Arts & Events

Fifteen years after its première at San Francisco Opera, Jake Heggie’s Dead Man Walking returned to the city in a scaled-down production launched by Opera Parallèle, an organization that specializes in offering new or infrequently performed operas in small-scale productions that are more affordable than the grandiose stagings often encountered in major opera houses here and abroad. Opera Par-allèle’s Artistic Director, Nicole Paiment, who conducted the three performances at Yerba Buena Center on Friday-Sunday, February 20-22, worked closely with composer Jake Heggie to re-orchestrate Dead Man Walking for a smaller orchestra than when it was first performed.  

Although I missed Dead Man Walking at its San Francisco Opera première in 2000, I am happy to report that the scaled-down version works admirably well, creating an intimate drama that focuses on the inner thoughts and feelings of its protagonists. As most readers know, Jake Heggie’s opera, with a libretto by Ter-rence McNally, is based on Sister Helen Prejean’s landmark book Dead Man Walking: An Eyewitness Account of the Death Penalty in the United States, published in 1993. This book also served as the basis of Tim Robbins’ 1995 movie of the same title, starring Susan Sarandon as Sister Helen Prejean and Sean Penn as Death Row convict Joseph De Rocher. 

For Opera Parallèle’s performances, stage director Brian Staufenbiel created a spare set augmented with video projection. During the opera’s brief instrumental Prologue, the scene of the crime—a rape and double murder on the shores of a forested lake—is projected. Onstage, in front of this backdrop, a teenage girl and boy undress, get naked, and start to make love, only to be attacked by one man, at least, who has been hiding in the bushes. A fight ensues. The boy is knocked down. The attacker mounts the girl and begins to rape her. A shot is heard. Who fired it is unknown. But it is all too clear that the man we see raping the girl kills her by stabbing her repeatedly with a knife.  

Incidentally, it is never made clear who killed the boy; and the Prologue’s visualization of the crime only adds to the confusion when, at the opera’s end, Joseph De Rocher seems to confess to killing both the girl and the boy, whereas we have only seen him kill the girl. Moreover, by visualizing the crime this way at the outset, one whole level of suspense is eliminated, for when Sister Helen Prejean initially heard Joseph De Rocher’s adamant insistence he was innocent, she must have at least considered the possibility he was wrongly convicted of a crime or crimes he didn’t commit. 

As Act I gets underway, Sister Helen Prejean, sung by mezzo-soprano Jennifer Rivera, leads the children of Hope House in a hymn, which her high spirits turn into a spontaneous dance. The music here is idiomatically American and folksy. As the children leave, Sister Helen tells Sister Rose she has been corresponding with a Death Row convict who asks her to visit him in Louisiana’s infamous Angola Prison. Sister Rose, beautifully sung by full-throated soprano Talise Trevigne, cautions Sister Helen; but Helen has decided to go. The next scene depicts Sister Helen driving to the prison. This is indicated by a video projection of a highway’s center line as seen from a speeding car, while Sister Helen simply sits in a chair at center stage. However, in a questionable move, director Staufenbiel has the till now anon-ymous murdered girl and boy sit in chairs behind Sister Helen. Since we haven’t seen their faces during the Prologue, we don’t know at first who these people are who sit behind Sister Helen as if they’re riding in the car with her. It’s confusing; and the confusion continues as these ghostly apparitions reappear throughout the opera. 

When Sister Helen arrives at Angola Prison, she is met by the chaplain, Father Grenville, sung by tenor John Duykers. He sternly advises Helen not to have anything to do with Joseph De Rocher, whom he describes as beyond reach. She takes an instant dislike to Father Grenville and insists it is her duty to attempt to help this convict. She then meets the warden, George Benton, ably sung by bass-baritone Philip Skinner, who warns her that De Rocher may ask her to be his spiritual advisor and accompany him to his execution. He asks if she will have the fortitude to do this. Sister Helen admits she doesn’t know.  

When she at last meets De Rocher, robustly sung by baritone Michael Mayes, things get off to a rough start. He declares his innocence, stating that his brother killed the two teenagers and got off easy by hiring an expensive lawyer while Joseph, who couldn’t afford one, got Death Row. He is bitter and aggressive; but he asks Sister Helen to accompany his mother to the Pardon Board hearing. 

