Hendrick rendered Lennie with indisputable authority. He could caress a phrase suggesting complete innocence, and then in an instant create a sensation of utter, frightening menace…. Contemporary opera offers few human beings who are so different from each other, yet so intractably codependent. And in bass Rod Nelman and tenor Michael Hendrick, Kentucky Opera has a pair of singers fully capable of translating Steinbeck’s inexhaustible yearning into potent theater.

October 31, 2009 | By Andrew Adler | [email protected]

The marvelous thing about John Steinbeck — which you realize whether you read a grand work like“The Grapes of Wrath” or a more modest creation like “Of Mice and Men” — is his unwavering authenticity of language and purpose. He may have a certain political point of view in his depictions of Depression-era America, but those back story prejudices never obstruct his essential imperative: to paint the truest picture possible of men and women set against a landscape that is both beautiful and bitter.

So it is, too, with Carlisle Floyd’s opera “Of Mice and Men.” Now 40 years old, it is one of those rare works that seem to defy the passage of time and trend.

Floyd, who gained fame with his second opera, “Susannah,” in 1955, evolves his characteristically direct style to serve material of a very different kind. He takes Steinbeck at his unflinching word, matching him scene by scene with unerring sense of pace. Floyd’s music and libretto are as potently focused as Steinbeck’s 1937 novella — and that’s saying quite a lot.

Kentucky Opera has wisely chosen to present this important work. And in Friday night’s opening performance at the Brown Theatre, each necessary element combined in the same unflinching manner. Just as the company managed in September with its production of Verdi’s “La Traviata” (could there hardly be more contrast between two operas?), it has made “Of Mice and Men” an essential visit.

This production of Floyd’s work, with scenic designs by Vicki Davis that originated at Utah Opera, offers precisely the right look. Indeed, the production sets up its fundamental irony with a stage curtain reproducing a Grant Wood painting that shows us a stylized, idyllic scene of lush fields, a winding road, and a neat farmhouse. In other words, the same sort of stylized American dream that Steinbeck would systematically deconstruct and eventually shatter.

When the curtain rises to reveal George and Lennie, the bleak, stunted landscape behind them emphasizes that even the earth will not be a kind host to these wanderers. Contemporary opera offers few human beings who are so different from each other, yet so intractably codependent. And in bass Rod Nelman and tenor Michael Hendrick, Kentucky Opera has a pair of singers fully capable of translating Steinbeck’s inexhaustible yearning into potent theater.

Floyd may be the opposite of a brash progressive stylist, but in this opera is music that captures a compelling degree of unaffected, rawboned lyricism. As George sings “One Day Soon,” his vision of a home for himself and Lennie, the security of Floyd’s own vision is never in doubt. Nelman is a robust, resonant bass (not surprising for someone who’s sang Wotan), and his vocal artistry throughout Friday’s performance was superb. His skills as an actor, if anything, were even more persuasive.

Lennie can be a trickier role to bring off, mostly because the character is a peculiar mix of meek vulnerability and impetuous physical strength. For the most part, aside from a few distracting bits of business with his hands and feet, Hendrick rendered Lennie with indisputable authority. He could caress a phrase suggesting complete innocence, and then in an instant create a sensation of utter, frightening menace.

It was announced midway through Friday night’s performance that Hendrick – who’d been ill during part of the rehearsal period — was singing under lingering strain. Whatever compromises he made seemed inconsequential. Though George and Lennie occupy the core of Floyd’s opera, they are by no means all that matters.

Daniel Weeks was appropriately scheming, oily and an impotent as ranch boss Curley. Deborah Selig imbued Curley’s Wife with vivid sexuality that, as the narrative demands, was both desperate and a little disgusting. She brought a strong, occasionally steely voice to the opera’s single female assignment, and her Act III partnership with Hendrick’s Lennie was adroitly managed.

Elsewhere Friday there were keenly-pointed contributions from John Stephens’s Candy, Daniel Anderson’s Carlson, Jonathan Stinson’s Slim, and most tellingly of all, Clark Sturdevant’s lustrous Ballad Singer.

Michael Cavanagh has directed this production with swift assurance. He takes certain scenes, such as high-activity sequences inside the bunkhouse (populated by rough-and-ready men of the Kentucky Opera Chorus), and ratchets up the tension in moments where you least expect it. He proves just as discerning, too, when tenderness must prevail.

Joseph Mechavich conducted the Louisville Orchestra, which shook off some initial blandness to deliver a precise, thrusting account of Floyd’s score. The composer, 83, was on hand to share in the bows. I hope he was pleased with what he heard. Kentucky Opera had done him proud.

http://www.kyopera.org/review-mice.html

by Andrew Adler

Kentucky Courier-Journal