Four dysfunctional and argumentative individuals reconcile through the ministrations of a mnemonic Doppelgänger in The Onion, a parlor-sci-fi opera by composer Eric Sawyer with co-librettist Ron Bashford at the Maso Huntington Studio Theater. Presented by MassOpera and Live In Concert, the show revolves around the hectoring Magistra, a brilliant scientist who seethingly resents her professor-mentor-lover Cal’s plagiarism and abandonment until the final scene, when she announces, “I’m ready to let those memories melt away.”  Earlier she had sung, “I am over it,” when she clearly had not been.

She has an ambiguous relationship with her mentee Octavian, who himself-herself has coded to life the robot Onion; the latter, doubling as Octavian’s Octavia, adds a bit of gender-bending in anticipation of a later pattycake princess reveal. Meanwhile ingenue Miranda kvetches like any teenager. The Onion figure’s enhanced and recovered memories of Cal constitute the deus ex machina which works the general reconciliation. 

Sawyer’s inspiration from Rosenkavalier manifests itself in the naming of Octavian (is his scene in skirts meant to be an inversion of Stauss’s trouser role?). If the name Miranda comes straight out of The Tempest, she seems to function more as a Sophie to Octavian from Rosenkavalier rather than Caliban’s nemesis. And are the tiaras that she and Octavian wear meant to conjure up a silver rose? In any case this mashup, with its tech themes reminds me more of The Forbidden Planet (itself a Tempest adaptation) than either of the cited sources. And who was the prototype for the remembered abusive father who banished Octavian from his family for sissiness?

Sawyer musiced the text and plot-heavy carryings-on with effective wet parlando rising at times to some juicier arias and ensembles that earned applause. His lyrical approach avoided jumps and angles. His orchestration made colorful use of the ten players arrayed upstage behind transparent whiteboards loaded with graphs, formulae and equations presumably related to neuroscience. Ryan Turner presided benevolently over the forces, successfully underlining the dramatic contrasts of anger, intensity, affection, and dancing frivolity. And through some magic of well-placed monitors and a clear beat, kept the rhythmically demanding parlando lined up with the instrumental lines. 

The five singers mastered the fitting of the colloquial libretto to the evocative accompaniments. If their voices failed to bloom in the decidedly dry space, they nevertheless commanded our attention and interacted with conviction.

Soprano Dana Varga, as something of a virago, chewed the Matthew Richards-Ron Bashford scenery with the force of a Lady Macbeth. She could eventually forgive but not forget. As Octavian, baritone David Thomas Mather conveyed the frustrations and repressions of his character until Miranda’s (Emma West) understanding and the mnemonics released him into the general silliness of the pattycake “ballet.” Eventually awakening into womanhood, West projected some great coloratura celebration. For the much of the play, The Onion, countertenor Ifeanyi Epum, sat as an immobile Metropolis-style humanoid robot, intoning perfunctory computer commands for much of the time. But his role broadened as Octavian went down the rabbit hole. At that point he transformed into Octavia in a love duet with Octavian. He also got the last word in the opera. Probably the most artistic singing came from baritone David Small, who put across the doting papa, the angry rival, the Weltschmerz-ridden failure, and the nice-guy wannabe in bronzed tones.

The reality visors that interfaced between the characters and the robot, (reminiscent of the lighted head clamps worn in Forbidden Planet) color morphed along with the general lighting when the characters went back in time. Could there have been more contrasts between the depictions of present moments and the dream scenes? Changing appearances? A bit of fog as a transition? A brief blackout? In a movie some soft focus might have told the tale.

The Onion charmed as a chamber opera, not overstaying its welcome. And it seems to have enough musical complexity to sustain a revival with an enlarged orchestra and more elaborate effects. 

Eric Sawyer answered some of my questions:

Cal (Calvin Baron) is more Baron Ochs than Caliban, but as the antagonist channels some of the baseness of each. The Onion character is kind of its own thing, but has a hint of Ariel as the agent of the scientist/magician with a will of its own. 

I’d say there’s a nod to Rosenkavalier on the most general level of involving play with gender expression.

Magistra takes something from Prospero, with science as her magic and being motivated by avenging (and finally forgiving) an ancient wrong. Like the countess, she is haunted by time and what it will take from her.  But her personality is indeed very different from the Marschallin’s. 

In both “source” works there’s a triangle of an older authority/parent and two young people. Love works differently in The Onion, but the coming together of the two young people is shared all around.

The electric piano was a practicality for the two venues, but I liked the slight technological tinge it lent.

Derek Fowles pictures below: