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Mementos of a Geisha Dublin
Bord Gáis Energy Theatre
11/02/2025 - & November 4, 6, 8, 2025
Giacomo Puccini: Madama Butterfly
Celine Byrne (Cio-Cio San), Hyona Kim (Suzuki), Olar Jorjikia (B.F. Pinkerton), Iurii Samoilov (Sharpless), Peter Van Hulle (Goro), Paul Grant (Il principe Yamadori), Imelda Drumm (Kate Pinkerton), John Molloy (Lo zio bonzo), Matthew Mannion (Yakusidé), Maksim Lozovyi (L’ufficiale del registro), Michael Ferguson (Il commissario imperiale), Sarah Luttrell (La madre di Cio‑Cio San), Deidre Higgins (La zia), Caroline Behan (La cugina), Michael Mullen (Adult Sorrow), Ewan Gaster (Child Sorrow)
Irish National Opera Chorus, Richard McGrath (Chorus Master), Irish National Opera Orchestra, Fergus Sheil (Conductor)
Daisy Evans (Stage Director), Kat Heath (Sets), Catherine Fay (Costumes), Jake Wiltshire (Lighting)
O. Jorjikia, C. Byrne, I. Samoilov (© Ros Kavanagh)
Of Puccini’s most frequently performed operas (Manon Lescaut, La Bohème, Tosca, Madama Butterfly and Turandot), Butterfly has fared most poorly over time, in terms of posterity. The “Orientalist” view of the victimized Asian girl was not considered patronizing at the time of the opera’s creation, but times have changed. Even after European countries lost their colonial empires in Africa and Asia, this outdated view prevailed for much of the second half of the twentieth century. The Korean and Vietnam Wars continued to confirm this cultural distortion. However, these ideas are markedly dated in the early twenty‑first century, with China imminently displacing the U.S. as the world’s leading economy (it already has, with its purchasing power parity), and with other Asian powers enjoying more sophistication and technological advances than North America and Europe, both trapped by stagnant economies, declining demographics and faltering infrastructures.
Of the famous operatic warhorses, Madama Butterfly is my least favourite, due to its excessive sentimentality and unabashed orientalism. With an exceptional soprano as Cio‑Cio San, the opera can be stirring, but all too often it remains a tedious affair. But this production by the Irish National Opera completely stunned me. Finally, here’s a director able to innovate without indulging in nonsensically whimsical ideas such as a lesbian Salome, La Bohème on the moon or Rigoletto in a bordello. An imaginative staging is one that re‑examines a work while maintaining an understanding of its characters, their psychological profiles and their interactions.
Writer and film, theatre and opera director Daisy Evans came up with the idea of seeing the opera from the perspective of Sorrow, the offspring of the brief marriage of U.S. Ship Captain B.F. Pinkerton and his betrothed, Cio‑Cio San. Before the music began, the performance opened to a corpulent middle‑aged blond woman, holding a teddy bear, strutting onstage in the company of a young man. The intent was clear: Kate Pinkerton was to play a bigger role than her two lines in Act III. What seemed at first a perilous enterprise was in fact a stroke of genius.
The pre-orchestral pantomime showed the funeral of a United States naval officer, a grieving widow and son. The two mourners open a box mounted on a short table, evoking a coffin. The box contained memorabilia from the officer’s past. The mourners, Kate Pinkerton and her half‑Japanese stepson go through the contents of the box, each item evoking a chapter from the tragic story of the boy’s mother. The brilliant director understood that these two characters would be tools to extract profound emotions from this bleak tragedy.
Ireland’s Celine Byrne is a lyric soprano with a beautiful timbre, ideal for the role of Cio‑Cio San. She did not overplay the frailty, nor did she attempt to act the fifteen-year-old child bride she was. This natural approach made Cio‑Cio San a real person, and not the stylized, fragile young woman one too often sees in this opera. Director Daisy Evans did not opt to have her make‑up overly done to make her look Japanese or overtly young.
Byrne attempted no nasal child voice as the legendary Toti dal Monte (1893‑1975) famously did in her recording of the role. Without feigning an overly delicate voice, she lightened her voice in Act I, where she’s a nubile bride of fifteen. It was more fragile, but still her authentic voice. Byrne was a woman, not a doll; through her acting and expressive singing, she became Butterfly.
Of note was Byrne’s exemplary diction and correct emphasis on certain words. The tenderness she used in “Vogliatemi bene” in her Act I love duet with Pinkerton was simply glorious. Her phrasing of “Troppa luce è di fior, e troppa primavera,” when she realizes Pinkerton isn’t coming back, was heart‑wrenching.
Evans chose to have Butterfly portrayed as a real person rather than a frail child. This was dramatically effective throughout the opera. Even in Act I, though young and relatively docile, her previously rich family has been impoverished and she had to work as a geisha to survive. With such an ordeal, even a fifteen-year-old ceases to be a child. At various moments, Cio‑Cio San shows her strength of character. She recoiled when her groom touched the dagger, with which her dishonoured father had committed hara‑kiri, indicating a strong‑willed young woman, not a submissive geisha. That strength continued throughout the performance, in the way she held off both matchmaker Goro and languishing admirer Yamadori. Even in her ultimate moment, the broken woman kept her dignity.
