No punches pulled in Dead Man Walking at the Met

When Sister Helen Prejean stepped out at the end of the curtain calls for Dead Man Walking, the New York Metropolitan Opera’s Jake Heggie opener for the 23/24 season, the packed gala audience erupted. There were now three Sister Helens onstage.

Mezzo soprano Joyce DiDonato, who had triumphantly portrayed the nun bent on saving the soul of convicted murderer, Joseph de Rocher, mezzo soprano Susan Graham, who famously inaugurated the role in San Francisco in 2000; and, amazingly, the real McCoy sorry, ‘Prejean’, voice register unknown, author of the book, Dead Man Walking and inspiration for the film and opera of the same name.

What a moment. It was as if after an early performance of Mozart’s Don Giovanni Don Juan himself had appeared fresh from the pages of Tirso di Molina, his Spanish creator, to take a bow with Wolfie.

The world and its wife had been hauled before the audience to acknowledge the plaudits – Heggie, Chorus Master Donald Palumbo, Director, Ivo van Hove, set and lighting director, Jan Versweyveld. Then, there was a meaningful pause. A slight, bashful figure was coaxed onstage.

Sister Helen Prejean wrote her book about the prisoner on death row she befriended and mentored forty years ago. She still campaigns against the death penalty and attends performances of the opera whenever she can.

My neighbours in the Dress Circle had come from San Francisco, knew Susan Graham, this time singing the role of Mrs Patrick de Rocher, the killer’s mother, well and told me Sister Helen had been present at every one of Susan’s performances, so committed was she to Jake Heggie’s opera.

When Heggie and librettist, the late Terrence McNally, were planning to make an opera of her book and approached her, Sister Helen was refreshingly direct. “I don’t know boo scat about opera. Just make me two promises. One, it can’t be atonal. We must have melodies people can hum. And two, redemption has to be at the heart of the story.”

Heggie, a naturally melodic composer, happily obliged with the first injunction, McNally with the second.

This is not a relentlessly ‘preachy,’ overtly campaigning opera. An easy rant against the death penalty. The need for redemption is woven through all the characters in different colours. Sister Helen has to face up to the consequences of befriending a murderer to fulfil her duty to Christ. The raped victim’s father is eventually forced to partly acknowledge the need for forgiveness. The prison warden, with 200 dead men walking in his prison, harbours his own demons.

The audience is immediately plunged into the horror of the crime. The action starts with a film of events leading up to the murder. Two happy young teenagers on a night out in the boy’s MGB stopping to swimming in an idyllic lake, then settling down to have sex on a towel. Joseph and his brother, Anthony, confront them. The girl is raped by Joseph and stabbed in the throat thirty-seven times. Anthony shoots the boy.

There are moments of levity. This new production from van Hove with slick film backdrop projections, facilitated a highly comical scene when DiDonato, en route to Angola prison, sweating in a figurative unairconditioned black compact sedan (actually a chair), is stopped for speeding by a cop who confirmed she had been “smokin’” – but let her off because when he had given a ticket to an IRS inspector, the next day he had been busted in an inspection. No way was this swaggering, sunglass-cool trooper risking his neck with God.

Here’s what happens.

In Act One, in a poor New Orleans school, Sister Helen and Sister Rose teach a hymn to a group of children. The simple hymn – ‘We Will Gather Round’ – is a central theme of the work. It sounds well-known but is a Heggie original. Helen thinks about her plan to visit Angola State Penitentiary, where a new pen pal, a death row inmate, Joseph de Rocher, has asked her to visit.

Against Rose’s advice, Helen makes the long drive to Angola. That’s when the motor bike cop stops her for speeding and ends up asking her to pray for his sick mother. Sister Helen has that effect on people.

When she arrives, Sister Helen is greeted by the prison chaplain, Father Grenville. A waste of space. On the way to his office, they see inmates engaged in a rough game of basketball. Sister Helen and Grenville then have a tense meeting in which the chaplain angrily warns her that she is wasting her time. Joseph is beyond anyone’s help. Sister Helen tartly mentions that God may help. Grenville is not really a God fan.

The prison warden then tells her Joseph will ask her to become his spiritual advisor, to help prepare him for his execution. Quite a responsibility. As she walks to the death row section of the prison, Sister Helen is taunted by the inmates.

Joseph and Sister Helen don’t hit it off. Bravado makes him test her tolerance. He recalls the pleasures he has known with women. Sister Helen calls his bluff and Joseph admits his fear. As predicted, he asks her to be his spiritual advisor. They both acknowledge they “can’t do it alone.” The ice is broken. Joseph asks her to accompany his mother to a Pardon Board hearing and Sister Helen agrees.

In a courtroom the frightened Mrs. de Rocher does her best to plead for her son’s life: she is a small woman in the face of enormous hostility. During her testimony, Owen Hart, the father of the murdered teenage girl, explodes with anger and recounts the grisly details of his daughter’s murder. Joseph’s mother responds that another killing cannot undo what has been done.

After the hearing, Joseph’s family and the murder victims’ families wait for a verdict. Sister Helen introduces herself to the parents and they express their grief at never seeing their children again.

News arrives that the appeal has been turned down: Joseph will be executed. The bereaved parents question Sister Helen’s motivation. There is a whiff of inappropriateness about the relationship between Sister Helen and the prisoner, but it is a passing allusion only.

