(Credit: Cory Weaver)

“I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life.” So sings Cleopatra in John Adams’ “Antony and Cleopatra.” The baser life about which Cleopatra sings is everything that is not she and everything that was not Antony. So Adams tells us in the latest from his roster of remarkable operas.

San Francisco Opera gave “Antony and Cleopatra” its world premiere at the War Memorial Opera House on Sept. 10, 2022. The work was a co-commission and co-production with the Metropolitan Opera and Liceu Opera Barcelona.

The production has everything—story, poetry and drama, newsreels, fascism, ancient Roman generals, ecstasy, rage, and beauty. Though its ambitious attempt to capture the globe itself, all time and space, full and rich and marvelous, was at times a little too much. While taking in Adams’ new opera, sometimes only the music, with one or several voices reciting Shakespeare’s play, was desirable. At other times, just one narrative line would have been better. Aspects were lost in the wealth and welter of all that the artistic team aimed to portray. However, overall, “Antony and Cleopatra” was a wonder, not unlike the story’s dazzling, dramatic, and defiant lovers.

San Francisco’s own Eun Sun Kim conducted the score with acumen and an abundance of sound as she guided all 72 instrumentalists of the San Francisco Opera Orchestra with unity and intensity. Onstage was a full cast of fine voices, including Amina Edris as Cleopatra, Gerald Finley as Antony, and Paul Appleby as Caesar. The show featured glamorous costumes, stylish sets, a full contingent of performers, and the San Francisco Chorus under the new supervision of John Keene. Overall, the opera roused the audience.

There was excitement about it, but also sometimes confusion about important aspects. Is the opera set in Egypt or Rome? Is the time contemporary or long ago? SFO sets the musical and operatic bar very high. Some of the audience rode the course and, after the finale, walked into the San Francisco night with their wits about them highly polished. Others wondered about the location of the universe they’d watched unfold before them, doubting what they were supposed to do there. Shakespeare’s poetry is beloved, but there is too much to cram into an opera with an innovative and challenging score. The audience suffers when lines of text are too long and complex to capture the meaning, the melody, and the feelings all in one shot. The borrowings or inclusions of Shakespeare’s gems were not at issue, as they were familiar and user-friendly. They provided a rest from the endless, rapidly unfolding narrative. While the usage of so many complex and compound sentences roused the intellect, missing was the spirit and, with it, the intensity of the story.

Adams and dramaturg Lucia Scheckner derived the libretto from Plutarch, Pliny, and Shakespeare. The source material stresses longing, posing questions about what lasts, what we cling to, and what don’t we need or want. The idea of splicing historic newsreels from the rise of fascist Italy in the 1930s was intriguing, and the video projections were fascinating. Set designer Mimi Lien, projection designer Bill Morrison, and Scheckner—all making their company debut—added an ample dimension to what already existed in the dual locales and the shifting storylines. These were all excellent ideas, but why did these complex characters and their quasi-divine affair need more?

Deep Yearning

Yearning pervaded the whole piece. There’s a yearning for love, a yearning for power, a yearning for union, and a yearning for eternity. Each time Egyptian-born Amina Edris (Cleopatra) sang, we heard this longing and traveled in parallel with it as she embedded in her words the wine-colored richness of her voice. So too, Gerald Finley, whose Antony perpetually yearned to climb out of his desire to conquer his beloved “Egypt” along with the woman who embodied it. Yet, his yearning for Cleopatra won sway.

Yearning was also apparent in Enobarbus (Alfred Walker), as the character frequently harkened back to what Antony once was. Caesar (Paul Appleby) longed for the “triple pillar” of the world, as he called Antony. Yet, he encases himself in a cloak of power-seeking ambition. Antony could not be what he once was because he had evolved into something else. So too, Eros (Brenton Ryan), who slew himself when the last chance of Antony’s renewal faded with his hero’s suicide. Octavia, Caesar’s sister (Elizabeth DeShong), awed by the reputation of her new husband, looked at him and saw only a version of what he was. Charmian, Cleopatra’s lady in waiting (Taylor Raven), longed for her mistress to stay the course. Iras (Gabrielle Beteag) seconded this position. Agrippa (Hadleigh Adams) fleshed out the theme of yearning with puzzlement as Antony has him whipped. He cannot understand why Antony has done this and cries out poignantly, “wherefore?” Maecenas (Patrick Blackwell) and Scarus (Timothy Murray) aptly held this same question, as did Lepidus (Philip Skinner). All saw the hero change and grow old.

