Theatre in Review: Intimate Apparel (Lincoln Center Theatre/Mitzi E. Newhouse Theater)

	Justin Austin, Adrienne Danrich, Kearstin Piper Brown. Photo: T. Charles Erickson

Lynn Nottage's play Intimate Apparel is such a fine piece of work that it hardly wants adaptation to the musical theatre -- or so I thought until I was enchanted by Ricky Ian Gordon's chamber opera version. Nottage, acting as librettist, has retained the solid dramatic lines of the original work. But Gordon's music illuminates it from within, exposing new depths of feeling and heightening the impact of the devastating climax. So many musical theatre adaptations distort or water down their source material; in this case, a modern classic becomes a welcome addition to the contemporary opera repertory.

Set in 1905, Intimate Apparel focuses on a handful of characters linked by their connections to Esther, a gifted Black seamstress. At 35, living and practicing her trade in a boarding house for women; she remains resolutely, if not happily, independent. "Love doesn't come to no featherless bird," she sings. "Love is a music that I never heard." Declining to stay at the wedding celebration of a fellow resident, she adds, "I can't go down there. 'Cuz each time I see her I keep thinking, why ain't it me?"

Far from being alone, Esther has access to many worlds thanks to her varied clientele. Among them are the wealthy, unhappily married Mrs. Van Buren, who treats her as a confidante; Mr. Marks, the pious Jewish merchant who shares her interest in fine fabrics; and Mayme, a saloon singer with an army of male admirers. Each of these connections is distinct yet they inform each other. Mrs. Van Buren, modeling a form-fitting corset that she hopes will tempt her neglectful husband, wonders, "Tell me the truth, is this what you made that tawdry singer?"

Both Mrs. Van Buren and Mayme get involved when Esther starts corresponding with George, a worker on the Panama Canal. Indeed, Esther, who is illiterate, relies on her female friends to read George's letters and pen her responses, (Mrs. Van Buren comes to see it as a lively distraction from the tedium of her social whirl.) George is first encountered as a courtly, gentle voice from afar, gradually wooing Esther, who eventually accepts a proposal from a man she has never seen.

But George's arrival in New York rends the delicate fabric of Esther's life; in the flesh, he is rather coarser than his letters suggested, leaving him incapable of dealing effectively with his plain, sexually hesitant bride. Neither has been fully honest with the other, and marriage only emphasizes their differences. Esther's distress forces her to admits her feelings for Mr. Marks, who quietly pines for her. But he is Jewish, with an arranged fiancée back in Romania. (Shocked when he withdraws from an innocent hand placed on his arm, she snaps, "The color won't rub off on you!" As he gently explains, his religion forbids such things.) Mrs. Van Buren, all but ignored by her husband because she can't conceive, and bored with vacuous conversations at balls and teas, draws closer to Esther, making a romantic pass that ends in humiliation. (The furious Esther demands, "You love someone? What of me do you love?! I never been through your front door.") And George, frustrated in his search for work and dissatisfied with his home life, begins an affair with Mayme; both are unaware of the other's connection to Esther.

As Esther's life begins to unravel, Intimate Apparel casts a stark light on her and her associates, revealing them to be isolated -- indeed imprisoned -- by the racial, religious, and sexual roles assigned to them. For all of them, satisfaction remains forever just out of each. This is especially true of Esther, who finally accedes to George's demands that she turn over the life savings she has hidden in a quilt, a decision that proves disastrous for them both.

This music that drives this melancholy, yet socially alert, tale is restless in its ragtime underpinnings, yet suffused with a longing that brings to life the unspoken desires of Esther and the others. Making good use of the turntable provided by set designer Michael Yeargan, director Bartlett Sher gives the production a sweeping pace, drawing nuanced performances from a cast of powerful singers. Kearstin Piper Brown's Esther is steadfastly independent but with a flicker in her eyes signaling the hope that someone may yet love her for herself. It's a tough-tender characterization informed by her glorious voice. Justin Austin's George is rough-edged and impulsive, but desperate to stake a claim to his dignity; as he sings, in one of the most arresting musical passages, "I came here so my story will be different."

Also fine are Naomi Louisa O'Connell as Mrs. Van Buren, hiding her grief and boredom behind a vivacious façade; Krysty Swann, cutting a sassy, vamping figure as Mayme: Adrienne Danrich, kindly but skeptical as Esther's landlady; and Arnold Livingston Geis, poignant as Mr. Marks, a stranger in a strange land. (Summing up the immigrant's lot, he tells Esther, "We throw away nothing. For fear we'll need it later. We carry our old world. So it won't disappear.")

The entire creative package is beautifully realized. Catherine Zuber's brilliantly detailed costumes -- especially the garments of the title -- accurately delineate each character's social status. Jennifer Tipton's lighting shifts colors and moods with such grace that the transitions are all but invisible. Mark Salzberg's sound design provides the most delicate reinforcement for the singers. The projections, by 59 Productions, include surtitles plus images of Panama, the ocean, the Lower East Side, and Esther and George's wedding.

Seeing Intimate Apparel, I was inescapably reminded of the musical Ragtime, which is set a year later and features similar clashes informed by race, ethnicity, gender, and social strata. But if Ragtime, with its procession of fictional and historical figures, offers a mural of turn-of-the-century America, Nottage and Gordon's opera is an exquisite miniature. We hear a great deal these days about the destructive social effects of prejudice and class restrictions; here, Nottage and Gordon explore the damage in terms of human hearts. --David Barbour