I love to listen to opera in my spare time. For example, right now I'm listening to La Traviata, one of Verdi's most influential and popular works. I truly enjoy classical music, and I've listened to countless different versions of the world's finest arias sung by the world's most talented singers. I've always steered clear of modern opera, because some of the music is awkward, some of it is off-putting, and some of it is just plain weird. But because I exposed myself to most classical operas, I thought that I would be prepared for anything. Viktor Ullman and Petr Kien's The Emperor of Atlantis or Death Quits, produced by the Boston Lyric Opera, is truly one of the most intriguing, strange and poignant productions that I've ever experienced.Unlike most of the opera that I've seen put on by the BLO, which were staged in the beautiful and classic Shubert Theater in Boston's theater district, The Emperor of Atlantis was performed in the Calderwood Pavilion, a more modern building with none of the ornate, fancy appeal of the Shubert. The entire show seemed to start as soon as I walked through the door. Lining the walls were what seemed to be ushers, but they were all chanting the same eerie mantra, asking each audience member to "please excuse the state of the venue because it was under repair," which was evident as the walls were covered in plastic sheeting. It all felt very Big Brother to me, which suited the overall feel of the spectacle that would follow.

The show began with the world premiere of a short piece called "The After-Image." A very reflective piece, almost dreamlike, it provided me with 20 of the most confusing minutes of the night. The main voices-Jamie Van Eyck playing the Daughter and Kevin Burdette playing The Photograph of the Father-were both quite refined and suited for the pensive atmosphere of the piece, but I didn't know what to make of the piece itself. It was basically an exchange between the daughter and the picture of the father as she reflects on a photo she found of him, but nothing really grabbed and pulled me in. Instead, I felt blocked at every attempt to be pulled into the story. The lyrics were quite beautiful, drawing upon the poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke, Friedrich Ruckert and William Henry Fox Talbot, but the music seemed almost formless-perhaps a reflection of the mystery and inward focus of the tableau itself, but it was difficult to follow. The original rhythmic qualities of the poetry were lost in the rhythms and strange melodies of the music. In the end, "The After-Image" is a piece for quiet, abstruse interpretation and listening, not for driven storyline and hummable melodies.

The Emperor of Atlantis proper began with the setting of the stage, done in full, plain view of the audience, almost theatrical within itself. The story begins with the introduction of all the characters. Death (played by Kevin Burdette, who had also played the Photograph of the Father in the prologue) and Harlequin (played by John Mac Master) are first on the stage. Then introduced is the Drummer (played by Jamie Van Eyck, who was also the Daughter), Emperor Überall (played by Andrew Wilkowske), a Soldier (played by Julius Ahn) and a Soldier Girl (played by Kathryn Skemp).

Death and Harlequin are playing chess, lamenting that both death and laughter are taken so lightly in this day and age. They discuss how people used to dress up for Death in celebration, but now no one fears him. When the Drummer enters and proclaims a tremendous war that Death would lead himself, Death becomes furious-he makes it so that no one is able to die. The Emperor tries to save face and proclaim that it is he who banished Death and that all can now fight without fear-but the chaos makes him afraid. In the meantime, because of their inability to kill each other, the two soldiers instead fall in love. Finally, the Emperor begs Death to resume his duties, and Death agrees, only if the Emperor will be the first to die. The Emperor agrees.

The BLO's production of The Emperor of Atlantis is daring and takes no prisoners. The Emperor's castle is just a bunch of scaffolding covered in plastic sheeting. Death, Harlequin and the Emperor are made up in such a way as to be ridiculous. Meanwhile, the music and lighting are bright, harsh and bombastic. It is a hell of a show-humorous in an unorthodox way. Kevin Burdette, who plays Death, is definitively the man to watch. In addition to his powerhouse bass, his indomitable stage presence makes Death the most interesting and dynamic character throughout. Death and the Emperor's final scene together is the most moving moment of the show, and though it lasts only a few minutes, the skill with which the actors handle the timing makes it feel as though the time stretches to keep the Emperor alive for just a little longer.

The music throughout is typically modern. Strange jumps up and down the scale, bombastic and strange chords and uncommon time signatures mark this score. But interestingly, by the end of the opera, I began to recognize normal time signatures, and harmonies began to make more sense. The rhythm slowed down, and the melody became more recognizable. With the restoration of order to the world, the music became noticeably simpler. It was a powerful choice on Ullman's part, and thus the final act is a stirring visual and aural feat.

Again, I reiterate that I love the classical opera. Give me Handel and Verdi any day; the genre wouldn't be what it is today without those visionaries of the last century. But now, I will also make sure to expose myself to modern opera as well. The Emperor of Atlantis has been one of my most memorable opera experiences, and I can't wait for the next modern opera to come my way. If as well performed and well staged as the BLO's production, I'll gladly throw Ullmann in my iTunes library right up there with Puccini.