As Andriana Chuchman sits across from me for our interview, I notice her necklace with a gold-wire pendant twisted into a word. I assume it spells the soprano’s first name (Andriana, with an extra “n” I remind myself, not Adriana, like the Cilea opera). But on closer inspection, I realize it reads “mama.” She and her husband Adam, a high-school principal, are parents to Mateo, who’s turning three tomorrow.
The family makes their home in Winnipeg, where Chuchman herself was raised by Ukrainian-Canadian parents—her father an immigrant, her mother the daughter of immigrants. After studying at the University of Manitoba, the soprano was accepted to esteemed young-artist programs at Lyric Opera of Chicago and San Francisco Opera. She made her Met debut in 2014, stepping in for Anna Netrebko. Her first HGO appearance came in 2017 as First Lady Pat Nixon in John Adam’s Nixon in China. She returned to Houston two years later to sing the Israelite princess Michal in Handel’s Saul.
You’ve previously sung Zerlina in Don Giovanni, most recently at Lyric Opera of Chicago. How does singing Donna Anna compare?
They are two very different characters. Zerlina is a peasant; Donna Anna is a noblewoman. So their upbringing is different. Zerlina’s a little younger. There’s an innocence to her—more of a wide-eyed approach, especially in the situation with Don Giovanni. With Donna Anna, it’s her choice to be with him, as opposed to Zerlina being seduced.
The last time I did Zerlina was nine years ago. I feel like my voice has grown since then, so it lends itself to that trajectory of singing Zerlina first, then Donna Anna. Vocally, it makes sense for me. But singing Zerlina isn’t easier, by any means. It definitely takes more of a lightness to the sound. Zerlina’s music can be a little trickier because there’s some really quick passages. You’re singing with chorus, so your connection with the conductor has to be very precise.
Whereas with Donna Anna, there’s a little bit more freedom to sing how you and your voice want to do it. I mean, she has her two notoriously difficult arias, which have been a really fun challenge. There is that unknown, like, “Can I do this?” Especially since I’m a light lyric, and I’m now moving into fuller lyric repertoire. So these are kind of little experiments. I’m really excited to say that they’ve been successful. This is my third big role in a row this season—brand new repertoire. I did Violetta in January, Juliet in Gounod’s Romeo and Juliet in March, and now Donna Anna.
What have been the challenges of taking on Donna Anna?
When you’re learning any new role, it’s never a straight path to success. It’s always like beginner’s luck. You try both arias out, and you’re like, “Yeah, this is great.” And then you start working through it, and your brain starts coming in, your emotions—because it’s an emotional role. It’s dramatic. There are moments when you can’t let your inner emotions take over because then your voice shuts off. If you’ve ever tried singing while crying, it just won’t happen. You can’t push it too far. You have to keep an inner calm and then express yourself with facial expressions, gestures. Also, with your diction and dynamics, phrasing. There are so many ways to put out the intent in drama without getting in the way of your instrument. But it helps to have a good conductor like Jane Glover and good coaches surrounding you—and then just solid technique to get through those kinds of moments.
And you definitely need solid technique for Donna Anna’s two arias.
They’re so different. “Or sai chi l'onore” is quite dramatic, and it’s relentless. You have this huge recit before, so you have to make sure you don’t tax yourself at the beginning and have nothing left for the end. “Non mi dir” is a lyrical, lush bed that I just lie on. I love it. You have the really exciting coloratura at the latter part of the aria. That’s a challenge, too, because you can’t get too comfy and too lugubrious in how you’re singing. Mozart keeps you on your toes!
In Da Ponte’s original libretto, Donna Anna’s encounter with Don Giovanni at the opening of the opera is a sexual assault. But director Kasper Holten has reinterpreted that scene so that Donna Anna is fully aware of Don Giovanni’s identity and engaged in a consensual encounter with him.
