Opera Reviews and Interviews

Peabody Southwell and ensemble in Long Beach Opera's production of Piazzolla's "Maria de Buenos Aires." Photo by Keith Ian Polakoff

Astor Piazzolla: “Maria de Buenos Aires” at Long Beach Opera
Review by David Gregson, January 30, 2012.  Photos by Keith Ian Polakoff

“Yo soy Maria de Buenos Aires / de Buenos Aires Maria ¿no ven quién soy yo?
Maria Tango, Maria del arrabal,
Maria noche, Maria pasión fatal,
Maria del amor de Buenos Aires soy yo.”

Maria is the tango. She is passion both profane and semi-divine. She is the history and heart and soul of Argentina. She is the sum of the immigrants whose cultural synthesis is symbolized in the tango. She is the subject that inspires and animates the poetry of Horacio Ferrer and lives vibrantly in tandem with the inventive and inspired music of Astor Piazzolla.

In Long Beach Opera’s current production staged in a fabulous old art deco movie palace (The Warner Grand) in San Pedro, she is transformed into a victim of the so-called Dirty War that spread violence throughout Argentina between 1976 and 1983. People “disappeared,” and we see them vanishing in a dramatic B&W projection on the scrim before the stage. We also see their missing notices in the theater lobby. Andres Mitisek, LBO’s governing factotum, has tweaked the “Tango Operita’s” story (such as it is) into a commentary on Argentina terrorized by a repressive regime that kidnaps, rapes and tortures Maria — which is to say, Argentina itself.

The Older Payador (Gregorio Luke) and a scrim full of disappeared faces that gradually drop to the floor. Photo by Keith Ian Polakoff.

Mitisek is conductor, concept originator, stage director, and production and video concept designer. I don’t know if he also sweeps the floors.

His one failure in this show was that he could not obtain a bandoneon player. You’d think candidates would be beating down the door to play for the LBO, but no. We had to settle for an accordion. However well played, it doesn’t really sound like a bandoneon, and if Maria IS the tango, Piazzolla IS the bandoneon! The ensemble, however, was quite good: two violins, viola, cello, bass, flute, piano, percussion — plus that accordion. The recording I own also has a double bass and a chorus.

Projections form an important part of this production. The scrim never rises. We see all that goes on through the gauze and smoky haze that fills the theater. Older Payador (Gregorio Luke) recalls the Dirty War and his lost Maria (the superb Peabody Southwell). We are taken back to dance bars and romantic meetings, to the marriage of Maria and the Young Payador (the excellent Gregorio Gonzalez), to Payador’s arrest before the revolution, to Maria’s search for her lost lover, and to her capture, rape, imprisonment and torture. It’s a depressing saga, but redeemed and made somehow transcendent by Piazzolla’s music.

The original score is altered in many significant ways for this LBO show, but LBO so often plays entirely by its own rules. This is an experience nobody who loves musical theater should miss, even if calling it an opera hardly succeeds in describing exactly what it is. One must bear in mind that the definition of opera has been expanding lately into works of art, like those of John Adams and Philip Glass, that abandon traditional operatic narratives for something less directly dramatic. More and more we are seeing emblematic rituals and/or metaphoric pageants that are as far from “Tosca” as one can possibly get.

I should not forget to commend the Nannette Brodie Dance Theatre for its memorable contribution to the complex and evocative visual imagery in this superlative production.

PERFORMANCES
Astor Piazzolla: “Maria de Buenos Aires”

(Younger Payador) Gonzalez and Maria (Southwell). Photo by Keith Ian Polakoff

Sun. Jan 29, 2012 @ 2pm
Sat. Feb 4, 2012 @ 8pm
Warner Grand Theatre, San Pedro
Duration: 70 min, no intermission
Sung in Spanish with English Supertitles

Cast:
Maria: Peabody Southwell
Older Payador (El Duende): Gregorio Luke
Younger Payador: Gregorio Luke
Marco: Mark Bringelson
Friends/Enemies/The “Disappeared”/Guards/Spirits: Nannette Brodie Dance Theatre

Accordion: Nick Ariondo

Conductor: Andreas Mitisek
Concept/Director/Production Designer: Andreas Mitisek
Choreographer: Nannette Brodie
Video Designer: Adam Flemming
Light Designer: Dan Weingarten
Sound Designer: Bob Christian

Lise Lindstrom as Salome and Greer Grimsley as Jochanaan in San Diego Opera's "Salome". Photo by Ken Howard

San Diego, Saturday, Jan. 28
Review by David Gregson

Few passages in the history of opera evoke erotic ecstasy with an intensity to equal those sensational final utterances of “Salome” in which Richard Strauss’s monstrous anti-heroine proclaims, “Ah! Ich habe deinen Mund geküsst, Jochanaan!” (“Ah! I have kissed thy mouth, Jokanaan!”). If you were hearing this music on recordings and did not know that the singer is lavishing her passion on the severed head of John the Baptist, you might think it was the most passionate love music you had ever heard.

