At the end of Act II, as Susannah closes the door behind her and leaves Little Bat a sobbing mess on the stage, you are left to ponder composer Carlisle Floyd's overriding theme: Would you right a wrong if you had the chance?
It's a question that begs an answer, one that Floyd himself never fully concludes in his two-hour, 10-minute truly American folk opera "Susannah," which Arizona Opera mounted at the Tucson Music Hall last weekend.
Floyd's story follows the apocryphal book of Susannah, but sets it in rural Tennessee in the 1950s to the tune of mountain folk music cast in an orchestral setting. The teenaged heroine Susannah innocently bathes in a "crick" and is spied upon by the church elders. (OK, so this isn't altogether believable; life before indoor plumbing meant you bathed in lakes, streams and "cricks," and it would hardly be scandalous to find someone doing so.)
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A rumor that she is impure spreads through the community and grows larger in the telling, especially among the elders' wives, until Susannah finds herself ostracized.
The whole mess could've been swept away if Little Bat, the hormone-raging son of one of the most outspoken and opinionated of the elders, had not gone along with the lie. We get the feeling that Little Bat, sung with stunning drama by tenor Glenn Alamilla, surely feels regret for having gone along. He even mouths "I'm so sorry" as Susannah — sung unevenly, but commendably, by soprano Rhoslyn Jones on Saturday — comes to offer repentance. She backs out of her mea culpas, which leads to her being sexually assaulted by the overbearing religious zealot Olin Blitch (bass Gustav Andreassen, who struggled a bit early on to project himself above the orchestra).
From there, the story spirals into the depths of tragedy. Susannah's brother, Sam Polk (the wonderful tenor Robert Breault who was convincing as a well-meaning, sympathetic drunk), guns down Preacher Blitch and flees, leaving Susannah to stand up to the townspeople. In the South of that time, it was best done with gunpowder and lead, so she hoists a shotgun against them and they wisely leave her be.
Floyd's opera, inspired in large part by the hypocrisy and fear of the McCarthy era, has been performed well over 1,000 times. It's ranked as one of the most beloved and most frequently staged American operas, largely, I think, because of its drama and the moral question it poses.
The opera, sung in English, also works because of Floyd's score. Under a taut reading by conductor Joel Revzen, the music swells and quivers as Susannah seeks redemption; it's cinematic and playful when the townsfolk gather to square dance; and it's heart-wrenching with soaring strings and a few well-placed percussive and brass exclamations as Susannah throws in the towel and gives into Blitch and her undeserved reputation.
The music has subtle nods to bluegrass and broad strokes of mountain roots that make it accessible to casual audiences, and Revzen and his ensemble brought out every twangy nuance of its Southern accent.
Stage director Paula Williams took Revzen's lead and let the language of the South be heard in all its twanginess, even though some of the cast — including Jones — couldn't bring themselves to fully effect it.
Williams, making her Arizona Opera debut, subtly hinted at Floyd's moral question, letting it linger in the air as the final curtain fell.
But it was there as we stood applauding the cast on Saturday: If we were in Little Bat's shoes, would we go along with the lie, or speak the truth?
Arizona Opera's production of "Susannah" Saturday at Tucson Music Hall.
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