failed to project its own inner logic. Aspirations to martyrdom seemed suicidal. As operatic nuns go, modern specimens such as Sister Helen Prejean of Dead Man Walking would have whipped a resistance movement into shape. But that's not who these nuns were. Why was this not being felt?

Though the Curtis Opera Theatre cast was extremely well-prepared in matters of music, style, and language, key singers had only a generalized idea of what they were singing about. As the old prioress who loses her faith on her deathbed, Shir Rozzen played it like down-and-dirty Italian verismo opera, rather than a study in crumbling dignity.

Also questionable was the casting of Rachel Sterrenberg in the central role of Blanche, whom the opera follows through her entry into the Carmelite cloister, crises of courage, and then her inner redemption at the guillotine. Her voice had a cool finish that gave little hint to the character's inner turmoil; her manner felt theatrically inert. Then, in the third act, she suddenly came alive on every front - a bit late.

In contrast, Sarah Shafer's voice and manner perfectly suited Sister Constance's ingenuousness while also showing her wounded inner self - making her death more heroic. Excellent singing, too, was heard from Roy Hage as Chevalier.

Without spoiling the final scene, I'll just say that they don't die offstage (as is often the case), and though the guillotine is heard more loudly than usual, it feels sharper for not being seen.