The Gospel of Mary Magdalene (dress rehearsal), San Francisco Opera, June 16 2013

The Gospel of Mary Magdalene is Mark Adamo’s third opera, following Little Women and Lysistrata. The premise of the opera is taken from lines in various apocryphal gospels that suggest, however subtly, that Mary was one of Jesus’s disciples, perhaps the most important one, and that the wedding at Cana at which he turned water into wine was in fact his own wedding to Mary. The opera tells the (a) story of Jesus’s life from the time that he met Mary through to his crucifixion and resurrection. For more information about the opera, see Adamo’s own web page and the one published by San Francisco Opera. Don’t miss the 87-page libretto, with 116 footnotes.

The same set is used throughout the opera. It represents an archaeological dig. The primary feature is a nearly semicircular wall about 15 feet high, made from rounded stones. Scaffolding immediately in front of the wall supports plywood platforms and steps that offer access to the center of downstage. In the center are the ruins of various stone walls, none more than 2 feet tall. In the center of the stone wall is an opening the size of a door, with a rounded arch on top; it is little used. There is another opening at the left side of the wall, which is used more, and to the right stairs descend to a lower level—again, little used. Most traffic is from the top of the wall, down the scaffolding to center stage. The wall extends from the left of the stage to the right, and on top it may be 10 feet deep, enough to support a chorus of 48. Yeshua (Jesus’s name in the opera) carries the cross across the top of the wall to the site of the crucifixion. (Was Nathan Gunn actually strung up on the cross? Speculative opinion thinks not, rather that it was a body double, with Gunn singing “God, O God” just behind him but out of sight.)

So what is the music like? Do you need to run away from something that will grate on your ears from beginning to end? Absolutely not! Nearly everywhere, the music is gentle and pleasant. The vocal lines are quite singable—no random bouncing up and down the scale. There are extended passages for a solo singer, and I wondered whether Adamo would write in a pause for applause, but he did not. The music simply continued with no break. There were no duets or trios, and not much in the way of chorus, aside from the occasional “Greek chorus” that explained or commented upon the action. There are some harsh moments in the music, but they point up harsh subjects, particularly near the beginning, where the chorus asks itself “Shall we burn this book [the Bible]?” and near the end, in the crucifixion scene. A particularly beautiful passage is Mary’s “I love this time of the morning,” sung after she has spent the night with Yeshua. I haven’t seen Pelleas and Melisande in a long time, but I will go out on a limb and compare Mary with Pelleas: pleasant music, no memorable tunes, nothing very dramatic, and it all starts to sound pretty much the same after a while. Repeated hearings may change my mind, but at the moment it seems that it would be hard to identify where you are in the opera if you “dropped the needle” at a random point. On the other hand, when I think of “no memorable tunes,” I remind myself of the music of Palestrina. It is wonderful, luscious, beautiful music as it goes by, but when it’s over, I can’t remember a single phrase. So “no memorable tunes” is not necessarily a problem.

I’m going to see it two more times in the next three weeks.