I attended my second live opera yesterday: "Doctor Atomic," John Adams' brand-new opera about J. Robert Oppenheimer and the test of the first atomic bomb at the Trinity site. "Doctor Atomic" premiered October 1 at the San Francisco Opera; in two weeks it moves on to Chicago.
As much as I like Adams' music ("The Dharma at Big Sur" is a masterpiece), I won't be whistling anything from "Doctor Atomic." It just didn't have that kind of melody to it. But it did have its moments, such as the close to Act I, with Oppenheimer singing part of John Donne's "Holy Sonnet XIV," whence came the the name of the test site, Trinity. That performance alone was worth (nearly) the price of admission.
The stage included a large circular figure, resembling at times the bomb's spherical plutonium core, or the tracings of sub-atomic particles in a cloud chamber, or ground zero, or the circle of life, or a mandala, or the center of Oppenheimer's family, represented by his wife, Kitty. The circle was a powerful symbol at the focus of virtually every scene. Characters walk around its circumference as they talk; the Cloud Flower Blossoms dance around and through like spinning electrons. As the curtain rose on Act II, we saw first the circle, a baby's crib at its center, Kitty standing along side with a drink in one hand, bottle in the other; then, slowly, the Gadget appeared hanging directly overhead, a sword of Damocles suspended above Oppie's wife and child—perhaps symbolic of every child, of all humanity threatened by the newly released power. I nearly lost it right there. . .
The history of the bomb fascinates me, but more so the stories of the scientists who designed and built it. Oppenheimer is a true American tragic hero, doomed by his intellect to lead the bomb-building effort and then to suffer the consequences of his intellectual curiosity. I'm glad I had the opportunity to see this stunning work in one of its first performances.
8:52:16 PM 
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