By CB Adams

Set in Harlem’s iconic Sugar Hill—once home to luminaries like W.E.B. Du Bois, Thurgood Marshall and Duke Ellington—”This House,” the new, commissioned opera by composer Ricky Ian Gordon and librettists Lynn Nottage and her daughter, Ruby Aiyo Gerber, arrives at Opera Theatre of St. Louis with sweeping ambition and a world-premiere spotlight.

Its strengths lie in OTSL’s commitment to new works, a fully committed cast, inventive staging and design, and evocative playing by members of the St. Louis Symphony under the direction of principal conductor Daniela Candillari.

The production, directed by James Robinson, features a fine ensemble led by soprano Adrienne Danrich as matriarch Ida and mezzo-soprano Briana Hunter as her daughter Zoe. Baritone Justin Austin brings supple emotional nuance to the role of Lindon, Ida’s son, while Christian Pursell lends warmth and pathos to Thomas, Lindon’s lover.

Tenor Brad Bickhardt portrays Zoe’s husband Glenn, and bass Sankara Harouna takes on the role of Ida’s husband, Milton. The cast is rounded out by soprano Aundi Marie Moore, tenor Victor Ryan Robertson, soprano Brandie Inez Sutton, and mezzo-soprano Krysty Swann.

One of the most compelling presences in the opera is the Walker family’s brownstone itself—less a backdrop than a central character. Over more than a century, it bears witness to couplings, births, betrayals, addiction, activism and grief – among a litany of other human experiences .

(top to bottom) Adrienne Danrich as Ida and Brandie Inez Sutton as Young Ida, with (background) Krysty Swann as Beulah in This House. Photo by Eric Woolsey

It is a house imbued with memory, both sacred and unsettling—a place that might, in real-estate parlance, be labeled a stigmatized property or psychologically impacted. But in family gossip, media headlines or the real talk of buyers and agents, this would be known bluntly as a murder house. And it’s precisely this fraught legacy—how spaces carry the spectral weight of history—that “This House” tries to explore, if not fully resolve.

Composer Ricky Ian Gordon underscores the house’s haunting role by assigning the orchestra’s reed section an eerie vocalise, a ghostly exhale that recurs like a memory trying to resurface. Scenic designer Allen Moyer, video designer Greg Emetaz and lighting designer Marcus Doshi create a visually rich, immersive world that roots the opera’s fragmented narrative in emotional atmosphere.

Moyer, known for “Grey Gardens” and his longtime collaboration with Gordon (“The Grapes of Wrath”), outfits the home with dignified wear and subtle detail—its furnishings shifting over time like the emotional residue of those who’ve passed through. The use of a carousel to move from interior and exterior scenes was as effective as it was impressive.

Emetaz’s excellent cinematic projections add a lyrical visual language that binds characters to time and place. Doshi’s lighting moves seamlessly across eras, illuminating past wounds and present tensions with emotional fluency. And Tony-winning costume designer Montana Levi Blanco’s work grounds the characters with clarity and texture, often accomplishing through wardrobe what the script cannot.

(L to R) Krysty Swann as Beulah and Victor Ryan Robertson as Uncle Percy with (background, L to R) Aundi Marie Moore as Lucy, Adrienne Danrich as Ida, and Sankara Harouna as Milton in This House. Photo by Eric Woolsey

Director Robinson guides the sprawling libretto with attention to pacing and emotional clarity, though the sheer number of narrative threads makes cohesion elusive. The staging is precise, yet the storytelling remains episodic, moving from decade to decade with little connective tissue other than the house itself and the family’s lineage.

The house, for all its beautifully rendered symbolism, ends up standing in for a history that the libretto doesn’t fully explore—a repository of vignetted trauma, legacy and memory that’s often gestured toward rather than meaningfully unpacked.

The cast delivers deeply felt performances that do the best they can to elevate the material. Hunter’s Zoe, a frustrated millennial searching for answers, brings grit and lyrical finesse to a role that could easily feel schematic. Danrich’s Ida exudes quiet strength and vulnerability, her soprano capturing the tension of survival and sorrow.

Austin and Pursell form the opera’s emotional core with understated yet resonant chemistry. Victor Ryan Robertson’s Uncle Percy resonates with presence, embodying the lingering complexities of family and memory.

(L to R) Christian Pursell as Thomas and Justin Austin as Lindon in This House. Photo by Eric Woolsey

Yet despite these achievements, “This House” buckles under the weight of too many competing ideas. Gentrification, addiction, queer identity, generational trauma, cultural legacy—each theme has potential, but none are given enough narrative space to mature.

Characters appear, hint at depth and vanish. Even moments of violence—presumably pivotal—are staged with such abruptness that their emotional impact feels blunted. In this way, the opera mirrors its title too well: a house with many rooms, stories left half-told behind closed doors.

The creative pedigree behind the work raises the stakes. Nottage, a two-time Pulitzer Prize winner in playwriting, is known for emotionally rich, structurally disciplined writing. Gordon, celebrated for his genre-fluid scores and nuanced theatrical sensibility, draws here from a wide palette: ragtime, jazz, gospel, and more.

His ambition is to “place words like a jewel in a ring.” But too often, the music recedes into the background, more atmospheric than dramaturgical. The score supports rather than shapes the action, and its emotional cues—while sometimes lovely—rarely surprise or challenge.