Then, of course, the horrific truth of the situation crashes in musically as Heriod cries, “Man töte dieses Wieb!” (“Kill that woman!”), and, in the original stage directions, “The soldiers rush forward and crush Salome beneath their shields,” something that does not happen, incidentally, in the San Diego Opera production that opened the new 2012 season in Civic Theater Saturday night.

Strauss, of course, was taking his text from the Oscar Wilde play, originally written in French and translated into English by Wilde’s inamorato, Lord Alfred Douglas. Douglas writes that very same stage direction with the flowery overstatement that characterizes Wilde’s deliciously decadent drama: “The soldiers rush forward and crush beneath their shields, Salome, daughter of Herodias, Princess of Judaea. CURTAIN.” These things considered, the SDO’s final tableau, as concocted by stage director Seàn Curran, is an enormous disappointment. There is nothing in it to match the violent crashes of music that end the opera.

Lindstrom (Salome) and Panikkar (Narraboth). Photo by Ken Howard.

On the other hand, this is an opera that defies staging in several departments. The heroine needs to be a soprano who looks and sounds like a young girl but who has the lungs and stamina of a Valkyrie. She also has to be able to negotiate one of Strauss’s really wonderful bad ideas, the long so-called Dance of the Seven Veils. This is one awful number for a soprano to pull off, and I, quite frankly, have never seen a stage performance in which the physical dancing provides an adequate component to what’s going on in the lavishly scored, sensual, and ultimately frenzied music. Usually we get lots of careful prowling around, most of it both campy and embarrassing, and recent trends seem to demand that we see some bare tits. Several years ago, soprano Maria Ewing bared it all (and no body stocking, either) in Los Angeles. Now every diva wants to get in on the striptease act, or so I am informed by a reliable source who claims it’s the singers themselves, not necessarily the directors, who want Salome to appear naked. And we all, of course, are shocked. Shocked! Gracious me Maud!

Well, Strauss was trying very, very hard to shock his audiences back in 1905. How could he anticipate a world in which his opera no longer seems shocking but like the work of a little boy trying to gross you out with a box full of spiders? What makes it still tolerable, of course, is an utterly brilliant score, and one of the really important ones written in the early 20th century.

Lindstrom (Salome) and Glassman (Herod). Photo by Ken Howard.

The current San Diego production is worth seeing for several reasons, although I have my own extremely subjective reasons for not liking several things in it. Soprano Lisa Lindstrom successfully conveys the image of a spoiled young girl who wants her way no matter what and who is swept away by irrational and uncontrollable sensuality, but I had a hard time hearing her throughout her middle and lower range. Only the top came through clearly for me. I also felt Stuart Bedford’s conducting lacked propulsive drive. At least for the first 30 minutes or so on opening night, everything on stage and in the pit appeared to be transpiring in a desultory fashion. And the whole evening was, to these ears, underwhelming orchestrally. Perhaps it sounded more imposing down front or in the upper sections of Civic Theater. No one likes to mention it, but there are sonic dead zones in that auditorium.

The rest of the cast was excellent on opening night. Tenor Allan Glassman made a particularly fine Herod who avoided comic vocal caricature to a refreshing degree. I cannot recall ever having seen Herodias played as a silly floozy, but this approach made sense and the role was very well sung by mezzo-soprano Irina Mishura. (I did not care for Curran’s idea to have Herodias deliver Jochanaan’s head in a cloth bag to Salome, if only because Salome has requested that it be brought out on a silver platter.) Bass-baritone Greer Grimsley, one of my favorite artists no matter what he does, was an incomparable Jochanaan. Sri Lankan tenor Sean Panikkar (someone to watch out for!) was a superb Narraboth, the character who exits early by committing suicide with nobody noticing. We can also be grateful for Suzanna Guzmán as “A Page” and for all the other singers listed below. The quarreling Jews were especially fine, and “props” go to Ian Campbell for not censoring their speech in the supertitles, a PC gesture I have seen elsewhere only recently.

The Jews: Frank, Jones, Esper, Hu. Photo by Ken Howard.

I have enjoyed Bruno Schwengl as a scene and costume designer ever since I first encountered his work at the Wexford Festival in Ireland years ago. His Salome set is a striking modernist creation, a sort of brief tunnel or shaft that culminates at the back in a huge circular vault with a heavy cover and moving iris for an door. This important symbolic moon shape is echoed to the left of the stage by a giant pipe-like entranceway. The vault serves as the “cistern” in which Jochanaan is imprisoned. Wonderful lighting effects and huge shadows are imaginatively manipulated by lighting designer Christopher Maravich.

