HGO's 'A Christmas Carol' proves a tour de force

I have never seen an opera singer perform with as much commitment and vividness as Jay Hunter Morris brings to Iain Bell and Simon Callow's "A Christmas Carol."

No other opera may demand such a tour de force. Composer Bell and librettist Callow have cast their adaptation of Charles Dickens' tale, premiered Friday by Houston Grand Opera, as a one-man show for a tenor who narrates the story and portrays all the characters. For 90 minutes, Morris must hold the spotlight as he embodies hard-hearted Scrooge as well as the men, women, children and ghosts who enable the old miser to rediscover his humanity.

The characters emerge in a flood. Bell and Callow have boiled down a theatrical adaptation that Dickens himself used to perform; Bell's score moves nearly as swiftly as the spoken word.

A chamber orchestra sets scenes within moments, whether establishing the opening chill of Scrooge's world or conjuring the lusty good humor of the Christmas parties the ghosts force Scrooge to behold. Bell's melodies mirror the dialogue's pithiness and pathos.

Even heart-rending moments take only seconds. As Bob Cratchit laments over Tiny Tim's grave, he sings a few simple phrases, repeating three words - "my little child" - accompanied by keening strings and woodwinds. Then the story sweeps onward.

The pace demands a vocal and visual chameleon. Morris met the challenge Friday. His singing created a host of distinctive characters: flinty Scrooge, menacing ghosts, convivial Fezziwigs and Cratchits, and fragile Tiny Tim.

The most adroit vocal transformation - and most poignant moment - was Tiny Tim's imagined death. Morris captured Mrs. Cratchit's sweet, faltering attempt to be courageous as she asked her husband if he had found their son a nice grave site; seconds later, Cratchit's lament was as quiet and intense as a sob that couldn't quite be restrained.

Morris also brought the characters to life physically. Scrooge began cold and stiff, but eventually twisted in terror as the Ghost of Christmas to Come tormented him; Morris' wailing voice redoubled the impact. Morris danced for the Fezziwigs' party and trudged menacingly when the ghosts were most fearsome. He created an especially potent bit of characterization when Scrooge relived hearing his fiancee, appalled by his greed, call off their engagement. Morris, perched on a chair, uttered her words and mimicked her proud, upright bearing to evoke the entire society from which Scrooge had become alienated.

Callow, doubling as director, and set designer Laura Hopkins created a staging to match the music's fluidity. The towering staircase that dominated the stage became an ever more powerful presence as the opera progressed, transformed by lighting and black-clad stagehands who re-configured it repeatedly. Stylized chairs provided more than places for Morris to sit: Larger ones represented power and smaller ones weakness. When they moved without visible help, the opera had a touch of the surreal.

The chamber orchestra, conducted by Warren Jones, performed with focus and impact, sometimes almost subliminally. As Mrs. Cratchit took aim before plunging her knife into the Christmas goose, the orchestra created a delicious shiver of anticipation.

It's worth emphasizing how much Bell and Callow's "A Christmas Carol" differs from typical stagings of Dickens' story. The opera includes no picturesque Victorian atmosphere, no Christmas-carol tunes, no winsome children. It probably won't suit everyone's taste.

Two women directly in front of me left before the ending. They didn't announce their reasons, but the work had obviously failed to captivate them.

The music's speed and the spare staging require the audience to connect with Bell and Callow's powers of suggestion. Those who are willing to get on that wavelength will enjoy a compelling performance. "A Christmas Carol" revives a familiar story with fresh, powerful impact.