That does not mean that the operas are boring. Far from it. The stories are engrossing and can be told in very different ways. In fact, the two opera performances that I have seen within the past eight days have far more differences than similarities.

Title page of the third edition of John Harington’s translation of Orlando Furioso, 1634. The first edition was 1591; courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Let’s start with the stories. Like his Alcina and Ariodante, Handel’s Orlando is based on an episode from Ludovico Ariosto‘s Orlando Furioso, a 2,000 page epic poem written in the early sixteenth century. In Donald Pippin’s words the story is “of cosmic scope, where madness, magic, and mystery play leading roles.”

Caesar giving Cleopatra the Throne of Egypt; original painting by Pietro da Cortona (1596-1669); courtesy Wikimedia Commons

In contrast, Giulio Cesare is based, however loosely, on the history of the Egyptian part of Caesar’s Civil War (49-45 BC). Therefore it sticks more-or-less to the possible.

The productions are even more different. Giulio Cesare is a full-sized Met Opera spectacle. Fantastic stage sets for the Met’s enormous stage – different for every scene. Elaborate costumes and many costume changes. Large choruses. Lots of action, including a couple of sword fights. Between the action and the subtitles, it is easy to follow the story.

In contrast, Orlando was performed concert style. The orchestra (4 strings, 3 double-reeds, 1 French horn, and Donald Pippin at the harpsichord) occupied the back half of the small stage, 5 chairs for the soloists were divided between the two sides, and the front center third was where the current singer(s) stood. No scenery. Concert semi-formal wear for the singers with male roles all wearing pants. No subtitles. Story told by Donald with his usual wry humor.

Giulio Cesare

Since I am discussing two performances in one review, I will refer you to the MetHD website for cast and synopsis. Also, I hereby state without amplification that the singing, acting, and music were all fully up to the high standards of the Met, and just mention a few things about the production that really stuck in my mind.

(T): Giulio Caesar (David Daniels); (L): Cleopatra (Natalie Dessay); (R): Cleopatra & Caesar

The stage sets, costumes, and lighting were all fantastic. A large screen with various moving pictures was prominent in many of the scenes. Frequently it portrayed the Mediterranean with ships ranging from square-riggers to battle ships to a luxury ocean liner.

(T): Cleopatra; Caesar, N, Achillas (Guido Loconsolo); Caesar, Cleopatra; (B): Cleopatra; Caesar

In other scenes the screen shows the sky at various times of day, and such things as a gigantic war map and the ruins of war.

The many costumes of Cleopatra

The design team went all out to be sure that Cleopatra (Natalie Dessay) was always dressed appropriately for the occasion. Her costume ranged from towel and soapsuds to formal gay-nineties ball gown, from a belly-dancer’s outfit to extreme masculine attire to a “little black dress”, with numerous stops in between. I counted 9 different outfits – and I may well have missed a few.

The many faces of Cleopatra

Natalie Dessay has one of the most expressive faces I have ever seen. In the course of the opera Cleopatra experiences joy, sorrow, apparent defeat, final victory, and personal happiness – and her face always tells you which is which.

Widow and Son Vow Vengeance

Dessay was not the only one on stage with a face worth watching. Patricia Bardon (Cornelia) and Alice Coote (Sextus) were right up there in that department. Early in the opera they receive the news that Pompey has been treacherously slain by Ptolemy (Christophe Dumaux). From then on until near the end of the opera whenever Cornelia appears on stage her expression is one of hatred and vengeance. Sextus is more complex. He’s probably only about 12 years old and believes himself capable of anything when he grabs his father’s sword and solemnly vows that he will personally kill Ptolemy.

Cornelia and Sextus over the dead body of Ptolemy

In Act III Sextus actually runs his father’s sword through Ptolemy’s chest. In the best-acted and most dramatic scene in the entire opera, mother and son are transformed. Cornelia gloats over the dead body, rubbing her hands in the bloody wound and smearing it on both of their faces. She is positively ghoulish in her joy. Sextus, on the other hand, is in a state of shock. And why not? The kid has just killed a man – a real live human being – the most powerful man in Egypt. This is not a toy soldier knocked over by a wooden sword. Can this be me? Can this be my mother dipping her hands in real blood?

And on this grisly note, we leave ancient Egypt and talk about the enchanted land of terrible monsters and beautiful princesses – the land wherein dwells

Orlando

A Pocket Opera production of a Handel opera is unlike any other opera you will ever see. The musical portion is presented concert-style by 5 young artists who are gifted singers and inveterate actors.

