WNO Premieres "Grounded", an Opera With Too Many Messages

The world premiere of Grounded reaffirms Washington National Opera as a leading producer of quintessentially American works.  Composed by Jeanine Tesori to the libretto of George Brant, based on his own award-winning play, the opera deals with travails of a female F-16 pilot, whose career gets derailed after pregnancy. It is not hard to imagine the drama this could cause in the life of an ambitious air force officer. But for the creators of Grounded this was not enough. Their opera tackles a myriad of other topics: the evolution of the American military, the changing role of women at home and at work, the pros and cons of using drones in war and allowing IT and surveillance technologies to invade our lives. It concludes with an anti-war message and perhaps others that may be missed in the crowd.

The curtain rises to the sound reminiscing the buzzing engine of an approaching airplane before it blends with orchestral music. The opening scene with a triangular formation of fully uniformed airmen, with one point of the triangle facing the audience, looks promising. A soaring mezzo rises above the male chorus and the squad leader steps out. It takes a while to realize it is a woman, who rose to the rank of major after a number of successful air raid missions. Her persona suggests she has made every effort to look, talk and behave no different than any of her male counterparts. It is hard to pick her out from the rest of the servicemen when the group gathers in a Wyoming bar during a home leave. Even her approach to romance and sex is so masculine that the idea of a local farmer being attracted to her beggars belief. And yet, he claims he likes her best in her uniform and calls her my "flygirl."

Emily D’Angelo as F-16 fighter pilot in WNO's opera Grounded

After this one amorous encounter, the pilot, her name is Jess, discovers she is pregnant. At this point, one would expect a dramatic turn in the opera, perhaps a confrontation with her commanding officer, but Jess (portrayed by Emily D'Angelo in her WNO debut) respects the rules and retreats to Wyoming to inform her one-night-stand (OK, maybe there were two nights) Eric of his impending fatherhood. She expects rejection, but Eric is thrilled, and within minutes we see their daughter Sam grow from a baby to a school-age child. Jess resumes service stateside and works long hours on duties that do not include flying (DNIF). The husband takes over the parenting role. Jess misses her F-16, or Tiger as she lovingly calls it, and the blue sky into which she melds during her flights. 

After about eight years, judging by the daughter's age, the star pilot is summoned by her commander and ordered to resume bombing missions. But this time they will be conduced remotely from a trailer in the Nevada desert.  Jess objects to joining what she calls the "chair force" where she would spend her days staring at gigantic computer screens and perform tasks better suited for a teenager proficient in video-games. The Commander says this is where she is needed and where she will have "war with all the benefits of home." Jess and her family move to Nevada and Eric gets a job in a Las Vegas casino.

 Split scene with Jess at home with Commander above,
photo Scott Suchman

This would have been a good time to end Act I because with the new assignment Jess's life will change drastically. But Act I plods on with  Commander extolling the virtues of a $17-million Reaper drone, which she and her assistant, Sensor, will use to pinpoint targets thousands of miles away.  

The bomber jet pilot disparages the windowless craft that she sees as soulless and blind, but her young assistant points out, that the drone actually has an eye - a camera trained to the ground where it picks up images of moving targets. After initial boredom with her chair job, which consists of scrutinizing grey pixilated images, Jess gets bouts of excitement from her remote-controlled strikes. But the images of dead American soldiers are traumatizing. Even blasting suspected terrorists causes pangs of conscience. Soon the reality and her imagination begin to blur. The appearance of her alter ego Also Jess (portrayed by splendid soprano Teresa Perrotta) is a clear sign that her mind is unraveling. 

