La Traviata, Fremont Opera, Aug. 27 2010

Fremont Opera is a new (2007) small regional opera company that concentrates on semi-staged productions of the most-standard operatic repertoire. I missed their first production, of La Boheme, but did get to their second production, Barber of Seville, two years ago. I still talk about it. "Semi-staged" meant that there were furniture and costumes and acting, just no sets—a far cry from a "concert performance." And the singing and the acting and the directing were first-rate. With a performance like that, who needed sets? Especially when the absence of sets leaves them with enough budget to hire a full-size orchestra.

So when I found out that the winner of this year's Irene Dalis Vocal Competition, Danielle Talamantes, would be singing in this summer's semi-staged production of La Traviata, I jumped at the chance. What's more, Scott Bearden, winner of last year's Irene Dalis Vocal Competition, would be singing Gi0rgio Germont. I was early enough to snag front-row seats.

No sets, no curtain; the performance started with the conductor, Violetta, and her maid walking onto the darkened stage and assuming their positions, Violetta on a backless sofa. During the prelude, Violetta slowly awakes, coughs, and changes from her nightgown into her party dress, and when the music picks up, Act I proper is launched. Talamantes has a nice voice, perhaps a shade darker than what I was expecting in a Violetta, and lacking the exceptional energy and vivacity of the party girl that is Violetta. Her Alfredo, Benjamin Bunsold, was someone I don't remember having seen before. He's quite a striking young man, but he seemed not to have much control over his voice, and to have something stuck in his throat that rendered his voice rough and harsh in the lower register and verging on squeaky in the upper register. Fremont Opera likes to take advantage of the "balconies" that overlook the stage. During her "Ah forse lui" and "Sempre libera," sang his "Amor e palpito" interjections first from offstage, and then from the overlook.

The singers must have been given a pep talk during the first intermission. Bunsold's voice had improved remarkably, and he delivered an acceptable cavatina. But after being interrupted by the maid, he strode off the stage, omitting the powerful cabaletto. A bit later we were treated to the finest voice of the evening, Scott Bearden's Giorgio Germont, enjoyable in all respects save one: much of the time he appeared to be singing to a much larger house than the 405-seat Jackson Theatre. He has, or can have, a big voice that I hope stands him in good stead elsewhere. Interestingly, the director had him wear a clerical collar—based, I presume, on his lines "It is God, my child, who inspires these words that a father speaks" and "One day heaven will reward you for those tears." It gives him religious in addition to parental authority, not to mention vocal authority. His "Di Provenza" was tender and loving.

Having cut Alfredo's cabaletto from the beginning of scene 1, I was wondering whether the chorus of gypsies and chorus of matadors (and attendant dancers) in Flora's party might be cut as well, but they weren't. There was only one (masked) matador, who danced with two women; at the end he removed his mask, revealing himself to be—Alfredo! Which was a perfect setup for the chorus's ejaculation of "Alfredo! ... Voi!" ("Alfredo! ... You!"). At the end, when the elder Germont chastises his son for insulting a woman, he does so not from the party floor, but from the overlook.

Act III brings us of course to Violetta's deathbed, around dawn. As an example of how well a semi-staged performance can be done, when Violetta asks Annina to open the shutters and let in some light, the maid goes up to the edge of the stage, reaches up her arms, and draws apart the imaginary shutters—and the spotlight bathes her in light. Predictable, yes, but very effective. One measure of the effectiveness of a La Traviata is whether any eyes are moistened when she expires. It's rare, but it can happen. For a moment earlier in the act, I thought we might get there, but no.

For me, the standouts were two: Scott Bearden's Giorgio Germont, and the acting. For a small company that will give only two performances of this masterwork, they must have spent a lot of time rehearsing not just the singing but the acting as well. There was a lot of acting, and it was done very well. The orchestra played reasonably well, none of the horn bobbles that marred The Legend of the Ring, but they lacked the vivacity that is called for at some points.

Bottom line: enjoyable, glad I went, yet no comparison to the Barber of Seville of two years ago. But I'll certainly plan to see their next production (disregarding distractions such as Fremont Opera goes Bollywood), whenever it is.

