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    Channeling the Pain of Chinese Immigrants, in Music and Verse

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    “Angel Island,” an oratorio by Huang Ruo, brings to life the stark poetry of Chinese detained on the California island in the first part of the 20th century.In “Angel Island,” a staged oratorio about the anguish and isolation of Chinese detainees at Angel Island Immigration Station in California, a choir recites a poem about tyranny and misfortune.“Like a stray dog forced into confinement, like a pig trapped in a bamboo cage, our spirits are lost in this wintry prison,” they sing in Chinese. “We are worse than horses and cattle. Our tears shed on an icy day.”The poem is one of more than 200 inscribed on barrack walls at Angel Island in San Francisco Bay, where hundreds of thousands of people, mostly from China and Japan, were questioned and held — sometimes for months or even years — as they sought entry to the United States in the first part of the 20th century. Their harrowing accounts form the emotional core of “Angel Island,” by the Chinese-born composer Huang Ruo, which has its New York premiere this month at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, in a staging that is part of the opera and theater festival Prototype.The production, directed by Matthew Ozawa and featuring the Del Sol Quartet and members of the Choir of Trinity Wall Street, shines light on life at Angel Island, the port of entry for many Asian immigrants from 1910 to 1940, whose punishing atmosphere stood in contrast to the more welcoming spirit of Ellis Island.Angel Island, in San Francisco Bay, in 1949.San Francisco Chronicle/Hearst Newspapers, via Getty ImagesOfficials examine Japanese immigrants on a ship at Angel Island in 1931.Corbis HistoricalThe oratorio also tackles the legacy of injustice and discrimination against people of Asian descent in America, weaving in historical events, including the 1871 massacre of Chinese residents in Los Angeles and the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, which banned the immigration of laborers from China.Huang described “Angel Island” as activist art, saying he wanted to “give people history that they didn’t learn in school.”“This is not just a Chinese American story,” he said. “This is an American story.”The oratorio, which premiered on Angel Island in 2021, comes to the stage at a time of heightened concern about the treatment of Asians and Asian Americans in the United States, following the wave of violence against people of Asian descent during the early years of the coronavirus pandemic.“Angel Island” hints at parallels between past and present — highlighting, for example, racist portrayals of Asians as carriers of disease in the late 1800s, a precursor to the pandemic’s xenophobia and the use of the “Chinese virus” label to describe Covid-19.In Ozawa’s staging, the dancer Jie-Hung Connie Shiau plays a modern-day woman who uncovers artifacts explaining her great-grandmother’s immigration to the United States. Through film and movement, she immerses herself in the world of her ancestors.The composer Huang Ruo at a recent rehearsal of “Angel Island.” “This is not just a Chinese American story,” he said. “This is an American story.”Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesOzawa, who is Japanese American, said that taking part in “Angel Island,” which features a largely Asian American cast and creative team, was difficult because of the rawness of the history. But the work could also be uplifting.“It’s painful to be reminded of racism and prejudice and exclusion, but simultaneously it is very cathartic to be open with it and to allow ourselves to feel what our ancestors have felt and know that we’re not alone,” he said. “We are actually part of a much larger story that is filled with hope, redemption and the power to change things.”Huang and the Del Sol Quartet, which is based in San Francisco, began working on “Angel Island” in 2017, when they received a $150,000 grant from the Hewlett Foundation to create an oratorio about the detainees. The immigrants, who came from China, Japan, India, Russia and elsewhere, faced overcrowded and unsanitary conditions at Angel Island. They were typically held for weeks or months, though some were detained for as long as two years. Ultimately, many were deported.Charlton Lee, a Chinese American violist in the quartet, had pitched the idea of an Angel Island project to Huang, who had previously collaborated with Del Sol, including on chamber performances of Huang’s music ahead of the American premiere of his first opera, “Dr. Sun Yat-sen,” in 2014. Lee, who had been impressed by Huang’s ability to set Chinese text to music, said he thought the history of Angel Island had been neglected.“We’re staring at Angel Island all the time — it’s in the middle of the bay — but people don’t know about the detention center,” he said. “They don’t know about the plight of these immigrants who were trying to come here, start a new life and were just stuck.”Members of the Choir of Trinity Wall Street rehearsing in Brooklyn.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesIn 2018, Huang and the quartet visited the island, now a state park. They examined the poems, written in classical Chinese, in which detainees described feelings of anger, fear and homesickness. They began to improvise inside the barracks, with members of the quartet accompanying Huang as he sang a melody in Chinese.