Scott Wheeler: Naga
New World Records

Premiered in Boston in 2016, Naga, the fourth opera by Scott Wheeler (b. 1952), constitutes the opening chapter in The Ouroboros Trilogy, with the other operas composed by Zhou Long and Paolo Prestini, respectively; common to all three are librettos by Cerise Lim Jacobs and, naturally, the ouroboros—symbolizing eternal renewal, the serpent famously devours its own tail—at the project's core. As the photos adorning the release's covers show, the live presentation of Wheeler's two-act opus offers an imaginative treatment that well-matches the fantastical nature of the story. The narrative possesses a fairy tale-like quality, and it makes sense for Larry Wolff to invoke Mozart's The Magic Flute as a point of reference in his liner notes. On mise-en-scène grounds alone, Naga warrants attention. Yet as visually stunning and rich in incident as it is, the opera is ultimately a love story at its core.

In its simplest form, Naga recounts the saga of a young Buddhist Monk who abandons wife and home to seek spiritual enlightenment under the guidance of a Buddhist master, only to find himself tempted to abandon his goal upon meeting two snakes—the “naga” of the title—representing Hindu and Buddhist serpentine deities. In addition to that Mozart connection, one might add the story of Siddhartha—another familiar story about a restless soul embarking on a spiritual quest—and The Bible (appearing early in Naga are the words, “In the beginning God said, …”); Wheeler's score isn't hermetic either: Wolff cites Virgil Thomson, Barber, Britten, and Bernstein as figures with whom Wheeler shares musical language, and at least one episode arises that could pass for a nod to Adams' Nixon in China (the Monk spitting out “Even the rats are skin and bones, even the rats, even the rats …”). Stylistically, the material cuts a wide swath but does so in a manner consistent with the narrative in its unfolding. As aggressive declamations and peaceful passages alternate with passionate outpourings, Wheeler augments the orchestra's strings, horns, and woodwinds with harp, English horn, electric guitar, and percussion (timpani, vibraphone, glockenspiel, rain stick, maracas, tam-tam, log drums, anvil, etc.).

The opera's creators benefit mightily from those who brought it to life, in particular conductor Carolyn Kuan, the White Snake Projects Orchestra, a double chorus of adults and children (the White Snake Projects Chorus and Boston Children's Chorus), and, critically, the five vocal soloists: countertenor Anthony Roth Costanzo (Xiao Qing/Green Snake), bass David Salsbery Fry (Master/Abbot), soprano Stacey Tappan (Madame White Snake), baritone Matthew Worth (Young Monk), and mezzo-soprano Sandra piques Eddy (Young Wife). Special mention must be made of Costanzo and Tappan, who elevate the opera with voluptuous singing. Their open-hearted expressiveness gives Naga the emotional resonance one associates with Verdi and Puccini, and though Wheeler's might seem to have little in common with their operas, Naga is in places as passionate as an Italian opera. As Wolff astutely notes, the narrative is driven by the fact that “the White Snake is desperately in love with the monk, while the Green Snake is protectively in love with the White Snake and therefore suffering both jealousy and sympathy while witnessing her passion.” It's these emotional entanglements that emerge in the vocalists' singing, with Tappan blazing a trail at the top of the soprano range and Costanzo singing in the upper range too.

In the Prelude, instruments such as electric guitar, English horn, rain stick, alto saxophone, harp, and anvil establish the opera's distinctive sound-world before the chorus enters and a child's voice utters, “I am the Sata snake, I am reborn.” In recounting some of the ways the snake has been regarded in history and myth, as an entity both loathed and revered, the opera's opening sets the scene for the multi-dimensionality the two snakes embody as the narrative develops. The opulence of the prelude carries over into the first act, which begins with the Buddhist monk informing his wife of departure. As it does throughout the opera, Wheeler fashions the musical material to mirror the emotions in play, with in this case the couple's anguished outpourings about love and separation reflected in music as rich. The subsequent aria marking Tappan's first appearance offers a spectacular first sampling of her artistry, with that extended spotlight followed by a beautiful duet between the two snakes, Costanzo's first appearance likewise memorable. Numerous narrative twists and turns ensue, until the act concludes with a magnificent finale featuring stirring vocal polyphony by Tappan, Costanzo, Worth, and the Children's Chorus, and the soprano's “You could never love me so” and “I shall stroke your dear sweet face” touching in the extreme.

The shorter second act isn't lacking for memorable moments either. Similar to the extended turn by Tappan in the first act, Costanzo has his own early in the second and maximizes the opportunity with the intense ache of lines such as “I will sit and dream, of you my queen, of the day you'll reach for me …”; Fry likewise makes the most of his spotlight as he sings movingly about human suffering (“After one thousand years of searching / I have not found the cure for the soul's diseases”). Worth and Tappan deliver a rapturous duet at the act's centre where he recognizes her as the answer to his prayers (“A fellow seeker, a soul mate of rarified beauty … Your glow illuminates me”), before the opera culminates in a glorious finale involving the Monk saving Madame White Snake from intended sacrifice by the knife-wielding Master.

June 2021