In the second act Jess is clearly suffering from the PTS disorder. She is rattled by surveillance cameras in the shopping mall and paranoid about being watched every step of the way like she watches her targets in the hostile territory. Instead of the sky blue she is craving, everything around her seems grey. The Nevada desert becomes no different than deserts thousands of miles away in Syria or Afghanistan. At home she collapses from physical and mental exhaustion after a 12-hour shift, and cannot find comfort with her family. In bed with her husband she splits into Also Jess who is present physically and real Jess whose spirit drifts away.  The threat of death has been removed, but not the threat to her well being. In one scene she wipes the invisible blood from her hands like Lady Macbeth. After a year in the trailer, she is assigned a high-profile mission, but is unable to accomplish it after seeing her daughter's face in the image of a foreign girl running toward her father, who is the target. Jess sabotages the order to strike and is court-marshaled. 

Brant's original play was an 80-minute monologue by an unnamed female pilot.  Using drone in wars was a relative novelty a decade ago and its impact on the soldiers was not understood. A piece focusing on the PTS disorder garnered great success in both US and European theaters. Tesori was impressed by it too and wanted to expand it into a full-scale opera, that would include characters mentioned in the pilot's monologue. Brant worked with Tesori to create a libretto with roles for those characters and scenes in which they interact. He added dialogues between the protagonists, mostly military personnel, and peppered their language with crude words for authenticity's sake. The result is a 2.5-hour long opera that wavers between engaging moments and weak spots. In the final scene, for example, the penalized pilot delivers a cringe-worthy warning (to Americans?), a sort of "Live-by-the-sword, die-by-the-sword" cliché, ending with the single word "boom", in hushed tones. Perhaps an echo of a real explosion reverberating in the pilot's mind?  

The music incorporates sounds of military trumpets, popular soldier tunes or country music to help set the scene. The score is full of likable passages that are in no way innovative, revolutionary or memorable. 

Apart from Jess, the characters in the opera are not adequately fleshed out. Eric (tenor Joseph Dennis) is more of an accessory to his wife, sort of like Mattel's Ken to Barbie. Bass Morris Robinson as Commander and baritone Kyle Miller as Sensor are more convincing in their shorter roles. 

Set designer Mimi Lien employed digital technology and more than 300 interlocked LED panels to create real and imaginary places in Jess's world: blue sky around her flying jet, evening at her Wyoming home, Nevada desert during her commute to work, a sonogram of her baby's fetus. The stage is split in two levels: the lower representing places on the ground and the upper showing the blue sky, military scenes or imagery from Jess's troubled mind. Advanced video technology enhances the sense of the environment and understanding of the pilot's state of mind. The sets and lighting work in concert with the sound for the best effect.

Pilot in the control room with Sensor and two observers, photo Scott Suchman

Grounded is an impressive undertaking, tackling issues that resonate with many Americans today. Have we enabled women to shine in any career they choose or is motherhood still an impediment? How do we advance at work in an era depending increasingly on robots, AI and digital technology better understood by younger people? How is our brain affected by never-ending involvement in wars, exposure to violence and shrinkage of meaningful interaction with family and friends? All of these topics are worth exploring, but not in one opera. With too many themes vying for attention, Grounded explores none in depth and fails to make a powerful impact. If it is to open next year's season at the Metropolitan Opera, it may have to undergo a major overhaul. 

Tesori is an accomplished and popular composer, best known for her musicals. She has found a staunch supporter in WNO artistic director Francesca Zambello, who has sponsored her forays into the opera. Earlier this year WNO presented Tesori's opera Blue, and on  Saturday, it opened its 2023-2024 season with much heralded Grounded. Later this year, the company will revive Tesori's holiday favorite The Lion, the Unicorn, and Me.  

Blue was a masterpiece in every respect: from the enfolding drama and convincing dialogues to well developed characters, excellent interpretations and great music throughout. Created in cooperation with librettist Tazewell Thompson, the award-winning work offered an insight into a personal tragedy of a black US policeman whose son was shot by another policeman. In Grounded, a bunch of hot issues are thrown together without a connecting thread or a clear and coherent message. Without impressive music, or sufficiently dramatic moments to lift the tedium of two long acts, an opera risks staying grounded forever.

There are five more performances of WNO's opera Grounded, with the last one on November 13.