Displaying items by tag: Ana Maria Martinez

El último sueño de Frida y Diego is a love story that outlives the body, outlasts the grave, and keeps burning long after death has done its part.

Frida Kahlo famously said, ‘I’ve had two accidents that changed my life: one when I was hit by a trolley, and the other when I fell in love with Diego Rivera.”

And thus opens the first act of this beautiful dedication to the brilliant fiery artist, so far ahead of her time, the astonishing and disabled Frida Kahlo.

Composed by Gabriela Lena Frank with a libretto by Nilo Cruz, El último sueño de Frida y Diego arrives like a heat‑haze hallucination - lush, uncanny, and thrumming with a love that refuses to stay in the ground. It’s 1957, Día de los Muertos, and the opera drops us into a marigold‑drenched cemetery where the living coax their dead back for one brief visit. Diego Rivera, worn thin by grief and a stalled brush, isn’t there for tradition; he’s there to beg the universe for one more moment with Frida. His plea slices through the veil, catching the ear of an unassuming flower seller who promptly sheds her disguise to reveal Catrina, the regal, razor‑sharp Keeper of the Dead - and the only force powerful enough to answer him.

Deep in the shadowed sweep of Mictlán, Frida pushes back against the summons with the same fierce spark that once lit every brushstroke. Death has finally granted her the relief life never did - no shattered spine, no emotional whiplash, no Diego-shaped storm at her heels - and she has zero interest in reopening the wounds she fought so hard to leave behind.

“So much pain!” she cries again and again, swearing at the start of the production that she will never return to the world of the living - or to her love, Rivera - because of it.

But the underworld is anything but still - teeming with spirits who are playful, meddling, and aching for their own brief return. Among them is Leonardo, a young actor whose flair for drama and easy artistic kinship start to chip away at Frida’s resolve. As Catrina assembles the souls cleared for their 24‑hour crossing, Frida reluctantly lets herself be wrapped once more in the hues, textures, and contradictions of her earthly self. Bound by strict rules - no touching the living, no overstaying the day - she steps toward the world she swore off, setting the stage for a reunion as volatile as it is inevitable.

But she is urged by those on both sides of the afterlife to visit with Diego because spirits on both sides of the veil are ALSO missing her presence, her vibrant, dynamic and powerful personality and essence in a dark landscape of blacks and greys. Rivera and her family and friends on both sides of the veil would give anything to have her back with them to color and ignite their universe - even if only for a day.

And although Frida really does want to see Diego again, she is stopped by the memory of the torment she suffered emotionally in his arms and even more so the pain she suffered in her body from the horrific trolley accident that crippled her.

Ana Maria Martinez as Catrina, Alfredo Daza as Diego and Daniela Mack as Frida. 

Many times in the show, Frida sings about her extreme unrelenting physical pain. Kahlo’s paintings - often filled with blood, surgical imagery, and unfiltered grief - also gave voice to the extreme physical agony she endured throughout her chronically ill life. Frida endured surgery after surgery, yet none brought the relief she so desperately needed.

In the end, she chooses to return for her art - to see the colors again, the radiant “colors” she sings of in her paintings and in her lovingly adorned home. Kahlo also descends back into her pain‑ridden earthly body to answer Rivera’s desperate daily pleas - his prayers to her and to God to return and save him from a life emptied of inspiration, a life made unbearably lonely without her.

Kahlo and Diego had a tumultuous relationship marked by marital affairs on both sides, though Diego’s affair with Frida’s own sister caused their divorce. But their love was eternal and they remarried, and we’re together until Frida’s death 10 years later.

This production makes clear that although Diego Rivera was the more famous artist in their lifetime - the towering figure whose reputation often eclipsed Frida Kahlo’s - he relied on her completely, both for artistic inspiration and for the very shape of his life. Rivera even said that his greatest wish was to have his ashes buried with hers.

Finally, a production that honors a female artist not only for her public achievements but for her full humanity - one that is unabashedly in love with Frida herself, not just her legacy.

One of the production’s loveliest moments is a tableau where Kahlo’s most famous paintings step off the canvas and onto the stage. I only found myself wishing for projections - of the actors in their vivid recreations or of the paintings themselves - because the costumes and scenic artistry were so intricate and stunning that not everyone in the house could fully take them in. By then, the audience was aching to see her art come alive.

The company of El último sueño de Frida y Diego.

El último sueño de Frida y Diego is currently running at Lyric Opera House, performed entirely in Spanish with the full vocal score intact. English captions are projected overhead throughout, making the story and its emotional undercurrents easy to follow even if you don’t speak the language.

