An egomaniac goes on an obsessive revenge tour to heal his bruised ego, in the process destroying himself and the entire community that he is supposed to lead and protect. In a way, “Moby Dick” is a perfect story for our times, especially given what has transpired in the past six weeks.

It also connects perfectly with an incident that took place in the opera world a few months back when Metropolitan Opera General Manager Peter Gelb, during an event for the Musicians Foundation, took a shot at critics because of a so-called “agenda” they have against and in favor of certain contemporary works.

“There’s a great deal of resentment on the part of some critics — not all critics, some critics — about the idea that music should be approachable by a large audience and should be available to more people and some critics might [prefer to] keep it sacred, in some ways, for themselves,” Gelb said during the event.

At that moment, he was pushing back against negative press for “Grounded.” But as the leader of an opera company, it was surprising that he didn’t take stock of the fact that not every work is going to be a hit and that many will in fact falter. But what is always lacking in Gelb’s arguments about “agendas” and successes and failures is a general exploration of the operas themselves. What makes them work and what doesn’t.

Fortunately for him, “Moby Dick” is one that undoubtedly works. And here’s why.

A Slight Detour

(Politics warning: If you don’t want to dabble in politics for a bit, just skip to the next unitalicized section).

Before we dive into the opera, let’s talk about Ukraine. As the evening commenced, Gelb himself hastened onto the stage, microphone in hand, and announced that the Ukrainian national anthem would be performed. He scurried off and we got an orchestral rendition of the anthem.

First off, unlike many who have rebuked me and then proceeded to declare that they will never read OperaWire again because of my perceived politics, I am very much a believer that art and politics are intertwined. Watch any Verdi opera and you can’t escape it. Or how about “Fidelio,” the next opera the Met will be reviving (and which I will be reviewing). Nonetheless, I found the inclusion of the anthem a bit odd.

First off, let’s take a moment to recognize that Gelb has been involved in some truly positive initiatives to support the people of Ukraine during a three-year period in which their lands have been stolen from them by a dictatorial aggressor. For those who seemed to forget (and the current U.S. administration seems hellbent on making us forget) – Russia started the war. Russia invaded Ukraine. And at this moment, Ukraine is up against its greatest challenge as the Donald Trump administration abandons its people in concordance with Vladimir Putin’s demands. So supporting the people of Ukraine is important. Over the course of history, art is often the great equalizer and initiatives like the Ukrainian Freedom Orchestra certainly make the world a better and freer place.

But I just don’t know that the national anthem before a performance of “Moby Dick” really drove that point home. It was impactful three years ago when the Met performed the anthem before “Don Carlo” just as Russia’s invasion was beginning. But on this occasion, it didn’t kindle the same power. And it’s especially undermined after the past three years during which Gelb has been inconsistent on which Russian singers (some rather open supporters of Putin) perform at the Met and which ones he publicly repudiates in the media. Throw in his general silence on other notable conflicts going on around the world and it all feels out of place. There wasn’t even a Ukrainian singer there to interpret the anthem on stage. The political statement may be consistent with Gelb’s actions and views, but it felt shoehorned in and rather casually thrown together. A statement for the sake of making a statement.

End rant.

A Classic

During the intermission of “Moby Dick” I kept hearing something. People humming, singing, even whistling. What exactly? The glorious melody that caps Starbuck’s monologue at the end of the first part of the opera as he implores God’s aid in a moment of crossroads. I found myself doing the same. And when the night was over, I found myself humming other sections of the opera.

That’s never happened before or during any contemporary opera I’ve seen. It’s not that hummable tunes and memorable melodies in contemporary opera are a rarity (they’re not), but truly compelling ones are. Heggie uses motifs and melodies at the service of a larger musical tapestry, constantly painting with sound, and immersing the listener into a musical landscape.  The word “Wagnerian” gets thrown around a lot when analyzing opera, but most of the time it’s lip service and little else. But the word truly applies here. That melody that people couldn’t stop humming? It’s there throughout, but evolves gradually before being allowed to flower in its splendor and beauty. And it returns again and remains, receding as the night marches on. And the score is awash in other leitmotifs, each allowed different evolutions and explorations.

