Anthony Minghella’s breathtaking production creates the perfect atmosphere for a good Butterfly. Throw in strong conducting, and good singing, and this somewhat routine opera can be a thrilling nigh. I caught this production in early March with Aleksandra Kurzak and Matthew Polenzani as Butterfly and Pinkerton. Kurzak, at this point, had already sung a run of Butterflys and Eleonora Buratto was slated to take over. Burratto pulled out and Kurzak, who was in the midst of also singing Liu in Turandot agreed to take over her run. I thus caught this performance the night after a Turandot Kurzak had sung, and about 1/3 through the run of Turandot.
This is now my third time seeing Madama Butterfly, after having seen it in 2023, and 2014. Both times, I’ve been in San Francisco. This third time I’m at the Met, another cavernous hall like War Memorial. I described my feelings about Madama Butterfly in my last opinion on Madama Butterfly, but in short, I really like the opera, though I feel that it’s a little start-and-go with glorious passages followed by some somewhat middling ones.
Countless people have written about the problematic aspects of Madama Butterfly. Puccini was a white Italian man who never visited Japan and who’s depiction of an Asian woman comports to modern stereotypes of Asian women. Within this context, his exploitation of Cio-Cio San can be uncomfortable and cringeworthy.
Given the inherent contradiction between the vocal demands of Cio-Cio San and the dramatic demands, I give a lyrical voice singing Butterfly more leeway. A preference in a singer of Butterfly, I’ve noticed, mostly comes down to a listener’s subjective preference for either someone with the vocal weight, but often without as much dramatic credibility, or someone without the full vocal weight, but a voice that can do credible dramatic justice. I’ve yet to encounter a live soprano who can encompass both.
Minghella’s production was simply amazing. Using a main raised stage leading to a hill with a color-changing board, and a team of puppeteers and artists, Minghella shows that less can be more. Opening with an artist raising the curtain, a geisha representing Butterfly emerges over the hill, performing in complete silence. The effect is immediately dramatic and engages the viewer. The show is minimalist, but incredibly carefully choreographed. The action quite literally builds itself around the singers, notably in the Act I love duet, where a team of artists follow Butterfly and Pinkerton around as they’re caressed by falling cherry blossoms. The stage and set seem to morph and move around the two, keeping them in focus. Artists bring in sliding doors with Suzuki hiding behind, seamlessly coming in and out of the action. It’s both clever and artistic, while keeping the focus towards Butterfly.
This was one of the most successful, beautiful, and respectful productions I’ve ever seen. By embracing and respecting the culture within which the opera operates, Minghella is able to lessen the problematic aspects of the story while using Japanese aesthetics to underline the culture in which the opera takes place. This was a production that harmoniously enhances the work without burdening it. A+
I’ve seen Kurzak perform before (in La Traviata) and then I found her voice to be good, but one I’ve also never quite responded to. With this Butterfly, however, I found myself reevaluating my previous notions about Kurzak. Her voice is inherently lyric, and the role is a size too large for her, but what she does with it is great. Kurzak works with the limitations of her voice, rather than try to blast her way through them, and in doing so she makes unique decisions that set her Butterfly apart. There are moments like the end of “Un bel di” or in Butterfly’s death scene where you perhaps wish the voice had more heft to really maximize dramatic impact, but I applaud Kurzak for not forcing the issue in the moments, and instead choosing to make her lyric instrument work for her. For example, in Butterfly’s entrance, where most sopranos will blast the C-sharp capping the aria, Kurzak floats the note with touching effect. Her death scene, though lacking perhaps in heft, was touchingly done, as she added moments of piano to normally forte ones.
Her characterization of Butterfly benefitted from her vocal choices. Through the night, I felt that she built her character in a more organic way than other sopranos, and she really inhabits her role in a way I haven’t seen before. Her arc is one of the most heartbreaking in all of opera, and Kurzak maximizes this effect through her physical and vocal acting.. She starts off appropriately girlish and naïve, carrying that energy up until almost the end. Her Butterfly convincingly believes in Pinkerton when the writing is on the wall. Only when is she ultimately told of Pinkerton’s betrayal does she instantly lose the girlishness that defined her, taking on a grave emotional maturity. Kurzak also displayed, to me, an understanding of the underlying culture. Death is her only option upon being betrayed, and her ability to convey Butterfly’s sense of honor was something I’ve never encountered before.
This was a satisfying, emotionally complete performance by a soprano who understands her voice, and her character. A
Taking on Pinkerton, Matthew Polenzani brought his inherent lyrical qualities to the role. The previous Pinkertons I’ve seen (Brian Jagde, and Michael Fabiano) were both spintos and there I felt that their performances were more stentorian and naturally presented Pinkerton as more manipulative, but slightly brutish. Here, Polenzani also presents a manipulative Pinkerton, but more of a snake knowingly taking advantage of Butterfly, rather than a Pinkerton who doesn’t realize the extent of what he’s done. Vocally, I found Polenzani to be in good form. His tenor isn’t huge, but is big enough to fill the Met, and ride the orchestra. His production can be nasal, but he’s a reliable singer, and despite being considerably into the run, he didn’t look disinterested in any way. Together with Kurzak, he was at his best in the long love duet that ends Act I. His high C that ends Act I rung out, for, in my experience, record time. The lack of brashness in his character, however, made his Act III “Addio fiorito asil” seemingly lacking in spontaneity, but his final cries of “Cio-Cio San” revealed true regret. This was a very competent, above-average Pinkerton. B+
Helming the night was Zhang Xian’s conducting of Puccini’s score. Butterfly marks Zhang’s Met debut, and she’s a real find. I could see her from the pit and her movements as a conductor seemed to bring out the best in her singers and orchestra. Zhang handles the swells and passion in the score, and her ability to underscore the emotions of the opera without overwhelming her singers was marvelous. Under her baton, I didn’t feel the sag that can occasionally creep in in Act II, and her clip was efficient. A