Apollo and Hyacinthus @ American Baroque Opera Company

—Gregory Sullivan Isaacs

The opportunity to hear Apollo and Hyacinthus was irresistible. This mini-opera was written by Joannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart (shortened to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart) in 1767— at the ripe old age of 11.  And before I get into all the intricacies of the score (sung in Latin, by the way, with English subtitles), let me state unequivocally that the American Baroque Opera Company’s production at Hamon Hall was excellently sung by some surprisingly strong and polished opera actor/singers. 

At age 11, Mozart had already written quite a few compositions, including a respectable symphony completed at age eight. He already was famous throughout Europe, having been “on tour” from an early age under the severe eye of his strict father, Leopold, a Mama Rose-style pushy parent promoting his pair of amazing children. And why not? Wolfgang and his older sister Anna Maria (Nannerl) redefined the term “child prodigy” on both the piano and violin. Naturally, he wanted to show the world their exceptional musical prowess. But it was the incorrigible Wolfie who charmed the world with his abilities (playing the most difficult works) and his antics—among them, playing a cloth-covered keyboard.

Now to the opera itself: Apollo and Hyacinthus was, in the mid-18th century, considered too short to be a “real” opera. Real operas were long. They were overloaded with star performers, elaborate stage sets, over-the-top costumes, and spectacular arias used by the lead singers as artillery against one other in their battle for fame and fans.

Apollo and Hyacinthus was premiered as an entreacte, inserted between the acts of a much longer play—not unusual for the era. This relegated it to cantata status among music historians. 

The libretto is based on a story in Ovid’s Metamorphoses that was cleaned up by librettist Father Rufinus Widl. The original concerned a gay romantic triangle between the god Apollo and the beautiful youth Hyacinthus, son of Oebalus, King of Lacedaemonia. Enter Zephyrus, a god himself, and Hyacinthus’ confidant and lover. He’s angry and jealous: How can he compete with a super-god for Hyacinthus' affections? Kill him, of course, so neither one could have him. The grief-struck Apollo banishes Zephyrus and turns Hyacinthus' body into a field of flowers that immortalize his name to this very day.  

Well, in the hands of the clergy librettist, this degenerate plotline had to change. Father Widl clumsily solved things by introducing a new female character, Oebalus’ daughter Melia, as the object of love between the two rivals. 

This brings us back to the American Baroque Opera Company production of this musical/historical curiosity. In Mozart’s time, soprano and contralto roles were sung by young boys and castrati. These performers often became superstars, adored by audiences and known both for their singing and for a constant flow of juicy gossip about their rivalries. In modern times, with a hat tip to the past, these parts are sung by countertenors and male soprani.

The company’s throwback vocal casting may have left some in the audience mystified as to who was who: god or mortal, royalty or peasant, male or female? Yet none of it detracted from the high quality of the singing, the excellent orchestra, or the sensitivity and skill of the conductor, Eric Taeyang Mun.    

However, placing the story in the flower-child era of the 1960s did prove confusing. Stage director Rebecca Choate Beasley and set designers Courtney Miles Baraff and Zac Elliot time-traveled the work into the Flower Child era of the 1960s, an attempt at creativity that probably sounded better in early discussions than it proved to be on the stage. 

For one thing, the entire cast was dressed similarly in 60's-era bell bottoms and loose shirts - whether royal, god, or “regular” folk. It would have been possible to stay within the concept by having Apollo, King Oebalus and his children dress as Sixties rock royalty, or in the most extreme Carnaby Street couture. And likewise, the characters didn’t behave according to their rank—bowing to the king, prostrating themselves to a god. Here, everyone seemed to be a high school buddy.    

But this visual quibble aside, the excellence of the singing and orchestral playing, and the superb musical direction, created a kind of revelation for the audience—of Mozart’s incredible creative abilities even at this young age. Some of the music showed his exposure to the au courant Baroque style that saturated the era. (Gluck’s Alceste premiered in the same year as Apollo.)

Perhaps most mind-bending for me were moments when I sensed the mature Mozart peeking out. I would direct your attention to the duet “Natue cadit” from the last part of the opera. You can hear it here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBNaE3m0FXc.         

Bravi to the entire cast:

Apollo: Michael Skarke                                                            

Hyacinthus: Key’mon Murrah   

Melia: Gabrielle Gilliam                                                                     

Oebalus: Tony Boutté                                                                     

Zephyrus: Kayla Nanto                                                                             

Priest: William Derusha

WEB: For more information: baroqueopera.org