Mireille Asselin and Colin Ainsworth with the company of David and Jonathan | Photo by Bruce Zinger
I feel so self-conscious using a word like rapturous to describe a theatrical experience, like I’m blowing smoke up your bum; but this is opera, after all, and allowances must be made for dramatic language. So yes, I’ll fawn a little over Opera Atelier’s production of Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s David and Jonathan. I’m glad I read a detailed synopsis ahead of time. If you don’t know the gist, it’s hard to track what’s actually happening here. Even knowing, part of the game for newbies is trying to figure out who’s who in this re-telling of the tragic Old Testament story that sees a King threatened by a young hero and his own son’s allegiance to the esteemed giant-slayer.
The Baroque style, from the highly gestural performances to the scenery, is bound by classical conventions rather than wholly representational storytelling. Like an Elizabethan ruff in Shakespeare, there are aesthetic markers here that are less about place and character than artistic form. Gerard Gauci’s stately and imposing set—incorporating elements of Koerner Hall itself—features grand bifurcated stairwells, urn-capped columns and hanging fabrics that fuse Middle Eastern and French Baroque designs. Michael Gianfrancesco’s costumes are refined and luxurious. One of my favourites, the gauzy black and gold robe draped over Mezzo-soprano Mireille Lebel’s Pythonisse, has a distinctly modern flair, placing her out of time and adding to her mystique.
Lebel also revels in the camp appeal of an opera witch. She is self-aware and amused, especially in her peak diva moment as the male ballet dancers surround her, rolling about in deference to her powers. In a distinctly erotic gesture of Jeannette Lajeunesse Zingg’s richly dignified choreography, they are compelled to thrust upwards as she touches them.
The friendship between David (Colin Ainsworth, Tenor) and Jonathan (Mireille Asselin, Soprano) is also perceptibly erotic. Both the libretto and their impassioned interactions suggest their bond is on the cusp of palpable carnality, creating an intriguing frisson as we imagine a torrid kiss on the horizon. Originally written for a boy soprano, having a woman in the role adds another layer of meta-theatrical tension to their already compelling dynamic. Their reunion is romantic and celebratory, framed almost like newly-weds about to embark on their honeymoon. There is great joy and humour in David’s homecoming, with Ainsworth flamboyantly exhausted by all the loving attention.
Director Marshall Pynkoski’s production, framing the stirring voices, maintains a solid balance between the affected and sincere—rigorous sophistication and genuine emotionality. It is all, suitably, très dramatique. Pynkoski excels at handsome, emotive tableaux. The depiction of battle is very clever—characters running into a length of red fabric, then reeling from the impact. I swooned as the whole company falls into formation behind the wounded Jonathan. The understated, tasteful splotches of blood on white blouses sell the dire circumstances in a way that uplifts and inspires. The company rises and falls with the emotions of each moment. A hand laid purposefully on a column or thrown up in a defensive posture, an on-looker leaning in just so—the details are resonant, making the whole mise en scène deeply touching.
Baritone David Witczak’s paranoid Saul, Tenor Antonin Rondepierre’s Iago-like, instigating villain Joabel and Bass-baritone Stephen Hegedus as the Ghost of Samuel—whose appearance in billowing mist is one of the most spectacular—complete this gorgeous portrait; while Kimberly Purtell’s lighting adds sumptuous dimension to the stark set.
Opera Atelier’s David and Jonathan is, yes, a rapturous production, on all fronts.
David and Jonathan
running April 9 to 13, 2025
TELUS Centre for Perfroming Arts and Learning,
Koerner Hall (273 Bloor St. W)
running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes (with intermission)
Mireille Asselin and Colin Ainsworth in David and Jonathan | Photo by Bruce Zinger