It’s high-tech versus low-tech in razzle-dazzle staging of ‘Faust’ at Lyric

Few legends have proven more enduringly alluring than Faust’s deal with the devil, a story of deceit, betrayal and basic human weakness that is compellingly retold in Charles Gounod’s deservedly celebrated 1859 opera.

Overshadowing everything in Lyric Opera of Chicago’s new take on this old tale is a production design (a collaboration with Portland Opera) that springs from the obviously fertile mind of nationally known sculptor and filmmaker John Frame.

Lyric Opera deserves credit for going outside the conventional stable of opera designers for a startlingly fresh vision and for attempting to plug into the high-tech, visual cacophony that has come to define 21st-century life.

The problem is that the 3½-hour production’s barrage of elaborate and arguably overblown sets, costumes and projections become a distraction and at times even overwhelm what is at its heart a very simple if desperately tragic story.

In this conception, Frame’s artistry is essentially a stand-in for Faust’s, and Frame/Faust’s artistic world of puppet-like sculptures, silhouette animation, still photography and stop-animation films becomes the make-believe scenic realm in which all the action takes place.

These elements, along with the imaginative costumes, especially Méphistophélès’ ensemble, a delightfully outrageous orange-and-black patterned suit with red shoes, are based on Frame’s ideas and realized by designer Vita Tzykun.

Offsetting those elements, which are drawn from the late 19th- and early 20th-centuries, are David Adam Moore’s very 21st-century projections, which animate some of those older visuals as only today’s technology can, and add a high-resolution image of a forest as a vast backdrop and other color images.

What results is a collision of old and new, high-tech and low-tech, fantastic and real, that is extremely inventive and highly relevant to the way we perceive the world today and process information. But, as has been suggested, it can at times all become a bit too much.

Some of the projections vividly enliven the action, such as Frame’s stop-action animated film of skeletal figures scampering around the stage in Act Two, as Méphistophélès sings of the golden idol and devil’s dance. But at other times, the projections echo the action on stage and just seem redundant.

At the same time, it’s often hard to sort out the symbolism that is obviously implied in much of the scenery. A key set piece is a large puppet-like figure, apparently a kind of doppelganger for Faust, with a long, telescopic device projecting from its face. It is visible in every scene but what is its significance?

Kevin Newbury, one of Lyric Opera’s most reliable directors, is arguably a bit hamstrung by all this scenic and technical razzle-dazzle, but he also has made some puzzling choices of his own that don’t help this production.

After he makes his deal with the devil, for example, the now youthful Faust appears at a town celebration in Act Two. But in this conception, he weirdly wanders through the action staring at his hands and hovering around people, decidedly uncomfortable in this new guise and unsure of himself.

It is almost laughable, then, in Act Three, when Marguerite, who surely would have been repulsed by this odd, almost creepy behavior, sings of meeting Faust and wonders if he is a “noble lord.”

Unfortunately, these dominating dramatic and scenic considerations steal attention away from first-rate performances both by Lyric Opera’s always-impressive chorus and a fine line-up of soloists.

With his wonderfully flexible bass-baritone voice and ease onstage, Lyric Opera regular Christian Van Horn excelled as Méphistophélès, reveling in the character’s smugness, showiness and skullduggery. It’s easy to imagine this becoming a signature role for him.

It took a while for tenor Benjamin Bernheim to spark as Faust, and the odd conception of the role did not help him. But the Frenchman has an instinctive feel for this music and Gounod’s floating lines. He offered stirring takes on the character’s big arias, especially his romantic ode to Marguerite at the beginning of Act Three, which drew deserved cheers.

But the star of this production was arguably Ailyn Pérez, who winningly captures the wholesomeness, humanity and pathos of the betrayed Marguerite. Although her voice is a bit under-powered for the vast Lyric Opera stage, the Chicago-born soprano’s honest, understated style was ideal.

Baritone Edward Parks offered a powerful take on the role of Valentin, Marguerite’s brother, and mezzo-soprano Jill Grove lit up the small comic role of Marthe.

French conductor Emmanuel Villaume showed a deep affinity for this music, keeping the pacing taut, drawing striking playing from the Lyric Opera pit orchestra and bringing out the best from the soloists.

Kyle MacMillan is a Chicago-based freelance writer.