Champion, Terence Blanchard’s new work at the Metropolitan Opera, has been getting a lot of press lately. It’s the first opera about a boxer, with bass-baritone Ryan Speedo Green in the lead as the ill-fated welterweight champion, Emile Griffith. But the themes are less about pugilism and more about universal human experiences of guilt, forgiveness, and compassion. Three dimensions of Griffith are revealed as this grand tragedy unfolds. Green’s Griffith is a young man disoriented in a new country, discovering his gay sexuality. Seasoned Met bass-baritone Eric Owens portrays Griffith in later years, riddled with dementia. Boy soprano Ethan Joseph offers a third dimension, a sensitive child abandoned by his mother to the care of Cousin Blanche, a sadistic religious fanatic (sung with tremendous depth and horrifying fury by Krysty Swann).
Ryan Speedo Green as Emile Griffith (courtesy Met Opera)
At its best, the two-act opera in jazz crackles with
vitality in simulated boxing choreography, providing an uneasy closure as the
three faces of the lead character find cohesion and integration. At its worst,
at three hours in length, it is too long, with an intro that drags on forever,
and a conclusion begging to be condensed. The music performed by orchestra and
jazz quartet, beautifully conducted by Yannick Nézet-Séguin, blends with the
voices on stage, providing originality and richness (I hope Blanchard plans to
create a concert suite from this varied and colorful score).
The pivot that Michael Christofer’s libretto swirls around
is a championship fight in 1962 when Griffith loses control and batters his
opponent, Paret, far beyond the limits of sportsmanship (in response to Paret’s
use of slurs regarding Griffith’s sexuality). Paret dies 10 days later, but it
turns out that he had received a damaging blow in the weeks prior to the
contest. While Griffith may be not have been directly responsible for Paret’s
death, he can find no peace, loses fight after fight, and retreats into a world
of self-loathing.
The principal singers in this production are simply amazing.
Green, so handsome in his role as the young Griffith, is everything a lead
singer should be. His voice is consistently powerful and eloquent, his acting
skills finely tuned, and such a well-paced boxing pas de deux with
baritone Eric Greene as Paret. As I experienced the opera, large screen in my
local movie theater, I marveled at the breathtaking voices, acting and dancing
expertise of these three baritones (Green, Owens, Greene) singing in close
proximity, not an opportunity that comes very often. As the elder Griffith,
Owens displays some of the finest acting skills in opera today, matched to a
voice that is one of the Met’s great treasures. “I kill a man and the world
forgives me. I love a man and the world would kill me,” he says with
ineluctable emotion.
The female roles are equally
impressive. Soprano Latonia Moore is spectacular as Griffith’s flamboyant
mother Emelda. The way she modulates her voice around a sentence or phrase,
flashing devious glances and demanding immediate obeisance: delicious! Mezzo-soprano
Stephanie Blythe is oddly menacing as Kathy Hagen, the proprietress of a gay
bar, with an array of lusty characters squirming and twerking around her. Camille
A. Brown’s choreography is a visual feast of carefully knitted movements that
seem to spring effortlessly from the storyline.
I felt a deep connection to this opera as the daughter of a featherweight champion boxer who fought in New Jersey and in Panama in the 1940s. Boxing has been and can still be a brutal sport, and a corrupt one. But it has provided a gateway through which many young men (and perhaps some young women), when outfitted in protective gear, can escape from poverty and anxiety into a world where skill matters and aspirations are more than idle dreams. I thought I’d dedicate this review to you, Dad, and for the memory of growing up with boxing gloves, jump ropes, and rosin in a pink-and-Barbie world.
Linda
Holt
Jacob "Jackie" Brown (center)
fighterbrown.wordpress.com
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