Surface effects--Rodwin's dazzling and literally multifaceted performance, for instance--are clever enough to momentarily distract us from the simmering angst. Throughout, themes of dislocation and alienation hover over like dark clouds, as does the specter of looming catastrophe, whether a fatal automobile accident or the doomed flight of the Challenger or lost love. Rodwin gamely juggles several roles, splitting personalities right and left, and right.

Still, questions dog us: For one, is this, in fact, an opera? A textual-musical component runs throughout, but usually without a melodic line, and when songs do appear, they tap into a bland language of pop and Broadway. In its best passages, the sonic framework is based on precise, rhythmic fragmentation passed through a sampler and woven into a fairly simplistic fabric of Rodwin's electroacoustic sounds, Lester Lewis' guitar and Mark Zaki's often doubled violin parts.

The sum effect can be a bit too canned. Then again, artifice is part of the aesthetic equation. Nothing is quite as it seems. The empathetic qualities of the vignettes are kept at bay through a disarming blend of lip-syncing and live speech, with occasional--and serviceable--singing. Cartoon sound effects punctuate the proceedings, adding to the "virtual" ambience. The story itself is told in jigsaw-puzzle chronology, gradually revealing itself.

A spare but effective scheme by lighting designer Aaron Francis and director Valeria Vasilevski help maximize the minimal setting. But the stage truly belongs to Rodwin. If less than a musical triumph or an operatic innovation, his "hyper-opera" serves as a psychodrama of his own admirable invention, and execution.

-Josef Woodard, ©1998 LA Times