At this hearing, Mrs. De Rocher, sung by veteran mezzo-soprano Catherine Cook, emotionally pleads for her son’s life. Catherine Cook had a tall task in taking on this role, for in the San Francisco Opera première it was memorably sung by Frederica von Stade. Without having seen Frederica von Stade in this role, I cannot imagine her as being anywhere near as believable as was Catherine Cook. In fact, the very refinement of von Stade’s voice and her aristocratic demeanor would seem to work against her in this role of a lower class mother from rural Louisiana. By contrast, Catherine Cook’s dowdy demeanor and rough-hewn voice fit the role perfectly. Her moving testimony as a Death Row convict’s mother was a highlight of this production of the opera. At this hearing, however, the pardon request is denied. 

In subsequent meetings with Joseph, Sister Helen urges him to confess to the crimes he has committed. Joseph remains adamant he is innocent. In the role of Joseph, Michael Mayes is utterly convincing, alternately pugnacious and fearful, yet singing always with full-throated conviction. There follows a scene, the last of Act I, which I find a bit pretentious. In this scene, Sister Helen begins to hear voices in her head—the angry parents of the dead teenagers, De Rocher calling for help, his mother pleading for her son’s life, and even the voices of her fellow nuns who are concerned about the emotional toll this is taking on Sister Helen. Conductor Nicole Paiement ratcheted up the orchestral volume in this bombastic music, bringing this scene to a fever pitch, until the warden tells Sister Helen that the Governor has refused to intervene to stay the execution. Sister Helen falls to the floor in a faint. 

Aftter intermission, the inner drama of both Joseph De Rocher and Sister Helen is foregrounded. Joseph is told the date of his scheduled execution and angrily contemplates his fate. Sister Helen, back at Hope House, awakens from a terrifying dream and is comforted by Sister Rose, ardently sung by soprano Talise Travigne, from whom we hope to hear more locally. Next comes a scene at the prison where Joseph learns that he shares with Sister Helen a love of Elvis Presley. In this scene, Jennifer Rivera as Sister Helen is both amusing and utterly convincing as she does a nerdy dance imitating Elvis’s famous hip-swinging moves. Sister Helen renews in vain her urging of Joseph to confess.  

There follows a moving scene in which Joseph’s mother and two younger brothers visit Joseph for the last time before his execution. Particularly wrenching are Joseph’s halting attempts to apologize to his mother and confess his guilt, coupled with her repeated refusals to hear his confession. To her, he is and always will be innocent, her little son Joey. Next comes a scene outside the Death House where Sister Helen again encounters the anger of the teenaged victims’ parents. Only the girl’s father, ably sung by baritone Robert Orth, who created this role, now admits to having some doubts about the case against Joseph.  

In one final meeting with Joseph, Sister Helen elicits from him the full story of the crime. After confessing to her, he expects Sister Helen to hate him. Instead, she forgives him, saying we all make mistakes, even grievous mistakes; but that does not make us any the less God’s children. She promises to be there with Joseph when he is executed. Hers, she says, will be the face of love. 

The opera’s final scene is in the Execution Chamber. Sister Helen expresses her love for Joseph and he responds that he loves her too. The warden asks if Joseph has any last words. Joseph asks forgiveness for his crime from the parents of the murdered teenagers. The execution proceeds, with Sister Helen looking on. Also looking on are the ghostly murdered teenagers. The ghostly girl even bends down to kiss Joseph farewell as the lethal injection courses through his veins. 

With women worldwide beginning to speak out openly and assertively against the men who violently abuse and rape them, I find this “love even thy rapist and murderer” portrayal a bit much. Likewise, I have to remark that it seems odd— and politically incorrect—to have nearly all sixteen of the convicts on Death Row at Angola Penitentiary in Louisiana—with possibly one light-skinned mixed-race individual as an exception—portrayed as white males, when in reality they are overwhelmingly black African-Americans. Granted, this is an opera, not a documentary. But it seems a bit naïve—especially at a time when the disproportionate incarceration of African-Americans in the USA, especially on Death Row, is such a hotly contested issue—for Opera Parallèle to portray the inmates on Death Row as overwhelmingly white. With these few cavils about the staging, I found this Opera Parallèle production of Dead Man Walking an intensely captivating opera.