Entire cast of Orlando plus Donald Pippin and (partially concealed) the Pocket Philharmonic Orchestra

There are no recitatifs, but between arias Donald Pippin keeps us up to date on the progress of the improbable plot with his highly original summaries. I can’t begin to reproduce his droll style, and there are plenty of standard synopses available on the web, so I’ll just give an idea of his style by quoting his over-all summary:

Orlando, the invincible warrior, bred on the flesh and marrow of lions, fearless in battle, has lately been troubled by unfamiliar, unsettling and strangely unwarlike stirrings within. In short, he is in love. The heroic vanquisher of monsters is himself vanquished by the lovely Princess Angelica, who is not only the most beautiful woman alive, but the most beautiful woman who has ever lived. No wonder that he goes berserk, plunging into a boiling cauldron of anger, hurt, and jealousy, when he discovers that she, too, is in love – with another man. It takes him on a wild, hallucinated rampage of violence and destruction that eventually finds its way to sanity and redemption. All of it propelled by inspired music. “After the storm of human passion has run its course, the stars will continue to shine.”

Orlando (Tania Mandzy Inaila) and Angelica (Jennifer Ashworth)

All five of the singers were very good. Even though it was concert style, they snuck in a bit of acting by their facial expressions when someone else was singing about them. According to Donald’s synopsis, near the end of the opera Orlando and Angelica do battle in a duet after which he throws her over a cliff. When Tania Mandzy Inaila and Jennifer Ashworth finished singing it and were heading back to their chairs, Tania gave Jennifer a gentle shove. Both of these singers were making their debuts with Pocket Opera; I hope we’ll see them again.

Dorinda, a shepherdess (soprano Maya Kherani)

Maya Kherani is amazing. The week before I had seen her perform as Eurydice and had raved about it in my review of Orpheus in the Underworld. It turns out that just a few days before that event, the soprano originally scheduled to sing Orlando had announced that she would be unable to perform, and Maya had stepped up to take on the vital role of Dorinda. So two weeks in a row I had the joy of hearing her sing and seeing her mobile and expressive face.

Medoro, an African prince (contralto Kindra Scharich)

I have seen, heard, and fallen in love with Kindra Scharich in many previous Pocket Opera performances, most recent ones being The Muse in last season’s Tales of Hoffmann and Isabella in An Italian Girl in Algiers in 2011. She has a more limited role here, but she handled it perfectly.

Zoroastro, a magician (bass Lee Strawn)

Lee Strawn has appeared with Pocket Opera in numerous previous Handel operas and has also sung bass-baritone roles in many other performances. Zoroastro’s sonorous bass was a dramatic contrast to the female voices that dominated the afternoon.

And so ends another pleasant afternoon at the opera. Donald Pippin sums it all up just before the Finale. After telling us how Angelica and Medoro head back to Cathay with everyone’s blessing, Dorinda happily transforms her unrequited love back to her lambs, and Zoroastro goes back to studying the motions of the stars, he concludes with “Orlando rides forth to continue his battle against evil; if we could decipher the banner streaming behind him it would probably read Make War not Love.”

P. S. There is one more chance to see both Handels. Orlando will be at the Hillside Club in Berkeley at 2 pm Sunday May 19, and Giulio Cesare will have an Encore performance at a theatre near you at 6:30 pm (local time) Wednesday May 15. In addition there are two more Pocket Operas this season,

and MetHD is offering three Summer Encores on Wednesday evenings at 7 pm local time:
June 19 Carmen
June 26 Il Trovatore
July 10 Armida

Photos:
Except as stated otherwise, photos by Robert Selinske, Pocket Opera Board of Directors
Tables and photo arrangements by Philip Hodge.
Dialogue quotes from Donald Pippin’s libretto on the Pocket Opera website.

This review by Philip G Hodge appeared in sanfranciscosplash.com on May 9, 2013.