Back in the visiting room, Sister Helen tells Joe an appeal has been made to the governor. Angered by his selfishness, she urges him to acknowledge his guilt and seek forgiveness, but he sees no hope and continues to blame his brother for the murders.

The warden appears suddenly and insists she leave. Sister Helen has had no time to eat and becomes faint from hunger, stress and exhaustion. As she looks for change at a vending machine, a jumble of conflicting voices clutters her mind. The warden tells her the governor has turned down the appeal: “Joseph de Rocher is a dead man.” The voices in her head grow louder and Sister Helen faints. She is at the door of despair.

In Act Two, Joseph is counting push-ups when the warden comes to tell him his execution date has been set, 4 August, midnight. Alone, Joseph voices feelings about his impending death, Sister Helen, and his murder victims.

Sister Helen awakens from a nightmare about Joseph and the murdered teenagers. Rose comforts her and helps her admit she still has to find the strength to forgive Joseph herself, just as mothers forgive their children’s failings.

On the night of Joseph’s execution, Sister Helen tells him about seeing Elvis Presley in person when she was a girl. Somehow, their shared love of Elvis opens a door between them. The crazy diversion frees them to laugh as friends. DiDonato’s air guitar impression could do with some polishing. She is still determined that Joseph admit his guilt and find forgiveness. Joseph’s family comes to see him for the last time.

Joseph has a tearful farewell with his mother and two younger brothers. He begs his mother to forgive him, but she says she believes what he has always told her, that he is innocent and there is nothing to forgive. Mrs. de Rocher seeks comfort in her recollections of Joseph’s innocent childhood.

When he is led away, his mother falls apart, consoled by Sister Helen with assurances that there is good in her son. God’s love is not denied him. Left alone, Sister Helen panics for a moment as she contemplates the harrowing task she faces that night.

The parents of the murder victims arrive to witness the execution. They upbraid Sister Helen for siding with the murderer, rejecting her words of consolation. Only Owen Hart voices doubts about the value of the execution. Sister Helen offers him friendship and promises to visit.

After the guards prepare Joseph for execution, Sister Helen is alone with him one last time. In the few moments remaining, she begs him to tell the truth. She reveals that she has visited the crime scene and asks him to relive that night.

Reluctantly, Joseph at last tells her the whole story and, breaking down in sobs, admits his guilt. Sister Helen assures him of forgiveness. Not only hers, but God’s as well. She tells him she will be the face of love for him when he dies.

The warden calls out: “Dead man walking.” As he escorts Joseph to the execution chamber, Father Grenville intones the Lord’s Prayer, echoed by the voices of inmates, nuns, guards, and parents.

Sister Helen remains close to Joseph, reading to him from the Bible. She is allowed, this one time, to touch him and puts her hand reassuringly on his back. When they reach the chamber, that’s it. Joseph and Sister Helen exchange an emotional good-bye. She reminds him to look for her as she takes her place with the others in the viewing room. After being strapped to the execution table, Joseph asks the parents’ forgiveness. In silence, with only his heartbeat audible, the lethal injection is administered.

In his final moment, Joseph says to Sister Helen: “I love you.” After his death, the witnesses leave. She is alone with Joseph. One last time, she sings her hymn: “He will gather us around.”

The production is truly shocking, which is the point. The execution scene is horrible. Drugs are pumped into de Rocher’s veins in silence. The cardiac monitor flatlines. All in total silence. A silence of 3,700 people. Palpable.

Of course, Dead Man Walking raises monumental issues surrounding capital punishment, forgiveness, retribution, and salvation. That is the point of the real Sister Helen’s commitment to the work. No punches are pulled. But, despite that harrowing and lengthy execution finale, the audience can leave with justifiable hope in its heart.

Standout performances from Joyce DiDonato, that campaigner in chief offstage and on, Susan Graham, American bass-baritone Ryan McKinney as Joseph de Rocher (what other singer could have done those push-ups?) and American baritone, Rod Gilfry as Owen Hart, father of the murdered girl, gave this opera the nuance and uncertainty it needed to avoid becoming a clichéd campaigning hack.

Will it pack them into the Lincoln Center for nine performances? Hmmm…The later shows in the run remain 60% unsold.

And another thing!

Daniel Barenboim, the conductor, pianist, and husband of cellist Jacqueline du Pré every baby boomer classical music fan grew up and has lived with, has announced his resignation as general music director of the Berlin State Opera due to declining health.

It marks the end of a hugely significant era. The 80-year-old has been leading the Staatsoper since 1992, fought to ensure its survival as a separate entity after reunification, and expressed his gratitude in a statement for the thirty years of collaboration, “which in all respects, both musically and personally, have enabled us to fly”.

Barenboim, who is among the pre-eminent conductors in the world, has served as music director of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, the Orchestre de Paris and La Scala in Milan.

But his lifelong love affair with German music and his intense interest in the country’s post-cold war reunification led to him committing himself passionately to Berlin – and taking Wagner to Israel.

He will be succeeded for an initial five-year term by maestro Christian Thielemann, who has had his run-ins with Barenboim over the years.

Back in 2004, in a decision which has been portrayed in part as a Twilight of the Gods for Berlin’s rich operatic heritage and in part as a victory for the left over the right in German cultural politics, Thielemann finally bowed the knee to Barenboim by resigning as music director of Berlin’s Deutsche Oper, over a funding decision which benefited Barenboim’ house.

Everything comes to he who waits.

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