United States Osvaldo Golijov, Ainadamar: Soloists, Chorus and Orchestra of LA Opera / Lina González-Granados (conductor). Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, Los Angeles, 26.4.2025. (JRo)
The tragedy of Federico García Lorca’s execution, as glimpsed through the eyes of the Catalan actress Margarita Xirgu, his friend and muse, is the tragedy of Spain under fascism. In Osvaldo Golijov’s opera, Ainadamar (Fountain of Tears), music, dance, theatre and visual art create a visceral experience of the nobility of struggle under tyranny. With a libretto by David Henry Hwang, the opera, though without a traditional narrative, is a gripping exploration in a concise eighty minutes of the power of art to bind a culture. The fascist Ramón Ruiz Alonso, in a moment of startling clarity, wails that Lorca has done more damage with his pen than many others have with their weapons.
Ainadamar is a vivid collage of Lorca’s life and death as seen by Margarita Xirgu, who was the star of the poet’s play Mariana Pineda. Now elderly, she recounts her relationship with Lorca to her student, Nuria. The fact that Xirgu couldn’t convince him to flee with her from Spain at the beginning of the Civil War torments her. She has kept his legacy alive, but his murder haunts her to the end of her life.
The score is one of sweeping beauty – a mélange of musical styles and electronic sound. Sometimes harsh, sometimes lyrical, Golijov is a master of mining world music to create a unique musical landscape – in this case the landscape of Andalusia. Not only does he use the cante jondo (deep song), flamenco guitar and cajón (percussion instrument) of Andalusia with its hybrid influences of Arab, Jewish, Christian and Romany music, but he also incorporates sacred, folk, klezmer, Arabic, rhumba, mariachi trumpets and electronic music into the body of the score.
Musique concrète – recorded sounds culled from nature – abounds: horses’ hooves, gunshots, casings falling and water drops to name a few. Golijov is like a painter overlaying colors and textures onto a surface to create deep shades of meaning.
Conductor Lina González-Granados and the LA Opera Orchestra deftly melded traditional orchestral music with the complex elements of the percussive score. Besides electronic sounds, there were flamenco instruments in the pit along with stamping feet on the stage in an explosion of flamenco footwork, the rhythmic snapping of fans opening and closing and beating against hips, and ten-foot poles wielded by cast members who whacked them against the floor. The fact that, for the most part, the balance was flawless and the singers onstage were clearly heard was a staggering feat.
Ana María Martínez never disappoints, no matter the role. As Xirgu, she was a beacon of humanity and honor in the face of injustice. Her expressive soprano was remarkably at home in the lower range (she sang Carmen here in 2017) as well as agile in high tessitura, from the deep and sultry ‘Mariana, tus ojos’ to the heights of Act III’s ‘Balada’. As in Carmen, she carried off the flamenco movements with flair and commitment.
Daniela Mack was convincing as Lorca, moving in the aria ‘Desde mi ventana’ when she sang of the statue of Mariana Pineda – a nineteenth-century revolutionary. Lorca could see the statue from his window, and it felt alive to him, inspiring him to write his first play. Mack and Martínez were in perfect harmony as poet and muse.
As Nuria, Vanessa Becerra projected the sincerity of an acolyte with her warm soprano and quiet presence. The flamenco tenor Ramón Ruiz Alonso catapulted the opera into another dimension. It was a hypnotic and visceral performance and a brilliant addition to the opera. In the role of the priest who gives comfort to the bullfighter and teacher who are executed alongside Lorca, Vinícius Costa was a grave presence, as were the doomed trio. It was a stirring moment in the opera. In all their scenes, the chorus, under the direction of Jeremy Frank, was fierce and resplendent.
One of the stars of the evening was the production itself, directed by Deborah Colker with an extraordinary set designed by Jon Bausor. Colker, a choreographer, enlisted singers who could dance and dancers who could sing. With the addition of flamenco choreography by Antonio Najarro and the dancing of the powerful Isaac Tovar, the opera plunged into the vivid atmosphere of Granada.
The set, a ceiling to floor circular curtain made of what appeared to be strands of latex, allowed for a multitude of set changes. At times, video designed by Tal Rosner was projected onto the strands. The illusive images floated in and out of view in a kind of memory parade. There were faces, water drops signifying the fountain of tears and the words to Lorca’s poems quivering on the strands. Tables and chairs, columns and platforms sometimes entered the encircling space. The result was often reminiscent of a Russian Constructivist sculpture as tables were overturned and poles landed at odd angles to the rectangles of the tables. Lighting was key and beautifully conceived by Paul Keogan.
With a contemporary, yet accessible score, a poetic libretto, committed performances and a set of haunting beauty, this production bears seeing again and again. It will certainly linger in my memory for a long time to come.
Jane Rosenberg
Production:
Libretto – David Henry Hwang (translated into Spanish by the composer)
Director – Deborah Colker
Sets and Costumes – Jon Bausor
Lighting – Paul Keogan
Videos – Tal Rosner
Sound – Mark Grey
Flamenco choreography – Antonio Najarro
Chorus director – Jeremy Frank
Cast:
Margarita Xirgu – Ana María Martínez
Federico García Lorca – Daniela Mack
Nuria – Vanessa Becerra
Ramón Ruiz Alonso – Alfredo Tejada
Voices of the Fountain – Gabrielle Turgeon and Abi Levis
Teacher – Hyungjin Son
Bullfighter – Nathan Bowles
José Tripaldi – Vinícius Costa