Opera report: Put the wine glasses down!

Noli me tangere (Touch Me Not) is Filipino composer Felipe Padilla de Leon's operatic treatment of the most important nineteenth-century novel to came out of the Philippines. The opera has its dramatic challenges (more on that later), but this weekend's production at the Strand Theatre flailed with directorial shortcomings. Let me set up a scene and present two possible treatments.

Our hero, let's call him Chris, has returned from seven years abroad and is about to be reunited with his beloved, let's call her Maria. Chris has a glass of wine with the Maria's father. The father drains his glass, hands the empty glass to Chris, and heads offstage to usher in his wife and daughter. The hero sips from his own glass while anticipating the reunion. Enter mother and Maria.

Treatment 1 – The mother sweeps over to Chris and, exchanging pleasantries, takes one glass from his hand. She goes to sip but finds the glass empty. She returns the glass to Chris, sweeps to his other side, takes the other glass, downs it, hands it back, says a few more pleasantries, and sweeps off. Chris raises the second glass (that he just saw the mother finish) to take a sip, and – huh – the glass is empty. He spends the next three minutes getting reacquainted with Maria while holding two empty glasses. Put the wine glasses down, you awkward schmuck!

Treatment 2 – The mother sweeps over to Chris and takes the empty glass from his hand. She sweeps to his other side and takes the other glass. After a few pleasantries, she exits with both glasses, draining the second one as she goes. Chris and Maria reunite unencumbered by stemware.

I think you can guess which treatment I endured on Sunday.

Beyond the director's blindness to the stage action, the work itself suffers from unchecked sprawl. In the second act the lovers must say their final goodbyes. As Chris departs, he is shot and killed. Maria collapses sobbing. Curtain down? No. A tertiary character follows with a mad scene. It would be an impressive standalone concert recital piece, evoking Lucia di Lammermoor with a flute shadowing the madwoman's vocal flights. But in this opera it is too much too late.

Curtain down? No. A boatman, who took a second bullet during Chris's departure, then follows with a death scene. I suppose the librettist was being loyal to the original novel, but a different composer, say Puccini, would have demanded more concision. He would have cut the entire subplot leading to the madwoman and given the death scene to Chris. Or better yet, Maria would take the second bullet, and she would have the death scene. Now that is an opera I could raise a glass to.