Apocalyptic Adams

On my way to Beijing with the Cincinnati Pops, I stopped in San Francisco to see the world premiere production of "Doctor Atomic" by John Adams and Peter Sellars (who also directed) at San Francisco Opera, in the beautiful War Memorial Opera House on Sunday.

The doctor in question is J. Robert Oppenheimer, who with Edward Teller and other scientists in what was called the Manhattan Project, developed the atomic bomb. The setting is Los Alamos, New Mexico, which to this day still has eerie echoes of what occurred there in 1945, when the test with the code name "Trinity" took place.

"Doctor Atomic" is Adams' third opera, after his 1987 opera Nixon in China, which is coming to Cincinnati Opera in 2007, and The Death of Klinghoffer (1991). Musically it is his most sophisticated score, a swirling, churning, tumultuous canvas that finds inspiration in Stravinsky, Holst, Wagner and of course, the minimalist John Adams, who is, himself, an American icon.

(Adams, who lives in the Bay Area, delighted Sunday afternoon's packed house by appearing onstage for a bow.)

True, it's another entry into the category of opera "ripped from the headlines," but this one has resonance to those of us baby boomers who grew up in the Cold War era and were led to believe we were under imminent nuclear threat, as well as to everyone living in a post 9-11 world.

In one of the most chilling scenes, the bomb is hanging over a baby's crib (symbols abound here – life and death, frailty and power), and Teller (sung by Richard Paul Fink) postulates whether they might set off a chain reaction that will encircle the globe in a chain of fire.

Given that "Trinity" was the seed of the nuclear era, it's no surprise that the creators attempt to get into the minds and hearts of the characters, who grapple with the moral issues and potential consequences of their deeds. Oppenheimer, who is brilliantly portrayed by Canadian baritone Gerald Finley, dreams of falling into an abyss, and sings words of John Donne as he contemplates the bomb, "Batter my heart, three person'd God."

Sellars' poetic libretto has drawn upon texts including declassified government documents, Baudelaire, Muriel Rukeyser and the Bhagavad Gita. Some of Adams' most gorgeous music is found in a rapturous love scene for Oppenheimer's wife, Kitty, magnificently portrayed by Kristine Jepson. Later, she sings an soliloquy of intensely sweeping lyricism, showing her agony with a drink in her hand.

Indeed, the women of this opera are the voice of caution. A Navaho nursemaid sings a low wail to her charge as the test is about to unfold.

Yet, much of the opera is a waiting game – there are some moments that are static and sagging. Eric Owens, portraying Gen. Leslie Groves, commander of the Manhattan Project, frets a great deal about the weather and his ongoing problem with weight.

But there is also the chilling realization that few knew then about the medical consequences of fallout and radiation. In one scene that has a kind of black humor, Teller passes out suntan lotion just before the nuclear test, and instructs people to "pass it around."

The chorus, who are the workers of the Manhattan Project, sing Greek-chorus style, and a fantastic ballet corps echoes the action with all the energy of subatomic particles. (The choreography by Lucinda Childs, who has also collaborated with Cincinnati Opera, is scintillating.)

In the pit, Donald Runnicles led this amazing score that sparks, glints and dances with wonderful energy. When the test finally happens, the audience is surrounded by an unbearable shriek as the set – a silhouette of the Sangre de Christos Mountains – is bathed in red and we hear the sounds of a woman speaking in Japanese.

Watch for more in the Enquirer about this opera, when I discuss it with Cincinnati Opera artistic director Evans Mirageas, after the China tour!