Orpheus; image courtesy HoffmanWorldLit

The myth of Orpheus and Eurydice lies deep in Greek pre-history. Orpheus is part divine; some say he was a grandson of Apollo. In any event, he was the most gifted musician in all mythology – his lyre-playing could not only captivate gods and humans, but he could make trees and stones dance. He and Eurydice were married, but on their wedding day she was bitten by a venomous snake and died instantly. Orpheus was grief-stricken, but resolved to go to Hell and try to bring her back to life. His music charmed all the guardians of Hell and even charmed Hades himself. The god agreed to let him have Eurydice, but only with a strict condition. During the entire long journey back to earth, he must lead and she must follow with no communication allowed. She must not touch him and he must not look back; neither may speak. Violation before both are fully back to earth will result in her being instantaneously whisked back to Hell for all eternity. They follow the rules until Orpheus at last has both feet on earth when without thinking he looks back to be sure she is still following him. Alas, she still has two more steps to go. He has violated the rules and she is lost to him forever.

Eurydice follows Orpheus on the path back from Hades; photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Obvious material for an opera plot. Indeed probably the oldest surviving so-called modern opera is Euridice by Jacopo Peri and Giulio Caccini first performed in 1600. Only seven years later Monteverdi wrote L’Orfeo – his first opera. Those two owned the story for a century and a half until Christoph Willibald Gluck came out with Orfeo ed Euridici in 1762. All of these operas were essentially a retelling to music of all or part of the original myth.

Poster for a performance of the French version of Orpheus in the Underworld; photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons

It was another century before Jacques Offenbach cast his irreverent eye and ear on Gluck’s opera and the original myth and mused, “Hmm. I wonder what the real story was like?” I understand that the libretto written by Ludovic Halévy and later revised by Hector-Jonathan Crémieux contained various topical references to late 19^th century France. In keeping with this spirit, Donald Pippin’s adaptation to English is delightfully up-to-date but includes all the brilliant absurdity of Offenbach‘s plot.

Eurydice (Maya Kherani)

Scene 1 sets the stage. Eurydice (Maya Kherani) is already married to Orpheus, already bored to tears by him, and having an affair with a handsome farm lad who is expected momentarily. She hears someone approaching, assumes it is her lover, and feigns sleep curling up on the couch with her back turned in anticipation of the pleasure of having him wake her up.

Orpheus (Michael Desnoyers)

Instead, it is Orpheus (Michael Desnoyers) who enters the cottage, bemoaning his loveless marriage, anticipating a tryst with his current nymph, and sawing away on his violin – Yes, I said “violin”. Whereas the Orpheus of myth played the lyre with unsurpassed beauty, Offenbach‘s creation is a third-rate violinist. And herein lies a potential problem. How, in an opera, do you represent poorly performed music? For a very few notes you could get away with an actual scratchy screech, but Orpheus plays for a full number. If you actually present it realistically, the audience will probably leave.

Violinist Yasushi Ogura, Orpheus and Eurydice, Cellist Beth Snellings

The solution is that Desnoyers only mimes playing, and the third-rate quality of his playing is suggested by the ridiculous quality of his miming. He “plays” between his legs, over his head, behind his back – all with exaggerated sweeping motions and with limited regard for the rhythm of the music. At one point he even holds the bow in his teeth and moves the violin back and forth across it. Meanwhile, the actual sound is coming from Yasushi Ogura, violinist for the Pocket Philharmonic, seated at the back of the stage, and playing the composer’s tuneful and harmonic music.

After a bit of these antics, Orpheus puts down his violin and bends over to kiss the sleeping figure he assumes is his nymph; Eurydice opens her eyes expecting to see her farm-lad; both are horrified to behold their lawfully- wedded spouses instead.

Eurydice and Orpheus

There ensues some nice dialog and duet singing as each blames the other for their unhappy marriage, but Eurydice cleverly turns the discussion away from infidelity to a criticism of Orpheus’ music:

No, no, your music has no merit;
None but nincompoops can bear it
Oh, the torture and chagrin
Each time you touch the violin!…

Eventually Orpheus storms out of the cottage in search of his nymph, Eurydice’s lover shows up, and we’re treated to some more lovely duet music.

Pluto (Daniel Galpin)

It turns out that the “farm-lad” appearance is but a disguise for Pluto (Daniel Galpin), God of the Underworld.

Pluto puts Eurydice in a trance

Eurydice is dazed rather than fazed by this deception and dies blissfully in his arms:

So near I feel the hand of death!
Of pain or terror not a trace.