(L to R) Briana Hunter as Zoe and Brad Bickhardt as Glenn in This House. Photo by Eric Woolsey

There are glimpses of brilliance: a melodic motif that pierces, a costume that reveals a character’s arc, a lighting shift that clarifies a ghost’s presence. But the opera’s structure—sprawling and impressionistic—ultimately dilutes its impact. If that was a deliberate choice – and presumably it is – its effect does not satisfy.

In real estate, buyers might walk into a home like the Walkers’ and wonder: Who lived here? What happened in these rooms? “This House” the opera wants to address these questions—the idea that buildings remember—but it gets lost in the hallways. Despite noble intentions and undeniable talent, the result feels less like a unified meditation on lineage and place and more like a haunted, curated scrapbook of ideas—rich in atmosphere, scattered in focus and ultimately more whispered promise than resonant legacy.

Opera Theatre of St. Louis’ production of “This House” continues in repertory at the Loretto-Hilton Center of Performing Arts at Webster University through June 29. For more information, visit https://opera-stl.org.

The Harlem brownstone that is the family home of Minus Walker for more than 100 years. Set designed by Allen Moyer. Briana Hunter as Zoe and Brad Bickhardt as Glenn in This House. Photo by Eric Woolsey

By C.B. Adams

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

– “In Memoriam:27”, Alfred Lord Tennyson

To key off Tennyson’s philosophical proposition, Opera Theatre of St. Louis’s “Awakenings,” at the Loretto-Hilton Center’s Virginia Jackson Browning Theatre through June 25, explores a similar notion. If you were a patient trapped for decades by encephalitis lethargica , spending your waking moments in constant stupor and inertia, would you agree to allow a doctor like the neurologist Oliver Sacks to experimentally administer a drug called levodopa, or L Dopa, that could alleviate the disease’s debilitating effects? And, would you consent if you knew the risks – that the effects might not last long and that you would still suffer, like a sort of Rip Van Winkle, from spending decades isolated from the world’s events and your own maturity and development?

Is it better, then, to have been awakened than not at all?

 That’s a powerful philosophical question dreamed up in Sack’s book “Awakenings” that presented a series of fascinating case reports of patients trapped by encephalitis lethargica. It was also dreamed up into the eponymous Hollywood film (starring Robert DeNiro and Robin Williams), a documentary, a ballet and a play by Harold Pinter. Sacks himself dreamed it could even be this opera, a pandemic delayed premiere by OTSL this season. 

Andres Acosta and Jarrett Porter. Photo by Eric Woolsey.

This production draws the audience into the clinical but dreamlike world even before the score begins. The opening set evokes an impersonal, sterile hospital setting as nurses slowly wheel in slumped patients behind a series of moveable glass walls. Though not “pretty,” the harsh, set design by Allen Moyer is visually affecting and well-matched to the opera’s melancholic intensity (including a fantastic use of video projections by Greg Emetaz), especially as illuminated by Christoper Akerlind’s lighting designs.

The “Awakenings” score, performed by the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and conducted by Robert Kalb, is excellent if not exactly memorable. The music weaves around the characters and action without calling attention to itself.

Baritone Jarrett Porter sings Dr. Sacks, and his rich voice is well-matched to the demands of the role as a deeply empathetic caregiver. Porter’s voice is well-matched to  the bass-baritone of  David Pittsinger, who voices Sacks’s naysaying boss, Dr. Podsnap. Pittsinger’s presence and deep voice provide believable authority.

One of the key reasons “Awakenings” shines is the opera’s balancing of multiple “awakenings” by Sacks, who grapples with his sexuality in a subplot, as well as three patients that representing the 20 in real life. They provide more than yeoman’s work as they must sit in wheelchairs – all trembles and contortions – and then transform into walking/talking human beings then return to their un-awakened states.

Susannah Phillips and Jarrett Porter. Photo by Eric Woolsey.

Marc Molomot, tenor, plays a middle-aged Leonard, whose aging mother (sung beautifully and dutifully by Katherine Goeldner) has been reading to him every day since he succumbed to his condition. Molomot confidently provides a Leonard who hasn’t emotionally matured since adolescence. He’s a boy in a man’s body, which makes life exciting, challenging and ultimately disturbing. Molomot plays Leonard with aplomb.

One of the highlights of “Awakenings” is Leonard’s duet with Rodriguez, his male nurse, sung by the tenor Andres Acosta. Acosta proves there are no parts too small to stand out.

Another of the trio of patients is Rose, engagingly sung by Susannah Phillips. Rose is an optimistic yet dreamy character, still living in an interrupted past that includes a long-gone love. Phillips’s performance and engaging voice make it easy to start identifying with her fairytale outlook and then mourn as she returns to her former state.

Completing the trio is Miriam H, sung by soprano Adrienne Danrich. Miriam’s story is as unique and ultimately tragic as her cohorts. Like Rose, Miriam’s story moves from silence to astonishment as she discovers that her family considered her dead and that she has a daughter and even granddaughter. Danrich’s performance and beautiful voice elevate the tragedy of her return to silence.

As directed by James Robinson, “Awakenings” is a compelling experience – one that calls to mind Bob Dylan’s Series of Dreams:  “…Thinking of a series of dreams / Where the time and the tempo drag, / And there’s no exit in any direction…”

Long after the performances fade, the philosophical and ethical questions posed by “Awakenings” linger. Would have the lives of Mirian, Rose and Leonard (and perhaps even Sacks himself) have been better if they hadn’t been intervened by L Dopa? And who should be allowed to make that choice? One person’s dream may be another’s nightmare.

Jarrett Porter as Dr Oliver Sacks. Photo by Eric Woolsey.