The orchestra is also very much a character in the story. You could almost describe it as personifying nature itself. There is a constant sense of propulsion, the orchestra restless like the ocean, ostinato patterns of waves dominant. These are juxtaposed with moments of orchestral stillness, the calm before the storm. And yes, it does eventually embody the epic storm that takes place in the early sections of Part two.

Meanwhile, vocalists get ample solos, duets, and ensembles. It really does feel, in several instances, like an opera from the late 18th century in how it embraces the form. Text is allowed to repeat itself, especially in major ensembles, where the music and its emotional impact is allowed to take center stage. We often take for granted how crucial this is in our interaction with opera. We live in a world of immediate satisfaction and the resulting stories must always move forward. Time for reflection, for immersion, for mere enjoyment, are often thrown aside in favor of movement and a constant stream of information. In opera, this often results in endless streams of recitative with musical numbers sidelined. Plots have to be bigger and more expansive, to fit more cinematic tastes. Sometimes it works as is the case with “Fire Shut Up in My Bones” and “The Hours.” Often, as was the case with “Grounded,” it doesn’t.

“Moby Dick” takes its time. Sometimes it takes too much time. The plot doesn’t really shift in any extraordinary way. In fact, even if you haven’t read the book, it’s pretty predictable. Ahab wants to find the white whale that injured him and he’ll sacrifice anything and anyone in that pursuit. But along the journey, characters change. Relationships develop. People die. And Heggie and Scheer allow us to live with these characters through their musical interactions. Queequeg and Greenhorn’s relationship blossoms throughout a series of duets allowing the stakes of that dynamic to grow and build. Ahab gets several arias, a blustering monologue to his crew, alla Wotan in “Die Walküre,” about his battle with the whale, followed by one of quiet reflection in which he mourns his lack of inner peace, giving his character complexity and nuance. Starbuck, a religious man who only wants to see his wife and son, grows so weary of his Captain, that he considers murdering him. Heggie gives him the famed aria in the vein of “Nemico della patria?”  The sailors, despite their suffering and hunger, follow their orders, declare “Death of Moby Dick,” and then engage in several moments of fun and bluster, including some memorable jolly tunes. It truly feels like Heggie is digging into the well of great opera to conjure up what, in my view, is his most fascinating work.

But it isn’t perfect.  The opera can feel slow-moving and often burdensome, especially in the second half. Events start to happen at uneven paces. One particularly revealing moment for me was the whiplash of seeing Greenhorn and Queequeeg cement their friendship and future dreams together, to suddenly seeing the latter declare his impending doom moments later, and then dying in the scene right after. And while the general balance of the characters is vibrant and brilliant, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Starbuck’s character gets a dynamic arc in the first half, only to feel like an afterthought in the second half, his inner turmoil and anger toward his captain somehow dissipating. They get a scene together, but the intense drama built up in that first half is not present in the same way during this latter encounter.

But it isn’t enough to detract from the immersion of music and text to create something altogether epic and intimate. Opera in its purest form.

One more thing that I observed during my experience of “Moby Dick.” Opera benefits most from temporal distance in its setting. There is something truly off-putting about seeing people sing, while wearing modern clothing and dealing with modern conflicts and problems, alla “Grounded.” It creates a cognitive dissonance between the realism that we know and expect, and the operatic language, which could not be more divorced from that conceit. Setting a new work in a time “long ago” actually allows archetypal characters to shine a more prominent light on modern times. You could watch “Moby Dick” and its characters and see relevance to modern-day politics. Or you could see other human notions and themes reflected across different moments of history. With a work fixated on a very specific contemporary theme, like “Grounded,” metaphor doesn’t play as active a role because it is hard to divorce our personal and immediate experiences to the subject matter, from what is being presented.