“Being in that spot — it was haunting,” he said, “but it was also heartwarming to bring something alive back to a place that was so dead.”Huang selected a few poems to set to music: “The Seascape,” “When We Bade Farewell” and “Buried Beneath Clay and Earth.” He added in historical writings to be read aloud with accompaniment by the quartet. These included a discussion of the Los Angeles massacre in 1871, when a mob shot or hanged at least 18 Chinese residents; a list of questions used by American immigration officials in the late 1800s to assess whether Asian women were prostitutes; and an essay by Henry Josiah West from 1873 warning of a “Chinese invasion.”“The question” West wrote, “is shall we submit to the growth of this heathen Chinese Republic?”In 2021, after a yearlong delay caused by the pandemic, Huang and the Del Sol Quartet returned to Angel Island for the premiere.Lee said it was jarring to hear the music in the barracks, which he had seen as dark and foreboding.“It felt like the spirits were just coming out of the walls,” he said. “It’s almost like we performed some kind of ritual and all of a sudden these people who had suffered — they were able to smile.”Immigrants arriving at Angel Island’s quarantine station around 1911.Fotosearch/Getty ImagesSince then, “Angel Island” has been performed several more times, including in Berkeley, Calif., Washington and Singapore.Huang has recently expanded the piece, adding another poem, “The Ocean Encircles a Lone Peak,” and a movement about Fang Lang, a Chinese survivor of the Titanic shipwreck who was barred from entering the United States because of the Exclusion Act.The New York production is the first full staging of “Angel Island.” Dancers are featured throughout, and film plays an important role, with historical footage and videos of Angel Island, shot by Bill Morrison, projected on screens. Choir members mimic carving Chinese characters and poems.“This is really the manifestation of a community,” Ozawa said. “You want the audience fully immersed and to experience a sense of hypnotic ritualism.”And, he added, he would like the story to resonate with a broad audience.“Angel Island is still living and breathing within the bodies of so many Asian Americans,” he said. “My true hope is that we all recall, connect and learn from our personal heritage, our past, our ancestor’s experience coming to America, but also feel empowered by the material to ignite discourse, empathy and understanding toward those newly coming into the country.”The director Matthew Ozawa, center, said: “This is really the manifestation of a community. You want the audience fully immersed and to experience a sense of hypnotic ritualism.”Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesThe detainees’ poems remain at the center of “Angel Island” and give the work its spiritual grounding.Huang, who came to the United States as a student in the 1990s, stopping first in San Francisco, said he could relate to many of the poems.“There is that same feeling of what it means to leave your family behind,” he said, “and of coming to a place in hopes of a new life and not knowing what is ahead of you.”At the end of “Angel Island,” members of the choir leave the stage and encircle the audience, a gesture meant to help them feel part of the community of detainees.The final poem in the oratorio describes leaving Angel Island and preparing to return home. It speaks of jingwei, a mythological bird that tries to fill the sea with twigs and stones:Obstacles have been put in my way for half a year,Melancholy and hate gather on my face.Now that I must return to my country,I have toiled like the jingwei bird in vain. More

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      Reimagining ‘Madame Butterfly,’ With Asian Creators at the Helm

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      As opera houses rework Puccini’s classic, criticized for stereotypes about women and Japanese culture, artists of Asian descent are playing a central role.The auditorium lights dimmed, and the cast and crew of Cincinnati Opera’s new production of Puccini’s “Madame Butterfly” anxiously took their places.For months, the team, made up largely of Asian and Asian American artists, had worked to reimagine the classic opera, upending its stereotypes about women and Japanese culture. They had updated the look of the opera with costumes and sets partly inspired by anime, scrubbed the libretto of historical inaccuracies and recast much of the work as a video-game fantasy. They gathered at the Cincinnati Music Hall one evening last week to fine-tune their creation before its opening last Saturday.“It feels a little like a grand experiment,” said the production’s director, Matthew Ozawa, whose father is Japanese and mother is white. “It’s very emotional.”