'Aida' review: Lyric Opera's latest looks weird and sounds monotonous

A brutal, intractable war. A spectacular, triumphal march. A complicated love triangle. A tragic, fateful ending.

These dramatic elements and a soaring, irresistible score have made "Aida," an immediate success at its premiere in Egypt in 1871 and Milan a year later, one of Giuseppe Verdi’s most enduringly beloved and frequently performed creations in the operatic world.

After nine previous presentations dating back to 1955, Lyric Opera of Chicago returned to the work Saturday with a production that premiered at the San Francisco Opera in 2016 and has been seen at three other American companies including the Washington (D.C.) National Opera.

This latest take on the beloved classic brings together an impressive bevy of talent from the cast to the top-notch artistic team but somehow it doesn’t all quite add up. This production falls flat on many fronts, starting with the baffling and too-often frustrating staging.

Director Francesca Zambello, who has overseen seven previous Lyric productions since 1999, has a stellar international reputation, but there is little that is interesting, insightful or innovative about this take.

The opera was originally placed in ancient Egypt with the implied enemy being Ethiopia, but Zambello chose to update this production to some undefined, modern setting that is constantly at odds with the libretto’s references to “gods,” “deities” and “barbarians.”

Her prime directorial conceit was choosing to collaborate with artist Marquis Lewis (aka RETNA), whose work is inspired by calligraphy and hieroglyphics, to evoke what she calls in her program notes a “mythic past with a contemporary edge.” But it doesn’t work.

Instead of any recognizable mythological elements fictional or not, we just get an overwrought barrage of calligraphs on drops, banners and ceremonial staffs. At one point, the congregated masses pay homage not to a deity but to a giant, bright-red calligraphic screen. It’s just weird.

Even more confusing are the contradictory costumes by designer Anita Yavich. While mixing past and present can provide a fascinating dramatic jolt if done well, the mixture of looks here — khaki, 20th-century-era military uniforms, flowing white robes, floral-colored dresses — just provokes a one-word question: Huh?

Also jarring are the dance scenes. While it’s easy to imagine dance being a natural part of the culture of ancient Egypt, it just seems forced and out of place in this updated realm, especially with the eight male dancers oddly wearing tank tops and slacks. (Of course, the one female dancer, Anne O’Donnell Passero, is in a flowing, shimmering dress, which seems completely incongruous.)

Operagoers are used to ignoring or forgiving unusual or bizarre stagings as long as the vocal side of the proceedings is strong, but here, too, there are shortcomings. The cast consists of many fine singers — including regulars like mezzo-soprano Jamie Barton, who has appeared six times before with the company — but somehow the singing failed to ignite for much of the evening.

The biggest disappointment is soprano Michelle Bradley, who possesses a wonderfully forceful, agile voice, which swoops easily up to the top notes but is lacking too many times in timbral and expressive nuance.

In her title role as the enslaved princess who is love in with Radamès, a general in her captors’ army, one would have wished her to pull back on the power and offer a more hushed take on some of her most pained lines, forcing the audience to lean in and really take notice.

Much the same could be said of Barton, as Amneris, a princess who is Aida’s romantic rival, and tenor Russell Thomas, who has had six previous Lyric roles but never fully connects here as Radamès.

Some of the best singing comes in the smaller roles, especially baritone Reginald Smith Jr., as Amonasro, Aida’s father and the disguised king of the opposing country. He brings the kind of vocal subtlety missing in so much of this production and draws out Bradley’s most impassioned singing of the evening in their Act 3 duet. Bass Önay Köse also brings impressive punch to his role as the high priest, Ramfis.

The production’s saving grace is Lyric’s magnificent, 100-member chorus, which goes far in putting the grandeur in this grand opera. These singers energize every scene they are in, delivering the vocal thrills and touching poignancy too often lacking elsewhere. Major kudos to chorus director Michael Black.

Under the baton of music director Enrique Mazzola, the playing of the 69-member pit orchestra is as captivating as always, with notable solos by English hornist Judith Zunamon Lewis among others. But some of the blame for the production’s vocal deficiencies has to fall on him.