“Champion”
may be the single most important world première in the 38-year history
of Opera Theatre of St. Louis. On Saturday night in the Browning
Theatre, Terence Blanchard’s much-heralded “opera in jazz” lived up to
the hype, its powerful story and score propelled by a dynamic cast and
production.
The story is based on the true history of boxer Emile
Griffith. He rose to become welterweight champion of the world, killing
an opponent, Benny Paret, in the ring in 1962. He was beaten nearly to
death himself 30 years later after leaving a gay bar.
Blanchard
and his librettist, Michael Cristofer, have constructed the piece in 10
rapidly moving “rounds,” complete with the ringing of a bell. In OTSL
artistic director James Robinson’s production, with Allan Moyer’s simple
black sets and projections and video by Greg Emetaz, the action moves
fluidly and cinematically between the worlds of Old Emile, lost in
anxious dementia, and Young Emile, as he rises in the world of boxing
and then falls, the victim of arrogance and too many blows to the head.
People
and situations slide seamlessly on and off the stage: Old Emile,
fretting over a lost shoe; Young Emile’s arrival in New York from the
poverty-stricken island of St. Thomas, with a hat, a bat, a song and a
killer smile; a still younger self’s midnight sorrow, holding cinder
blocks over his head as punishment as his bed lies empty.
Blanchard’s
substantial score is heavily jazz-inflected in a variety of styles,
from bluesy to Afro-Cuban, but it owes just as much to his work in film.
There aren’t a lot of memorable tunes to take away, and at times it
threatens to slide into background music, but it’s perfectly suited to
its dramatic purpose. There are only a few moments that sag in the
course of it.
Cristofer’s libretto has some beautiful spots, like
Young Emile’s Act I aria, “What makes a man a man?” There are also spots
that evoke Dr. Seuss: “This ain’t Frankie that you missed. This ain’t
Frankie that you kissed.” It’s filled with vulgarities and slurs that
fit the context, but are difficult to quote in a family newspaper.
Opera
Theatre has assembled a first-class cast; from the largest roles to the
smallest its members create indelible personalities. The charisma
quotient has seldom been so high.
Bass-baritone Arthur Woodley,
shuffling through his past, was heartbreaking as Old Emile, lost in the
blind corners of his brain and haunted by the ghost of his opponent.
Mezzo-soprano Denyce Graves gave a vivid, show-stopping performance as
Emile’s thoroughly bad mommy. She’s appalling and funny, venal but
sensible, using the full range of a still-beautiful voice to tremendous
effect, and always watchable.
CHAMPION