Senior Aaron Helgeson’s original opera The Crane Wife opened last weekend in Warner Main Space. Taking as his starting point the classic Japanese folk tale of a woodcutter who frees a magical crane from a hunter’s trap, Helgeson compiled five stories that relate the origin of birdsong to create a beautiful and compelling tale of loss.

Helgeson had been searching for some time for a piece to adapt to opera for his Honors project. This group of Japanese tales finally caught his attention and his endeavor to adapt a score and libretto from these stories resulted in a remarkable chamber opera in five scenes that was unlike any performance recently seen at Oberlin College.

The libretto was performed in the original Japanese, and the voices of the six performers were powerful and consistent, yet each voice unique. The birds, which simultaneously act as a chorus for the woodcutter’s story, each tell the tale of their own call as the narrative continues. The stories are sorrowful and mostly unresolved; at the culmination the birds’ songs become a lamentation of loss and regret.

The performance required patience, but once one grew accustomed to the pace, it was nothing short of mesmerizing. The story of the woodcutter – his trip to the forest, the discovery of the crane, the mysterious woman’s visit and his discovery that his guest is in fact the magical crane herself – was portrayed by the woodcutter’s contemplative moves and a slow exacting dance of woodland birds.

Stage Director Matthew Ozawa’s minimal set and enchanting, simplistic choreography created a graceful and poetic world. Three flautists and three percussionists encircled the audience, positioned on the balcony. Actors passed slowly by six tall wooden screens, and only light changes indicated the pieces of scenery on the stage and movements in time and place: a spot on the woodcutter as the scene begins, a blue light from behind the screen as the crane transforms, a red shot from the hidden bedroom.

Costume Designer Mika Ebbesen aided beautifully in this design, dressing the actors in traditional gowns and painted white masks. Taylor Bibat, playing the role of the Crane, was especially stunning in a long white gown and red headpiece which arched dramatically to her shoulders.

Perhaps the most powerful moment takes place when the woodcutter is finally taken over by his curiosity and goes to spy upon his female guest. The crane is hidden behind the screens, now drawn together to show only her silhouette as she weaves a cloth held from between the screens by the chanting birds. The tension builds as the man paces and the flutes seem to screech in protest when finally the man pulls apart the screens to reveal the woman, now returned to her crane form. Bibat once more sounds her pained and inhuman scream. Bibat’s scream is a central part of the performance; it is the only non-musical sound heard in the libretto (the exception to this would be the woodcutter’s counting which, accompanied with the sound of a bell, takes on a musical quality). The first instance when it is heard, at the moment when the woodcutter first comes across the crane, Bibat sustains the sound for what seems to be several minutes, wailing and calling from her trap. This sound juxtaposed with the recurring songs of the Owl, the Pigeon, the Kite and the Kingfisher causes a shocking reaction. The sound was at first discomforting, but seemed to add a quality of fear and pain that tore at the audience in contrast to the poetic delicacy of the rest of the opera.

Experiencing an original production as intricate and well-orchestrated as this is a great reminder of what talent and innovation we have at Oberlin College. The performance was certainly a challenge for an audience member — and a greater challenge still for a director, designer, actor or composer. The fact that this collaboration could be created so seamlessly despite the time constraints involved is impressive and inspiring.