Curran’s stage direction is largely very effective and his efforts to make the dance look like something other than ridiculous are commendable. I love the fact that out of the blue, as it were, Salome decides to dance for Herod and then comes on with a troupe of trained assistants who provide her with each veil individually. That is to say, she does not start out with seven veils and then remove them. They are delivered in a carefully choreographed sequence, one by one, and our willing suspension of disbelief requires us to ignore that all of this terpsichorean feat could not possibly be spontaneous. It’s a convention of musical theater that we do not question such things.

Jochanaan, before he loses his head, moves about the stage chained (or roped) like an animal. Lindstrom tripped over one of these lines early on but recovered nicely. Despite this, the whole show made a strong and memorable visual impression. I do think, however, that bringing on many of the actors 10 minutes before the show actually starts is NOT a good idea when you are still projecting supertitle advertisements for American Airlines, Facebook, Point Loma Nazarene University, Sycuan Casino and whatnot — while the orchestra is tuning up. Very crass. The ads should go if we are watching the show already! (Did Point Loma provide real Nazarenes I wonder?)

I hate the way all stage directors handle the head business these days. It is a distraction that says, “Look, look how outrageously shocking we are up here.” I wish they would just leave the damn thing on the floor (covered up, preferably) until the kiss. Most prima donnas look absurd instead of horrific. Montserrat Caballé in particular. If you want to be truly horrified, see if you can still locate the You Tube link I found quite by accident several years ago — a live video of Islamic terrorists sawing — sawing! — the head off a living hostage and then holding the thing up to the camera. I was physically ill seeing this and did not sleep for three days. The staging of “Salome” swiftly dropped to the bottom of my list of anything I could ever, ever again accept as entertainment.

But, I still love the music.

Lindstrom (Salome) and the head of John the Baptist

THE CAST

Salome: LISE LINDSTROM
Jochanaan: GREER GRIMSLEY
Herod: ALLAN GLASSMAN
Herodias: IRINA MISHURA
Narraboth: SEAN PANIKKAR
A Page: Suzanna Guzmán
First Soldier: Jamie Offenbach
Second Soldier: Philip Skinner
A Cappadocian: Ashrof Sewailam
A Slave: Patricia McAfee
First Jew: Joseph Frank
Second Jew: Doug Jones
Third Jew: Simeon Esper
Fourth Jew: Joseph Hu
Fifth Jew: Kristopher Irmiter
First Nazarenne: Scott Sikon
Second Nazareen: Nick Munson

Conductor: STEUART BEDFORD
Director: SEÁN CURRAN
Scenic Designer: BRUNO SCHWENGL
Costume Designer: BRUNO SCHWENGL
Lighting Designer: CHRISTOPHER MARAWICH
Choreographer: Curran himself!
Wigs and Makeup: Stephen W. Byrant
Supertitles: IAN D. CAMPBELL

Saturday, Jan. 28 at 7 p.m.
Tuesday, Jan 31 at 7 p.m.
Friday, Feb 3 at 8 p.m.
Sunday, Feb 5 at 2 p.m.

San Diego Civic Theater

Baritone Eugene Brancoveanu sings Orango. Photo by Robert Bengston

Dmitri Shostakovich: “Orango” (World Premiere / Orchestration by Gerard McBurney). Los Angeles Philharmonic, Esa-Pekka Salonen conducting, Peter Sellars director.

Monday, December 5, 2011: Review of the opening night performance (Friday, December 2) by David Gregson.

This was a tremendously satisfying concert, not so much for the world premiere performance of the lost-and-found reconstruction of Shostakovich’s Prologue to “Orango,” but for the inspired coupling of the piece with the same composer’s great Symphony No. 4 in C minor, Op. 43, a work which fascinates with its labyrinthine peregrinations through musical landscapes at once strange and familiar.

With Esa-Pekka Salonen in control of the enormous musical forces (more than 100 instruments and tons of percussion including tam-tam, military whistles, sleigh bells, a car horn and a banjo among other fun things), the hour-plus long symphony never ceased to fascinate. It also achieved a decibel level perhaps rivaled only by rock bands — and yet, in radical contrast to the galloping bombast, the piece has many spare and delicate passages. Whimsy abounds, but there are sudden plunges into deep seriousness. The cautionary cliché, “Expect the unexpected,” applies perfectly to the Fourth. The Shostakovich sound world seems so familiar, but there are surprises around every corner. Comparisons have been made to Mahler, but I think these are only apt in terms of the length of the work and its protean emotionalism.

The evening was exciting from the outset. One simply had to attend the pre-performance lecture to hear composer/writer/broadcaster Gerald McBurney discuss his meticulously researched orchestration of the “Orango” fragment and to discover what on earth director Peter Sellars was planning to do with it. Sellars was most eloquent on this subject, but he went on to offer a persuasive and moving description of the Fourth Symphony. Also present at this lecture were Dr. Olga Digonskaya who discovered the “Orango” manuscripts somewhere in the Glinka Museum of Musical Culture, and Laurel E. Fay, author of “Shostakovich: A Life,” much touted as the definite biography on the man. Fay translated Digonskaya’s comments in Russian, all of them pertaining to the process of discovery.

