Arts & Entertainment
A spellbinding priestess
Angela Meade’s ‘Norma’ proves she’s up to the task

Rising operatic star Angela Meade takes on the titular role of Vincenzo Bellini’s operatic masterpiece ‘Norma.’ (Photo by Scott Suchman)
‘Norma’
Until March 24
Kennedy Center Opera House
2700 F St., NW
Tickets: $25-$300
202-467-4600
kennedy-center.org
As Angela Meade, star of Washington National Opera’s new production of “Norma,” stepped onstage Saturday night, a palpable tension hovered over the opera house. The Druid high priestess is the role of a lifetime, and Meade was standing in the historic shadow of the greats who made this character their own — Maria Callas and Joan Sutherland spring most readily to mind. Yet from Meade’s first commanding lines to a ravishing pianissimo, she quickly demonstrated that this was to be a night to remember.
DC Theater audiences are the first to see Meade in a full production of the opera, and while one can make minor quibbles (coloratura could be more fluid, a little more vocal fire would have been nice and that pianissimo was a touch overused), she just might become the next great Norma. Her acting skills, both vocal and physical, drew the audience into rapture during the most intimate moments, whether contemplating killing her own children or taking to the pyre in an act of defiant truth.
The rising star soprano was well served by an impactful production created by theater and opera director Anne Bogart (a lesbian). A raked stage was flanked by two structures — one the organic wooden temple of the Druid priestesses and the other the cold, patriarchal fortress of the invading Romans. Between them was a sunken circle, a sacred ground invoked by Norma and others as sanctuary and emotional crucible.
Norma ends up in a complicated love triangle with the Roman general Pollione (Puerto Rican tenor Rafael Davila) and a lower-level acolyte Adalgisa (legendary American mezzo-soprano Dolora Zajick). The 60-year-old Zajick confidently commanded the dramatic and vocal line of the unwitting rival, and she let fly a few delicate high notes that one didn’t think possible for a mezzo. Some of the compositional peaks of the opera include two duets for the women, whose voices were a perfect blend, alternately evoking gentle ripples of water and torrents of emotional heartbreak.
Although “Norma” relies ultimately on its women, the men are represented strongly in two principal roles and a chorus of Druid warriors (well sung by the WNO chorus). Norma’s father and chief priest Oroveso, as sung by Russian bass Dmitry Belosselskiy, was an austerely commanding presence with a deeply resonant bass possessed of heroic overtones. His spear-shaking rage, however, was touchingly softened at the opera’s end upon hearing the pleas of his ruined daughter. Belosselskiy’s acting here was none of the fist-biting nonsense that has become the stuff of opera parody; he was a man broken open by unforeseen circumstances.
The frat-boy Pollione is no easy sell, and while Davila bestowed the fickle general with human complexity, he came up short shrift vocally. Phrasing was splendidly Italianate, but his tone sounded congested, with top notes muddled as if he were singing under water. Part of what elevates the end of act one into a heart-throbbing climax is a heroic tenor who rails against Norma, yet here, he was just a whiney schoolboy.
Twenty-nine year-old Italian conductor Daniele Rustioni made his WNO debut on Saturday night and his was an exciting reading of a score many consider moldering. From the first notes, he firmly established the tension of the evening to come and the frenetic emotions of its leading characters were often reflected in the quick and crisp tempos of the orchestra. The players sounded spot-on, with a perfect balance amongst themselves and with the singers. As with Meade, Rustioni glossed over some elements that will probably iron themselves out with the passage of time (certain dramatic moments ask for a longer hold, drawing out the pathos of a confession or desperate entreaty).
The greatest benchmark for any performing artist’s work is when the piece itself becomes exalted and with this production of “Norma,” Bellini’s masterwork soared high on a wave of well-deserved adulation. One hopes that under the new artistic directorship of Francesca Zambello (who stood at the doors of the opera house on Saturday night graciously welcoming patrons) next season promises similarly thrilling nights at the opera.
Theater
José Zayas brings ‘The House of Bernarda Alba’ to GALA Hispanic Theatre
Gay Spanish playwright Federico García Lorca wrote masterpiece before 1936 execution
‘The House of Bernarda Alba’
Through March 1
GALA Hispanic Theatre
3333 14th St., N.W.
$27-$52
Galatheatre.org
In Federico García Lorca’s “The House of Bernarda Alba,” now at GALA Hispanic Theatre in Columbia Heights, an impossibly oppressive domestic situation serves, in short, as an allegory for the repressive, patriarchal, and fascist atmosphere of 1930s Spain
The gay playwright completed his final and arguably best work in 1936, just months before he was executed by a right-wing firing squad. “Bernarda Alba” is set in the same year, sometime during a hot summer in rural Andalusia, the heart of “España profunda” (the deep Spain), where traditions are deeply rooted and mores seldom challenged.
