Jorge Martín's opera "Before Night Falls" given its premiere recently by the Fort Worth Opera, is based on the memoir by the dissident Cuban poet and novelist Reinaldo Arenas. Tortured and imprisoned by the Castro regime, Arenas was forced to repudiate his writings and his identity as a gay man; a few years after escaping to New York in the Mariel boatlift, he was stricken with AIDS and committed suicide. It's a subject with great possibilities, but Mr. Martín, who wrote his own libretto in collaboration with the memoir's translator, Dolores M. Koch, outlines the story without really making the audience live it. The Arenas character, Rey, is onstage for every scene of its 2½ hours of music, singing about his suffering, but it's never clear what it was that he wrote that was so threatening to the regime. And as lament follows lament, Rey never seems to change.  Wes Mason as Reinaldo Arenas in 'Before Night Falls.'  The libretto has too many scenes and is packed with clichés about hope, beauty, nature, the unhappy island of Cuba, and truth conquering tyranny. Unsingable phrases—"Ovidio's internal exile sucks away his life"—abound. The text is set for intelligibility, so one can't miss a word, and the drab vocal writing doesn't provide any additional illumination. Occasionally, Mr. Martín spices up his Debussy-inflected orchestration with some Cuban rhythms and colors (marimbas and tambourines), and when he really wants to show passion, there are swoopy harp glissandos.  Most of the opera is exposition and lamentation without dramatic tension, so it's a relief when an actual antagonist—Victor, the Castro hardliner—finally starts torturing Rey by burning his manuscript and knocking him around in prison. The most dramatic moment comes when Victor forces Rey to watch a television broadcast of Ovidio, Rey's mentor, denouncing his own writing and that of his friends, including Rey. And although one of Rey's greatest crimes in Cuba was to be homosexual, that fact, though much talked about, gets little expression, except in two gauzily homoerotic group ballets (cue those harp glissandos). Perhaps in deference to the sensibilities of Fort Worth, we never see Rey in a love relationship with a man.  As Rey, Wes Mason displayed a pleasant baritone and admirable stamina. Tenor Jesus Garcia gave a properly tormented account of Ovidio. Bass-baritone Seth Mease Carico was menacing as Victor. Tenor Javier Abreu was the weaselly Pepe, Rey's friend, who betrays him to the police. As Lázaro, Rey's (platonic) friend who lives with him in Cuba and looks after him in New York, Jonathan Blalock had a penetrating but rather nasal tenor. Not surprisingly, women are secondary in this opera: Janice Hall doubled as Rey's mother and his Muse, the Sea, joining forces in Musedom with a slightly unsteady Courtney Ross as the Moon. The chorus provided a rousing backdrop—serving as, among others, a revolutionary band belting out a strophic marching song, a funeral congregation singing a "Dies irae" and a celestial choir; the conductor, Joe Illick, ably kept it all together.  Scenic designer Riccardo Hernandez, projection designer Peter Nigrini, and lighting designer Harry Frehner evoked Cuba and New York with scrims and projections (lots of palm trees and thunderclouds), giving the production a clean look and efficient set changes among the many scenes. Claudia Stephens supplied the period costumes, including uniforms, beachwear, and ball dresses for the Muses; there was a good deal of bare-chestedness, particularly in the ballets, choreographed by John de los Santos. Director David Gately gave the intimate scenes some punch, but the crowd scenes featured groups posing or rushing randomly about.  The company also presented James Robinson's well-traveled production of Donizetti's "Elixir of Love" in which the opera—about a simpleton who hopelessly loves a clever girl, buys a love potion from a traveling charlatan in order to woo her away from a vain soldier, and is rewarded by having her recognize his virtues—is updated to Small Town USA circa 1912. All the action takes place in a cheerful town square around a bandstand draped with Fourth of July bunting, designed by Allen Moyer. The heroine, Adina, is a librarian; her adoring Nemorino has an ice-cream truck (there's lots of stage business involving the serving and eating of ice cream); the soldier Belcore brings the famous Uncle Sam recruiting poster, "I Want You for the U.S. Army," and is accompanied by a football team (the impeccable period costumes are by Martin Pakledinaz); and Dulcamara (the charlatan) drives a motorcycle with a sidecar. It's very cute, and for the most part the updating works quite seamlessly. However, Jennifer Nicoll's direction was overly broad, missing the humanity of Nemorino's pain and Adina's eventual capitulation, which are supposed to be touching as well as funny.  As Nemorino, Michael Fabiano sounded tight at first, but as the first act progressed, his tenor sounded warmer and freer, and he sang the Act II hit tune, "Una furtiva lagrima," affectingly. Soprano Ava Pine was an attractive Adina; she floated an especially lovely high pianissimo in "Prendi, per me sei libero." Baritone Christopher Bolduc (Belcore) and bass Rod Nelman (Dulcamara) pushed their voices along with the comedy. Stewart Robertson was the efficient conductor.  Ms. Waleson writes about opera for the Journal.
'Before Night Falls' is an opera filled with possibilities that its librettist fails to grasp. Meanwhile, 'Elixir of Love' is cute but too broad.