IN REVIEW | SANTA FE
U.S. premiere of trans opera ‘Lili Elbe’ a triumph
First major opera about a trans woman wows audiences — but the costume choices left something to be desired
The ancient Greeks explained the origins of natural phenomena through myths. Echoes were the cries of a cursed nymph. Pearls were created when droplets of water fell from Aphrodite’s wet hair. And gay love, as a cultural norm, began with Orpheus.
According to the most canonical version of the story — Ovid’s “Metamorphoses” — the poet Orpheus, after losing his wife in the underworld, embraced the love of young men and taught his fellow countrymen to do the same.
Ovid’s “Metamorphoses” is over 2,000 years old, but queer artists and writers have kept the Orpheus myth alive all this time. In the 20th century, openly gay creators from Jean Cocteau to Tennessee Williams made Orpheus-inspired works. In 2019, Daniel Kramer’s queer-coded production of Harrison Birtwistle’s opera, “The Mask of Orpheus,” proved with critics. And now, librettist Aryeh Lev Stollman has used Orpheus as an allegorical throughline for “Lili Elbe,” the first large-scale opera about a trans woman.
The opera is based on the life of a real Danish artist, Lili Elbe, who, in 1930 became one of the first people to receive gender-affirming surgery and to have her name and gender legally changed on her passport. The mythological framing lends an appropriately operatic grandeur to the micro-narrative of her life, whose significance has become apparent only in the fullness of time.
Stollman developed “Lili Elbe” with his husband, the composer Tobias Picker. Lucia Lucas, the trans baritone who sings the title role, served as their dramaturge, or advisor, folding her own lived experience into Elbe’s story.
There was a lot riding on the collaboration. As the first major opera about a trans woman written specifically for a trans singer, it carried the weight of pioneering authentic representation on a major international stage. Fortunately for Stollman, Picker and Lucas, “Lili Elbe” opened in St. Gallen, Switzerland, to critical acclaim in 2023 and won Best World Premiere at the prestigious Oper! Awards that year.
, which supports queer, transgender and gender-nonconforming opera projects, was founded in 2023, too, and the Detroit-based unveiled the first directory of trans, nonbinary and gender-diverse opera professionals with the aim of increasing employment opportunities for them. The opera world was poised to finally embrace trans artists.
But what a difference three years make. Since 2023, have been passed in the ϼ States, and many similarly discriminatory bills are currently under consideration. After decades of progress, the rollback of trans rights has been rapid and devastating. So, what will happen to trans opera professionals? Will opera companies grow more skittish about programming trans-inclusive works out of fear of losing funding or being viewed as “political”?
It felt strange to watch the U.S. premiere of “Lili Elbe” at the Santa Fe Opera last weekend and realize that Elbe, who lived a century ago, faced fewer social and legal obstacles than trans folks in the U.S. face today. In Act II, after the King of Denmark tells Elbe, “Our royal eyes can see you’re a woman,” bada bing bada boom, she gets a new passport. How marvelously efficient! It was enough to make me reconsider that whole “No Kings” thing.
Social change does not progress in a linear fashion, and neither does art. Sometimes old music sounds startlingly new. Picker’s score for “Lili Elbe” is complex, but there’s nothing in it, from post-tonal polychords to bursts of chromatic expressionism, that couldn’t have been written by one of Arnold Schoenberg’s students 100 years ago. And that’s a good thing. It means Picker’s music is period-appropriate but not dated. Modernist experiments were radical in Elbe’s time, and they’re radical now. Picker’s odd phrasing and moments of atonality make Elbe’s psychological unease palpable as she navigates difficult social situations and harrowing surgeries. They also reflect her avant-garde milieu.
Allen Moyer’s sets are absolutely brilliant, too. From sliding doors to furniture traveling on conveyor belts, the scenery is constantly moving. Such movement not only represents Elbe’s travels — Copenhagen! Dresden! Paris! — but reinforces the opera’s overarching theme of transformation.
During scene changes, Greg Emetaz’s video projections pay homage to the luminous abstractions of early experimental filmmakers such as Viking Eggeling — a contemporary of Elbe’s and a fellow Scandinavian — while helping to propel the story forward and adding emotional depth. I found the flickering silhouettes of Elbe as Orpheus especially affecting.
Marco Piemontese’s costumes, for the most part, were period-appropriate and chic, with the glaring exception of Elbe’s. When I overheard someone at intermission say, “Elbe’s costumes are giving ‘Mrs. Doubtfire,’” I couldn’t unsee it. The frumpy clothes were an insult to the real Lili Elbe, who always looked sexy and glamorous in portraits.
Later, I asked a slightly older gay friend what he had thought of the opera. “It was pretty good,” he said, “but I wish her costumes made her look more beautiful and less dowdy.”
The weird thing is, Lucas starred in the 2023 production, too, and in that one she looked spectacular. Bente Rolandsdotter’s costumes, which were more revealing than Piemontese’s, combined ancient Greek drapery with Art Deco flair.
Not all critics were enamored. “The singers appear mostly in their underwear,” sniped.
Had director James Robinson and Piemontese taken such criticism too much to heart and made a conscious effort to tone down Elbe’s sexiness? The opera world is a cultural space where institutional conservatism and queerness coexist — sometimes harmoniously, sometimes not. Were they hoping to avoid a culture war by turning a radical trans icon into a sexually nonthreatening, Doubtfire-esque matron?
The historical Lili Elbe lived and died with the courage of Orpheus, defying social conventions and plunging headfirst into any situation, no matter how terrifying. That’s the courage our current political moment demands, and “Lili Elbe” is a courageous opera. A lot of people had to stick their necks out to even get this thing made.
Elbe’s costumes rang false, but everything else rang true. And at a time when trans people in this country are fighting for their lives, we can’t really afford to make “the perfect” the enemy of “the good.” If we want to see more trans-inclusive operas in the future, let’s show up and support this slightly imperfect one. It matters.
Logan Royce Beitmen is an arts writer for the ϼ. He covers visual art, music, fashion, theater and more. Reach him at lbeitmen@abqjournal.com or on Instagram at .