A sigh, a letting go of breath,
Then yielding to a soft embrace…

I travel toward a friendly shore
Where none can weep and none can mourn,
And close to him that I adore,
In death I find a life reborn…

Orpheus and Public Opinion (Diana Kehrig)

They leave and Orpheus returns, despondent at not having found his nymph. He brightens immediately when he discovers that Eurydice has left him, but is joy is short-lived. Public Opinion, aka “The Polls” shows up (in the person of Diana Kehrig) and informs him that it is his duty to go after his missing wife. Otherwise,

Rebellious poet, expect no mercy!
I shall haunt you and hunt you down.
With bad reviews and controversy
I’ll drive you sniveling out of town…

Orpheus submits reluctantly, she grabs him by the ear as if she were the domineering mother of a recalcitrant schoolboy, and they are off to

SCENE 2

OLYMPIC HEIGHTS

where the Greek Gods are extremely bored:

Diana (Stacey Lichter)

DIANA (Stacey Lichter)
To hell with nectar and ambrosia!
I have had it up to here!

Venus (Megan Stetson)

VENUS (Megan Stetson)
Give me beef and a glass of beer!…

Jupiter (Sean Irwin)

Realistically, boredom leads to bickering until Jupiter (Sean Irwin) shows up and they all turn against him, threatening to revolt.

Minerva (Elana Cowen)

Minerva (Elana Cowen) is particularly scathing:

By all accounts, a cad and coward!
So you became a horny bull!
And though Europa you deflowered,
It was a sleazy stunt to pull.
Jupiter, the superstud, the universal sham!
What a great impersonator! What a hunk of ham!…

But before the revolt can get organized Orpheus and Public Opinion show up and Orpheus reluctantly pleads his case. Jupiter welcomes the interruption – “I will go down to Hades and bring her back.”

The Olympic Heights Gods: (L to R) Back row Juno (Sonia Gariaeff), Mercury (Samuel Palmer), Venus (Megan Stetson), Diana (Stacey Lichter), Mars (Alex Tarczynski); Seated Jupiter (Sean Irwin); Front row Bacchus (Alan Briones), Minerva (Elana Cowen), Cupid (Chelsea Hollow)

The gods immediately jump on this diversion from monotony: “Oh, Daddy, can I come too?”, “Please, Daddy, let me come.”, etc. “Sure, why not,” Jupiter says agreeably, and the Act I curtain descends as they all traipse off stage on their way to Hell.

Eurydice is bored in Hades

As you return to your seats after intermission, forget all preconceived notions you may have had about Hades being a drab and dreary place in which to spend eternity. Like Olympic Heights, it has colorful characters and diverting intrigues. Eurydice is just as bored there as she was on earth, since Pluto is too tied up in petty administration to pay any attention to her. I don’t have space for details, but I must mention two memorable scenes.

Disguised as a fly, Jupiter courts Eurydice

For cogent reasons Jupiter has disguised himself as a fly. No one would describe his portrayer Sean Irwin as either short or skinny, and I defy you to keep from laughing as he dances daintily around Eurydice, singing “Zi zi zi” in a falsetto voice.

John Styx (Andrew Nickell) (2nd from R) joins the gods dancing a can-can

Pluto’s personal servant John Styx (Andrew Nickell) has an enormous body and is perhaps not all present in his head. But when he hears the rousing music of the “Can-can” he jumps right into the line of dancing gods, raising his servant’s smock to give us a good look at his bony knees.

The many moods of Eurydice (Maya Kherani)

All of the performers were good singers and almost all were good actors, but the unquestioned star was Maya Kherani as Eurydice. She had a fine soprano voice and her facial expression and body language told her every mood, from anger to boredom to ecstasy.

And the surprise ending left everyone happy including Public Opinion – both on the stage and in the audience.

P. S. This was the final performance of Orpheus in the Underworld. However the 2013 Pocket Opera season is still going strong, so you can still see an opera a month, May through July:

Photos:
Except as stated otherwise, photos by Robert Selinske, Pocket Opera Board of Directors
Tables and photo arrangements by Philip Hodge.
Dialogue quotes from Donald Pippin’s libretto on Pocket Opera website

This review by Philip G Hodge appeared in sanfranciscosplash.com on May 5, 2013.

Cast A: Buoso (Tony Ciliberto) lies dying at opening curtain

The discords are prophetic as the curtain rises to reveal the discordant Donati family, gathered together in the elegant Florence home of Buoso (Stephen Howes), the oldest and richest member of the clan who lies dying in his massive bed. In fact, most productions have him already dead, but Stage Director Lorna Haywood added a cute twist that fits equally well with the music. The family is wailing and mourning his imminent death when he suddenly sits up in bed, points to his throat as if he were trying to say something, and falls back dead.