The rhythmic motifs that pervade the score more than accentuate the yearning and conflicts deep in the story’s belly. As humans, we mourn that which we want, but cannot always have, especially once we have had a taste of it. Adams brings the dilemma of life into perspective with brazen and powerful brass and percussive agitation, which provides colors that don’t disappear whether we have heightened love-making, war, or stupid rages. Constantly on the horizon, time’s winged chariot hurries near.

An Opera Well Sung By a Strong Cast

Amina Edris was a dynamic Cleopatra who teased, calculated, and defied. Edris created a character who was well-aware of her powers and refused to be subdued by an ant-hill world that constantly wanted to enclose her. The soprano’s voice was lustrous, sounding from deep within and producing a consistently rich tone. Diction and the abundance of words, however, sometimes drowned within the sound. The speed at which it was performed diminished the clarity as well, but the drift of what they sang came through.

Gerald Finley produced sweet, honeyed tones that were both passionate and pleading. His vocal palette stayed full throughout, replete with wishfulness and yearning. Finley’s portrayal of Antony’s tenderness toward Octavia and his marvelously understated reaction to Fulvia’s death were noteworthy. The small hand gestures and facial expressions used by Finley when Antony was in conversation with Eros and Enobarbus stood out and were eloquent. Finley depicted Antony’s love for Cleopatra convincingly, and though, at times, he had trouble cutting through the orchestra, his voice never faltered in expressing the character’s feelings.

Paul Appleby’s Caesar was one hell of a challenge, but he portrayed the character’s authoritarian, patriarchal bombast with energy and electricity. His extended speech, complete with projections, crowds of soldiers, and vox populi marching across the stage, was dedicated to the tumultuous times, then and now. Overall, Appleby sang with an abundant authority that communicated the character’s rage and desire to remain powerful.

The characters Eros, Enobarbus, Agrippa, Maecenas, Charmian, and Iras were textually vital to the unfolding of the narrative. Unfortunately, the visuals spoiled Enobarbus’ barge speech. Literalizing Shakespeare’s marvel of a speech from the allusive and imaginative realm was a pity. Antony’s confidante’s imaginative rendering would have done more to heighten the emotional experience than staring at a moving screen, no matter how specific. Do we need to materialize the imagination to make a point? Eros’ light voice was poignant and captured the esteem he held for Antony. Meanwhile, Agrippa’s ardent conviction came through in each aspect of this dramatic role. Charmian played to Taylor Raven’s deep range, her voice sounding as though rose from the earth. DeShong’s full, resonant, and deep sound served her character, Octavia, very well.

Artistic License

Mutability electrified the whole work. The broad-ranging plot, with its multiple scenic shifts, projections, and fascists, along with the mingling of real crowds and movie versions, heightened the tension. Not only was this an original and accessible technological marvel, but it also begged the question: where is the true reality if there was such a thing? During intermission, an audience member remarked he would rather see less technological feats and more music. The sentiment is not rare in today’s Regieoper, with its rich risk-taking originality, assorted invention, and a view that more is more.

Director Elkanah Pulitzer, who also served as the libretto consultant, used vastness to represent time and space in this dimension. The set was complete with rotating walls, pyramids, columns, and a somewhere/nowhere/everywhere universe. Darkness and light contrasted on a monumental scale, filling the stage and our senses in a manner not unlike last season’s Met production of “Rigoletto,” where large columns and stairways rose into the unknown and aptly dwarfed the humans who remained fixated on their desires. In Adams’ new work, we, the spectators, ponder the results and question what is of key importance in life’s daily circus. Constance Hoffman’s sumptuous costumes, David Finn’s shifting and changing lightning, and Mark Grey’s sound design added layers of stimulation and tumult to the ongoing narrative.

Those familiar with Shakespeare’s sumptuous play know it has a plethora of scenes and characters and a wealth of emotions. Adams and Pulitzer met the challenge of adaptation and gave the story much that was “rich and strange.” Adams remains one of America’s foremost composers, and his operas have worked their way into the collective consciousness of fans and into the canon. His work is strikingly original and marvelous in vision and execution. “Antony and Cleopatra” showed he has plenty of gas in the tank.