Directed by Lorena Maza with Roberto Kalb conducting, Lyric’s production fields a powerhouse ensemble, led by mezzo‑soprano Daniela Mack, who returns to the house with a Frida that’s all fire, fragility, and fiercely guarded autonomy. Opposite her, baritone Alfredo Daza makes a striking Lyric debut as Diego - his voice carrying the weight of a man haunted by the art he can’t finish and the woman he can’t release. Countertenor Key’mon W. Murrah, in a radiant Lyric debut, infuses Leonardo with a buoyant theatrical spark that lifts the energy of every scene entered. Meanwhile, Ana María Martínez turns Catrina into a study in imperious grace - her soprano gliding through the score with the kind of effortless authority that makes the boundary between worlds feel like something she can open and close at will.

Musically, the evening’s standout moments come through sweeping duets and emotionally charged arias - Frida’s defiant refusals, Diego’s grief‑soaked pleas, and shimmering ensemble passages that blur the line between the living and the dead. Gabriela Lena Frank’s score leans into lush orchestral colors, letting voices ride waves of percussion, strings, and folkloric textures that feel both ancient and startlingly alive, while the live orchestra - under Roberto Kalb’s precise, fiery baton - does far more than accompany, animating the realm around the singers and giving Mictlán its pulse, the cemetery its glow, and the lovers’ reunion its aching gravity.

Visually, El último sueño de Frida y Diego is a sensory feast - an opera that doesn’t just tell a story but paints one stroke by stroke right in front of you. The stage erupts in the saturated hues of Mexican folklore: cascades of marigolds, candlelit altars, and sweeping bands of cobalt and crimson that echo Rivera’s murals and the raw intimacy of Frida’s self‑portraits. The opening cemetery glows like a living ofrenda, its petals and lanterns shimmering in a soft, uncanny haze that makes the border between worlds feel thin, permeable, almost eager to be crossed.

Once the action plunges into Mictlán, the production morphs into a surreal, shadow‑rich dreamscape - floating fabrics drifting like lost souls or the hem of a woman’s skirt lifted by the wind, skeletal silhouettes stalking the edges of the frame, and sculptural lighting carving the darkness into something at once playful and faintly menacing. Spirits flash in and out like animated brushstrokes, their movement and costuming turning the underworld into a kinetic mural of the afterlife. And when Frida finally steps back into her earthly colors, the entire stage snaps into focus as a living canvas - bold, mythic, and charged with the emotional current of two artists whose love refuses to stay still.

El último sueño de Frida y Diego is being performed at Lyric Opera House through April 4^th. For tickets and/or more show information, click here.

Highly Recommended. 

Upcoming Performances:

March

• Mar 21 • 7:30 p.m.
• Mar 24 • 7:00 p.m.
• Mar 26 • 7:00 p.m.
• Mar 29 • 2:00 p.m.

April

• Apr 1 • 2:00 p.m.
• Apr 4 • 2:00 p.m.

Running Time: Approx. 2h 15m (one intermission)

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

COSI FAN TUTTE translates loosely as ‘Thus Do They All’, referring to the inconstancy – fickleness, even infidelity – of women. ALL women. The opera, composed by Mozart with libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte, begins with two infatuated men, Ferrando (Anthony Leon) and Guglielmo (Ian Rucker) extolling the virtues of their fiancées Fiordiligi and Dorabella.  Don Alfonso (Rod Gilfry), a self-appointed sage / philosopher, jeers that there is no such thing as a faithful woman and wagers he can prove their perfidy within 24 hours. Ferrando and Guglielmo take the flutter and agree that each will try, in disguise, to seduce the other’s gal. Tough duty, yeah?

Jacquelyn Stucker and Cecelia Molinari are brilliant as sisters Fiordiligi and Dorabella (respectively), with peerless voices and superb acting, including spirited physical comedy. Their performances are matched by Ana Maria Martinez as Despina, the sisters’ puckish maid. Don Alfonso recognizes Despina as a ready collaborator and together they seek to lead Fiordiligi and Dorabella into temptation.

The sisters remain aggravatingly faithful, even when Ferrando and Guglielmo are (seemingly) called into military service and reappear (in disguise) as tempting lady-killers. At the close of Act One the women still stand firm against the wiles of the plotters. I’ll leave to your imagination the further convolutions of the six participants in this 1930’s rom-com battle of the sexes. Hilarity and dazzling arias, frothy costumes and splashy sets, all overlying a hotbed of distrust and deception combine to generate something rather like a skanky reality show.

