Opera Philadelphia presents Antonio Vivaldi and Sarah Ruhl’s The Seasons

This was a Philadelphia premiere of the piece commissioned by the Metropolitan Opera and mounted last March by Boston Lyric Opera, which was a co-producer with American Modern Opera Company and SCENE. Here, it’s wisely staged in the chamber ambiance of the Kimmel’s Perelman Theater. Directed with conviction by Zack Winokur and conducted with brio by Corrado Rovaris, The Seasons was visually but not completely satisfying.

Longing for the seasons

The opera (some in the audience questioned that nomenclature) features six characters: The Poet (and lead, countertenor Costanzo), The Painter (countertenor Kangmin Justin Kim), The Farmer (soprano Abigail Raiford), The Performance Artist (soprano Whitney Morrison), The Choreographer (mezzo Megan Moore), and The Cosmic Weatherman (bass John Mburu). The group gathers at an organic farm/artist retreat to seek rejuvenation, but what they find is chaos and uncertainty.

There’s a children’s chorus (Commonwealth Youth Choir singing an affecting epilogue from Vivaldi’s Gloria) and a magnetic cadre of six who “dance the weather” (Maggie Cloud, Marc Crousillat, Taylor LaBruzzo, Brian Lawson, Stephanie Terasaki, and Anson Zwingelberg), brilliantly choregraphed by Pam Tanowitz.

In copious introductory notes, Ruhl theorizes that as “climate refugees” we long for how “the seasons used to feel achingly familiar.” Could music “lead audiences to feel something” about our changing weather? The Seasons is the result, a work that sometimes seems to veer (like the weather) from its original structure.

Showcasing Vivaldi and Costanzo

The beautiful baroque music—all Vivaldi, all the time—was impeccably chosen. Selections from The Four Seasons accompanied Tanowitz’s mesmerizing stand-alone dance sequences, while singers’ arias were lifted from the composer’s lesser-known operas. And a star of the production was the 20-piece orchestra led by Rovaris.

The Perelman is an excellent chamber music hall; its enveloping acoustic served both orchestra and singers. Arrangements of Vivaldi’s works seemed organic; all-important continuo was pristine; concertmaster Max Tan’s solo violin was thrilling; and solo flutist Emi Ferguson’s onstage playing wowed the audience as she matched the dancers in elegance and grace.

Supertitles followed the libretto, some new, some original. Each character sang a Vivaldi aria, many about emotional or actual weather, that seamlessly mixed Ruhl’s English text with original Italian. Some of the composer’s blazing string runs dauntingly included vocalists doubling the orchestra, vocal demands that the singers ably addressed.

The Seasons is a showcase for Costanzo as The Poet. His singing is intensely beautiful, especially the runs, ornaments, and remarkable pianissimo sections, and when he dropped into a tenor range it was memorable. But this focus on the lead character came at the expense of other storylines. Each character has a well-crafted, admirably sung aria, but after their introduction, often with a comic or whimsical twist, they were afforded little character development. Their titled occupations (well-chosen to fit the opera’s theme) thus became more symbolic than emotionally affecting.

Inventive stagecraft

Woven throughout the evening were stunning set pieces by the renowned Tanowitz, whose choreography and dancers were peerless. Especially riveting were the powerful ensemble work of Marc Crousillat and the controlled solo eloquence of Maggie Cloud. Men and women alike were clothed in garments that accentuated the flow and power of both the dances and the dancers.

Director Zack Winokur took full advantage of opportunities afforded by the rangy libretto, merging new and traditional staging here with invention, wit, and sensitivity. Company members swept the stage of high-tech weather-related detritus using low-tech brooms; The Farmer extolled her simple organic farm life using a ring light to make a self-promoting video; and The Performance Artist rolled in on a “boat”, a mechanical lift powered by two visible stagehands.

One of the strengths of this production was its remarkable inventive stagecraft. Tony-winning scenic designer Mimi Lien’s carbon-neutral set made good use of the intimate Perelman stage. Her seemingly simple (not) design was studded with shimmering “rain” crystals dropped asymmetrically and, working with MIT materials technologist Jack Forman, rolling clouds, wind, huge bubbles, and snow that both fell down and flew up. The fact that these effects were created by often-visible-onstage machines unexpectedly contributed to the production’s magic.

There were dramatic weather effects—thunder, lightning, spotlights, sweeping searchlights—but designer John Torres also crafted a bank of streaming, ever-changing, evanescent lights that emanated from the back-of-stage floor and swept upward toward the proscenium. Characters and dancers stepped over and around this light bank, creating patterns mirroring the opera’s shifting reality.

Seeking dramatic structure

Except for Rovaris and Costanzo, this was an Opera Philadelphia debut for almost the entire artistic and creative company, and it was the first time the ensemble has been in the Perelman since their 2019 production of Semele.

Ruhl quotes composer John Cage about collaborating: “It’s less like an object and more like the weather. Because in an object, you can tell where the boundaries are. But in the weather, it’s impossible to say when something begins or ends.” That uncertainty was an apt precis of this production.

Despite beautiful music and fascinating stagecraft, overall The Seasons felt more like an abstract pastiche showcasing its creators than a production conveying a cogent message. These six characters are not in search of an author, like Pirandello’s absurdist company; there was certainly a plethora of creative authorship on the Perelman stage. But in the liminal space in which they (and the audience) found themselves, the production seemed in search of a clearer dramatic structure exploring hopes for a solution to the changing weather (internal and outdoors) that assails us.