You Is My Woman Now

Unpretentious in its opening notes, Porgy and Bess begins as barflies gather around a piano, and jazz beats and smooth moves reveal themselves through a foggy screen, displaying the coolness of the 1930s.

The New York City Opera pounded out 14 performances of George Gershwin's acclaimed opera in February and March. Set in Charleston, S.C. in the mid-1930s, Porgy and Bess recounts several romances, friendships, and above all, the struggles of the community of Catfish Row, all set against the backdrop of segregation and the Depression.

Our first glimpse of Catfish Row immediately follows the opening scene in the bar. New mother Clara (Adina Aaron, soprano) stands on a neighborhood balcony offering the lullaby of "Summertime" to her son. In the years since Ira Gershwin penned the silky words and George Gershwin composed the immortal tune, "Summertime" has been covered and remixed by everyone from Miles Davis to Ella Fitzgerald, from Billie Holiday to Tori Amos. The high-pitched trill of Aaron's soprano voice threw me off guard since I had grown accustomed over the years to a deep, honeyed rendition of "Summertime." Aaron's operatic interpretation, though unfamiliar, was no less impressive than the popular jazz covers, and when Bess (Marquita Lister, soprano) took a turn at the tune at what sounded like an octave lower, I encountered that deep, comforting interpretation.

The opera tells the story of how Bess, the town harlot who bounces from the protection of one man to the next, falls for Porgy (Alvy Powell, bass-baritone), the town cripple whose sole source of income is begging in the center of town, with his transportation provided by his goat cart. When Bess first appears, she is in the company of her lover Crown (Timothy Robert Blevins, baritone). Neither is welcome by the townsfolk, so when a fight over the outcome of a crap game ensues and Crown kills a resident, the rest of the townsfolk are hard-pressed to help Bess when Crown flees. The only person who leaves the light on for Bess is the much-beloved Porgy.

Central to any opera is, of course, the music and libretto. What made Porgy and Bess so innovative at the time of its conception was that its frame of reference was jazz as interpreted by Gershwin. The radiant yet serene "Summertime" meets the jovial "I Got Plenty of Nuttin,'" and Gershwin's tunes mix soulful gospel spirituals about God with quotidian hymns about luck and humor. For this reason, as well as for its encapsulation of the 1930s South, Porgy and Bess is often lauded as the one truly American opera.

The recent staging brought together a core of strong, rich voices that added depth and dimension to already-immortal melodies. As Porgy, Powell spent the entire performance on his knees, rolling across the stage on a meager wooden board, and occasionally on the goat cart. The fact that he managed to pound out each and every song from this disadvantaged position spoke to the sheer projection power of his lungs and grasp of the emotions of his character.

Lister played Bess in all her complexity as slut and saint, sexual seducer and victim of seduction. Bess attracts the scorn of every woman in town, yet somehow earns their near-respect through her involvement with Porgy. The chemistry between Powell and Lister was tangible as they crooned the love ballad "Bess, You Is My Woman Now." Powell and Lister held their kisses just a little longer than expected following the song's romantic refrain, "Mornin' time an' evening time / an' summer time an' winter time / Bess you got yo' man."

Lister was supported by excellent a trio of women: the aforementioned Aaron, Angela Renée Simpson, soprano, as the God-fearing widow Serena, and Sabrina Elayne Carten, also a soprano, as the busybody storekeeper, Maria. All three brought soul to their performances, as well as the ability to extend their notes with passion and without a hint of exhaustion.

The supporting men were no less talented. As Sportin' Life, Clark was cool in his 1920s style suit and hat, and glided along the stage with graceful sneakiness. Sportin' Life manages the local bar, dominates the crap games, and peddles devious "happy dust," with which Bess struggles to end her addiction. Clark shined during "It Ain't Necessarily So," an atheist's antidote to the fire and brimstone of a religious retreat.

As the evil Crown, Porgy's main adversary for Bess' affection, Blevins turns up the heat. Exiting the theater I overheard an older woman tell her friends that "[Blevins] just exuded sex. It was great." Blevins, as Crown, enchanted not just Bess but all of Catfish Row (not to mention that older woman and a certain reviewer in the audience) with his gyrations and his deep, sexy voice.

Through all its twists and turns, Porgy and Bess ends on a mysterious and open note. When a chain of events make Bess take leave of Catfish Row, Porgy, upon hearing the news, says, "Where'd you say Bess went? New York? Well then that's where I'm going!" Before Porgy and his goat can make a K-turn, the curtain falls. After watching Porgy and Bess struggle with their love for nearly three hours, we want to know if they reunite and if Bess can avoid vice and self-destruction for a virtuous happiness with Porgy. Yet Gershwin and his collaborators, DuBose and Dorothy Heyward, intended for us to keep guessing. After viewing a performance like this, it feels as though the only way to figure out what happens is to return to Catfish Row and the story of Porgy and Bess.

Unfortunately, Porgy and Bess ended its run March 22, but never fear: because as part of the New York City Opera's repertory, we can surmise that it will return in the not-so-distant future. Until then, we can content ourselves with alternative renditions of "Summertime" and dream about a return to Catfish Row.