Most exciting was the silent presence of Irina Shostakovich, the composer’s widow, who was acknowledged both at the lecture and by Esa-Pekka Salonen just before the concert began. Madame Shostakovich commissioned McBurney to reconstruct the “Orango” prologue from the surviving sketches, apparently 13 “sides” of a piano score including the vocal parts. The concert program, by the way, contained the entire libretto for “Orango.” Those curious to know more about the work and to see a video talk about it by Salonen should click here before that information is taken down by the Philharmonic.

Shostakovich began work on “Orango” while he was writing his masterpiece, “Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk,” and just before completing the Fourth Symphony in 1936. A victim of capricious Stalinist changes of attitude towards the acceptability of his work in a Communist state, he put “Orango” aside — and the Fourth, ready for the public in 1938, never got performed until 1961. What we have today of “Orango” is rather typical of the brashly satirical composer we already know so well from “The Nose” and from parts of “Lady Macbeth.” The raucous gallops, the rude sounds, the tendency to be serious one moment and ironic the next are all there. What is missing for me (although I did not really expect it) is anything profound and moving like so much of his best music — the occasionally dark and disturbing work like the Violin Concerto, for instance.

The opera itself, of course, never takes place. All we have is the reconstructed prologue by McBurney. The figure of Orango himself is literally and figuratively out of 1930′s science fiction. The text, involving an a creature half-man and half ape, comes directly from the writer Count Alexei Tolstoy (yes, he’s related!), and it plugs into the ape/man genetic experimentations also exploited by Hollywood in the ’30s: those Monogram Pictures with Karloff and/or Lugosi. Not to forget Paramount’s “Island of Lost Souls” in which Charles Laughton (as a wicked little Dr. Moreau) wants to crossbreed humans and animals. These bestial fantasies seem to have been apart of the Gestalt in the ’30s.

In the prologue, a festive crowd, freed from labor and living in a world of wonders and shallow sensations, longs to see and laugh at Orango (incarnated with amusing gusto by baritone Eugene Brancoveanu). The Entertainer (delightful and dashing baritone Ryan McKinny, a much overlooked terrific talent) introduces the creature, who after being put through his human paces like Young Frankenstein, tries to assault a woman (in the front row of Disney Hall, thanks to Sellars). Sellars, in fact, utilized as much of the hall as he could, placing singers and chorus here and there. He also employed slide projections of things he felt to be relevant, most notably insistent images of the Occupy Wall Street movements worldwide. The military establishment, both US and Soviet, was highlighted with the intent of stimulating audience associations, and the state of our infrastructure also appeared to come in for critical knocks. Of course, in the spirit of the anything goes libretto, we also saw extensive film clips, however blurry, of the great Pavlova dancing.

To describe the rest of the action in detail is possible, but it is perhaps sufficient to say, it all has an unstable absurdist tone in which the precise satirical meaning is ambiguous. It reflects, I think, the thoughts of a conflicted man torn between oppression and acceptance in his society. He is in danger, so you cannot really pin him down. On the other hand, much of Russian literature is similar in its exuberant and bewildering sarcasm. Gogol, Mayakovsky, and Bulgakov spring to mind.

The whole thing ends with a choral invitation to laugh “at the fruitless attempt to control the steering wheel of life with the hands of an ape.”

Much credit is due to all those listed below. I also want to thank the Omni Hotel for never failing to deliver serendipitous surprises in the breakfast room. On the morning following the concert, Irina Shostakovich ended up seated at the table no more than five feet away from mine.

ARTISTS:
Los Angeles Philharmonic
Esa-Pekka Salonen, conductor
Peter Sellars, director
Ben Zamora, lighting designer
Ryan McKinny, Veselchak, bass-baritone
Jordan Bisch, Voice from the Crowd/Bass, bass
Michael Fabiano, Zoologist, tenor
Eugene Brancoveanu, Orango, baritone
Yulia Van Doren, Susanna, soprano
Timur Bekbosunov, Paul Mash, tenor

From the chorus:
Adriana Manfredi
Abdiel Gonzales
Daniel Chaney
Todd Strange

Los Angeles Master Chorale, Grant Gershon, music director

PROGRAM: Shostakovich: Orango (world premiere) (orchestration by Gerard McBurney) and Shostakovich: Symphony No. 4

From San Francisco Opera: Mezzo-soprano Kendall Gladen will sing the title role of Carmen on November 26, 29 and December 2, 4, replacing Kate Aldrich. Ms. Aldrich has had to withdraw from the production due to illness. As previously announced, due to illness, Kate Aldrich’s arrival in San Francisco was delayed and she was scheduled to sing the role November 26 through December 4, and to be replaced by mezzo-sopranos Kendall Gladen (on November 6 and 9) and Anita Rachvelishvili (on November 12, 15, 17, 20 and 23). Kendall Gladen will now also sing the role for the final four performances November 26-December 4.

