The advance billing promised "a new opera by John Adams." But while A Flowering Tree (which had its local premiere on August 13 as part of the Mostly Mozart festival) is a lovely piece of music, often ravishing to the ear, it isn't truly an opera. A definition of the form derived from, say, Figaro, Traviata or Wozzeck — works in which the drama unfolds through the actions of the characters — would not also pertain to A Flowering Tree. Even Adams's celebrated "documentary" operas — Nixon in China, The Death of Klinghoffer, Doctor Atomic — aren't truly musical dramas; they proceed instead as successions of tableaux. But still more than they, A Flowering Tree veers toward oratorio.

Adams collaborated on the text with director Peter Sellars, whose moribund libretto for Doctor Atomic is easily that opera's least successful element. His work here isn't much better. Based on a South Indian myth, A Flowering Tree is a fable of love, loss and redemption, centering on the beautiful peasant girl Kumudha — who possesses the magical ability to turn herself into the wondrous tree of the title — and the prince who falls in love with her. The lovers are both singing parts — in Sellars's production, doubled by dancers — but by far the largest role belongs to the work's narrator. The device allows the creators to tell us what is happening without properly dramatizing it: the narrator's presence turns the protagonists themselves into mere illustrations.

The nature of the vocal music, too, flattens the work's drama. The musical heart of A Flowering Tree lies with the orchestra. Adams's thrilling orchestral ostinatos, luminously orchestrated, move the piece forward; meanwhile, the vocal lines present the text and a generalized emotional affect, but never advance the musical argument. Simply stated, the vocal writing lacks melody — another factor that sidelines the singers and encourages us to look elsewhere for meaning.

Luckily, the orchestral fabric provides plenty of interest on its own, with Adams's eclecticism very much in evidence. He has acknowledged the presence of Zauberflöte in the work; as in Mozart's opera, the musical texture establishes a realm of magic. The central plot device of a woman turning herself into a tree obviously evokes Daphne, and the new work's luscious finale echoes the arpeggiated vocalise of Strauss's heroine. The writing touches on Latin salsa and Stravinskian orientalism. But for all its disparate influences, the compositional voice throughout is Adams' own. Any skeptic questioning the reasons for Adams's popularity need look no further—no concert-music composer today creates music that's more accessible, and whose large-scale structures are more lucid and satisfying.

Sellars's staging did not serve the piece well. It reflected a kind of pious multiculturalism that seemed to have little relevance to the work's core. The singers were forced to exchange sickly smiles, as if expressing some kind of ecumenical beneficence. Jessica Rivera (Kumudha) and Sanford Sylvan (the narrator) were both clothed in ill-fitting saris — a most unflattering costuming choice. And as pleasing as the dancers were to watch — especially the exquisite Astri Kusuma Wardani, embodying the heroine — their presence made the staging seem fussy and cluttered: an attempt to add a simulacrum of dramatic action to a piece that, in fact, doesn't contain any.

The singers were all miked, making the text at all times intelligible. (Mark Grey was the sound designer.) The amplification was relatively discreet, but it did add an unpleasant glare to the dulcet Rivera's top notes, and it made tenor Russell Thomas, as the prince, sound at times just too damn loud: in the work's Nonesuch recording, he found tender tones for the Act I love duet that were absent here. The standout among the three singers was Adams stalwart Sylvan, succeeding through the mellow beauty of his baritone, his crystalline diction, and above all, the calm, unforced rightness of his phrasing.

Even though the text is in English, for some reason the chorus sings in Spanish (another multicultural touch). But at this performance, the choice did allow us to hear the superb Schola Cantorum de Venezuela in its native language. At the helm: Adams himself, leading the Orchestra of St. Luke's in a performance so vibrant that I wished he had junked the whole staging apparatus and just let us focus on the marvelous sounds we were hearing.

FRED COHN

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