‘Champion’ fuses jazz and opera in boxing tale

That old man — a haunted, haunting figure — sits at the center of “Champion,” the engaging and inventive “opera in jazz” by composer Terence Blanchard that opened a two-week run Friday night at the SFJazz Center in a dexterous production by Opera Parallèle.

A world champion welterweight and middleweight from the U.S. Virgin Islands, Griffith fought an infamous 1962 title match against Benny “Kid” Paret in which he pummeled his opponent into a fatal coma.

The combination of Griffith’s conflicted sexuality and his lifelong guilt over Paret’s death makes a potent emotional blend, which is only deepened by the devastating spectacle of his late-life dementia.

There are torch songs and lush ballads, exuberant crowd scenes and even a manic three-sided patter song — all verbal flourishes and angular rhythms — when Griffith’s manager and his mother persuade him to take up boxing for the first time.

The piece’s musical language — strong, evocative and varied — may be relatively new to the operatic world, but its modes of storytelling are tried and true.

When “Champion” had its world premiere three years ago at the Opera Theatre of Saint Louis, the NBA’s Jason Collins had just come out, throwing a spotlight on the predicament of gay athletes; this week’s premiere came in the wake of an extended controversy over anti-gay statements by boxer Manny Pacquaio.

There were other arresting performances as well, by bass-baritone Kenneth Kellogg as the young Emile, all physical prowess and confused pride; by soprano Karen Slack as his mother, a figure of moral ambiguity at best; by baritone Robert Orth as Emile’s ferocious, foul-mouthed manager; and by tenor Andres Ramirez as Griffith’s adopted son and caretaker.

All of these contributions, and many more, were blended into a fluid and theatrically resourceful staging by director Brian Staufenbiel that worked well in overcoming the sometimes static nature of the piece’s separate scenes.

[...] though, a listener’s imagination kept returning, almost unbidden, to that confused old man in a room, trying to figure out where everything belongs — not just his shoe, but himself as well.