The American poet Ezra Pound once described Herman Melville’s epic novel, “Moby-Dick,” as “a whale of a book.”
Composer Jake Heggie’s musical adaptation of the novel, which has received multiple productions since its Dallas premiere in 2009, is now on stage at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion presented by Los Angeles Opera. Champions of the work describe it as a whale of an opera. Its detractors say it succeeds by not rocking the boat.
That may be the reason why L.A. Opera’s music director and conductor, James Conlon, spent the first quarter of his pre-performance talk defending the opera and serving as a cheerleader.
“Yes it’s a contemporary opera,” he told the audience, “but don’t be afraid.”
That might have been a playful reference to the fact that the opera was opening on Halloween. But it wasn’t.
What followed was a mini-tirade during which Conlon took on the opera’s critics, arguing against claims that Heggie’s music is, among other things, derivative.
“All music is derivative,” Conlon exclaimed. “Mozart was derivative of Haydn. Beethoven was derivative of Mozart. Brahms was derivative of Beethoven!
“Yes, in ‘Moby-Dick’ you will hear elements of Benjamin Britten (who also adapted Melville for his men-at-sea opera, “Billy Budd”). You can hear Aaron Copland, Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim.”
He also could have added Howard Shore (the composer of “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy), Danny Elfman and Hans Zimmer because long passages could easily be the soundtrack to a movie.
Conlon tried to soothe his audience (assuming they were feeling threatened) by assuring them that what they were about to hear was “totally accessible” with “tunes you’ll come out whistling” and only one motif that is based on a 12-tone row.
Why was this necessary? Why go on the defensive? Obviously ticket sales for the Halloween opening night were going to be a challenge, and the opera had offered drastically discounted tickets. It’s also obvious that an opera by Jake Heggie is not going to sell as well as a warhorse by Verdi or Puccini. Even so, Conlon must have said, “You’re going to love it” and “Tell your friends” at least 10 times during his talk.
When the curtain finally rose, and the great battle to the death between Captain Ahab (sung by heldentenor Jay Hunter Morris) and his nemesis Moby-Dick began, it felt as if Conlon had protested too much.
Yes, the opera is derivative. Yes, it is accessible. It is definitely not dissonant. But it is engrossing and has spectacular visual effects.
The weakness that gradually takes the wind out of its sails is Heggie’s inability to sustain a sense of musical inventiveness that is worthy of the tale. His music is at its best in grand choruses and the heroic arias for Ahab. There are also evocative interludes when the score paints a grand portrait of sea and sky. It’s a formula that works well while it is fresh to the ears. But then it slips into melodic doldrums as the same musical formula is recycled over and over.
I know it’s unfair to compare operas and movies. But in this case there is good reason to compare Gregory Peck’s iconic performance as Ahab in the 1956 film (directed with genius by John Huston) and the performance by Morris. Peck manages to channel the complex psyche of Ahab in a manner that combines a demonic desire for revenge — “Death to Moby-Dick!” — with Old Testament authority within a mind that is tempest-tossed by madness.
Visually, with his full white beard and whalebone leg, Morris certainly looks the part of Ahab as he hobbles about the stage. But his performance sails almost entirely on a single note of barking intensity. Only once (in Heggie’s best scenes) does Ahab’s resolve waver, when he is lulled into a reverie of homesick reflection by the first mate, Starbuck (Morgan Smith).
What’s lacking in Morris’ performance is the awe-inspiring egomaniacal madness that drives Ahab to bellow, “Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I’d strike the sun if it insulted me.”
The idea to adapt “Moby-Dick” into an opera was not Heggie’s; it was first proposed by the playwright Terrence McNally, who had worked with Heggie on “Dead Man Walking.” It did not immediately appeal to Heggie, who was justifiably concerned about taking on Melville’s leviathan of a novel.
McNally (who later left the project and was replaced by librettist Gene Scheer) did, however, leave a legacy that casts a shadow over the opera. He insisted that the action take place entirely aboard the Pequod and unfold in real time rather than as a reflective narrative.
Even so, they would have to telescope the novel in order to fit it into the requirements of an operatic evening. But in doing so they created a series of conundrums and omissions. By eliminating the first eight chapters of the novel, the initial meeting between Ishmael (sung by Joshua Guerrero) and the South Seas harpooner Queequeg (Musa Ngqungwana) never takes place.
Nor does their joint search to find a ship, or their encounter with the deranged prophet, Elijah, who proclaims, “At sea one day you’ll smell land where there be no land. And on that day Ahab will go to his grave, but he’ll rise again within the hour. He will rise and beckon, that all, all save one will follow.”
Less critical, the opera also sacrifices the great sermon on the biblical tale of Jonah, immortalized by Orson Welles in the film.
This left Scheer with the task of inventing incidents in order to explain away these gaps, or, in the case of the prophecy, cutting it entirely, which radically alters the end of the opera. But the strangest decision of all was on the part of the designers — Robert Brill (sets) and projection designer Elaine J. McCarthy — to never actually depict Moby-Dick. So when Ahab screams “…to the last I grapple with thee; from hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee,” the effect is weak and aimless.
The L.A. Opera production is directed by Leonard Foglia, who moves his shipmates with skill, but fails to create a sense of pinpoint character-driven drama. The visual depiction of the ship, with its towering masts and spiderweb of rigging, is visually stunning, accentuated by the atmospheric lighting design originally conceived by Donald Holder.
In the cast, Ngqungwana projects an impressive presence as Queequeg. Guerrero is strong of voice as Ishmael (referred to here as Greenhorn for reasons that will become apparent a moment before the curtain falls).
Morgan Smith gives a fine performance as the no-nonsense, economically conscious first mate, Starbuck, the only man that sees Ahab’s obsession as a formula for certain doom.
The decision to play the role of the ship’s mascot, Pip, as a pants role (sung by Jacqueline Echols) does not work well at all in the current production. Echols sings well enough but never captures the antic sense of Pip as the Fool to Ahab’s “Lear.”
Conlon conducted Saturday’s performance with the same sense of atmosphere he brings to Britten and the magnitude he strives for in Wagner, while chorus director Grant Gershon bonded the male members of the Los Angeles Opera Chorus into a mighty crew.
Jim Farber is a Los Angeles-based freelance writer.
