Arts & Events

Over the weekend of May 1-3, Opera Parallèle offered four performances at San Francisco’s Z Space of Tarik O’Regan’s Heart of Darkness, which premiered in 2011 at the Royal Opera, Covent Garden. Based on the novella by Joseph Conrad, this opera, like its source, explores the inner darkness at the heart of western man, especially when he is confronted, as in Central Africa, with another realm of darkness, namely, the teeming life of the jungle and its natives. Around this set of issues, composer Tarik O’Regan weaves a florid orchestral score, dominated by piano, celesta, harpsichord, organ, harp, and both an acoustic guitar and an electric bass guitar.  

In this Opera Parallèle production, the looming presence of the jungle is emphasized through color video projections of abstract swirling greens and yellows, based on illustrations by Matt Kish, as well as through dozens of imitation ivory tusks which line the theatre’s passageway into the auditorium and are piled up onstage or held aloft by the portion of the audience who are seated onstage. (Were these latter really audience members, and if so, why were they seated onstage; or were they choristers? In the darkness surrounding this production of Heart of Darkness, it was impossible to tell.) 

After a brief orchestral prelude led by conductor Nicole Paiement, the opera gets under way with Marlow aboard a boat anchored on the Thames in London. He begins to recount his adventures of many years earlier when he led an expedition on one of Central Africa’s great rivers (presumably, the Congo). The opera’s narrative shifts back and forth between these two time-periods in its opening minutes. Meanwhile, the only ‘action’ is the random taking off and putting on of Marlow’s long coat, which happens repeatedly. Why this is done is not at all clear. One would have to ask director Brian Staufenbiel; and I’m not sure he could give a satisfactory answer. Marlow is sung by tenor Isaiah Bell, who, at the outset, is asked to sing the words “A remarkable man” over and over, obsessively. That Marlow is referring to Kurtz becomes clear when Kurtz’s fiancée, sung by soprano Heidi Moss, begins a conversation with Marlow, the outcome of which only becomes clear at the end of this one-act opera. Following his brief, truncated conversation with Kurtz’s fiancée, Marlow resumes his reminiscences in speaking with the captain of the Thames boat, sung by tenor Daniel Cilli. Before embarking on his expedition to Central Africa, Marlow receives instructions from a secretary, sung by tenor Jonathan Smucker, and undergoes a perfunctory medical examination, which concludes with a warning from the doctor, sung by baritone Aleksey Bogdanov, that tropical heat can induce strange mental disorders.  

In Africa, Captain Marlow arrives at the Downriver Station where an accountant, sung by Michael Belle, mentions Kurtz in enigmatic terms. Next Marlow proceeds upriver to the Central Trading Station, where he learns a bit more about Kurtz, who is rumored to be on the brink of a mental breakdown. A Company Manager, sung by tenor Jonatham Smucker, joins Marlow for the final voyage upriver to Kurtz’s Inner Station. Meanwhile, however, Marlow and a boilermaker, sung by baritone Aleksey Bogdanov, await the arrival of a load of rivets needed to repair their boat. The rivets finally arrive, and the expedition proceeds upriver. Now the video projections include numerous eyes peering out from the thick jungle foliage along the banks of the great river. Suddenly, masks resembling African ritual objects appear amid the foliage; and soon arrows (laser- like bolts of light) fly across the stage backdrop. Marlow and his boat are attacked by unseen natives. Unlike in Conrad’s novella, no one here is killed or injured. 

A blast from the steamboat’s whistle causes the natives to flee in fear, and Marlow arrives at Kurtz’s Inner Station. The Manager hastily brings onboard Kurtz’s enormous hoard of ivory tusks. At last Kurtz, sung by bass-baritone Philip Skinner, appears, gaunt, ill, and crawling on all fours. He silently gives Marlow a letter, then sings the words, “I am glad” over and over, obsessively. A mysterious River Woman, sung by soprano Shawnette Sulker, sings a haunting, wailing lament. Video projections suggest she represents either a female fertility figure of the natives or a hyper-sexualized projection of Kurtz’s notions about the dark female fecundity of African women. Or perhaps both. 

At the Inner Station, alongside Kurtz is a European adventurer identified here as Harlequin, although in the Conrad novella he is called the Russian. Sung by tenor Thomas Glenn, Harlequin sings of his admiration and awe for the remarkable Kurtz, whom he has nursed through several serious bouts of illness. Harlequin also tells of Kurtz’s frequent mysterious disappearances into the interior, of his use of firepower and strange rites to appear before the natives as a godlike figure, and of his return to the Inner Station with huge loads of ivory. Kurtz himself deliriously rambles about his imperious plans to rule forever in this fiefdom he has carved out of the jungle. He dies muttering the famous words, “The horror! The horror!”  

The narrative now shifts back to London and the conversation between Marlow and Kurtz’s fiancée. Once again, it is stated that Kurtz was “a remarkable man.” Marlow gives her the letter entrusted to him by Kurtz. After reading the letter, Kurtz’s fiancée asks what were his final words. Marlow, unable to tell her the truth, says Kurtz’s last words were of her. She says, “I knew it,” and departs happy. Once more aboard the Thames boat, Marlow reflects on the “vast grave of unspeak-able secrets” in which he feels “buried.” Ultimately, he sings, “We live, as we dream, alone.”  

In the demanding role of Marlow, tenor Isaiah Bell was excellent. His character is onstage almost throughout the entire one-act opera; and as in Conrad’s novella, Marlow is the central figure, for what little information we get about the mysterious figure of Kurtz is processed through Marlow’s psyche. As for Kurtz’s “unspeakable rites,” about which so much literary criticism has speculated, they are here only hinted at enigmatically. On the question of Conrad’s depiction of the native Africans, Tarik O’Regan’s opera offers nothing, for, with one exception, we never encounter native Africans, who are depicted as mere eyes peering out of the jungle. The single exception is the mysterious River Woman, who is depicted in a video projection as a hyper-sexualized fertility fetish. Her wailing lament could be taken as either personal grief at her imminent loss of a sexual partner in Kurtz, or as the embodiment of her people’s grief at the imminent loss of a man, Kurtz, they believe is a god who is responsible for maintaining their prosperity. If one wishes to know why a great African writer considered Conrad’s The Heart of Darkness to be eminently racist, read Chinua Achebe’s powerful essay on this subject in his other-wise uneven book of essays, Hopes and Impediments.