“Madame Butterfly,” which premiered in 1904 (and is set around that time), tells the story of a lovelorn 15-year-old geisha in Nagasaki who is abandoned by an American Navy lieutenant after he gets her pregnant. The opera has long been criticized for its portrait of Asian women as exotic and submissive, and the use of exaggerated makeup and stereotypical costumes in some productions has drawn fire.Now, after years of pressure by artists and activists and a growing awareness of anti-Asian hate, many companies are reworking the opera and giving artists of Asian descent a central role in reshaping its message and story. In a milestone, directors with Asian roots are leading four major productions this year in the United States.San Francisco Opera recently staged a version, directed by Amon Miyamoto, that explored the suffering and discrimination experienced by a biracial character. Boston Lyric Opera is setting part of its coming production in a Chinatown nightclub in San Francisco in the 1940s, and part in an incarceration camp.New Orleans Opera rewrote the traditional ending in a recent production to give the title character a sense of agency. Instead of committing suicide, she throws aside a dagger handed to her, picks up her son and storms offstage.Adam Smith dons a virtual reality headset as the overture begins in the Cincinnati production. “We decided we’re going to honor the fact that this is a white man’s fantasy — a fantasy of a culture and a fantasy of a woman,” Ozawa said.Maddie McGarvey for The New York TimesIn Cincinnati, the opera begins in the apartment of a lonely white man in his 20s who worships Japanese video games. The overture begins when he puts on a virtual-reality headset to enter a fantasy about Japan, assuming the character of the American lieutenant, B.F. Pinkerton.“We decided we’re going to honor the fact that this is a white man’s fantasy — a fantasy of a culture and a fantasy of a woman,” Ozawa said.At times, the fantasy breaks down and the characters freeze, such as when Pinkerton says something offensive or the chorus makes stereotypical gestures. “We see these moments that hearken to what the tradition usually would look like and then we erase it,” Ozawa said.A scene from San Francisco Opera’s recent “Butterfly,” directed by Amon Miyamoto, which explored the suffering and discrimination experienced by a biracial character. Cory Weaver/San Francisco Opera.The re-examination of “Madame Butterfly” comes as cultural institutions face pressure to feature more prominently musicians, dancers, choreographers and composers of color amid a broader discussion about racial discrimination.The reconsideration extends beyond the United States: The Royal Opera House recently updated its “Madame Butterfly” production, getting rid of white makeup and other elements, like wigs and samurai-style coiffures.While the changes have alienated some traditionalists, the artists behind the new productions say they want to preserve the spirit of Puccini’s work while making it accessible to a broader audience.Phil Chan, who is directing the production in Boston and has helped lead the push to confront stereotypes in opera and ballet, said he hoped to make familiar stories more authentic and relevant. The creative team in Boston includes Nina Yoshida Nelsen, a founder of the Asian Opera Alliance, which was formed in 2021 to help bring more racial diversity to the field.“Some people might be afraid that we’re somehow messing with a masterpiece,” said Chan, whose father is Chinese and mother is white. “But we see it as an opportunity to make the work bigger and resonate with more people.”As they reimagine “Butterfly,” artists of Asian descent are working to help each other, exchanging ideas and offering encouragement.Aria Umezawa, who directed the New Orleans production, was distressed after coming across photos of white chorus members in exaggerated makeup and costumes in an old Canadian production of “Madame Butterfly.” She sought out Ozawa.“It’s just been always really helpful to talk to my colleagues,” Umezawa said, “to hear their concerns, to understand the nuance and the shades of gray that exist between different elements of our community. It’s just nice not to be alone.”A scene from the New Orleans production of “Madame Butterfly.” Instead of killing herself at the end, the title character picks up her son and takes him offstage.Jeff StroutWhile the experience of remaking “Madame Butterfly” has been liberating for many artists, the reaction from the public has been mixed.In New Orleans, many people applauded Umezawa’s production, saying it was refreshing to see a strong woman at the center of the opera. But some were critical of the ending.“Not having her die stole the pathos of the story,” an operagoer wrote in response to a survey by the company. “I don’t need an empowered Butterfly. What lesson do I learn from Butterfly riding off into the sunset?”Umezawa said she felt constrained at times by Puccini’s vision. “Ultimately, no matter what I do,” she said, “it’s still Puccini’s music, and it’s still his best guess with Japanese culture.”Next year, when she directs a production of “Butterfly” in Philadelphia, she said she hoped to experiment some more, perhaps by incorporating taiko drums into the orchestra.The focus on “Madame Butterfly” has helped shine light on the dearth of Asian artists in opera. While Asian singers make up a large share of conservatory vocal programs, they remain significantly underrepresented in principal roles at major opera companies, and among stage directors and in other leadership posts.The production in Cincinnati, which closes on Saturday, almost didn’t happen. In 2020, Ozawa backed out of a plan to direct a traditional version of “Madame Butterfly” at the opera house, worried that it would not be true to his artistic mission.But Evans Mirageas, the company’s artistic director, persisted, agreeing to support Ozawa’s vision for a reimagined work. The idea gained the backing of several co-producers, including Detroit Opera, Pittsburgh Opera and Utah Opera, which will stage the Cincinnati production in the coming years.Mirageas said it had become increasingly difficult to ignore the problems of “Madame Butterfly” because of the surge in violence and harassment targeting Asians in recent years. “It’s a production that’s found its moment in time,” he said.At Ozawa’s request, Cincinnati Opera hired three women of Japanese descent — Maiko Matsushima, Yuki Nakase Link and Kimie Nishikawa — to oversee costumes, lighting and scenery.The almost entirely Asian cast and crew brought a sense of camaraderie to the production.