It totally changes everything, because it’s not just Donna Anna being a victim of assault. When we started staging, I would always have to pause and have a moment with Greg Eldridge, our brilliant revival director, and say, “Okay, this changes this.” There’s one point before the quartet in Act I where Don Ottavio is asking for assistance from Don Giovanni, saying, “Can you help us seek vengeance on whoever killed Donna Anna’s father?” And I’m playing along with it, like, “Yes, can you help us?”
Because otherwise, in the original libretto, she wouldn’t have known who killed her father.
She’d be earnestly wanting his help. It’s a little bit more artificial now. It’s been fun to watch Jane Glover adapt to this new idea of Donna Anna consenting at the beginning—to see her discover how there are certain points that it does change things. It’s been really a gift to work with her to navigate this role for the first time. She’s all about phrasing and paying attention to commas and things like that. Can you show that you’re having a different idea, or can you link these two ideas together?
What about physically navigating the production on Es Devlin’s set?
It’s brilliant in the sense that it rotates. It has moving walls, multiple doors, and two staircases taking you up to the second level. It’s like a labyrinth—almost like the Harry Potter staircase. So it’s taken a little bit of time to get used to it. When we started in rehearsal, the walls and staircases were just floor tape. Obviously, a rehearsal-room floor can’t rotate. It was almost comical at times. Jane was running around the room—which she’s probably never had to do—to conduct from this angle, from that angle. And then the stage management was running around with her because she was playing the recits with a portable keyboard. It was hilarious—almost like sketch comedy. I’m sure they got their steps in every rehearsal.
Once we got to the theater, there was a whole new element of, “Oh, that’s an actual door. That’s an actual staircase. Where’s my staircase now that I have to go up?” And sometimes, you have five seconds to get up so that you can sing your next line on the second floor. You have to really know where you’re going.
Would you mind discussing your Ukrainian heritage?
Both sets of grandparents came to Canada from western Ukraine during or at the end of World War II. My dad was three when he came to Canada; my mom was born in Sudbury, Ontario. They met at Western University in London, Ontario, and then moved to Winnipeg, Manitoba, once they got married. And so I was born in Winnipeg. But I spoke Ukrainian before I spoke English. I spoke Ukrainian in the home because my parents spoke Ukrainian in their home. And they knew I would learn English—my sister, my brother, and I. So I feel like my origins are Ukrainian and then Canadian.
Ukrainian repertoire was my first music. We’d play records of all kinds, whether folk, contemporary, classical, choral. My mom is a pianist, so she would play for Ukrainian choirs. My dad was a music enthusiast, not a musician himself. He was an economics professor and would go to Ukraine at least once a year to go teach courses. And he would always come back with CDs of the latest Ukrainian pop music, choral music—everything. He’d bring sheet music back with him. And from age six, I sang with my sister. She played guitar, and we both sang Ukrainian songs. We made a CD as teenagers. We even did the Ukrainian Festival in Yonkers, New York, in our early teens.
Have you had a chance to visit Ukraine?
I did—I went with my father and my sister when I was a teenager. And that was the most incredible experience. My maternal grandparents sang, especially my Grandma Anna (Donna Anna!). She had a stunning sort of alto-mezzo voice. And whenever we went to Sudbury, Ontario, to visit, we would hear her sing in the church choir, or she would sing to us. So when we went to her village near Ivano-Frankivsk, Ukraine, we sang for her family, but then we all sang together. It was so moving to hear the voices that came from my grandma’s family—to hear that this is where I got my voice.
Do you still sing Ukrainian repertoire?
I did a big recital in Winnipeg a couple of years ago—a whole Ukrainian program. We have a great male Ukrainian chorus in Winnipeg, and we invited them to sing as well. Ukrainian music is so stunning. There’s a richness to it—an immediate sort of visceral feeling to it. Ukrainians haven’t necessarily had the easiest time throughout history, and you feel that. Even happy songs are in a minor key. So if something good has to come from this sort of international spotlight, that doesn’t bother me that the music is being highlighted. I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. I think our music is beautiful, and I hope more discover it. Let’s find some kind of comfort and healing with Ukrainian music.