Butterfly’s Act II emblematic aria, “Un bel dì”, was the highlight of the evening both vocally and dramatically. Byrne’s expressivity and her ability to subtly vary her emotion from beginning to end made the aria a moment of true drama rather than a grandstanding showpiece. This could not have been achieved without Fergus Sheil’s expert conducting. The usually dull orchestral interlude between Acts II and III (when many look at their watches) was riveting thanks to Sheil’s masterful direction and Evans’ decision to use the interlude to present the adult Sorrow and his younger self in a pantomime.
Georgian tenor Olar Jorjikia was an appropriate choice as the American. First prize winner at the 2016 Galina Vishnevskaya International Opera Singer’s Competition, Jorjikia is blessed with a warm and beautiful lyric tenor. With ease in the upper register and the ability to sing softly, he sounded much more likeable than past Pinkertons. He is also an excellent actor and was able to manifest the naval officer’s callous nature using his imposing posture and demeanour. This was a nonchalant, self-assured man who stumbled into destroying another human being, out of sheer immaturity and selfishness. Jorjikia was so effective and sounded so glorious that it was in fact hard to hate him. His rendition of the Act III aria, “Addio fiorito assil”, was a beautifully sung showstopper. In the Act I duet, “Bimba dagli occhi pieni di malia”, the most beautiful music in this opera, his beautiful voice blended gloriously with Byrne’s. The tempo expertly built to its erotic, precoital finale thanks to Sheil’s solid command of the orchestra, particularly the strings and woodwinds.
South Korean mezzo Hyona Kim was a dramatically efficient Suzuki. Her rich mezzo contrasted well with Byrne’s lyric soprano, creating an intoxicatingly appealing blend. More than most Suzukis, she portrayed a devoted servant and friend. Thanks to her expressivity, she was more Cio‑Cio’s sister than a mere servant. In Act III, when she realizes that Pinkerton and his American wife have come to take the child, Evans brilliantly used Suzuki’s breakdown as a more effective device to elicit the public’s empathy. As with Kate Pinkerton and the adult Sorrow’s pantomimes, empathy via a third party enabled more intense emotion.
Ukrainian baritone Iurii Samoilov was a sympathetic Sharpless, more urbane than your average American Consul. Despite his young age, Samoilov managed to convince he was older thanks to his dignified manner and slow movement. His rich high baritone is more fitting for Don Giovanni or Mozart’s Figaro, but here he easily used his voice to portray a sympathetic and avuncular Consul, thus making this glorified pimp/accomplice seem likeable and compassionate.
Most of the smaller roles were well sung and acted, especially Peter Van Hulle as the matchmaker Goro. This British character tenor eschewed the stereotypical slimy eager pimp portrayal. By avoiding excess and acting matter‑of‑factly, his sordid dealings appeared exactly as they were.
The same must be said of Prince Yamadori and the Shinto Bonze (priest). Evans chose to have both portrayed as real people and not caricatures. The lovelorn Yamadori, interpreted by Paul Grant, who does not tire of asking Cio‑Cio San to marry him, is usually portrayed as a parody, bejewelled and often inebriated or effeminate. Here, he was fat, self‑assured and clad in Western garb, sporting sunglasses. His demeanour said it all. The furious Bonze, irate at his niece’s conversion to her groom’s foreign faith, was brilliantly played as a black clad religious figure. He evoked more a fanatical Calvinist preacher than an exotic monk, which was entirely more effective.
Set designer Kat Heath employed the usual Japanese casetta with sliding panels. These panels were used astutely at pivotal moments: they shut down to make a wall when Cio‑Cio San or the adult Sorrow arrived at an abrupt moment. At the moment of her suicide, the panels aligned in a row at both sides, creating an illusion of immense depth, reflecting the void that the woman faces.
Jake Wiltshire’s lighting cannot be praised enough. Thanks to the sparse sets, the lighting had a pre‑eminent effect. Even Catherine Fay’s bright costumes took the colour of the lights, which varied from white to dark blue, to express varying emotions. This was marvellously effective, with red toward the end of the Act I love duet; gray, once the Pinkertons arrive to take away the child; or the bleak dark blue, when Butterfly commits hara‑kiri. Each colour augmented the emotion, setting the proper mood.
Most affecting was the older Sorrow playing with his younger self, in Act III. When Cio‑Cio San is at the point of suicide, the older Sorrow chases off his younger self to spare him the pain. However, the height of emotion was reached when the older Sorrow tried to prevent his mother from executing the dreaded act. Many were completely distraught and tears were flowing. This was not a tearjerker, but rather feeling the pain of Butterfly’s son, rather than that of the Japanese geisha. I confess I succumbed to tears at various moments, but never as much as in these ultimate, glorious moments. Utterly brilliant!
Ossama el Naggar
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