The Lovers. Photo by Robert Millard.

Los Angeles Opera, “Romeo and Juliet”

Review by David Gregson, Monday, November 7

This is the second time around for Los Angeles Opera’s John Gunter designed production of Gounod’s “Roméo et Juliette” and it is perhaps several degrees more sensational than the first time back in January of 2005. Then the Juliette was exciting soprano Anna Netrebko, looking rather more svelte and gorgeous than she does today; and the Roméo was a marvelous Rolando Villazon in fine form vocally and in physical appearance. No one could have imagined then that Villazon’s career would so soon be interrupted by surgery for a cyst on one of his vocal cords or that Netrebko would become so matronly looking (though still quite beautiful) following the birth of her child. I was surprised to see her weight gain during the recent HD Met-to-theaters telecast of Donizetti’s “Anna Bolena”.

So, in their place, make way (all too soon!) for another pair of good-looking star-crossed lovers: Vittorio Grigolo and Nino Machaidza, both of them – to put it mildly – sensational in their parts. Machaidza sings gorgeously and makes a thoroughly believable heroine (and, yes, we all know Shakespeare’s Juliet was really 13 or something), while Grigolo seems born to play Roméo.

One has to search for animal metaphors to describe what Grigolo does physically. He tears around the stage with cat-like speed and grace, and he scrambles like a monkey over a multi-tiered set conveniently designed to look like an intricate scaffolding for a building or a street scene that was somehow never finished.

Grigolo also knows exactly what character he is playing and he stays in it all times, just like the best of professional stage actors. And although there are more glorious Roméos on recordings, it would be difficult to fault Grigolo’s singing. I find the voice not as sweet and ringing as I would like, but he produces a secure and even masculine sound through all his registers — and his top notes are wonderfully secure. He also sings with a surprising degree of dynamic sensitivity, astonishing given the almost undisciplined exuberance of much of his acting. Jussi Bjoerling, for my money the greatest Roméo of all, could never have done what Grigolo does on stage in a million years.

Machaidza is a remarkable singer at the moment. I have enjoyed everything I have heard her do. She has a full warm sound, and she does not have to struggle at all to adjust the part vocally as she progresses from the agility of her initial “Je veux vivre” to the taxing drama of the potion scene towards the end of the opera. She also knows how to convey and stay in a character.

On the other hand, while I found both singers wonderfully enjoyable, I was never deeply moved. One’s own “tear-o-meter” is, of course, personally and individually adjusted. Mine hardly registered a drop.

Superbly directed by Ian Judge and nicely conducted by Placido Domingo (who seems only to lag in the most energetic of passages), this “Roméo” flowed along magnificently and seamlessly, scene into scene. It truly helped one realize how well constructed, how beautifully composed Gounod’s work is with its skillful libretto by Jules Barbier and Michel Carré. The use of chorus, I think, is particularly inspired, and Judge accents this aspect in inventive ways. He makes much use of the multiple levels, although when these spaces are emptied of the crowds, one is reminded of passengers awkwardly deplaning an aircraft. (Thank God they do not have overhead baggage.) Dressed in costumes (Tim Goodchild) that presumably reflect the period of the composition of the opera, the large mixed chorus opens the opera in full mourning mode, with the bodies of the lovers lying nearby — and then the black cloaks are shed revealing the formal suits and dance gowns for the Capulet’s ball. Similarly deft traditions like these abound.

The Capulet's ball. Photo by Robert Millard.

In general the cast is quite strong. As Capulet, Vladimir Chernov becomes a charming host who, remarkably, seems to be welcoming us all to the opera, inviting us to enjoy ourselves despite all misfortune. As Mercutio, Museop Kim is most kinetic and engaging, if not vocally dazzling. The Tybalt, Alexey Saypin, displays a distinctive clear tenor sound and appropriately supercilious demeanor. The accidental trouble maker, Stephano, was mezzo René Rapier, an evening replacement for a MIA Elena Belfiore, and was excellent in her small role opening afternoon. Vitalij Kowaljow is touching and authoritative as Frere Laurent. Mezzo Ronnita Nicole Miller works well to make the nurse’s character come into focus, and Philip Cokorinos seems imposing as the crisis-pressed Duke of Verona.

Vladimir Chernov as Capulet -- quite the host. Photo by Robert Millard.

Production elements are outstanding. Intricate, effective lighting by Nigel Levings; very serviceable choreography by Kitty McNamee; and impressive fight direction by Ed Douglas. Grant Gershon’s chorus delighted as usual — as did the players of the Los Anegles Opera Orchestra.

Do stay to see Mr. Grigolo’s inimitable curtain calls. One certainly gets the impression he’s having a great time and that he loves himself and what he is doing very much!

