Roger Mastroianni, courtesy of The Cleveland Orchestra

In the final weeks of their season at Severance Music Center, The Cleveland Orchestra proved the place of Jenufa as the most compelling music drama in the standard repertory. I said what I said, and I won’t take it back.

Stripped of sets and costumes, this concert presentation sacrificed none of the emotional weight found in Leos Janácek’s surprisingly hopeful tragedy. Its power moved those unfamiliar with the material—like the woman sitting next to me, who incredulously whispered to her husband “Is this really in Czech?” at the top of the first Act but had tears streaming down her face by the end of the second. And even though I’ve seen this opera more than a half-dozen times since my first experience with Karita Mattila at the Met, I found myself alternately pinned to the back of my chair or on the edge of it.

Jenufa formed the centerpiece of the Jack, Joseph and Morton Mandel Opera & Humanities Festival, which was organized this year under the theme of “reconciliation.” Perhaps no other opera encompasses this subject more fittingly. When it comes to doling out forgiveness, the title character dispenses beatitudes like birdseed. She must absolve the man who jilted her, leaving her pregnant and open to scorn; the man she’ll marry, who disfigured her face in a jealous rage; and her stepmother, who killed her infant child in a misguided attempt to save her reputation. Talk about a heavy burden to bear.

Roger Mastroianni, courtesy of The Cleveland Orchestra

But in any successful production of this opera—and I’ve seen many, from Olivier Tambosi’s strikingly symbolic staging at the Met to Claus Guth’s abstract, allegedly Met-bound realization from Covent Garden—the audience should feel that Jenufa gives her forgiveness freely and controls her destiny, rather than feeling coerced. That was certainly the case here.

Singing the title role for the first time, Latonia Moore opened the possibility for an entire new repertoire at this stage in her career—as her lush, well-produced full lyric easily traversed the zesty rhythms and floated passages of Janácek’s score, which balances Slavic folk inflections and rich Romantic textures, I easily imagined her taking on the composer’s Katya or Tchaikovsky’s Liza somewhere down the road. Her voice sailed to beautifully sustained B-flats and never seemed to tire, even as Jenufa sings for long stretches without leaving the stage.

More importantly, Moore charted an entirely believable character trajectory through simple, connected acting. She seemed the impetuous village girl in the first act, waiting for news of her lover Steva’s potential conscription and spitting daggers at his brother Laca, who pines for her. She gave the impression of being transformed entirely by motherhood in the second Act, making her devastation at the news of her son’s supposedly natural death all the more palpable. Warmth characterized the forgiveness Moore’s Jenufa offered in the third Act, and as she made her silent final exit, a contented smile told you all you needed to know. This was a monumental performance, one that will hopefully reach its total realization in a staged production.

Roger Mastroianni, courtesy of The Cleveland Orchestra

Nina Stemme matched Moore’s dramatic commitment as the Kostelnicka, demonstrating the same level of intensity I saw in her portrayal at Lyric Opera in 2023. The mixture of religious fury and societal pressure that lead to her terrible choice in the second Act were rendered with the same thrilling terror that Piper Laurie brought to her performance as Margaret White in Carrie. Stemme’s voice remains powerful and easily filled the hall, although some gleaming top notes sounded disconnected from the vocal line, and the overall color was of a paler hue than in years past. This slight graying suited the severity of the role, however, and Stemme’s acting kept the audience rapt until her final moments, wondering if she really felt remorse for her act.

The male voices were not on the same level of their soprano counterparts. Samuel Levine jumped into the role of Laca on short notice, which perhaps explained an overreliance on the score, but even total preparation couldn’t obscure a voice several sizes too small for the assignment. High notes emerged either strained or bleated, and his lyric instrument tired well before the denouement. Miles Mykkanen offered a proud and preening Steva, alternately pompous and pathetic, but was frequently covered by the orchestra.

Roger Mastroianni, courtesy of The Cleveland Orchestra

Baritone Will Liverman was a fine bit of luxury casting as the Foreman and Marianne Cornetti made an imposing Grandmother Buryja, despite some astringency in her tone. The small roles were generally well cast, with mezzo Olivia Vote making a particular impression as the Mayor’s Wife in the third Act. The Cleveland Orchestra Chorus, directed by Lisa Wong, proved again their status as the finest volunteer chorale in America; with singers placed on both sides of the balcony, as well as the stage, they filled every inch of the auditorium with glorious sound.

Performing under music director Franz Welser-Möst, The Cleveland Orchestra balanced their typical lyricism with a rustic bite, appropriate for a score that infuses traditional Western European musical styles with an Eastern European flair. Less typically beautiful but pleasingly urgent, the low strings especially took on a rich, foreboding texture, which resolved with sunlight at the end. Percussion effects were superb throughout. The only disappointment was Welser-Möst’s frog-marching of Jenufa’s Prayer, with an unpoetic solo played by Liyuan Xie, the afternoon’s concertmaster. Moore coped admirably with the unnecessary speed, but it robbed the moment of some of its poignancy.

In the spirit of the title heroine, though, I can forgive too. It was just a blip in an otherwise transcendent afternoon.