Lucia di Lammermoor, Festival Opera, Aug. 10 2010

Festival Opera (Walnut Creek) presented Donizetti's great tragedy with two of my favorite singers, Kirk Eichelberger as Raimundo and Brian Leerhuber as Enrico. Also featured were some names new to me: Angela Cadelago as Lucia, Thomas Glenn as Edgardo, and Michael Foreman as Arturo. Kirk was, as always, superb. Unfortunately the director cut his scene with Lucia after Enrico departs following his Act 2 “Se tradirmi.” But he shone particularly well in his big aria following Lucia's mad scene. Brian's voice was as good as I remembered from his years at Opera San Jose. Patrice Houston (Alisa) is also an Opera San Jose alumna, and she made me wish that I had paid more attention to her during those years.

Angela Cadelago sounded a bit underpowered for this role; I wonder whether Rosina might be more her speed. Thomas Glenn was adequate though not outstanding. The part of Arturo, pitched as high as it is, sounds out of place amidst all the other powerful characters; he has the same handicap as Don Ottavio. But Michael Foreman certainly cut a dashing figure onstage.

The sets were nothing spectacular (two flanking “stained glass windows”, a mound of rocks in the background for the first and last scenes, and the requisite staircase for the wedding scene), but the costumes did catch my eye -- very well done. Stage direction left something to be desired: Kirk seemed to be at loose ends as to what to do with himself, which is certainly not characteristic of him. The program notes say that “Mark Foehringer makes his debut as stage director with this production,” so maybe we can be forgiving and hope for better his next time out.

L'Elisir d'Amore, Merola, August 7 2010

San Francisco Opera's Merola program presented Donizetti's The Elixir of Love on four consecutive evenings at the Cowell Theater at Ft. Mason. One cast performed on Thursday and Saturday and another cast performed on Friday and Sunday. As principals, we heard singers whom we had not heard at the summer concert three weeks ago; the summer concert singers formed the chorus.

The staging was a combination of “local color” and already-tired concept. In the self-referential vein described in Gödel, Escher, Bach, the opera was presented as though it were a rehearsal of The Elixir of Love at Ft. Mason, with a director's chair for Adina, a closet full of stage props (Nemorino must be the props boy), and a stage and proscenium set well back from the edge of the actual stage. I saw the same idea some months ago in a Met HD broadcast of La Sonnambula. It didn't work then and it didn't work now. But this time the concept didn't intrude excessively on the action; for the most part it was as if the action took place in front of whatever the set happened to be. One interesting twist was that while the score calls for Adina to be reading the legend of Tristan and Isolde, here Adina carried around the score of Wagner's Tristan und Isolde.

The role of Adina was sung by Nadine Sierra, whom I wouldn't mind seeing again. It took her a while to get up to speed, but once there she displayed a lovely voice fully capable of handling the intricacies of the part. Daniel Montenegro as Nemorino, Thomas Florio as Dulcamara, and Benjamin Covey as Belcore were not as impressive. Hye Jung Lee (Gianetta) had a squeaky little voice that did not appeal. As mentioned earlier, several fine singers from the summer concert performed in the chorus. I listened hard to try to pick out Kevin Thompson's superb bass, but was unable to do so.

We signed up for front row seats, as is our wont, and got more than we bargained for. The Cowell Theater does not have an official orchestra pit; they removed the seats in rows A and B and put the musicians there. In particular, the oboist (Patricia Mitchell?) sat right next to the folded-up seats of row C, so we in row D were close enough that we could easily have reached out and touched her. (But we did have a nice conversation.) I feared that the aural perspective might be pretty strange, but instead I got a feel for what the sound must be like on the conductor's podium: music to the left, music to the right, super-stereo. And they did not overwhelm the singers. I was also able to make a brief acquaintance with the bassoonist Rufus David Olivier, son of San Francisco Opera's principal bassoonist Rufus Olivier, whom I know slightly through some bassoon-playing friends. (RDO is also a member of the SF Opera orchestra.) His introduction to the big aria, Una furtiva lagrima, was nicely done.

It was not only summer in San Francisco, it was summer in San Francisco on the waterfront at 8pm. The thermometer in the car read 57° when we left the car to go to the theater, and it was 57° when we returned. Brrrrr!