At Bernarda’s house, the atmosphere, already stifling, is about to get worse.
On the day of her second husband’s funeral, Bernarda Alba (superbly played by Luz Nicolás), a sixtyish woman accustomed to calling the shots, gathers her five unmarried daughters (ages ranging from 20 to 39) and matter-of-factly explain what’s to happen next.
She says, “Through the eight years of mourning not a breeze shall enter this house. Consider the doors and windows as sealed with bricks. That’s how it was in my father’s house and my grandfather’s. Meanwhile, you can embroider your trousseaux.”
It’s not an altogether sunny plan. While Angustias (María del Mar Rodríguez), Bernarda’s daughter from her first marriage and heiress to a fortune, is betrothed to a much younger catch, Pepe el Romano, who never appears on stage, the remaining four stand little chance of finding suitable matches. Not only are they dowry-less, but no men, eligible or otherwise, are admitted into their mother’s house.
Lorca is a literary hero known for his mastery of both lyrical poetry and visceral drama; still, “Bernarda Alba’s” plotline might suit a telenovela. Despotic mother heads a house of adult daughters. Said daughters are churning with passions and jealousies. When sneaky Martirio (Giselle Gonzáles) steals the photo of Angustias’s fiancé all heck kicks off. Lots of infighting and high drama ensue. There’s even a batty grandmother (Alicia Kaplan) in the wings for bleak comic relief.
At GALA, the modern classic is lovingly staged by José Zayas. The New York-based out director has assembled a committed cast and creative team who’ve manifested an extraordinarily timely 90-minute production performed in Spanish with English subtitles easily ready seen on multiple screens.
In Lorca’s stage directions, he describes the set as an inner room in Bernarda’s house; it’s bright white with thick walls. At GALA, scenic designer Grisele Gonzáles continues the one-color theme with bright red walls and floor and closed doors. There are no props.
In the airless room, women sit on straight back chairs sewing. They think of men, still. Two are fixated on their oldest siter’s hunky betrothed. Only Magdelena (Anna Malavé), the one sister who truly mourns their dead father, has given up on marriage entirely.
The severity of the place is alleviated by men’s distant voices, Koki Lortkipanidze’s original music, movement (stir crazy sisters scratching walls), and even a precisely executed beatdown choreographed by Lorraine Ressegger-Slone.
In a short yet telling scene, Bernarda’s youngest daughter Adela (María Coral) proves she will serve as the rebellion to Bernarda’s dictatorship. Reluctant to mourn, Adela admires her reflection. She has traded her black togs for a seafoam green party dress. It’s a dreamily lit moment (compliments of lighting designer Hailey Laroe.)
But there’s no mistaking who’s in charge. Dressed in unflattering widow weeds, her face locked in a disapproving sneer, Bernarda rules with an iron fist; and despite ramrod posture, she uses a cane (though mostly as a weapon during one of her frequent rages.)
Bernarda’s countenance softens only when sharing a bit of gossip with Poncia, her longtime servant convincingly played by Evelyn Rosario Vega.
Nicolás has appeared in “Bernarda Alba” before, first as daughter Martirio in Madrid, and recently as the mother in an English language production at Carnegie Melon University in Pittsburgh. And now in D.C. where her Bernarda is dictatorial, prone to violence, and scarily pro-patriarchy.
Words and phrases echo throughout Lorca’s play, all likely to signal a tightening oppression: “mourning,” “my house,” “honor,” and finally “silence.”
As a queer artist sympathetic to left wing causes, Lorca knew of what he wrote. He understood the provinces, the dangers of tyranny, and the dimming of democracy. Early in Spain’s Civil War, Lorca was dragged to the the woods and murdered by Franco’s thugs. Presumably buried in a mass grave, his remains have never been found.
Cupid’s Undie Run, an annual fundraiser for neurofibromatosis (NF) research, was held at Union Stage and at The Wharf DC on Saturday, Feb. 21.
(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)













Sweat DC is officially expanding to Shaw, opening a new location at 1818 7th St., N.W., on Saturday, March 28 — and they’re kicking things off with a high-energy, community-first launch event.
To celebrate, Sweat DC is hosting Sweat Fest, a free community workout and social on Saturday, March 14, at 10 a.m. at the historic Howard Theatre. The event features a group fitness class, live DJ, local food and wellness partners, and a mission-driven partnership with the Open Goal Project, which works to expand access to youth soccer for players from marginalized communities.
For more details, visit Sweat DC’s website and reserve a spot on Eventbrite.
