“Rainbird” Ascends into the Ethereal
Beatrice (Gelsey Bell) and Godfrey Rainbird (Chris Dimeglio) in Rainbird (2025). Photo by Maria Baranova, courtesy of Experiments in Opera.
A toy piano twangs. The sound of a glockenspiel and ukulele melding together is ethereal and unfamiliar, even as they play on top of half-sung, half-spoken dialogue. A vibraphone chimes in the background. “You were dead,” Beatrice tells her husband in a haunting falsetto, still unsure why he’s in the morgue.
It’s not just that Rainbird incorporates instruments seldom used onstage—a gong, a violin, and bongos, to name a few more—but what they create together: the opera’s unrecognizable sonic whole becomes a striking background for its ethereal story. Aaron Siegel, the composer and co-librettist, has written a uniquely affecting score with partner and librettist/director Mallory Catlett, both of whom have been working on this piece for seven years. The show, which started as an NYU Skirball Center residency, has developed into a prime example of what experimental opera can be: a multimedia experience that infiltrates the audience’s emotions on multiple sensory levels. As we watch the journey of Godfrey Rainbird (Chris Dimeglio), a man who has died and come back to life, the stirring sensations we feel are as new as the music that delivers them.
This updated iteration, which played at Mabou Mines, closed on Easter Sunday, but our protagonist is no Jesus. Based on Yellow Flowers in the Antipodean Room (1968) by author Janet Frame, Rainbird tells the story of an unremarkable man who is believed dead but resuscitates from his coma and must confront his post-death life. A chorus of voices chants: A different man would have done something with this, / a different man would have used it to help others. As it is, Godfrey just wants to go back to his normal life—a task that proves impossible. He and his wife Beatrice (played by a compelling Gelsey Bell) navigate a series of ever-increasing consequences of his time in the afterlife until it becomes clear that this is a tragedy. The opera seems to ask, quite simply: Would it have been better if Godfrey just stayed dead?
Company of Rainbird (2025). Photo by Maria Baranova, courtesy of Experiments in Opera.
Experiments in Opera, the company that produced Rainbird and one of the last organizations to support innovative opera, writes that they believe “composers are the visionaries of 21st Century opera.” This ethos is certainly reflected in their work (Siegel is one of the founding members of EiO). The show’s easiest analogue is not in the Metropolitan Opera House, but rather the experimental style popularized by multi-talented composer Dave Malloy. Bell herself has originated roles in Malloy’s Ghost Quartet (2014) and Natasha, Pierre, & The Great Comet of 1812 (2012). Both he and Siegel share the same falsetto, ethereal quality in their compositions, with Rainbird’s striking sonic quality marked by simultaneously dissonant and resonant notes. Siegel, with his uncommon instruments and bold compositions, pushes at opera’s very possibilities.
Rainbird is multimedia, which, here, means that they incorporate a series of “films” by Andrew Denton. Projections on a corrugated metal board range from text—“LAWNMOWER,” it confidently declares at one point—to panning visions of suburban life and stock-image-like swooping birds. They’re auxiliary to the main story, and the production would be largely the same without them. The same can be said for a strange, shoehorned storyline about Godfrey’s sister, which feels entirely unnecessary even before she starts singing about the differences between England and New Zealand. The opera has a number of these moments, where it’s not hard to find yourself forgetting to pay attention, and one imagines that they must be residual casualties of the book-to-opera adaptation.
Beatrice (Gelsey Bell) and Godfrey Rainbird (Chris Dimeglio) in Rainbird (2025). Photo by Maria Baranova, courtesy of Experiments in Opera.
The actual moment of Godfrey’s resurrection goes largely unexplored, as does his time in the afterlife. This, though, is the point; he’s a man, not a spiritual figure, but it still leaves something to be desired. Rainbird encourages a sense of feeling in the viewer, but it’s not any sort of empathy for Godfrey. Rather, the emotion we’re feeling is something more akin to supernality—the quality of being celestial, divine. The paradox of both book and opera is that he is unremarkable enough to struggle to carry the weight of an entire plot on his back, even despite a strong performance from Dimeglio. Siegel and Catlett certainly succeed in exploring something fundamental about musical storytelling, but it’s not clear if this had to be the show to do it.
At the end of Rainbird, all the cast members gather with the musicians. Each holds a hand chime, striking it while delivering the epilogue. It’s the perfect, unusual sonic end to the piece, which has given us sound after unexpected sound. Moments before, a bright light shone into our eyes, temporarily blinding us with the strength of its brilliance. It’s a good metaphor for the show itself. Despite its more dubious moments, Siegel and Catlett have created a rare and wonderful work that prioritizes sensation over convention, feeling over form. If this is what the afterlife is like, perhaps it’s not that bad.
Rainbird (2025). Photo by Maria Baranova, courtesy of Experiments in Opera.
Rainbird ran from April 16 through April 20, 2025 at Mabou Mines Theater.