Legend of the Ring, Berkeley Opera, July 31 2010

What? Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen in 3½ hours? How do you do that? With massive cuts: drastically reduced lusting of Albrerich for the Rhinemaidens, no Donner, no discourse on Freia's golden apples, no Mime, no Erda; no Friedmund darf ich nicht heissen or Der Männer Sippe or Winterstürme or Du bist der Lenz, a highly compressed argument between Wotan and Fricka, a snippet of Wotan's monologue, a highly compressed Todesverkundigung, no Walkürenritt (no Valkyries other than Brünnhilde), no Leb' wohl; no "twenty questions" between Mime and the Wanderer, no Alberich-Wotan confrontation, no forest murmurs, no Erda, no "das ist kein Mann," no reluctance by Brünnhilde to fall in love with Siegfried; no Norns, no Waltraute, no Hagen's Watch, no Hagen's call to the vassals, no scene between Siegfried and the Rhinemaidens, no Siegfried's Funeral Music, and a drastically reduced Immolation Scene. It's the story of The Ring, stripped down to its bare essentials, and it still takes 3 hr 45 min start to finish including one intermission. It helps you realize that The Ring is as big as it is because it needs to be as big as it is.

You also do it with a serious reduction in performing forces: Brünnhilde doubles as Wellgunde, Wotan/Wanderer as Gunther, Alberich as Fasolt, Siegfried as Froh and Siegmund, etc. The orchestra isn't much larger than the Pocket Philharmonic: three violas (right: no violins), two cellos, two basses, one flute, one clarinet, one trumpet, three horns, one trombone, one percussionist, and an electronic piano for a harp. (They still managed to slip a Wagner tuba in amongst the horns.) Despite the small size, volume of sound was never a problem, though it might have been if Siegfried's Funeral Music had not been cut. A front row center seat may have helped also.

And you conduct with passion. The orchestra played their hearts out, with lots of enthusiasm, though not with the technical skill that I'm accustomed to hearing at Berkeley Opera. As the horns entered in the Rheingold prelude, I was afraid that it might turn into a looong evening in the theater. But anything that the orchestra lacked, the singers more than made up for. Marie Plette in particular was simply outstanding. She got to wear the most hats of anyone: Woglinde, Freia, Sieglinde, Woodbird, and Gutrune. And every time, in every role, hers was a voice to reckon with. Richard Paul Fink, perhaps the world's reigning Alberich, finally got a chance to sing Wotan. He was fine, but maybe he should stick with Alberich. That role was taken by Bojan Knezevic, rather impressively. Another highlight was Stephen Rumph as Loge: one of the youngest people on stage, he sang without the whiny tone that I so often hear in Loge, and he was a very dynamic onstage presence, always in motion, as you might expect of a flickering flame. Jay Hunter Morris certainly had the pipes as Siegmund and Siegfried, and made a good Froh as well. Dean Peterson lacked the ultimate vocal heft that makes for a great Fafner or Hunding or Hagen. I thought more highly of Christine Springer as Brünnhilde than did my companions, but that's faint praise. I was wishing for another Marie Plette in that role.

The staging was done with lots of projections, on screens to the left and right of the center where most of the action takes place. Most effective was the series of images that represented various stages of the descent into Nibelheim. There were a very few props in the center, primarily a white box that Alberich can crouch behind as he turns himself into a serpent and then a toad, and which Brünnhilde can ascend for the Todesverkundigung. There are also two fancy black leather "waiting room" chairs; Brünnhilde is put to sleep with her torso on one chair and her legs on the other, while Loge reclines on the white box. Stage direction was perhaps at its most effective near the end of Walküre Act I: as Siegmund and Sieglinde ramp up their passion, Wotan and Brünnhilde appear stage left and look on approvingly–and then Fricka enters upstage and is shocked! shocked! when Siegmund and Sieglinde kiss. Somewhat jarring was the Woodbird near the end of Siegfried. Marie Plette was wearing a woman's suit style of dress with a pillbox hat adorned with feathers, and she carried a cell phone, which she apparently used to relay a play-by-play report of the battle between Siegfried and Fafner. She even used it to take a picture of the victor. Cute, but just a bit “out there.”

There is also some sort of talisman, a T in a circle with a semicircular tab hanging from the right side of the T, looking sort of like a hood ornament. It got passed from character to character, and at times was stuck into a receiving slot in the white box. Its significance escaped me.

Overall, very enjoyable. I don't particularly feel the need to catch one of the remaining performances, but I'll certainly look forward to the next time that Berkeley Opera (presumably they will have assumed their new name of West Edge Opera by then) performs Legend of the Ring.