Inside the gilded halls of the Detroit Opera House last year, one could see a white dude lead his AI girlfriend to suicide from the confines of his VR headset.
And no, I’m not joking.
What I’ve described is Matthew Ozawa’s satirical reimagining of Giacomo Puccini’s classic opera Madama Butterfly. Amidst the soundscape of verismo singing, Madama Butterfly’s original production is an undeniably problematic work of art, with blatant Orientalist stereotyping of Asian women. It tells the story of Cio–Cio–San(the titular Madama Butterfly), who marries the American Lieutenant Pinkerton. Pinkerton promptly abandons Cio–Cio–San and their child for three years, eventually returning with his new American wife, which drives Cio–Cio–San to suicide. All of this is accompanied by Puccini’s misconceptions of the “Orient”—the music often conflates Chinese folk songs for Japanese folk songs, confusing prayers to made–up Shinto gods happen in a Buddhist context. It’s clear why Japanese audiences have had trouble stomaching this foreigner’s poor attempt at recreating their culture.
Ozawa topples this paradigm through his innovative neon video game–like set design. Lieutenant Pinkerton is transformed into an American “hikikomori,” a hermit entrenched in the fictional VR world of Meiji–era “waifus.” The entirety of the opera’s plot takes place through his headset, and Cio–Cio–San and her home are turned into a sandbox video game for Pinkerton’s depraved cravings. In this context, every time there is a cultural inaccuracy or exaggerated stereotype, we can just chalk it up to Pinkerton’s distorted view of the Orient. It’s genius: By exaggerating Pinkerton’s patronizing characteristics, Ozawa spotlights Puccini’s own fetishization of Asia.The result is a production of Madama Butterfly that Japanese audiences no longer have to force down their throats to enjoy.
Some critics of the production say it's more heretic than revolutionary, interfering with the inherent nature of the work. They accuse Ozawa of over–indulgent cancel culture, attempting to subvert an artistic relic. Inevitably, any form of art will have its more conservative audience—opera, with its wrinkly, old–money white people; hip–hop, with its old–school purists; and art, with its “Jackson–Pollock–is–a–fucking–idiot” snobs—and it’s easy to dismiss them as a product of a generation who can’t stomach anything other than what they grew up with.
But is it possible that Ozawa went too far? One can admit his ingenuity in being able to reinterpret the meaning of MB with just the set design, but an argument can also be made that through Ozawa's reorientation of MB, the work severs its original inspirations and becomes wholeheartedly his. The absurdist yet sensational changes to the plot take center stage rather than Puccini’s lush arias, and it’s almost certain that anyone who sees this production will leave discussing anything but the music. It’s a striking contradiction given that opera is an art form that emphasizes the music over all other aspects. The set and costume design, overarching plot, and libretto are all there to elevate the cathartic impact of the singing—but this production of MB siphons the audience’s attention to the neon spectacle that is Ozawa’s staging.
One can even argue that it not only distracts from, but also degrades Puccini’s score. Let me explain through an example: In the beginning of Act Two, we see Cio–Cio–San with her servant Suzuki, bemoaning her absent husband Pinkerton who had left her without warning three years ago. Suzuki is adamant in trying to convince her master that Pinkerton is gone for good, but Cio–Cio–San is steadfast in her infatuation with her long–gone husband. In an attempt to convince Suzuki—and perhaps herself—of their undying romance, she enters a state of delusion (“Un Bel Di”), in which she imagines Pinkerton climbing a grassy hill to call her all of her favorite pet names once again. It’s a form of mania that we’ve all experienced at one point in our lives—a longing for a love we tell ourselves is still within reach. Puccini matches her energy perfectly, with a grand and almost bombastic instrumentation that mimics the height of Cio–Cio–San’s delusions. But its indulgent nature just stops short of being triumphant, as the melody never feels like it truly resolves into its G–flat major tonality, implying the tragic circumstances of Cio–Cio–San's devotion. Puccini conveys the bittersweet complexity so eloquently here, so it’s really no surprise why the aria is considered one of the crown jewels of the operatic repertoire.
However, let’s reexamine this scene in the context of Ozawa’s production. In this case, Cio–Cio–San is completely stripped of all of her humanity, as she's presented to the audience as a mere figment of Pinkerton’s VR world, a non–player character whose sole purpose is to lust after his being. It’s interesting if you think about it, actually: In order to stand against the original creator’s racism, Ozawa thoroughly objectifies all of the Japanese characters in the opera. So when Cio–Cio–San begins her trance, the audience has no choice but to interpret it as a hollow imitation of love, crafted for a depraved man who retreats to inanimate characters for affection. “Un Bel Di” is reduced from a complex, yet stunning statement of unrequited love to a satirical comment on Orientalism. It’s clear to see that, by doing this, Ozawa dismantles the poignant aspects of the aria that made it such a hit in the first place. You could expand this point to the rest of the opera. For all his flaws, Puccini gave all of the Japanese characters emotional depth that made you resonate with them. But in further caricaturing them to rid the opera of its problematic nature, the audience is rid of the capacity to emphasize and even cry for these inhuman characters.
Before you cancel me, I’m not saying this production is undeserving of all of the merit it has garnered. Matthew Ozawa’s ingenuity is evident in how he eliminated Madama Butterfly’s century–old controversy with just a few props and costumes. However, Ozawa’s work should serve as a reminder that in reimagining a work of art, one must tread carefully to honor its emotional and artistic core while challenging its shortcomings. Reimaginings should add meaning and context, and although Ozawa’s neon lights beam through Madama Butterfly’s decades of Orientalism, they outshine Puccini’s plaintive anthems of love lost.
