Inspired by a comic strip, the COC’s ‘Cunning Little Vixen’ offers a timely message

By Leoš Janáček, directed by Jamie Manton, conducted by Johannes Debus. Until Feb. 16 at the Canadian Opera Company’s Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, 145 Queen St. W. coc.ca or 416-363-8231

Newspaper comic strips aren’t regarded for their narrative complexity nor thematic depth, so you’d be forgiven for thinking the 1923 opera “The Cunning Little Vixen,” inspired by a lighthearted cartoon, is a one-dimensional piece of entertainment. 

Yet Czech composer Leoš Janáček’s masterwork, which opened Friday at the Canadian Opera Company, is anything but one-dimensional. Its fable, about a vixen named Sharp Ears (Canadian soprano Jane Archibald) and the forester (Christopher Purves) who initially captures her, offers profound insights into humanity, the cycle of life (and death), and humans’ relationship with the natural world. 

It’s also somewhat of an enigma: the opera’s fantastical fairy tale could be interpreted as a feminist allegory; it’s at once a comic opera and a tragedy; and Janáček’s score blends sweeping romanticism with the distinctive rhythms of Moravian folk music. 

Directors have employed various approaches when staging “Vixen.” Some have treated the material as light entertainment for children. Others have leaned into the story’s darker themes and exploration of human nature. 

British director Jamie Manton, whose new production arrives at the COC after a run at the English National Opera, carefully balances the opera’s inherent comic and tragic qualities. But in reconciling those disparate elements, there’s also a sense of ambiguity in the proceedings. 

Tom Scutt’s wooden sets frame the story as a moral tale. Its centrepiece, a large scroll, gradually unfurls over the three acts, serving as a visual guide to Sharp Ear’s journey from captivity back into the wild. Upstage, a door with an illuminated exit sign — used strikingly in the opera’s final scene — acts as an ominous reminder about the unrelenting cycle of death. The rest of the stage is largely populated with stacks of logs, suggesting an imbalance to the natural order due to human encroachment.

The drab sets are juxtaposed by Scutt’s cartoonish costumes for the animal characters. Particular standouts include the larger-than-life outfit for Carolyn Sproule’s dog and the strikingly colourful garb for Adam Luther’s rooster. 

Manton’s efficient staging keeps the action moving as set pieces roll on and off the stage. Jenny Ogilvie’s choreography, meanwhile, is delightful, particularly in a first-act scene when Sharp Ears convinces the domesticated hens to revolt against Luther’s rooster and break free from the forester’s estate. Talk about some cheeky 20th-century farm fable feminism. 

Manton’s concept for this production homes in on the idea of the cyclical, repetitive nature of life. He creates younger versions of Sharp Ears and the forester, forcing the two characters in various moments to interact with their younger selves. (Emma Moreau, as the Young Vixen, gives the character a wonderful backstory.) These scenes add a welcome touch of warmth to an otherwise brisk and unsentimental affair. 

Janáček’s score, conducted here with equal parts grandiosity and playfulness by COC music director Johannes Debus, is filled with rousing melodies and a lyrical, if tragic, beauty. 

But that beauty is missing, visually, from Manton’s production, which largely feels cold and harsh in its portrayal of humans’ relationship with nature. The opera’s finale, in particular, a celebratory ode to life’s renewal even amid death, feels like it shies away from any sense of beauty, ending instead with unsettling hesitancy. 

At least there’s nothing hesitant about any of the performances onstage at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts. Archibald is luminous as the title character, lending her dulcet voice to Sharp Ears and imbuing her character with a complex mix of naiveté and hard-edged weariness. Opposite her, Purves is a booming presence as a forester blind to his own foibles. And Ema Nikolovska, who rounds out the main company, is particularly wonderful as the Fox with whom Sharp Ears falls in love. Their perfectly delivered second-act love duet is among the highlights of the evening. 

It’s an evening that offers an opportunity to hear a rarely performed work and a gem of a score from the 20th century. Even if this new production of “Vixen” — staged at the COC for the first time in a quarter-century — doesn’t always come together, Janáček’s opera leaves audiences with thoughtful questions, asking us to quietly reflect on our relationship with nature.