In late September, I noted that New Camerata Opera was making waves as one of the most exciting “indie” opera companies in New York. The founders of the company put together an enjoyable season-opening gala which was followed up by a successful outreach performance at an art gallery.

To clinch an exciting fall season, the New Camerata Opera put together its first major production of the season – an intriguing double bill of John Blow’s “Venus & Adonis” and Gustav Holst’s “Savitri” at the Flea Theater.

On first glance, these two operas might seem like an odd pairing. Blow wrote his piece in 1682 while Holst’s opera was created in 1916. And yet, as director Jennifer Williams points out in the program notes, the two works are “photonegatives of one another.” Both deal with loss, but where one explores the frailty of life, the other shows how death can be illusory.

Palindrome Within Palindrome

But Williams delves deeper than that in how she structures her direction of the two pieces. But to get a sense of how form and content ultimately coalese in her vision, we need to go to “Satrviti.”

Structurally, “Savitri” is a musical palindrome. It starts with a solo voice and builds in musical structure with the orchestral forces slowly entering the picture and then growing in waves until the climactic scene between Death and the titular protagonist. Once this conflict has been resolved, the orchestral forces thin out gradually until the opera ends with a single voice, a mirror of how it started.

Williams took “Savitri’s” structure and used it to illuminate both works both visually and emotionally. “Venus & Adonis” starts with joy and light and ends with death. Death is the first character to sing in “Savitri” and the word “joy” is among the last in the same opera after the resuscitation of Savitri’s beloved Satyavan.

The color scheme in “Venus & Adonis,” amplified by abstract video projections, is aggressively bright in the early going. The characters are dressed in bright pinks with only Adonis’ attire including an intense red to foreshadow his doom. Yet all the characters wear black to counter the pink, a clear indication of the work’s own dual identity between satire and tragedy. As the opera moves towards its tragic end, the colors on the projections dull until the final scene features a dark gray.

When “Savitri” opens, the darkness remains with the palette of the forest projections opaque. As the opera moves towards its hopeful resolution, the colors brighten, a light comes on the stage (in contrast with the dimming lights at the close of “Venus & Adonis”) and we end with projections of red, orange, and yellow. Perhaps the colors are not as fierce as the pink that opened the double bill, but they are certainly brimming with life.

In this way, Williams’ own production is a palindrome structurally and visually.

Some Questionable Choices

Not all the choices worked. Williams purports to having gone for a baroque-meets-MTV aesthetic and she undeniably manages that with the characters constantly trying to get the attention of the audience through their antics; it can be a bit off-putting in some instances where they chuck paper at the audience or just try really hard to get some laughs.

Moreover, after a while, this begging the audience for attention doesn’t feel like its evolving in any way and certainly not supporting the story, as simple as it is (Venus and Adonis are in love; he gets struck by a boar and dies; The End). The use of a classroom for Cupid’s love school is a clever touch, even if this is the scene where the supporting characters’ constant posturing starts to lose its magic.

“Savitri” is far more elegant in its execution, though one questionable choice is the entrance of Death. We hear him offstage as the opera commences, a haunting sound looming large. Savitri comments on hearing the voice and how it pursues her. When he starts to reprise the opening phrase, Williams brings him onstage.

However, he leaves and then returns when it is time to kill off Satyavan. After he kills Satyavan, Death actually formally reveals himself to Savitri. Perhaps this moment would have been a far more effective manner of introducing the antagonist.

Had he appeared as he started to kill Satyavan, the audience would have been held in greater suspense and shock not knowing who he is, forced to be more involved in the action and questioning it; seeing Death work his powers on Satyavan with the knowledge of who he is beforehand kills much of the tension in that turning point of the story.

Voices To Be Heard

There was also some music performed in addition to the strong stage direction and it was undeniably first-rate.

As Venus, soprano Barbara Porto showcased a gentle and elegant vocal approach to the Goddess of Love. There was consistent brightness in her voice and a grace that suited the character perfectly. In scenes with Adonis, she used his refined quality to sensual effect, particularly in their opening lines when the two lovers comically repeat their names to one another three times. While baritone Scott Lindroth amplified the virility in his singing throughout, Porto provided a soothing contrast that added to the sense of separation between the two and yet their perfect complimentary natures.

Lindroth gave a consistently muscular performance, which really made him stand out amidst the cast of “Venus and Adonis.” His sound was darker and heavier, but it helped to shape this image of a powerful man with tremendous confidence and poise. His approach amplified the ironic sense of frailty when it was he who wound up dead.

Julia Cavallaro’s delicate vocal approach to the character of Cupid dovetailed nicely with Porto’s Venus, furthering the contrast with Lindroth’s vocal interpretation. There was also a brightness to her sound, even if it didn’t always resonate strongly in the Flea Theater.

From his first notes in “Savitri,” Angky Budiardjono had the audience’s attention as the personification of Death. His baritone boomed in the theater, immediately creating this feeling of death as powerful and ever-present. It was an intimidating feeling and it only grew with his confrontation with Savitri, his sound even more present and aggressive in its phrasing.

Tenor Daniel S. Ambe matched Budiardjono’s vocal strength with a vibrant and meaty sound of his own. In the instances where he was tasked with going higher into his vocal range, the sound lost some of its brightness, but in general, he gave Satyavan a sense of strength and vigor.

This leaves Samina Aslam, who probably gave the standout performance of the evening. The soprano’s sound was right there with her male colleagues; she was their equal in vocal strength and dramatic intensity. She also got the hardest moments in the opera, Holst challenging her to ride over a dense orchestral wave. The soprano never faltered and Aslam seemed to constantly find new gears to match the musical drive of the piece. It was astounding and riveting to experience and you sensed that her character would emerge victorious. At the close of the opera, it was Aslam who got to sing the final notes off-stage; her brighter tone left a feeling of hope in the air. You could tell the audience was riveted as applause did not immediately follow the dimming of the lights. When it did finally arrive, there was pure elation from those seated in the Flea Theater.

Stephan Fillare led the musical forces on the evening, performing on the harpsichord during the first opera and then pulling out his violin in the second. He was actively engaged whether performing and conducting and his dedication led to musical tautness throughout the evening. The sense of musical sculpting during “Savitri” was undeniably the most impressive of the night with Holst’s structure laid bare for the listener.

Even if some elements of the production didn’t necessarily work (and personal taste might be a bigger player in this than the directorial construction), there is no denying that this is a production with some serious risk-taking and tremendous trust from the creators. From the moment that an announcement prior to the performance encouraged audiences to keep their cell phones on and take pictures throughout the performance, you sensed that it might be a unique performance.

And it certainly was.