Thomas Adès, The Exterminating Angel (2016)

Ha!  Crossing one of those unseen composers off the list right away!

My dad saw this a while ago and super-duper hated it. But I mean, really, if you want to discourage me from seeing an opera, the best choice would be to say, eh, it was kinda meh. Obviously I'm going to want to see such a maligned piece. My dad's taste in opera more or less overlaps with mine; it's not super-conservative or anything. Still, you won't catch him watching Einstein on the Beach, say. Nonetheless, I was entirely prepared to believe that I would indeed dislike this. That it would be just impossibly awkward and "what the hell do people SEE in this?" Alas--if that's what you were hoping for--no. I thought this was a really good opera. Maybe even better than that. Um...I feel like that's sort of anti-climactic, but it's just how it is.

Everyone probably knows the plot of The Exterminating Angel, or at least the premise? Bunch of rich people at a dinner party realize that they're unable to leave the premises for no rational reason and get progessively more unhinged? I have seen the Buñuel film, albeit some time ago; I can't quite speak to what may be different here, but that's about it.

I will say that the first part of the opera--the first act and especially the first part of the first act--has its problems, and that if I had only watched it that far, I would very probably not have such a high opinion of the whole. We come back to the question of whether colloquial English dialogue can really work as opera singing, at least for an Anglophone audience. And...once again, I'm not so sure. The early going is especially iffy because the characters (this has a huge cast for an opera, with no less than twenty-two singing roles plus a chorus, including every vocal type except the sadly marginalized contralto) are basically singing pleasantries and small-talk, and it...well, it's not great. It's a bit cringe-inducing, really. Later in the opera, as shit starts to get unreal, the situation more high-stakes and, well, operatic, it starts to work better. But the beginning is kinda bad. Furthermore, Adès really likes the ultra-high female voices, and the way they're written, some of them are frequently just screeching their lines, and not just the ultra-high coloratura soprano Audrey Luna but all the sopranos here. This happens kind of throughout, but I feel like it's less prevalent later on. Or maybe I just got used to it.

Speaking of Audrey Luna, though, I have to say: it's very impressive, certainly, that her voice is able to comfortably dwell in the G range (and apparently this opera contains the highest note ever sung at the Met, as she reaches all the way up to the next A--I can easily believe it). But...I feel like this may be a case where the composer was so preoccupied with whether he could, he didn't stop to think if he should. Okay okay, Luna, it's great that you're able to do this, but maybe we'd all be better off if you...didn't?  It's unlike anything else you're likely to hear, but that doesn't necessarily mean you want to hear it.   I know I always say that what I want from art is new experiences, so maybe I'm an unbelievably vile hypocrite, but that is how I feel.  Something to consider, anyway.

Still, it does get better. A lot better, I'd say. The characters start to come into their own and even get some decent vocal moments (though that's not really what the emphasis is on here). You've got Christine Rice as Blanca playing an increasingly desperate song on the piano. You've got Iestyn Davies as Francisco freaking out about not having the right kind of spoon for his coffee. You've got Alice Coote as Leonora (the first time I've seen her in a non-trouser role, I think) growing trulyunhinged and stabbing one of the other women. You've got an unnerving death duet from the two lovers in the closet. You've got Rice, Coote, and Luna, chanting "we need blood"--seriously, there is a lot of great stuff here; all the singers are excellent at coming unglued.

Also, Adès' music, man, I swear. The orchestra includes some unusual instruments, including a shit-ton of bells and something called an ondes Martenot, a primitive electronic instrument that sounds kind of like a theremin. It's really strange, thrilling stuff. Here, listen to this "interlude" that opens Act II to see what he can do.

Are you meant to, like, feel for the characters here? Because I feel like maybe I'm not, but by the end, I totally did. I got sucked in; there's no denying it, and this became one of my favorite contemporary operas. Honestly, I liked it more than anything I've seen by John Adams (no offense to Adams--"The People Are the Heroes Now" is still great), eg. I'll have to see The Tempest very soon.