 The production is marvelous – it can hardly be otherwise with Enrique Mazzola conducting, Michael Cavanagh and Roy Rallo directing (with Katrina Bachus’ Assistance) and Constance Hoffman designing costumes. Erhard Rom designed the set and projections, enhanced by Lighting Designers Jane Cos and Chris Maravich, all drawing us inescapably into Fiordiligi and Dorabella’s world. The libretto was sung in Italian; Christopher Bergen projected English translations. My difficulty reading these resided wholly in my eyes (I simply must see an optometrist!). Wig and Makeup Designer John Metzner was responsible for the various mustaches that ultimately adorned the entire cast. Michael Black directed the chorus, and Francesco Millioto conducted the stage band, all drawn together by Stage Manager Alaina Bartkowiak.

Jacquelyn Stucker (Fiordiligi) purports that the frank silliness of COSI FAN TUTTE creates a lens to study the silliness of the strict gender norms of the 1930’s.

Anthony León Ian Rucker and the Company of Cosi fan tutte.

I found Act 1 of COSI FAN TUCCE a delight; in it Mozart and Da Ponte use the theme of "fiancée swapping", which dates back to the 13th century (as in Shakespeare's Cymbeline). At the intermission I was still mystified as to what 19^th and early 20^th century audiences considered offensive and immoral, but in Act 2 I found myself moving closer to their perspective. From the beginning I, of course, denounced the central tenet: ‘cosi fan tutte’ or ‘all women are like that’, but I found Da Ponte’s cynical libretto effectually counterbalanced by the beauty and emotional resonance of Mozart’s music. In Dorabella’s aria “Smanie implacabili"—"Torments implacable" she bemoans her lover’s absence. This sets the stage for Ana Maria Martinez to establish the maid Despina as pivotal to the comedic theme. The aria "In uomini, in soldati, sperare fedeltà?"—"In men, in soldiers, you expect faithfulness?", was an exhibition of Martinez’ magnificent soprano voice. Act 1 continues with Fiordiligi’s aria "Come scoglio"—"Like a rock"; Guglielmo bragging of his manly attributes with "Non siate ritrosi"—"Don't be shy"; and Ferrando praising his love: "Un'aura amorosa"—"A loving breath".

I have to interject here that I’ve not previously been a devotee of opera – soaring sopranos and booming baritones were wasted on me. However, in reviewing for Buzz Center Stage I’ve come to appreciate the operatic artform and am becoming a true dilettante. So, if you, like me, despise opera, your evaluation may be revised by a suitable overture like COSI FAN TUTTE; though I indeed found it problematic, that very characteristic served to fructify the discussion my companion and I enjoyed during the ride home. Check it out! You never know.

Act 2 helped me understand the antipathy earlier audiences felt for COSI FAN TUTTE. I didn’t find it risqué, vulgar, or immoral [admittedly I personally set these bars pretty high]. I don’t believe I’m introducing spoilers when I say that I found the ending simply wrong. A more believable conclusion [to me] would have Ferrando and Guglielmo running off with each other. I wonder what the reaction would have been to that at its 1790 Viennese premiere.

Additional considerations: this is a long opera – with the 30-minDon’t skip lunch! Or you’ll be stuck with the various flavors of sugar and salt offered at the concession stands at ridiculous prices.ute intermission it runs a full 3½ hours. Think of Return of the King, but with a much-appreciated break to pee. Don’t skip lunch! Make time for lunch/dinner - you’ll feel so much better than if you end up relying on the concession stand’s pricey sugar‑and‑salt options.

COSI FAN TUTTE runs at the Lyric Opera House ONLY until February 15!!

It’s interesting to view the world through the lens of an early 20th century Italian opera composer. When “Madama Butterfly” by Puccini premiered in Milan in 1904 it was met with abysmal reviews. Audiences clamored that he had recycled music from his previous hit “La Boheme” which seems like the least of this opera’s problematic themes by today’s standards. After some quick revisions, “Madama Butterfly” emerged as one of the most recognizable operas in the world. Lyric Opera kicks off 2020 with a thrilling revival. 

“Madama Butterfly” is itself an adaptation of an 1898 short story by John Luther Long. Puccini worked with librettist Luigi Illica to bring this tragic semi-true story to the stage. The beloved opera has since been adapted many times since, mostly notably as “Miss Saigon”.  Puccini’s opera tells the story of a teenage girl who marries an American naval officer on a tour of duty in Japan. To him it’s a fake marriage so that he may sleep with her. To her, it’s true love. Predictably, the naval officer Pinkerton (Brandon Jovanovich) abandons her and she is left with a naïve hope that he will return to her. Despite other offers of marriage, Butterfly clings to the fantasy of Pinkerton while her maid Suzuki (Deborah Nansteel) shields her from a bitter reality. 

