The Arts

THEATER REVIEW |

One of the pleasures of having pianist and composer Wayne Horvitz in Seattle is how he swims gamely through many musical waters, from jazz and funk to folk Americana and modern classical. His chamber opera, "Joe Hill," written with his wife, Robin Holcomb, is an extraordinary original work.

Unfortunately, what might be called a "Joe Hill" spinoff, "Smokestack Arias," currently playing at ACT Theatre's lovely new Eulalie Scandiuzzi Space, is a flat-out dud.

A historical re-imagining of the 1916 labor confrontation at the Everett docks in which several people were killed, "Smokestack Arias" strings together 16 art songs (and spoken narrative) rendered by the exquisite soprano Maria Mannisto and accompanied by pianist Cristina Valdes.

For such dramatic fare, the piece is unbelievably dull. A series of dreamy episodes — only vaguely comprehensible, unless one were reading the helpful program in the dark — it develops no narrative arc in either the text or the music.

The music lives in a winsome, Charles Ivesian reverie of pantonality and American nostalgia, and while Horvitz revisits a strong theme from time to time, there is not one memorable melody.

The story is told through a variety of female personae — a member of the Commercial Club, struggling with her class outlook; a shingle weaver's wife; a young girl picking up street gossip; a labor activist; and so forth. A chorus role is assigned to the river.

Director Dayna Hanson does her best to create interest by moving Mannisto all over the black box theater. Dressed in a shiny, vintage salmon-colored jacket and long skirt, the blond singer pops up everywhere (sometimes from blackouts into a spot, courtesy of lighting designer Dave Proscio) — downstage, upstage, on the runway above the stage, in a doorway, by the piano and half way up the stairs. Projections of the victims also appear on a wall.

To its credit, "Smokestack Arias" conveys a pleasant intimacy, which Hanson helps accomplish by concentrating on the women's hands. A scene when Mannisto cradles cartridge casings creates the kind of drama the rest of the piece lacks. Also in the pleasure department: the honeyed flow of Mannisto's voice.

But the real star of this show is the 50-seat Eulalie. An absolute jewel with warm acoustics, it should afford theatergoers many pleasant hours in the future.

Paul de Barros: 206-464-3247 or pdebarros@seattletimes.com