The Grapes of Wrath MasterVoices Review

On the night of April 17th, I had the distinct pleasure of getting dolled up (thank you CUNY friend Elizabeth for the pro tips) to go to Carnegie Hall to see the MasterVoices adaptation of The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel from 1939, music by Ricky Ian Gordon, Libretto by Michael Korie, and concert narration by Kevin Doyle.

First-edition dust jacket cover of The Grapes of Wrath (1939) by the American author John Steinbeck.

Teaching classes on the subject, I have become particularly interested in adaptation, particularly with respect to classical literature. In my adaptations class last summer, we read and discussed texts like Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, exploring the 1995 and 2005 adaptations. We looked at Emma, too, with its many period versions and the modern interpretation, Clueless, which remains one of the best to date. If I ever teach the course again, I hope to incorporate theater adaptations beyond what I can access via resources like the National Theater. The MasterVoices production, which transforms Steinbeck’s novel into an opera, will definitely make its way into such a class, as very substantial food for thought. 

Ordinarily, as the academic background might suggest, I am very skeptical of adaptations. There are, of course, so many bad ones, and probably more bad ones than there are good. It also doesn’t take much to make an adaptation become bad. There can be many good elements, many aspects that are faithful to an original text or many elements that are clever interpretations or contextually appropriate embellishments. Yet, one wrong move, one careless omission, and boom, whole piece can collapse. 

This may seem harsh but let me give you an example. The 1995 Middlemarch, which is, for the most part, a faithful rendering of a very complicated novel, manages to omit a crucial aspect of the story, namely the blackmail plot surrounding Will Ladislaw and his family. I won’t say too much more to avoid spoilers (not least because my daughter is reading the novel for the first time), but the omission leaves the viewer that little bit less sure as to why things end the way they do with Dorothea. The 2005 Pride and Prejudice might be an excellent film (and it is visually stunning), but it is a terrible adaptation of Austen’s novel because of the lack of attention to historical detail (settings, costumes, social customs, dialogue).

Lest it seem that I am a purist, I would also point out that adaptations absolutely can and sometimes should deviate from the source material. I discussed Austen’s Mansfield Park not long ago with a colleague and we agreed that the addition of a slavery subplot to one of the film adaptations was entirely appropriate because Austen’s audience, unlike a modern one, would have needed no help at all to pick up on her numerous allusions to the slave trade through names and other seemingly off-hand references.

Without putting too fine a point on it, my theory of adaptations is that, if you’re going to change the source material, you need a damn good reason to do it, and you need to apply a similar degree of care and attention to the adaptation as you may assume the original author did to their work. 

So then what about an opera version of The Grapes of Wrath? In many ways, Steinbeck’s novel is very journalistic. It explores the impact of the Great Depression on a family from Oklahoma, who lose their home and livelihood because of the Dust Bowl. Their pilgrimage to California, which sees the death of grandparents, exposes them to even more extreme poverty, hunger, and class prejudice than they found in their home state. The representation of gender is also markedly subtle, exploring the challenges of raising children, being pregnant, and ultimately being abandoned on such a brutal journey.

I’m pretty picky, and I haven’t yet really liked the operas that I’ve seen (The Magic Flute, Carmen at the Met). Although I was intrigued, I went into the performance highly skeptical, and a little bit nervous that I really would not like what I saw.

In fact, I thought it was a wonderful and timely production. I loved J. Smith-Cameron and Joe Morton’s roles as narrators. I thought their contributions punctuated the musical renderings perfectly and provided just the right tension against the songs that otherwise dramatized key scenes from the novel. The performers were all amazing, especially Mikaela Bennett and Margaret Lattimore as Rose of Sharon and Ma Joab.

The photographs used throughout were also an excellent addition, emphasizing the factual basis of everything the narrators and characters referenced, and lending an extra credit to Steinbeck’s journalistic eye as he documented what was happening around the country during the Depression. Particularly poignant was the scene that explored the practice of burning fruit and other produce because the farm owners did not want the prices to go down. They did this knowing full-well that there were starving people in the immediate vicinity, and they, of course, paid their workers next to nothing. 

