American Dream Inversion

Nina Yoshida Nelsen and Hae Ji Chang in the world premiere of An American Dream. © Philip Newton c/o Seattle Opera

Seattle Opera is one of Seattle’s biggest, most “establishment” arts organizations, but they are appropriately progressive to our left-coast city, relative to other major opera companies around the country. American Dream is the perfect example. I’m a little late in talking about American Dream, since I attended the very last performance. I think it’s still worth talking about it, even though the performances are over, because it completely inverts the typical opera experience.

 

The stereotype of opera is that it is an expensive night out for old, rich, white folks who dress up and sit in a fancy theater listening to fat women sing very old stories in a foreign language about nobles behaving badly (to either comic or tragic effect). As is the way with stereotypes, this one is not quite accurate, but has enough basis in truth to keep it alive.

One of the ways that Seattle Opera is fighting this stereotype is by commissioning new works that break the traditional mold. The English-language stories are about important contemporary issues. They are only one act, and are presented in alternative venues, which allows the company to keep ticket prices low. These commissioned works give opera fans a new experience of a beloved art form, and encourage people who might never attend a “regular” opera a chance to find out what all the fuss is about.

Last year they produced As One, which explored a transgender protagonist’s journey to be true to herself, performed by a baritone and a mezzo-soprano with string quartet. I was in Iceland when it was performed, so I missed it.

This year, they performed American Dream, a World War II drama that follows two Puget Sound women: a Japanese American forced to leave her home and a German Jewish immigrant preoccupied by those she left behind. They have performed this opera before, but brought it back this year as a counterpoint to season opener Madame Butterfly.

I love Puccini’s music, so I was excited to see Madame Butterfly at the beginning of Seattle Opera’s 2017/18 season. But as a cheerleader for the arts, I was equally excited about all the programming Seattle Opera planned around the opera, which addresses the primary complaint about Butterfly: that it reinforces the stereotype of Asian women as submissive victims happily subservient to the sexual desires of (especially white) men. American Dream presents a more realistic depiction of a Japanese woman’s response to the cultural domination of white men.

I attended the community event in which Asian-American community leaders discussed the issues that mar the opera, and the ways in which they do or do not get past those issues to enjoy the music. I meant to attend all of the other events as well, but I missed Reversing the Butterfly Effect, which presented three short plays by Asian American women. And in the back-to-school madness, I almost missed out on the American Dream.

I’m really glad I caught the last show, because it was completely different from any other opera experience I’ve had. Opera is usually very big on spectacle and thin on story. Grand halls, full orchestra, and elaborate sets are the norm. Stories are often convoluted, full of plot holes, and lacking in-depth (of course there are some powerful exceptions).

American Dream, which deals with the treatment of Japanese Americans during WWII, was presented in Washington Hall, a historic community building in which, 75 years ago, Seattle’s Japanese residents were required to register prior to incarceration. There were only four rows of (surprisingly comfortable) folding chairs on either side of the stage in the center of the room. Taller barstool-style chairs lined the back walls, and balconies offered maybe three more rows of seats. All seating was general admission, and all tickets were $45 (expensive if you are used to paying a cover charge for live music, but about equal to the cheapest undiscounted seats at McCaw Hall). The small orchestra performed on the floor adjacent to the stage. Interviews with people who experienced the Japanese incarceration played on screens mounted above the stage before the music began. The sets were extremely simple and evocative – like what you would expect from a community theater performance – just a few pieces of household furniture and a chain link fence.

Hae Ji Chang (Setsuko Kobayashi) in Seattle Opera’s world premiere of An American Dream. © Elise Bakketu c/o Seattle Opera

But the story is straightforward and powerful. It follows the lives of two young American women through WWII. They are united by their shared love for a Puget Sound farm and their parallel experiences of family disruption. But they are divided by their different treatment based on identity. Setsuko is the daughter of a Japanese family whose American-born father is arrested at the beginning of the war for possession of dynamite and forced to sell the family farm at one third its value. She and her issei mother are incarcerated at Camp Harmony for the duration of the war. Eva is the German-born wife of an American man. They spend the last of their savings on the farm so they would have enough room to house her Jewish parents when – if – they get out of Germany. Although she is tortured by worry about her missing parents, Eva and Jim prosper during the war years.

D’Ana Lombard (Eva Crowley) in Seattle Opera’s world premiere of An American Dream. © Elise Bakketun c/o Seattle Opera

The opera does such a good job of showing the historically accurate injustices faced by Setsuko’s family without feeling didactic – everything is presented as fact without judgement or forgiveness. All the characters are three dimensional; Setsuko grows from a frightened child to a young woman who confronts her oppressors; Eva eventually becomes aware of the way her own happiness is built on the despair of another and sees the similarities between herself and Setsuko; even the primary antagonist, Jim, who justifies the racism he benefits from and knowingly rips off Setsuko’s father, is motivated by a desire to protect his wife Eva. With every seat so close to the stage, the singers’ acting ability became much more evident than in a usual opera performance, because you could see every small gesture and facial expression.

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American Dream inverts the usual opera experience, and yet, if I’d dragged along a non-opera friend, I could have honestly told them that it was a fair introduction to opera. The music, although simpler than a lot of older classical music and performed by a much smaller orchestra, was beautiful. Although some performers (like Setsuko’s soprano Yeonji Lee, and Papa’s bass-baritone Ao Li, both of whom I would like to see more of) were unfamiliar, Seattle Opera regulars filled other roles: Jim’s baritone, Ryan Bede, was last heard as the scorned Japanese suitor Prince Yamadori in Madame Butterfly.

I love that Seattle Opera is taking such an active role in generating and guiding the cultural conversation, creating not just the works that viewers will discuss, but also an outline for the progression of ideas examined over the course of the season. That the ideas they are encouraging are about inclusion and equality is doubly appreciated. Art for art’s sake certainly has its place. But art for everyone’s sake is so much better.

 

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