CAST

Juliette: Nino Machaidze
Roméo: Vittorio Grigolo*
Mercutio: Museop Kim+
Frere Laurent: Vitalij Kowaljow
Count Capulet: Vladimir Chernov
Tybalt: Alexey Sayapin*+
Duke of Verona: Philip Cokorinos
Stephano: Renee Rapier*+
Gertrude: Ronnita Nicole Miller++
Grégorio: Michael Dean*
Benvolio: Ben Bliss*+
Count Paris: Daniel Armstrong++
Frere: Jean Erik Anstine+

CREATIVE TEAM

Conductor: Placido Domingo
Director: Ian Judge
Set Designer: John Gunter
Costume Designer: Tim Goodchild
Lighting Designer: Nigel Levings
Choreographer: Kitty McNamee
Fight Choreographer: Ed Douglas
Assoc. Conductor: Grant Gershon
Chorus Master: Grant Gershon

* LA Opera debut artist +

+Domingo-Thornton Young Artist Program member
++ Domingo-Thornton Young Artist Program alumnus

Still no happy ending. Photo by Robert Millard.

Thiago Arancam (Don Jose) and Kendall Gladen (Carmen). Photo by Cory Weaver.

San Francisco Opera, “Carmen,” Nov. 6, 2011

By JANOS GEREBEN

The musical definition of “grand opera” is a work all sung, without spoken text. That is patently untrue about the original Opéra-Comique version of Bizet’s “Carmen” which returned to an extended run today to the San Francisco Opera for the umpteenth time.

(Specifying “umpteen,” courtesy of SFO Archivist Kori Lockhart: 167 performances, putting “Carmen” in fourth place after “La Bohème,” 221; “Madama Butterfly,” 195.)

It’s hard to think of another opera that has so much spoken dialogue as this (kudos to the unidentified French language coach), and yet, in size, this is very grand – or, at least big – opera.

Nicola Luisotti is leading an orchestra of 62 and nine brass backstage. On the stage: 13 principals, 60 members of Ian Robertson’s SFO Chorus, 40 children from the SF Girls and SF Boys Choruses, 44 supernumeraries…

But the reason for this opera’s popularity – it is among the most frequently performed works – is not so much an “Aida”-like spectacle as its music. Passionate, lyrical, unforgettably melodic, Bizet’s music is the major reason to return to “Carmen” again and again. It also serves as an excellent introduction to the genre.

Under Luisotti’s direction the music came across well balanced and in rich details, especially during orchestral passages, as woodwinds, strings, and brass all excelled, quiet moments shining with a glow. Otherwise, there were times the grand gestures and climaxes the conductor clearly called for didn’t quite come through from a cast performing on various levels.

Perhaps the best example of everything working together at the opening matinee was the Act I Children’s Chorus – orchestra, voices, action all blending in a charming scene, which all too often turns tedious. This one was exactly right.

With three singers sharing the title role in 11 performances, it’s difficult to keep track of it all. A well-experienced Carmen, Kendall Gladen sang the opening performance and will on Nov. 9; the others are divided between Kate Aldrich and the debuting Georgian mezzo Anita Rachvelishvili.

Gladen, acting up a storm and being more cute than “the devil” she is supposed to be, filled the War Memorial with a big, warm, supple voice, even if the sound was not sustained at all times, and even dropped to near-audible levels.

Still, she was the star, especially against the inconsistent vocal performance of the Don José, Thiago Arancam. The tenor has a fine lyrical voice, without much ping, but there is audible effort in hitting high notes or increasing the volume.

In the tiny role of Morales, Trevor Scheunemann made an excellent impression. In the big role of Escamillo, the debuting Paulo Szot did not. There is no better setup for a big aria than the “Toreador Song,” and yet Szot provided neither the volume nor the presence required. The aria, rather than the performance, received big applause, as it always does.

Cybele Gouverneur’s Mercédès and Susannah Biller’s Frasquita sounded fine individually, there were problems in the ensemble numbers, but the big quartet (with Timothy Mix and Daniel Montenegro) came through like gangbusters.

Daniel Montenegro (Le Remendado), Kendall Gladen (Carmen), Susannah Biller (Frasquita), Cybele Gouverneur (Mercedes)and Timothy Mix (Le Dancaire). Photo by Cory Weaver.

Veteran opera fans have treasured memories of Jean-Pierre Ponnelle’s 1981 original production, of which this is a 2002 Ponnelle-revised version from Zürich, directed by Jose Maria Condemi. Gone is the blinding Seville sun against the white walls, the palpable heat of the place, Ponnelle’s wonderful stage direction.

With Condemi, who has done some good work since his Merola days, Zuniga (Wayne Tigges) ends up as a hysterical clown, Carmen and Don Jose assume the missionary position too many times, and traffic is conducted poorly for the large crowds.

And yet, through it all, the music is there, Luisotti has at least the orchestra under control, and with the revolving title roles and more performances, this may yet become a “Carmen” to take place among .