Although I quibble with the decision to have the eldest child, Noah, decide to drown himself in an effort to save his family, after quarrelling with his mother, I did appreciate the emotional charge behind the scene, managed through the lyrics, the music, the performances, and the visuals. Yes, it made me cry, so thank you, MasterVoices, for challenging the durability of my makeup!

In fact, Noah doesn’t kill himself. He expresses frustration that his parents do not love him the way they do their other children. He actually decides to create a life for himself away from his family because he becomes frustrated with them treating him differently. The MasterVoices rendering builds tension around Ma Joab having lost her temper with her son and accused him of not doing enough to help his family. It also leans into the Bible story of Noah, suggesting that Noah’s decision to kill himself emerges from his interpretation of the story of Noah and the Ark. I had some problems with this, too, because I think it requires some pretty dubious mental leaps to go from the story of Noah rescuing the animals from a flood to Noah Joab deciding to fill a bucket with stones, having the bucket somehow symbolize Noah’s ark. 

My only other quibble was with the extra language at the end of the performance, when Rose of Sharon agrees to breastfeed a starving man. In the performance, she started talking about how people could rely on poor people to help them in a time of need. This was after J. Smith-Cameron read out the final portion of the novel, pretty much, including Steinbeck’s tremendously moving account of how Ma Joab and Rose of Sharon look at each other and share a moment of understanding, loaded with emotion because, of course, Rose of Sharon has lost her baby, it was stillborn, and she is still grieving its loss. As beautiful as the singing and music were (and they were beautiful), I didn’t like the addition about how poor people can be relied upon to help when no one else does. That’s not, to my understanding, the main takeaway of the novel or scene. The final scene is about desperation and compassion, yes, but it doesn’t have an explicit class angle. No question that the Joab family is the poorest of the poor at this point of the story, but that isn’t a focus for Rose of Sharon in this scene. She is still exhausted from childbirth and emotionally reeling from the loss of her child. I just don’t think it fits for her to express thoughts about class and poverty, differentiating what class of people helps others. If anything, her agreeing to breastfeed the man is about personal sacrifice and recognizing the value of life in the face of death and loss. Various critics have picked upon the religious imagery, and if you squint reading the final passages, you see that the stance of Rose of Sharon beside the man, cradling his head in her hands, is a pietà: 

“Hush,” said Ma. She looked at Pa and Uncle John standing helplessly gazing at the sick man. She looked at Rose of Sharon huddled in the comfort. Ma’s eyes passed Rose of Sharon’s eyes, and then came back to them. And the two women looked deep into each other. The girl’s breath came short and gasping. 

She said “Yes.” 

Ma smiled. “I knowed you would. I knowed!” She looked down at her hands, tight- locked in her lap. 

Rose of Sharon whispered, “Will—will you all—go out?” The rain whisked lightly on the roof. 

Ma leaned forward and with her palm she brushed the tousled hair back from her daughter’s forehead, and she kissed her on the forehead. Ma got up quickly. “Come on, you fellas,” she called. “You come out in the tool shed.” 

Ruthie opened her mouth to speak. “Hush,” Ma said. “Hush and git.” She herded them through the door, drew the boy with her; and she closed the squeaking door. 

For a minute Rose of Sharon sat still in the whispering barn. Then she hoisted her tired body up and drew the comfort about her. She moved slowly to the corner and stood looking down at the wasted face, into the wide, frightened eyes. Then slowly she lay down beside him. He shook his head slowly from side to side. Rose of Sharon loosened one side of the blanket and bared her breast. “You got to,” she said. She squirmed closer and pulled his head close. “There!” she said. “There.” Her hand moved behind his head and supported it. Her fingers moved gently in his hair. She looked up and across the barn, and her lips came together and smiled mysteriously. 

Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

Anyway, I did think the whole production was excellent. The bits that I quibbled did not detract from all of the other elements that were immensely enjoyable. I wish more people had known about this or could see it because it is so well-done and so timely. 

If you want an opportunity to discuss the book, I will be adding The Grapes of Wrath to our Literature and Lapdogs podcast and events schedule on MeetUp.