Music review: A poignant and resonant Madama Butterfly to close Vancouver Opera season
Set in the aftermath of World War II, updated production adds depth and nuance to the iconic work
Vancouver Opera’s Madama Butterfly. Photo by Emily Cooper
Vancouver Opera presents Madama Butterfly at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre to May 4
VANCOUVER OPERA COULD HARDLY have timed their production of Giacomo Puccini’s iconic Madama Butterfly better. Not only is the city still resplendent with Japanese cherry blossoms—a scene echoed by a blooming tree in the set’s foreground—but the renewed rise of American imperialism in recent weeks added a deep and layered resonance to the work when it opened on Saturday night.
On its surface, its story is simple: Cio-Cio San, a young Japanese girl nicknamed “Butterfly”, marries U.S. naval officer Pinkerton, unaware that, for him, she is merely a fanciful distraction. She renounces her Buddhist religion, is disowned by her family, and proudly adopts an “American” lifestyle for him. When Pinkerton inevitably abandons her after his tour of duty in the country ends, she remains stalwart in her belief that he will return to her and to the son he has never met. Six years later, he does reappear—with his new American wife. Tragedy ensues, as Butterfly takes her own life in a ceremonial act of seppuku.
Originally set in the colonial era of the early 1900s, here the action has moved to the post–World War II Allied occupation of Japan, in the wake of the 1945 atomic bombing of Nagasaki. The update provides a more nuanced context for the work, which can smack of Orientalism and fetishism if not thoughtfully staged. This Cio-Cio San, performed on opening night with exquisite tenderness and depth by Italy-based Yasko Sato, is not only reeling from her family’s fall in fortunes, but from the traumas of the atomic bombing. Her enthusiastic escape into the arms of the American occupier Pinkerton is more understandable when viewed through this lens.
American tenor Robert Watson, who assumed the role on Saturday, embodied Pinkerton with a casual sense of entitlement and willful ignorance. While his voice was, at times, overwhelmed by the orchestra, his acting chops carried him through, and his sudden realization in Act 3 at the damage he has caused, encapsulated in the self-pitying aria “Addio, fiorito asil”, rang true.
The night really belonged to Sato, whose Butterfly convincingly moved from innocent girlishness to desperate self-delusion and, ultimately, steely resolve. In a demanding role that requires almost constant singing throughout, her voice only grew stronger as the evening unfolded. Her delivery of the iconic Act 2 aria “Un bel di, vedremo” earned rousing shouts of “Brava”—with a few audience members covertly wiping away tears. (Sato alternates in the title role with Taiwanese-American soprano Karen Chia-ling Ho.)
Yasko Sato as Cio-Cio San in Vancouver Opera’s Madama Butterfly. Photo by Emily Cooper
Equally affecting was Japanese mezzo-soprano Nozomi Kato as her devoted maid, Suzuki, whose lush timbre was girded with quiet strength. Korean-American Julius Ahn as the unsavoury marriage broker Goro impressed with a bright and strongly focused tenor voice, while Canadian baritone Brett Polegato was also outstanding as the sympathetic American consul Sharpless.
Chinese-American stage director Mo Zhou added some inspired touches that injected life into the narrative, which, if we’re being honest, doesn’t offer a huge amount to work with. No battles or party scenes here; the audience spends most of its time accompanying Butterfly as she yearns for Pinkerton’s return—sometimes with Suzuki, sometimes with her always silent child. So, when actions do occur, such as Butterfly emphatically waving the American flag in blind devotion, or her child innocently waving the ears of his knitted Mickey Mouse doll, they carry added significance.
Perhaps the most subtle, yet most symbolic, action occurs in the final seconds. Butterfly lies dead, draped in a white kimono with blood-red lining. Her son, clinging to Suzuki, is meant to leave with Pinkerton to be raised by his new wife. Suzuki coaxes him to walk toward them, but as the final chords ring out and the curtain comes down, he drops his Mickey Mouse doll and runs back into her arms in an act of wordless defiance. It’s a small but pointed message of independence and self-determination—one that feels so very relevant today. 
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