Review: Theodora at Sandra Levine Theatre
By Perry Tannenbaum
June 6, 2026, Charlotte, NC – After witnessing a mighty Mahler “Titan” Symphony and a world premiere Violin Concerto, “Agrifolia,” by Paul Wiancko at Spoleto Festival USA in Charleston, we passed up Emmylou Harris, Sullivan Fortner, and Ayodele Casel to hurry home and catch a couple of nights at the seventh Charlotte Bach Festival. With an Echoes of Bach program of solo instrumental and chamber music followed by an evening with George Frideric Handel’s Theodora, my wife Sue and I did not at all feel let down.
We already knew the mettle of violinist Aisslinn Nosky and cellist Guy Fishman, co-artistic leaders at Bach Charlotte and festival mainstays since its inaugural year in 2018. Nor did we lack confidence in the singers and instrumentalists recruited to the festival, no less consistent in their excellence. We also knew from last year’s experience, the first time that the North and South Carolina festivals overlapped, that maintaining our loyalty to Spoleto for my 33rd consecutive festival now came at a cost. Last year’s greatest regrets, before catching the Mozart Requiem finale, were missing Bach’s complete Brandenburg Concertos on opening night and Pius Cheung’s rendition of Johann Sebastian’s Goldberg Variations on marimba.
This year’s biggest regrets included missing excerpts from Handel’s Messiah, played on authentic instruments, at the opening weekend Gloria! concert, which also spotlighted works by Bach and Vivaldi, and the opportunity to hear a full Arwen Myers concert two nights later, accompanied by Nosky and theorbo ace John Lenti. Fortunately, Dido and Aeneas did not make my list. We had seen a very fine – if idiosyncratic – production at Spoleto, staged and designed by Yaron Lifschitz in collaboration with Circa, his contemporary Australian circus company. Bolstered with interstitial music curated by Lifschitz and conductor Benjamin Bayl, this US Premiere from Opera Queensland was not as absurd as you might assume. Think Cirque du Soleil without the gibberish.
Somehow, the piano did not look out of place as we settled into a nearby pew at St. Mark’s Lutheran Church, though this was the first keyboard we had seen at the festival that wasn’t an organ or a harpsichord. Joining Fishman for the opening pieces, however, were two musicians we had never seen before, pianist Esther Jeehae Ahn and Emi Ferguson – carrying a modern metal flute with her, unprecedented at Charlotte Bach. As it turned out, the ladies would be the stars of this program with Fishman confining himself to continuo through the first half of the concert before ceding the stage.
Ahn had made her Charlotte Bach debut last year while we were away in the Holy City for Spoleto, so it was fitting that she should dazzle us first, which she did on César Franck’s Prélude, Choral et Fugue, a piece for keyboard as expressive and epic as anything Chopin ever gave us. The performance echoed Bach more in its title than in its considerable tumult and turbulence, taking me by surprise. On the other hand, Francis Poulenc’s Sonata for Flute and Piano is likely the composer’s most familiar work, a favorite among flutists, and found on at least three CDs in my collection – plus the obligatory Jean-Pierre Rampal on vinyl.
Regardless of how well Bach was echoed, you could hardly ask for a lovelier, sprightlier ending for a concert. We can only envy those hearing this Poulenc gem for the first time. Ferguson’s lovely tone, evident earlier in the evening in less challenging fare, remained firm and supple throughout her Poulenc romp, equaling the mastery we’ve heard from Tara Helen O’Connor during her many performances at Spoleto USA. Ahn also took advantage of her chances to shine.
In contrast with Messiah, we can all sense that an opportunity to see Handel’s Theodora performed live is a chance of a lifetime. So the robust turnout at the Sandra Levine Theatre at Queens University’s Gambrell Center was not a surprise, though the absence of the two trumpets listed in the program book was a disappointment. The story of this lesser St. Theodora is not nearly as well-known as that of the two Empress Theodoras who were similarly canonized.
Her story seems to hover between history and fairy tale, with details and names – aside from those of the saints, Theodora and Didymus – varying among tellers. Compared with others, Handel and librettist Thomas Morell not only cleansed Theodora’s backstory of prostitution, but also punished the steadfast Christian less salaciously for defying the Roman governor Valens’ edict to worship Venus and Flora on Emperor Diocletian’s birthday. Here, the local Antioch despot dispatches her to prison rather than a brothel.
Secretly a fellow convert to Christianity, Didymus first pleads with Valens to allow all citizens to follow their own beliefs if they cannot worship Venus in good faith. After Valens rejects his petition, the most famous plot twist in Theodora is triggered when the lady is imprisoned. Didymus contrives to visit Theodora in prison and exchange clothing with her after he arrives, allowing her to escape in his soldier’s uniform. The tang of discovering Didymus’s ruse would have been so much tastier and comical in a brothel, but Morell – true to his name! – was a clergyman and wouldn’t have it.
Morell and Handel manage to lift the lechery to a higher plane with Septimus, Valens’ henchman, charged with spreading the word of the cruel edict. He wishes to persuade Theodora to yield to the edict and to him. More righteous pleadings on Theodora’s behalf come from her bestie, Irene, whose motivations are purer, allowing Theodora to engage in more practical disputation.
Against Theodora’s ardent trio of well-wishers, the mighty bass baritone Ryne Cherry, as Valens, stood alone. After witnessing his power in issuing Valens’ edict in the opening scene, my greatest worry was that he might never return! No doubt about it, Cherry can rage fiercely, counterbalancing the high voices and varied sincerities of his castmates with his massive presence and demonic energy. As new to me as Cherry, tenor Eric Carey as Septimus was also a force to be reckoned with, capable of projecting a poisonous and devious malignity of his own.
What’s left of the potential for comedy was surrendered by the concert staging at Levine Theatre, preventing countertenor Nicholas Garza, as Didymus, from donning Theodora’s ladies’ wear. While there was an undeniable plaintive tone to his singing, Garza was able to couple his earnest supplications with an earnest religious zeal. Garza’s power not only lifted his Didymus far over the threshold of masculinity, but it also helped to fill in the void left by Theodora’s total lack of will to survive.
Sweet as can be, soprano Carley DeFranco as Theodora despairs for her life as soon as she hears the government’s edict. But she does not despair for her soul! Theodora’s inner strength remained mostly eclipsed when besieged by Septimus’s ardor and her bestie Irene’s pragmatism, and when Didymus showed up later to liberate her from prison, DeFranco seemed malleable enough to comply with his scheme. What finally fires Theodora up is learning that her liberator has been sentenced to death. Not only does she rush to offer her life for his, real bravery, we also get to see Valens again, brutally rejecting her noble pleas and decreeing that she must suffer the same fate. The diabolical cackle that Cherry piled on top was sheer delight.
At this point, it really was special to see the rapture and joy projected by DeFranco and Garza as they contemplated their souls’ heavenward ascent and everlasting bliss. While it may have remained ambiguous whether Garza as Didymus needed to be won over to Theodora’s point of view, mezzo soprano Carrie Cheron as a very caring Irene seemed to need convincing – a key recognition from Morell and Handel that their audience also needed to be swayed. Actually, DeFranco and Garza’s ultimate duet could be viewed as persuasion enough, but it was nice having Cheron there for insurance.
Art on My Sleeve 