And yet, through it all, the music is there, Luisotti has at least the orchestra under control, and with the revolving title roles and more performances, this may yet become a “Carmen” to take place among the well-remembered ones.

Kendall Gladen (Carmen) and Paulo Szot (Escamillo). Photo by Cory Weaver.

CARMEN: KENDALL GLADEN (NOV 6, 9)
DON JOSÉ: THIAGO ARANCAM
MICAËLA: SARA GARTLAND
ESCAMILLO: PAULO SZOT *
FRASQUITA: SUSANNAH BILLER
MERCÉDÈS: CYBELE GOUVERNEUR
LE DANCAÏRE: TIMOTHY MIX
LE REMENDADO: DANIEL MONTENEGRO
MORALÈS: TREVOR SCHEUNEMANN
ZUNIGA: WAYNE TIGGES
LILLAS PASTIA: YUSEF LAMBERT *

PRODUCTION CREDITS
CONDUCTOR: NICOLA LUISOTTI
DIRECTOR: JOSE MARIA CONDEMI
SET DESIGNER: JEAN-PIERRE PONNELLE
COSTUME DESIGNER: WERNER JUERKE
LIGHTING DESIGNER: CHRISTOPHER MARAVICH
CHORUS DIRECTOR: IAN ROBERTSON

Susan Graham (Xerxes). Photo by Cory Weaver.

Handel’s “Xerxes” at San Francisco Opera, October 30, 2011

Review by JANOS GEREBEN

Everything is old about Handel’s “Xerxes” — the Persian king and conqueror lived in the fifth century BC; the opera was written in 1738; the English production seen in the War Memorial is from 1985 — and yet this San Francisco Opera premiere feels fresh and new.

Musically, it’s a grand-slam winner, with a cast as good as you can find anywhere: Susan Graham (Xerxes), David Daniels (Arsamenes), Lisette Oropesa (Romilda), Heidi Stober (Atalanta) in the top rank, closely followed by Sonia Prina (Amastris), Michael Sumuel (Elviro), and Wayne Tigges (Ariodates).

This was a well-balanced, relatively egoless, and all-around outstanding vocal performance. It’s a true ensemble event, even if the opera is a nonstop series of arias, originally a showcase for London’s most famous castrati. Acting is uniformly natural and fluent, thanks in part to Revival Director Michael Walling.

After minor, needless initial problems with stage placement for Graham’s affecting “Ombra mai fu” (in praise of the shade of his beloved plane tree), misdirected to be sung way up-stage, instead of near the down-stage sweet spot, and Oroposa singing her first aria while surrounded by supernumeraries and virtually unseen by the audience, three hours go by essentially without a hitch.

Heidi Stober (Atalanta), David Daniels (Arsamenes) and Lisette Oropesa (Romilda). Photo by Cory Weaver.

Under Patrick Summers’ steady direction, verging on the mechanical only a few times, the SF Opera Orchestra plays superbly, with principal trumpet Adam Luftman providing a triumphant sound. Summers, who has been responsible for several excellent Baroque opera productions in the War Memorial and elsewhere, is masterful in the genre.

And yet, a word of caution to opera newbies: this beautiful music may not hold your attention all evening long.

Nicholas Hytner’s production, with David Fielding’s design, from the English National Opera, moves along the admittedly static work, without any action to speak of, investing it with clever, amusing, and times very funny bits.

During the overture, for example, Hytner has the characters enter the stage, one by one, with a large sign on the back curtain identifying them, along with their amorous interests. Even after this thoughtful documentation, the business of relationships remains somewhat puzzling as Xerxes pursues Romilda, she is after Arsamenes (the king’s brother), but so is her sister, Atalanta… and then enters Amastris, enamored of Xerxes, but dressed as warrior. (Otherwise, the opera says nothing of Xerxes’ failed invasion of Greece with 1,200 fighting vessels and troops from 46 nations.)

Besides the information and entertainment value of the production, it must also be acknowledged for not calling attention to itself, helping the drama, not competing with it. A troupe of supernumeraries, looking like ghosts, acts as entertaining stagehands, rarely stepping on the music.

Among the many inventive set elements is an elaborate model of Xerxes’ first Hellespont bridge, its on-stage collapse mirroring what happened “back then.”

This was one of Xerxes’ many bizarre historical incidents. When the flax-and-papyrus bridge collapsed over the Dardanelles, the king executed the architects, and ordered the straits lashed 300 times, branded it with hot iron, and had his soldiers shout at the water.

But Xerxes was also persistent: his second Hellespont bridge stayed up, and allowed the Persian troops to invade Greece. Wouldn’t that make a more lively opera than this one all about his affairs of the heart?

Heidi Stober (Atalanta) and Susan Graham (Xerxes). Photo by Corey Weaver.

