“Treemonisha” occupies a curious place in the history of American classical music. It is the only surviving opera written by Scott Joplin (1867-1917), the groundbreaking African-American composer who is credited with bringing ragtime music to mainstream popularity. Yet Joplin’s attempts during his later years to mount a full production “Treemonisha” were in vain, and his repeated efforts to bring the work to the stage only wrecked his finances and further frayed his weak state of health. The work laid in obscurity for years and was never fully staged until a 1972 Broadway production.
It is easy to blame the racism of Joplin’s era for his failure to produce “Treemonisha,” but that may not entirely be the case. Joplin actually created an earlier opera called “A Guest of Honor” and successfully helmed a touring company which played the work in several Midwest cities during 1903. Unfortunately, the payroll for that tour was stolen during a stop in Kansas City and the production’s assets were confiscated by creditors. The score to “A Guest of Honor” was among the objects seized and it has never been seen again.
Truth be told, “Treemonisha” is a deeply flawed work. Joplin, who was not trained in classical music and who had limited contact with European opera, created a hybrid work which was three-quarters opera and one-quarter ragtime revue. Strangely, the score works well despite the very different traditions clashing into each other. But while the music is sublime, the libretto is frequently simplistic to the point of being elementary. And the third act nearly stalls in a syrupy advocacy of morality and forgiveness that takes up too much time.
But despite its problems, “Treemonisha” is an entertaining and ebullient celebration of music. The 1982 film of the Houston Grand Opera’s production of “Treemonisha” captures the glory of Joplin’s creation and works damn hard to camouflage the wobbles and creaks in the source material. The resulting film is a must-see, even for those who loathe opera.
Set in Texas in the 1880s, “Treemonisha” focuses on a rural African-American community at the lowest rung of the socio-economic ladder. The only person in the community who achieved an education was the 18-year-old Treemonisha (Carmen Balthrop), who passed on the gifts of reading and writing to her suitor Remus (Curtis Rayam). Treemonisha’s passion for knowledge is at odds with the conjuror/trickster Zodzetrick (Obba Babatunde), the head of a huckster gang who profit off the superstitions of the uneducated black farmers by selling “bags of luck.” Realizing that Treemonisha could disrupt his business, Zodzetrick has her kidnaped and taken to the gang’s lair deep in a swamp. Remus turns the table on the tricksters by dressing up in a scarecrow’s clothing and surprising them in their hideaway. Fearing the scarecrow is the devil, the gang departs and Remus brings Treemonisha home. When Zodzetrick and an associate are later brought to the community, Treemonisha urges forgiveness for their crimes. At first the community is reluctant to be so noble, but eventually they realize the morality of Treemonisha’s points and they swear to follow her example to better themselves through education and positive living.
Time has obscured the overtly political nature of “Treemonisha.” Joplin’s advocacy of African-American self-improvement and self-reliance via learning and a tolerant attitude to evildoers was clearly a tribute to the philosophy of Booker T. Washington, who happened to be the subject of his earlier opera “A Guest of Honor.” But during the early part of the 20th century, when Joplin was creating the opera, the black political debate was heatedly divided between Washington’s viewpoint and the writings of W.E.B. DuBois, who strongly championed a more integrationist approach to racial issues. DuBois’ point was eventually embraced by the African-American population in their long struggle for racial equality. The white world is barely visible in “Treemonisha” outside of a fleeting reference to a white neighbor who provided the title character with her early education and a brief sequence when Treemonisha and Remus silently discover the slave chains left behind at an abandoned plantation.
But time has not obscured Joplin’s musical glory. The opera’s Overture is a marvelous swirl of classical and ragtime traditions, and the film presents this music with an imaginative mix of modern ballet and early 20th century cake walk dancing. Mabel Robinson’s choreography is endlessly inventive, especially when ragtime takes precedent with the Act One ring dance (“We’re Goin’ Round”) and the Act Three finale (“A Real Slow Drag”). The swamp around the tricksters’ lair is brought to life in the balletic “Frolic of the Bears” as a wonderful zoomorphic mix of dancers in animal masks while oversized butterflies are carried through the air. The number has more than a passing resemblance to the staging of the Broadway production of “The Lion King,” with its own mix of animal puppets and masked costumes, and it is not difficult to imagine the folks behind Disney’s theatrical extravaganza gaining some inspiration from this show.
The Houston Grand Opera ensemble lives up to the company’s moniker: they are truly grand. Carmen Balthrop’s perfect soprano and deeply subtle acting gives full dimension to Treemonisha. Even in the problematic third act, when her character’s plea for clemency slides towards being treacly, she maintains a sense of sincerity and poise which brings much-needed grace to the proceedings. She is well matched by Delores Ivory, who is given a stunning aria (“Treemonisha’s Bringing Up”) which details the surprising origins of the title character. Ivory’s presence is both maternal and majestic – her performance beautifully essays the scope of motherly love while her commanding vocal presence takes Joplin’s composition to a level of high art.
The men of “Treemonisha” seem to be sketched a bit broadly: Curtis Rayam’s heroic Remus, Obba Babatunde’s demonic Zodzetrick, S. Ray Jacobs’ psalm-singing Parson Alltalk and Dorceal Duckens’ crotchety Ned are two dimensional characters in the libretto. But in their respective performances, each singer brings a rich degree of humanity and passion to their roles. Especially Jacobs, whose wildly rousing sermon “Good Advice” injects a whoosh of old-style Negro spiritual into the proceedings which nearly steals the show.
“Treemonisha” wraps with one of the finest closing numbers ever conceived for any theatrical event: the ragtime dance “A Real Slow Drag” has the cast high-stepping in a rich musical swing which can liberate any stolid viewer into becoming a hand-clapping, toe-tapping participant in the action. As conceived and performed here, it validates Joplin’s brilliance with one of the most memorable scenes ever presented on an opera stage. The finale’s music and the happy ending may not be pure opera, but so what? Even with its flaws, “Treemonisha” is an American original and it deserves to be treasured.