“We can easily understand each other because we know each other’s stories and cultures,” said Karah Son, a South Korean soprano who sings the title role. She recalled being able to quickly master a geisha dance because she knew what Ozawa wanted.The production’s conductor, Keitaro Harada, used a Japanese phrase to capture the dynamic: “aun no kokyu,” describing a sense of harmony.“We just understand each other in a very natural way,” said Harada, who was born in Japan. “We know what we’re all thinking.”Ozawa directing a rehearsal in Cincinnati. “It feels a little like a grand experiment,” he said of the reimagined production. “It’s very emotional.”Maddie McGarvey for The New York TimesOzawa said he felt an obligation to “Madame Butterfly” because he is of Japanese descent, even if working on it could be uncomfortable. Earlier in his career, he recalled that white colleagues would sometimes squint their eyes, bow to him or greet him by saying “konichiwa” while working on the production.He said he was nervous that he would let down the Japanese community if his production was not a success. But on opening night, his fears subsided when cheers erupted after the final curtain fell at Cincinnati Music Hall.“We have an immense duty to this piece, to Butterfly and to the Asian community,” he said. “There might be some discomfort in our story, but change can only come if there’s discomfort.” More

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      Rossini at the Drive-In, as San Francisco Opera Returns

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      SAN FRANCISCO — It feels almost too good to be true after a pandemic closure of Wagnerian scale: an audience watching a cast of singers enter the War Memorial Opera House here to rehearse and perform Rossini’s classic comedy “The Barber of Seville.”And, indeed, we’re not quite there yet. After 16 months, San Francisco Opera did return last week to live performance with “The Barber of Seville,” but not indoors at the War Memorial, its usual home. Rather, it is presenting the work through May 15 some 20 miles north, in a Marin County park. The cast for this abridged version is pared down to six main characters, who appear as singers coming back to work at the opera house to embody their Rossinian counterparts.Much of the plot has been reconfigured as a day of rehearsals, culminating in a performance of the final scenes “on” the War Memorial stage. By then, contemporary street clothes have been replaced with 18th-century-style costumes — the illusion of art restored, at long last.“We wanted to ignite and celebrate the return of this living, breathing art form with a sense of joy and hope and healing,” Matthew Ozawa, who adapted the opera and directed the production, said in an interview. “Audiences really need laughter and catharsis.”About 400 cars form the capacity crowd for this open-air “Barber” at the Marin Center in San Rafael, Calif. The orchestra’s sound is mixed with that of the singers and transmitted live as an FM signal to each car’s radio. Kelsey McClellan for The New York TimesSan Francisco Opera needs it, too. With its centennial season fast approaching, in 2022-23, the company is trying to write the most dramatic crisis-and-comeback chapter of its history at breakneck speed.The damage has been brutal. Arts organizations around the world have been devastated by pandemic shutdowns, but San Francisco has been closed significantly longer than most. Because of the structure of its season, which splits its calendar into fall and spring-summer segments, its last in-person performance was in December 2019.This enforced silence has come at great cost: Eight productions had to be canceled, wiping out some $7.5 million in ticket revenue. The company, which struggled with deficits even before the pandemic, has had to make around $20 million in cuts to its budget of roughly $70 million. In September, its orchestra agreed to a new contract containing what the musicians have called “devastating” reductions in compensation.Top, Catherine Cook, familiar to San Francisco audiences as the housekeeper Berta, warms up before the performance.Kelsey McClellan for The New York TimesMatthew Shilvock, the company’s general director, said of the production, “I see this as a signpost to something new in our future.”Kelsey McClellan for The New York Times“We felt that it was so important to get back to live performance when we could,” said Matthew Shilvock, the company’s general director. “There has been such a hunger, a need for that in the community.”Like opera companies in Detroit, Chicago, Memphis, upstate New York and elsewhere, San Francisco’s return has a retro precursor: the drive-in. “The Barber of Seville” is being presented on an open-air stage erected at the Marin Center in San Rafael. Audience members, in their cars, can opt for premium “seats” with a head-on view of the stage, or for a neighboring area where the opera is simulcast on a large movie screen — for a total capacity of about 400 cars.A cellist gets ready in the tent that serves as the production’s orchestra pit.Kelsey McClellan for The New York TimesThe drive-in presentation meant jettisoning the company’s house production and conceptualizing and designing a brand-new staging in a just few months.Kelsey McClellan for The New York TimesRoderick Cox, in his San Francisco Opera debut, conducts the singers by video feed — while wearing a mask.Kelsey McClellan for The New York TimesThe logistics necessary to bring this off have been complex — not only to adapt to an unaccustomed space, but on account of Covid protocols, which in the Bay Area have been among the strictest in the country. The company has adhered to a rigorous regimen of testing and masking; wind players have used specially designed masks, and in rehearsals the singers wore masks developed by Dr. Sanziana Roman, an opera singer turned endocrine surgeon. Even during performances, the cast members must remain at least eight and a half feet away from each other — 15 feet if singing directly at someone else.Shilvock realized in December that it might be possible to bring live opera back around the time of the company’s originally planned April production of “Barber,” but only if he could “remove as many uncertainties as possible.” The idea of a drive-in presentation began to take shape. But that meant jettisoning the company’s house production and conceptualizing and designing a brand-new staging in a just few months.“I’ve had to rethink some of my tempi and how to keep that excitement,” Cox said. “To know when to press on the gas a little bit more.”Kelsey McClellan for The New York TimesA village of tents behind the stage houses the infrastructure and staff needed to run the show. One tent acts as an orchestra pit, where the conductor Roderick Cox, making his company debut, leads a reduced ensemble of 18 players. Along with adapting to using video screens to communicate with the singers — while wearing a mask — Cox noted an added layer of challenge in the absence of audible responses from the audience.“I’ve had to rethink some of my tempi and how to keep that excitement,” he said. “To know when to press on the gas a little bit more.”The orchestra’s sound is mixed with that of the singers and transmitted live as an FM signal to each car’s radio. “Rather than sound coming through big speaker clusters, across a massive parking lot,” Shilvock said, “it comes straight from the stage and from the orchestra tent into your vehicle.”Alek Shrader, who sings the opera’s dashing tenor hero, said he felt “a combination of nostalgia and excitement for what’s to come.”Kelsey McClellan for The New York TimesDaniela Mack, Shrader’s lover in “Barber” and his wife in real life, spoke of the cathartic effect of finally being able “to perform for actual people.”Kelsey McClellan for The New York TimesA sense of drive-in populism — keeping in mind the comfort and attention spans of automobile-bound listeners — resulted in the decision to present a streamlined, intermission-less, English-language “Barber,” about 100 minutes long. All of the recitative is cut, along with the choruses.The familiar War Memorial Opera House is conjured through projections of the theater’s exterior and replicas of its dressing rooms as part of Alexander V. Nichols’s two-level set. Ozawa’s staging takes as a poignant underlying theme the transition back to live performance: The singers, with sometimes witty self-consciousness, must negotiate a labyrinth of distancing precautions, but with a hopeful sense of soon being able to return to much-missed theaters.The mezzo-soprano Daniela Mack, who stars as Rosina, spoke in an interview of the cathartic effect of finally being able “to perform for actual people, to have that connection with an audience.” The tenor Alek Shrader, her lover in the opera and her husband in real life, said he felt “a combination of nostalgia and excitement for what’s to come.”For all of the production’s novelty, there was something reassuring about the familial ease with which the cast interacted. Mack and Shrader are reprising roles they have performed previously here in San Francisco opposite Lucas Meachem’s charismatic Figaro. And Catherine Cook’s sympathetic housekeeper Berta has been a fixture of “Barber” at the company since the 1990s. All four, as well as Philip Skinner (Dr. Bartolo) and Kenneth Kellogg (Don Basilio), emerged from San Francisco’s Adler Fellowship young artists program.Much of the plot has been reconfigured as a day of rehearsals, culminating in a performance of the final scenes “on” the War Memorial Opera House stage, conjured through projections.Kelsey McClellan for The New York TimesShilvock said the production costs for “Barber” were comparable to what the company would have spent for the 2021 summer season it had planned prepandemic — but building the temporary venue and Covid restrictions added between $2 and $3 million in extra costs.Still, Shilvock said it has been worth it — and on opening night on April 23, the curtain calls were greeted with an exuberant chorus of honks. Shilvock said that around a third of “Barber” ticket buyers were new to the company.“I’m not seeing this in any way just as a band-aid to get us through to the point where we go back to normal,” he said. “Rather, I see this as a signpost to something new in our future. It’s creating this energy for opera for people who would never have otherwise given us a thought.” More