Multiple Angles

“Moby Dick” is an opera about perspective as much as it is about obsession. Everyone’s on the journey together but everyone experiences it in different ways. Everyone’s horizon is different. Ahab has tunnel vision and is even conscious of this. All he wants is the white whale. Starbuck questions the blasphemous notion of destroying nature while yearning for home. Greenhorn loses his innocence. Queequeeg yearns for a home and position he no longer has and will never see again. The crewmen just follow orders and celebrate the small victories.

To portray this panoply of life, director Leonard Foglia and set designer Robert Brill constructed a production (that originated at The Dallas Opera) that is sleek and elegant. As the opera opens, we see the projections of stars in the sky, each time pulling us closer. Constellations arise eventually transforming into the Pequod and when the curtain finally rises, we are on the ship ourselves. From here, the set shifts around to set us in the different locations aboard seamlessly. The backdrop projects the sea, the sky, and the stars. In the second half, we can see and feel the rain pouring down the masts.

What’s often lacking in a lot of contemporary opera design is depth. If you look at the recent Met Opera “Aida,” several scenes felt two-dimension due to their poor use of space. But this production of “Moby Dick” uses space in truly creative ways. When Ahab’s men board ships, the back wall projects the boats and seats vertically. The wall itself has indentations that the players can then mount to use the vertical space of the projection to create the illusion of being on the water. It’s a monumental coup-de-théâtre and used only twice. More impressive is Pip’s moment at sea, the actor suspended mid-air. It drew some chuckles, but was truly wondrous to behold. The same amazement happens when, halfway through the first half, the back wall opens up to reveal an entire set hidden inside, this time showcasing the body of a butchered whale.

Given the plot’s plodding nature and the abundance of moments of reflection, it’s no surprise that the blocking is often static, favoring tableau imagery over dynamism. The chorus gets the most opportunity to move around the stage, offering an interesting contrast. But this unfortunately does little to de-emphasize the opera’s slower moments.

Master Ahab

Brandon Jovanovich is a force of nature. Every time I’ve seen him at the Met, he has displayed tremendous charisma onstage to go along with a unique combination of vocal ruggedness and elegance I haven’t heard in many singers. Ahab is perhaps the role that best matches his vocal apparatus and he used it to its full potential, delineating a complex character with incredible vocal depth. From his opening entrance, he was entrancing, his voice powering into the auditorium, the diction pointed and always precise. Even for operas in English, I often find myself checking out the surtitles; it’s nothing against the singers or their diction, but in the act of projecting into such a massive space, vowels might be modified or emphasized, consonants shortened. It’s understandable. Jovanovich is one of the few that doesn’t do any of that. As such, it’s easier to be entranced by his performance, laser-focused on his every move and gesture. His voice rang with heroism throughout the opening monologue, but it was mixed with an angular quality that expressed his aggression. Physically, Jovanovich strode around with similar confidence. The wooden leg didn’t seem to be an obstacle whatsoever. Contrast this with his more rounded physicality in his moment of reflection. He looked shriveled up, fragile, his voice correspondingly soft and delicate. He floated notes gloriously and you got a sense of a man with a soul. But then he reverted to a more violent form in his confrontation with Starbuck, his face flush with wolf-like viciousness, his voice harsh. High notes could get grainy, but they never felt out of character or strained. During Starbuck’s aria, we see him prostrate, asleep, gentle moans and sighs his only interjections. Even here, you got a sense of a man haunted, confused, bewildered by his own self-imposed plight.

But the most fascinating combination of this came in the second half where we get the sense of the man in conflict with his obsession and his humanity. As other men confront him to allow Greenhorn the opportunity to attend to Queequeg, you could see the shift in his hardened fact, Ahab starting to worry about his dominance. And in horrific fashion reminiscent of his opening Act one monologue, Jovanovich’s Ahab declared that he would take his place, his voice forceful in the space. But more potent was the increasing sense of conflict in his scene with Starbuck, Jovanovich’s voice taking on a softer shading, matching baritone Thomas Glass throughout their exchanges. We could feel the tide turning as his Ahab considered his first selfless act. But alas, as the opera rushed to its stormy conclusion, the voice’s renewed edge returned with a vengeance, and the tenor’s final moments featured his most potent singing.

