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'Madama Butterfly' a complex, gorgeous tragedy

Top: Patricia Racette as Butterfly. Bottom: Frank Lopardo and Patricia Racette as Pinkerton and Butterfly. 

From the doomed transvestite in the four-star film “M. Butterfly” to the famous helicopter in the mega-musical “Miss Saigon”, “Madama Butterfly” has taken on a life Giacomo Puccini probably never imagined.  You can catch the East-meets-West tragedy in two places at present, the Lyric Opera of Chicago and the Drury Lane, Oak Brook.

It’s at the Lyric that Puccini’s version is running through Jan. 29. And a lavish, complex and wholly immersive experience it is. The immersion begins at first glimpse of Clarke Dunham’s beautiful, and beautifully realistic set. Those who remember it from the Lyric’s earlier productions of “Butterfly” (it shows up here every five years or so)  will surely be stunned anew at the pagoda home Benjamin Franklin Pinkerton rents for 999 years.  All exquisitely lacquered wood and sliding panels surrounded by cherry blossoms, it’s as if a small, perfect piece of the Japan countryside has been placed onstage at the Lyric. It’s a portrait of serenity - or so it is until shadowy figures, backs bent and faces obscured as they pull on ropes at the base of the set, slowly begin to rotate Butterfly’s beautiful home.

The revolution is graceful, the mood it ushers in one of foreboding. What we’re watching is a wheel of bad fortune spinning slowly from euphoria toward inevitable devastation.

Of course, a set without a cast able to execute Puccini’s marathon score is art squandered. For “Butterfly” to work, what your ears hear must be sublime enough to transcend what your eyes see. Which is to say, you must be able to look at a mature woman and see an innocent 15-year-old girl. There’s simply no way a real teenager could play the role of Butterfly – the vocal demands are far too intense, the emotional demands far beyond the scope of  even the most gifted teenage actors. That means the audience has to believe a seasoned soprano – somebody who falls within that most unromantic demographic label of “middle-aged” - as the chaste, almost unbelievably ingenuous young bride of the title. And for that, you need the voice of an angel.

With Patricia Racette, that crucial, potentially difficult suspension of disbelief is easy. In her voice is all you need to see someone in the throes of a first and only true love, a girl filled with an unshakable passion and an equally staunch belief in its reciprocation. And here’s where it gets even trickier: As immutably devoted as she is, Butterfly is not some spinelessly besotted simpleton. She has the inner strength of Hercules, defying her entire community in order to remain true to her feelings. Only the strongest of women could maintain the vigil Butterfly keeps for Pinkerton. And only the strongest of the strong would have the unflinching nerve needed to make the sacrifice Butterfly ultimately makes for her child.

Racette masters the duality, portraying both a woman deliriously in love and a woman as resolute as iron.

Then there’s Pinkerton, a fellow who is more complex than the booing and hissing he gets at curtain call might suggest. Lopardo is callow all right, but he isn’t a villain. He’s rather like a child who destroys a forest playing with matches – he simply doesn’t comprehend the gravity of his actions. Butterfly is a geisha after all, a woman for hire, who comes – willingly- with the house. Pinkerton can’t be blamed for concluding that she understands the terms of the contract as well as he does. You can dislike him for lacking – to use the parlance of Jennifer Anniston talking about Brad Pitt – “a sensitivity chip.” But you can’t fault him for that anymore than you can fault a baboon for not knowing how to read. Some men, as all women know, are simply born clueless asshats.  They can’t help it and they can’t change it anymore than they can help their eye color.

Lopardo skirts the edges of the million dollar question (Does Pinkerton ever really love Butterfly?) nimbly.  Their Act I love duet is rich and tender enough to make the argument that he does. It’s maintaining that love that Pinkerton can’t handle. More than 5,000 miles and years away from his Japanese bride, Pinkerton loses focus and just seems to forget.

Racette and Lopardo are backed by a superb corps, including a woman’s ensemble who make the long night of the Humming Chorus as achingly beautiful to the ear as it is equally shattering to the heart.

“Madama Butterfly” may lack the helicopter special effects they’ve got over at Drury Lane. That’s fine – it takes flight on power of Puccini’s beloved score and a cast able to do it justice.