The opera was originally written in two acts, but audiences were left confused and disappointed. Puccini split the second act in two and inserted a hauntingly beautiful entr’act. Is this the best Puccini opera? Probably not. Where it excels at drama, it somewhat falters in the catchy melodies traditionally expected of Puccini. Afterall, it is Puccini whom we have to thank for influencing some of the best modern musical theatre composers like Andrew Lloyd Webber and Boublil/Schonberg. 

Lyric’s gorgeous revival directed by Louisa Muller seems understated. A subdued orchestra puts the spotlight on the cast, who more than delivers. Lyric stage favorite Ana Maria Martinez and Deborah Nansteel give two powerhouse performances. Martinez has a sung the role many times in her storied career and Lyric’s current production should be considered a real treat. 

Puccini and Illica’s perception are that Americans take what “fortunes” they want around the world with little regard to those they hurt. Puccini even goes so far as to sample the American national anthem many times throughout the opera. It’s deployed at such opportune moments that it would be impossible to read as flattery. Though, Puccini’s problematic orientalism in many of his operas often makes patrons bristle at unintentional stereotyping of Asian culture. While some of the themes of “Madama Butterfly” make modern audiences uncomfortable, what can’t be denied is that Puccini gave us some of the most accessible and entertaining operas ever composed. “Madama Butterfly” despite its flaws achieves what good theatre should. It grabs us by the heartstrings with an enchanting score and a compelling script. 

Through March 8th at Lyric Opera Chicago. 20 N Upper Wacker Drive. (312) 827-5600

“No woman ever died for love” says Despina in Mozart’s charming little opera ‘Cosi fan tutte’. There may not be any deaths from love but, maybe a few tickled funny bones in this revival going on now at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. Originally conceived by John Cox about ten years ago, this version of ‘Cosi fan tutte’ moves the setting to WWI, or 1914. This seasons’ production is largely the same with direction by Bruno Ravella.

‘Cosi fan tutte’ is a lighter work by opera standards. It’s basically a rom-com sung in Italian. Written in 1790, Mozart would only see this opera performed five times in his life, as he died the following year. Mozart operas are typically upbeat with plenty of repeated phrasing. There’s no shortage of beauty pouring out of the pit conducted by James Gaffigan. This is a very accessible piece in both music and performances.

The plot is fairly uncomplicated. Two men Ferrando (Andrew Stenson) and Guglielmo (Joshua Hopkins) question the fidelity of their fiances Fiordiligi (Ana Maria Martinez) and Dorabella (Marianne Crebassa). With the help of Don Alfonso (Alessandro Corbelli) and sexy maid Despina (Elena Tsallagova), the two men pretend to go off to war. They return to their future wives in disguise and each attempts to seduce the other’s fiancé. If it sounds familiar, it is. This opera is loosely inspired by Shakespeare’s ‘Twelfth Night’.

Few people attend an opera for the dramatic chops of the performers. Opera is about beautiful music first and foremost. That said, these two fantastic sopranos are also gifted comedic actresses. The over-the-top emotions of these two characters makes for some really great physical humor. The projected dialogue is almost as ridiculous as the plot itself. Martinez takes up the pious role, making her seduction all the more fun to watch. Crebassa is the goofball and her performance radiates joy even as she’s cheating on her fiance. Though, it’s really Tsallagova who runs away with the laughs in her performance as Despina. This is also her US debut. A talent we’ll hopefully see more of in coming seasons.

As always, the set and costumes are sumptuous. Setting this piece in 1914 gives costume and set designer Robert Perdziola a lot to work with. It’s not terribly often you seen somewhat modern fashion at the Lyric. There are some lovely flapper-flavored looks going on. Nothing quite compares to the second act opening though. A background of venetian boats adorned with twinkling lights opens up to reveal the imposter suitors sailing in to claim their respective victories. The visual against the lovely Mozart music is one of the most arresting moments of the evening.

‘Cosi fan tutte’ is not an opera you’ll find on any before-you-die lists, but it’s an opera worth seeing. While it’s not the shortest show of Lyric’s season, clocking in at just under four hours, it’s definitely the easiest to get into. The music is for everyone, and will leave you feeling warm and tingly.

Through March 16th at Lyric Opera of Chicago. 20 N Wacker Drive. 312-827-5600