Bold opera gives voice to love and Alzheimer’s disease

David (tenor Adi Ezra) is a former stage designer suffering from Alzheimer’s disease who is now confined to a wheelchair. His partner, Rafael (bass Yuri Kissin) is a scientist who attempts to maintain a stable household routine despite David’s decline. 

Composed by Tamar Shalit James for the 2023 Holiday of Music, Groundwater (Mei Tehom) is a new Hebrew opera about a terrifying question: Would the people we love stick by us when we forgot how to talk? Will they have the patience to care for us when we forget the time?

David and Rafael resemble each other because they wear light yellow vests and white shoes. Rafael busies himself with creating a structure around David. He cleans, serves tea, and plays patty cake with the man he still loves. David, unable to maintain such orderly behavior for long, turns away from him. He kicks off the white shoes and removes the vest.

David’s arias begin with broken Hebrew because he struggles to form full sentences. At one time, David relives their first meeting on the shore of the Dead Sea. The charm of this scene, which is a light jazz song, is used for tragic effect as it becomes clear David is unable to comprehend where he is. Is he at home? Or is he on the Dead Sea? Rafael begs him not to speak. “Let us both be quiet,” he implores.

The patty cake game is used to create a steady rhythm, like a clock ticking. Rafael creates an orderly rhythm for David to return to. This effort is doomed to fail against the disharmonious music marking David’s mental pain. The music contains plucked strings, mournful wind instruments, and intense drumming, which inform us that David’s mind is breaking, his heart is filled with regrets, and his soul is full of panic.

Facing all directions

At key points, David directly faces the conductor, or a musician on stage. These scenes are symbolic confrontations between his illness, represented in music, and his ebbing sense of self.

Director Daniela Michaeli offers us cues that this short opera functions in an operatic, not realistic, world. For example, David and Rafael use newspapers to create paper hats. When David wears his hat, we see it was made from an ad for Requiem.

The chorus – three figures in black – function as a mini-choir and act on stage. They enable David’s transformation from a wheelchair-bound man to a radiant youth during the Dead Sea Jazz scene.

The opera also contains a biblical verse set to music. “As for man, his days are like grass,” the mini-choir sings, “he flourishes like a flower of the field” (Psalm 103:15). This one short opera allows the audience to enjoy Hebrew arias, a jazz piece, and ends with biblical Hebrew near its surprising conclusion.

Traditionally, the tenor is the hero of the opera, and we witness his dramatic journey as he encounters his foes. These foes are often bass singers, men with deeper, darker voices. In Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo, for example, Orpheus is a tenor and Charon – who refuses his passage to hell – is a bass.

In Groundwater, this structure is given an ironic twist. The heroic journey takes place at home, among tea cups and newspapers. The bass singer here is not an enemy, but a profoundly loving and caring character. The alleged obstacle he presents to the hero is put there for his own good, to prevent him from sliding into a total breakdown. When this alleged foe is overcome, the result is heartbreak.