Curtis Opera's "Idomeneo'

Baroque opera must overcome three obstacles when it's paraded before modern audiences. The plot develops through a series of static arias; the stories are drawn from Greek and Roman myths that seem remote and farfetched to people who lack an 18th century Classical education; and the romantic male lead roles were frequently sung by male altos.

In the 18th Century, of course, the male altos were usually castrati. Today, a few first-class natural male altos adorn our stages, but the roles are usually filled by mezzo-sopranos wearing pants. Either way, the concept looks odd to people who've grown up in a sane, sensible world in which soaring tenors win the hearts of fair young sopranos.

Mozart's Idomeneo isn't a Baroque opera, since it was written late in the 18th Century, but it displays all three stigmata. The basic dramatic situation seems particularly bizarre to 21st-Century minds, with the possible exception of the males who enliven daily life in the mountains of Afghanistan. King Idomeneo of Crete saves himself from a terrifying storm by promising the sea god, Neptune, that he'll kill the first man he sees when he steps on shore.

Wouldn't you? Wouldn't anybody?

Unfortunately, the first person Idomeneo sees is his son, Idamante. Killing your own son obviously isn't quite as easy as killing a random stranger.

Trademark choruses

Curtis Opera Theater overcame all three hurdles, with a little help from the creative genius who composed the music and apparently influenced the libretto. Idomeneo isn't Mozart's greatest musical creation, but it's the opera he produced just before the ultimate flowering of his talent, when he wrote The Marriage of Figaro, Don Giovanni and most of the other works that earned him a permanent place in the pantheon.

Idomeneo contains two choruses that bear the stamp of his powers, as well as all the little instrumental touches that immediately tell you you're listening to a vocal work by Mozart. The chorus at the end of the second act, when the people of Crete see the approach of a sea monster, created a true sense of dramatic fear, ably abetted by Mark Barton's dramatic lighting. Neptune's proclamation in the final scene (beautifully sung offstage by Joseph Barron) is a genuinely moving moment; Mozart gives the words of the pagan god the same kind of musical treatment he bestowed on Christian texts in his great religious works.

Elettra's final anguished outcry in the same scene is another passage worthy of Mozart's best years, and Allison Sanders took full advantage of the opportunity. Idomeneo may be the only opera in which the mezzo who is rejected by the hero receives a bigger exit than her victorious soprano rival.

Mozart worked closely with the librettist, and he may be responsible for the character development that transforms Idomeneo into a human being who can win a modern audience's sympathy. When we first meet Idomeneo he has already come to regret his vow. He knows he has done something monstrous under great pressure, and he's torn by the knowledge that he's expected to kill an innocent victim.

Skimpy sets

Curtis tends to skimp on its sets, some of which have been so sparse they became fatiguingly monotonous when you've stared at them for three hours. The Idomeneo set began to pall by the end of the first act, but it recovered in the second act with the addition of a chandelier and some brightly colored, opulent furniture.

The costumes helped. The women wore timeless gowns and the men sported crisp blue naval officers' uniforms that were just as universal as the gowns.

The result, overall, was a production that generated a satisfactory measure of the musical and theatrical pleasures opera is supposed to provide. Idomeneo probably wouldn't deserve a place in the repertoire if someone else had composed it. But a well-designed production can showcase the talents of a large, varied cast and provide an interesting glimpse of a colossal talent on the eve of its finest achievements.