CAST

Xerxes – Susan Graham
Romilda – Lisette Oropesa
Arsamenes – David Daniels
Atalanta – Heidi Stober
Amastris – Sonia Prina
Ariodates – Wayne Tigges
Elviro – Michael Sumuel
~~~~~~~~~~~
Conductor – Patrick Summers
Production – Nicholas Hytner
Revival Director – Michael Walling
Production Designer – David Fielding
Lighting Designer – Paul Pyant
Chorus Director – Ian Robertson

Wayne Tigges (Ariodates). Photo by Cory Weaver.

San Francisco Opera
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fri 11/4/11 7:30 pm

Tue 11/8/11 7:30 pm

Fri 11/11/11 7:30 pm

Wed 11/16/11 7:00 pm

Lucas Meachem (Don Giovanni). Photo by Cory Weaver.

San Francisco Opera: Mozart, “Don Giovanni,” October 15, 2011
Review by JANOS GEREBEN

Few composers can take different interpretations and varying performance quality as well as Mozart. The music almost always wins over circumstances. And so it did at the San Francisco Opera’s new production of “Don Giovanni.”

Saturday’s opening performance was neither a Thumbs Up nor a Thumbs Down event, and while there is much to say about elements of the production, the overall experience is difficult to summarize.

Shawn Mathey (Don Ottavio) and Ellie Dehn (Donna Anna). Photo by Cory Weaver.

As Nicola Luisotti began to conduct the overture, the sound from the orchestra was unusual, and some of it stayed with the performance for three hours, until the Finale caught fire. This was Mozart with a light touch, measured, precise, and understated. Neither elegance nor passion was always in the fore, certainly not the way the two played against one another in San Francisco’s last “Don Giovanni,” four years ago.

Both in conducting and playing the fortepiano recitative accompaniment (with Bryndon Hassman, harpsichord, and Thalia Moore, cello), Luisotti maintained an admirable consistency of tempo and balance, producing a “classical Mozart” sound. At times, it came close to the tedious, but always returned to the straight and narrow. Little to fault, not too many true highlights.

U.S. debuts of director Gabriele Lavia, set designer Alessandro Camera, and costume designer Andrea Viotti were mixed affairs. At times, Lavia went for commedia dell’arte hijinks; more often, he had the singers stand stock still, arranged in tableau vivant.

At first, Camera’s two dozen large mirrors and an equal number of Louis XIV-like chairs made a strong impression against the otherwise empty stage, but when the huge (16×6 feet) suspended gilded mirrors began to come and go in a busy and virtually constant choreography, the distraction could not be justified.

Two exceptions to the empty stage were the tombstones of the cemetery scene and the lavish plush-draped dinner finale for Giovanni’s departure the hell. (No epilogue in this Luisotti-selected mix of the Vienna and Prague versions.)

Viotti’s costumes were fair enough, although the floor-length overcoats brought back some uncomfortable memories of Regieoper uniforms. Sunglasses for Don Giovanni? Why not?

Marco Vinco (Leporello). Photo by Cory Weaver.

In the title role, Merola/Adler veteran Lucas Meachem presented a self-confident anti-hero, both smooth in seduction and rough in action. He sang well, especially in soft passages that featured the lyrical beauty of the voice, but when the music required helden-baritone, the sound wasn’t always there.

There was an unusually large number of debuts in the cast, and the standout was the smallest role, that of the Commendatore, sang with restrained but resounding power by Morris Robinson, a newcomer to the War Memorial the audience clearly wanted to return soon.

Marco Vinco’s Leporello was vocally, dramatically, and comically outstanding. Kate Lindsey, a true singing actor, ate up the role of Zerlina, using every part of her body, in addition to her impressive vocal cords. Serena Farnocchia’s Donna Elvira and Shawn Mathey’s Don Ottavio made a good, if not vivid impression.

Returning artists included Ellie Dehn as a fair Donna Anna and Ryan Kuster as Masetto.

Ryan Kuster (Masetto) and Kate Lindsey (Zerlina). Photo by Cory Weaver.

Cast
Don Giovanni Lucas Meachem
Donna Anna Ellie Dehn
Donna Elvira Serena Farnocchia *
Leporello Marco Vinco *
Don Ottavio Shawn Mathey *
Zerlina Kate Lindsey *
Masetto Ryan Kuster
The Commendatore Morris Robinson *

Production Credits
Conductor Nicola Luisotti
Director Gabriele Lavia *
Set Designer Alessandro Camera *
Costume Designer Andrea Viotti *
Lighting Designer Christopher Maravich
Chorus Director Ian Robertson

* San Francisco Opera Debut

Sat 10/15/11 8:00pm
Tue 10/18/11 8:00pm
Fri 10/21/11 8:00pm
Sun 10/23/11 2:00pm *
Wed 10/26/11 7:30pm
Sat 10/29/11 8:00pm *
Wed 11/2/11 7:30pm *
Sat 11/5/11 2:00pm
Thu 11/10/11 7:30pm

Serena Farnocchia (Donna Elvira). Photo by Cory Weaver.