Jovanovich’s performance is faraway one of the standout interpretations of the 2024-25 season.

An Exemplary Crew

But no artist is an island and no great performance can be achieved with tremendous talent supporting them. And this cast had that in spades. Let’s talk about Thomas Glass who was called in at the last minute to replace an ailing Peter Mattei. Glass sang Starbuck’s aria during the 2019 National Council Auditions (where he was declared one of the winners), so he was right at home here. His baritone has a sheen and polish throughout, showcasing flexibility throughout the range. He had power to pack at the peaks of phrases, but also could slender down to the most delicate of threads as he reminisced about his wife and his dear boy. He was at his most potent throughout his big aria, the voice growing in intensity, taking on a jagged edge as he considered murdering Ahab. It was a departure from the more depurated quality we heard throughout, exploring the complexity of his emotions. But at the climax of it, as he implored for God’s aid, Heggie’s glorious melody taking full-flight, Glass’ voice soared exquisitely. This was some of the most spotless baritone singing I’ve heard at the Met in quite some time and I would love to hear him in other repertory to showcase his gorgeous instrument.

Speaking of great instruments, Stephen Costello had a stellar night. I have often found the tenor’s voice to strain a bit in the Italian repertory, especially in the upper reaches. But none of that was anywhere to be heard in “Moby Dick.” From the offset, his voice had a purity to it, an elegance in its phrasing. He was a perfect contrast to Ahab’s rugged and abrasive nature, vocally embodying an innocent man. It was also a perfect complement to the roughed edge in Ryan Speedo Green’s bass-baritone. Somehow, the two men managed to blend their instruments beautifully in their duets, adding to the unity of their burgeoning friendship. Costello gets a number of arias throughout the opera, but by far his most impassioned moment came after the death of his friend, the voice pushed to the opposite extremes. From gentle whimpers of sadness to full-on explosions of sound to express the character’s confusion and pain. The tenor was at his most dynamic here.  The opera ends with Greenhorn being rescued at sea. In these final moments, the character’s line is as delicate as it gets. You could feel the lament, the sense of loss encountered throughout the opera in his soft delivery. A true tour-de-force interpretation for the tenor.

Speedo Green also delivered potently as Queequeg, his voice full of somber and even restrained longing. As noted, he and Costello delivered some of the most compelling moments together throughout the performance.

Janai Brugger’s Pip was another highlight. As the only woman in the cast, her role stands out by design, but her interpretation furthered this notion. She displayed a tremendous vocal energy that immediately established the character’s whimsy and joviality. Even during the scene where she floats at sea, her fate uncertain, there was a certain calm in her singing. It was all the more impressive given that she was floating through the space. But most impactful was the second half scene with the dying Queequeg. Here Brugger’s voice took on a darker dimension, almost funereal, which complemented Costello’s mournful tone.

Other standouts include Brian Major as Gardiner. Standing in the wings of Grand Tier, his voice rang out abundantly into the space.

William MacKenzie and William Burden provided hijinks as the duo Flask and Stubb.

Bringing it all together was conductor Karen Kamensek who led the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra to incredible heights. The balance throughout the ensemble was at its peak. Singers had constant support and were never overpowered or lacking in support. Heggie’s music was a gift the vibrancy and flow that it merited, the tone painting clear.

Notably, there will be no Live in HD for “Moby Dick,” which is a shame given the quality of this cast and production. But if there’s a contemporary opera that should make a comeback as soon as possible, this is one. And hopefully, it then gets a much-deserved HD rendition. In the meantime, it’s imperative that people head to the Met Opera over the next several weeks and immerse themselves in this incredible opera.