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It’s amazing to witness, year after year, the willingness of Jose Luis Moscovich and company to take on some of the more daunting operas in the canon. In this one — one of the greatest — they have exceeded all expectations, creating a riveting production of Verdi’s late-life masterpiece.
Stage director Richard Harrell’s interpretation brings out the idea that, although Otello is usually presented in the grand style, the basic storyline is fairly intimate. Not that there aren’t epic moments. The opening scene has an impressive number of villagers packed onstage, watching the great Moorish admiral navigate a deadly storm to bring his troops home from a victory over the Turks. Bruce Olstad’s chorus does a fine job of reaction acting (the ship floundering somewhere near the 20th row), and goes on to give a robust presence to Verdi’s chorus-heavy score.
Otello makes it safely onshore and is soon swaggering around town in the person of tenor John Kun Park. Park’s voice is stentorian, and he also possesses an imposing physical presence. The combination reveals a truth about Otello: whether trying to be loving or authoritative, he scares the hell out of everybody. Even his devoted wife, Desdemona (soprano Julia Behbudov) seems hesitant around him. It takes a while for him to lose the battleground ferocity, but eventually he joins her in a lovely duet about their meeting, “Quando narravi l’esule tua vita,” and they retire to their chambers.
There is, of course, a snake in the garden, and what a snake! Bass-baritone Robert Balonek, who played the title role in West Bay Opera’s 2023 production of “The Flying Dutchman,” enters as Otello’s ensign Iago to hatch a mutiny with his co-conspirator, Roderigo (tenor Carmello Tringali). What’s immediately evident is that Balonek has that enigmatic “it” quality that opera folks refer to as “squillo” (younger readers may think of it as “rizz”). His tone is as rich as chocolate, and he deploys it with incredible agility. What’s more, he applies all this divinity with a sublime sense for the moment, which for Iago is terribly important. Sick of watching dullards promoted all around him, the ensign has detected an exploitable weakness in his boss, and he’s going to light a very long fuse. Just to confirm his motivations, he performs his manifesto, “Credo in un Dio crudel” (“I believe in a cruel God”), a mesmerizing display of joyous sociopathy. It’s nice to see a villain have so much fun.
Iago fabricates an affair between Desdemona and Otello’s captain, Cassio (tenor Thomas Mulder). He urges Roderigo to get Cassio into a drunken barfight, encourages Cassio to seek Desdemona’s help in winning Otello’s pardon or his misbehavior, then uses the flimsiest bits of evidence — overheard comments, a stolen handkerchief, locker-room laughter within Otello’s earshot — to drive the admiral crazy with jealousy. Otello is convinced, and they conclude with a fiery revenge duet, “Si, pel ciel.”
What really drives the production is the sheer torture deivered upon Desdemona, who is utterly innocent but pronounced absolutely guilty. Park lays such a grilling on her in Act 3 that the spectator may suffer sympathetic cringing. Behbudov plays it all in a subdued, apologetic manner, making her that much more pitiable.
Underneath Behbudov’s compliance, however, rests a magnificent dynamic range, which reveals itself in the immortal Act 4. Sent to her bed-chamber, Desdemona prepares for whatever fate her husband-god has decided to deliver. In “Willow Song,” she tells the story of a young woman, betrayed by her lover, who wanders the fields, calling out to the weeping willow trees by their Italian name, “Salce! Salce! Salce!” Behbudov sings these famed pleas with an arresting quietude, making them seem distant and haunting. The effect is heartbreaking.
I understand that Cassio is a pawn in this plot, but I felt that Mulder’s performance was overly subdued. In the locker-room talk with Iago, he seemed more natural and animated, and this made for a better fit. As Emilia, mezzo Laure de Marcellus did a superb job of empathizing with her friend’s situation, even as her own husband was pulling the strings of her undoing. On their farewell, you could see in Emilia’s eyes the fear that this might be the last time she sees her friend alive. Kudos to bass-baritone Daniel Morris, who filled in for the ailing Jim Cowing as Montano (and best wishes to Mr. Cowing).
Peter Crompton and Frederic O. Boulay have really got this set design/projection thing down, using a series of graceful terraces to convey a castle, a brig, a town square, as the skies are enlivened by sunsets, night stars and flying shorebirds. Lighting designer Danielle Ferguson created several haunting overhead effects to convey Otello’s anger and Iago’s evil intentions. Callie Floor must have used every costume in the inventory to outfit the court for the Venetian ambassador’s visit. It’s an impressive tableau.
Moscovich and orchestra attacked the daunting score with aplomb, even while half of the players were stashed in the wings in two-tiered condominiums.
As any fine performance does, this one made me reconsider the whole creation. Iago is a terrible figure, certainly, but it’s evident from the interplay between Park and Behbudov that Otello is a violent man whose weak ego will not tolerate the tiniest whisper of infidelity. Also, a truly wise leader would seek real evidence to back up Iago’s accusations.
May 31, 7 p.m.; June 1, 2 p.m., Lucie Stern Theatre, 1305 Middlefield Road, Palo Alto. $46-$125. 650-424-9999. wbopera.org.
Michael J. Vaughn is a 40-year opera critic and author of 30 novels, including “Gabriella’s Voice” and “Operaville.”
