Irene Roberts and Simone McIntosh as Offreds present and past.
Photo by Cory Weaver/San Francisco Opera.
San Francisco Opera
The Handmaid’s Tale
Paul Ruders and Paul Bentley
September 17, 2024
SFO could not have picked a better time to give this 2000 work its West Coast premiere, but in many ways Ruders’ treatment of Margaret Atwood’s ever-topical story seems a little old-fashioned. The music is muscular, modernist and bombastic, more 20th century than 21st, and delivers the story in a stunning package that accentuates the sense of alarm that we should all feel.
The performance opens in a soaring institutional space that resembles an airplane hangar, where Aunt Lydia (soprano Sarah Cambidge) is delivering fierce instructions to her specialized charges. In the face of a fertility crisis, these red-clad ladies have been chosen by the new theocracy of Gilead to move in with powerful families and bear their children, and to do so (cringe) the old-fashioned way. It’s clear from Lydia’s commands that the Christian nationalists have taken power. The size of this opening scene gives Ruders the chance to write chorally, and to introduce an impressive military motif with religious overtones (a tubular bell) to confirm the new marriage of government and church. The sound is immediately huge and startling, delivering thrillingly large crescendos and crackling, exotic percussion. At points, the response felt almost primal.
The irony here is that Atwood’s novel derived its narrative power from telling an intimate story. This takes precedence once Offred (mezzo Irene Roberts) has moved in with the Commander (bass John Relyea) and his wife, a former evangelical singing star named Serena Joy (mezzo Lindsay Ammann). Despite the size and power of his orchestrations, Ruders leaves space for long, plaintive vocal lines that spell out the tremendous conflicts of the situation. (The singing is word-obliterating operatic, so keep an eye on those supertitles.)
The story is also aided by a devilishly clever device for portraying the time before the Gilead takeover. A double (mezzo Simone McIntosh) plays Offred’s younger self, negotiating the increasing misogyny of the new regime with her husband Luke (tenor Christopher Oglesby) and their five-year-old daughter (Valerie Corrales). Set designer Chloe Lamford uses a stage-wide glass framework to separate past and present; at times, one may see past characters pantomiming actions that reflect on what the current characters are singing about upstage. The set also features a fearsome Eye of Gilead (similar to the eye on our one-dollar bills), splayed across the background to keep the peasants in tow.
Roberts as Offred (Of Fred, in case you wondered) does a masterful job with an enormous workload, and manages to keep Ruders’ sustenatos relatable and human. The acting demands are high, on both her and McIntosh’s past Offred, and they truly succeed in keeping this enormous, whirling performance focused on its protagonist. Roberts also has to deal with some very tricky sexual moments, which manage to maintain a fine balance of cringeworthy-yet-meaningful (with the help of an intimacy coordinator, Maya Herbsman).
Soprano Rhoslyn Jones gives a moving performance as Offred’s friend Ofglen, who introduces her to a secret resistance movement. Another standout is soprano Katrina Galka as Janine, a handmaid who keeps flashing back to her previous personality as waitress till she finally suffers a very theatrical breakdown. Another shot of empathy goes to soprano Caroline Corrales as Moira, Offred’s past and present friend, who fights the regime tooth and nail and somehow survives.
Director John Fulljames does an excellent job of setting his troops into one striking tableau after another (with the help of Christina Cunningham’s work on the familiar Handmaid costumes). The most unsettling of these are regular visitations to the handmaids’ recently executed colleagues, and one hanging that’s performed live. (I know they’ve got safety harnesses, but it was still pretty unsettling to watch.)
Conductor Karen Kamensek manages a humongous score, which includes digital effects and exotic percussion such as crotales, an anvil and a sizzle strip. In the tradition of late twentieth century works, the orchestra is absolutely the co-star, and delivers some spine-chilling moments.
My companion, the Punk Princess, expressed the concern that someone not familiar with this story might find the opera confusing, and I’d have to agree. I also think that the second act places too much emphasis on Offred’s interior life and sacrifices a few chances for suspense and action. Perhaps the most intriguing moments in the production come from the Commander and his wife, who show moments of humanity despite the strictures of their government (the Commander, for his part, seems amusingly attached to Scrabble).
Still and all, these are nitpicks, and I would encourage anyone to see this mesmerizing production. It will disturb you in precisely the way that great art is meant to, especially in a time when too many religious types seem hell-bent on stripping away female rights. And though I am very fond of the story-first direction that opera has taken in recent years, I think this story was a great match for good old modernist rabble-rousing.
Through October 1 at War Memorial Opera House, 305 Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco. $28-$426, 415/864-3330, sfopera.com.
Michael J. Vaughn is a 40-year opera critic and author of 29 novels, including his most recent, Punks for the Opera, which includes scenes at the War Memorial Opera House. All of his titles may be found at Amazon.
