Could it be that Carlisle Floyd, widely heralded as America’s Puccini, is a bit of a prude? Evidence was mixed last week as Opera Carolina presented the Southeastern premiere of Floyd’s newest piece, Cold Sassy Tree.When it came to skewering the hidebound religious rectitude of the sleepy Georgia burg at the turn of the 20th century, Floyd turned up the heat with gusto in his libretto. In adapting novelist Olive Ann Burns’ 1984 bestseller, Floyd takes the affectionate barbs hurled at the town’s upright gossip mongers and sharpens their sting — adding a sprinkling of nitro for good measure.
Rucker Lattimore, the hero of Floyd’s opera, is more of a crusader than Burns’ Rucker Blakeslee when he preaches at his home after his scandalously young bride, Love Simpson, is spurned by local Baptists. He rails against religious zeal and repressive zealots, championing the notion that God’s will for humanity is expressed in the senses and the heart — and for us to stifle them is a mockery of our Creator.
When Love confesses that she was defiled as a young girl, Rucker affirms her purity. And when the May-December romance ends in abrupt tragedy, Rucker decrees a funeral party, to be held two weeks after his burial in the Cold Sassy town square — so his “colored friends” can take part in the celebration.
But in the romantic clinches, Floyd tends to tone things down in his libretto. That rapist is no longer Love’s drunken father; it’s a boarding house neighbor. Rucker still confesses that he adored Love from the moment he saw her at his general store — before he became a widower. But now he professes to have buried those adulterous feelings deep down until after Miss Love agreed to a marriage of convenience and came to live with him.
These discreet retreats wouldn’t be so devastating if Floyd supplied compensating lyricism in the couple’s words and music. Doesn’t happen. There’s no undertone of yearning when Rucker proposes his “business arrangement” to Miss Love just three weeks after his previous wife’s death. Nor does Floyd go the other way and try to mine the comedy.
In the climactic scene where the newlyweds exchange their confessions, Rucker’s aria could be so much more tortured and textured if Floyd had followed Burns’ blueprint. And why have Love yield so quickly to Rucker’s desires if the lovebirds aren’t going to impulsively pour out their souls in an ecstatic duet proclaiming their everlasting mutual devotion? This is supposed to be opera, for chrissake! Instead, after barely five lines of recitative, Floyd brings down the Act 2 curtain with Rucker leading Love to his bedroom.
Admirers of the real Puccini could only stare in befuddled amazement as all this repressed yearning and joy were frittered away after being built up for two hours. When physical attraction finally ignites, Floyd’s Cold Sassy Tree was more like Jane Austen than grand opera.
Cold Sassy Tree has too many attractions for such harsh judgment. The consortium of five opera companies that co-commissioned the new work (including the Houston Grand, where the work premiered in 2000) can be proud of Michael Yeargan’s designs for sets and costumes. Opera Carolina can also be proud of Michael Baumgarten’s lighting design for Belk Theater and the work of chorus master Mark Tysinger.
Locals who have sung in past OC offerings outdid themselves in supporting roles, measuring up to the higher-priced imports singing the leads. While stage direction from Garnett Bruce and Ellen Douglas Schlaefer was less than inspired in the key crowd scenes, acting was notably solid among all the significant players.
Carrying the meatiest role — and the tastiest music — baritone Dean Peterson delivered a beautiful and rounded rendition of Rucker. The stately beauty of Peterson’s tone ennobled Rucker’s exhortations to live life fully, elevating his makeshift sermonizing to an inspirational summit. Having originated the role in Houston, Peterson now owns it, injecting his own nuances even where the writing falters.
Throughout the evening, we see Rucker’s grandson, Will Tweedy, both as our narrator and as the family member most sympathetic to his grandpa’s needs. More believable as the 25-year-old narrator than as grandpa’s favorite 15-year-old, tenor John McVeigh was impressive in his Charlotte debut, shining brightest when bewailing grandpa’s death — in some of Floyd’s best music.
The two sopranos weren’t as fortunate. Marie Plette, perhaps overmatched by the Charlotte Symphony under Karen Keltner’s baton, screeched too often to leave an agreeable aftertaste as Love. Likewise, Margaret Lloyd as Will’s milltown girlfriend, Lightfoot McClendon, fell far short of the clat she created last year as Sophie in Der Rosenkavalier.
Ironically, the South Carolina native is more successful when he dabbles in comedy. The composer’s most hilarious creation occurs when Love returns from a buying trip in Atlanta. Rucker, having installed lights and indoor plumbing during his new bride’s absence, serenades her homecoming by turning on the lights, the faucets, and then triumphantly flushing the new toilet.
If Floyd would cast his eye upon all the pettiness, ignorance, and prejudice walking the streets of Cold Sassy — or hand the job over to a better librettist — he might find the inspiration for more extended flights of comical music.
Then after rendering a more flamboyant portrait of smalltown hypocrisy, Rucker, Love, Will, and Lightfoot might be able to grow more passionate in their advocacy of unconditional acceptance. Better still, the couples might grow more passionate about each other.
Over at Pease Auditorium, CP’s recent revival of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s State Fair was a pleasing overachievement. Sets by Scenographics and James Duke were better than most of CP’s vaunted summer productions, and choreographer Ron Chisholm had his community players hoofing more stylishly than the touring paean to Iowa pork starring John Davidson.No, there weren’t any Broadway-sized voices on display. But Lynne Morris was sheer delight as the fretful Mama Frake. And when action shifted from the Frake farmstead to the Iowa Fair, little Emily Johnson dropped in as the Des Moines police chief’s precocious daughter. The star of last summer’s Annie Jr. proceeded to steal a couple of scenes. Best of the guys was John Retsios as the slickster reporter who captures Margy Frake’s heart. Cindy Barringer made her worth the effort.
This article appears in Feb 26 – Mar 4, 2003.