Cast A: The Donati clan; sitting (L to R): Simone (Isaiah Musik-Ayala), Zita (Nicole Birkland), and Betto di Signa (Jo Vincent Parks); standing (L to R): Rinuccio (James Callon), Marco (Peter Tuff), La Ciesca (Tori Grayum), Nella (Jillian Boye), and Gherardo (Robert Norman)

The family now mourns loudly and competitively about how long they will cry, escalating from hours to all day to days, weeks, months, years, to (the winner) Forever. Said family consists of Buoso’s elderly cousins Simone (Silas Elash) and Zita (Patrice Houston), Zita’s nephew Rinuccio (Alexander Boyer), Buoso’s brother-in-law Betto di Signa (Rolfe Dauz) and his nephew Gherardo (Robert Norman) along with Gherardo’s wife and 7-year old son Nella (Elisabeth Russ) and Gherardino (Joshua Grzymala), and Simone’s nephew Marco (Krassen Karagiozov) and Marco’s wife La Ciesca (Rebecca Krouner).

When everyone is sure that Buoso is really dead, their eyes and their voices light up as they think of their likely inheritances. But a whispered rumor starts circulating about what “they are saying in the streets of Signa,” and faces begin to drop. Zita tries vainly to catch the whispers and finally corners Betto with an imperious demand to hear all. At which point she and the others (and we, the audience) learn that the rumor is that Buoso’s will disinherits his whole family and leaves everything to the friars of a monastery!

Consternation, chaos, and pandemonium. It is inconceivable that rumor be true. The will must be found and the rumor proved false. Mad rushing about in random uncoordinated searching for the will. They even roll the body around searching the bedclothes. The genius of Puccini is that his music perfectly matches all of this slapstick activity. To get the most out of this scene, we must keep both eyes and ears fully alert.

Cast 1: Tenor Alexander Boyer as Rinuccio with Buoso’s will

Eventually Rinuccio finds the will. “Give it to me and I will read it,” Zita demands imperiously. (Zita, by the way, is played by Patrice Houston whom we saw earlier as the Princess – that singer knows how to be imperious). But Rinuccio holds it out of reach: “Not so fact, Aunt Zita. Since we’re all going to be rich, can I marry Lauretta on the first of May?” “Marry whomever you want, but give me that will.” He does – and then quietly gives Gherardino (Joshua Grzymala) and his pal Antonio (James Costigan) a couple of coins to run to Gianni Schicchi and tell him to immediately come to Buoso’s house with his daughter Lauretta. Antonio appears to be another clever invention by stage director Haywood. Somehow two 7-year old boys completely oblivious to all of the adult turmoil seems more natural than just one.

Zita wastes no time reading the will, first with eager anticipation, then with growing dismay. Finally she hurls it to the floor and moans, “It’s true. Every last penny goes to the Friars.”

Another slapstick scene with the entire family pacing around the room in a sort of Conga line with everyone asking everyone else “what can we do?” and no one having any answers. Eventually they become exhausted and slump down, dejected and quiet. At which point Rinuccio says there is only man in all Florence who can help us: Gianni Schicchi. The family is horrified. “What! Consult with a Commoner about our most intimate family affairs? No way!”

Cast 1: Lauretta (Cecilia Violetta López) pleads with her father Gianni Schicchi (Zachary Altman)

But before you know it, Gherardino has returned and Gianni Schicchi (Zachary Altman) is in the room along with his daughter Lauretta (Cecilia Violetta López). Rinuccio asks him to find a way to negate the will, but Schicchi takes umbrage when Zita insults him. He says he wants nothing to do with this gang of snobs and forbids Lauretta from having anything more to do with them. To most of Florence Schicchi appears to he hard-hearted and selfish, but to his daughter he’s a pussycat. In the lovely song Oh! mio babbino caro (Oh! My beloved Daddy), she pleads with him to help the Donatis so she can marry the man she loves, he melts like wax and agrees to try.

Schicchi studies the will and frowns. “Hmm, nothing can be done.” Gloom descends. “You’re the smartest man in Florence,” Rinuccio says. “Surely you can think of something.” Schicchi studies some more, frowns again, and shakes his head as the family waits with bated breath and the music helps build the mounting tension. Slowly his frown disappears and is replaced with a smug smile. He sends his daughter out of the room – alone – so she won’t hear his nefarious scheme, then unveils it to the Donatis.

Cast A: Gianni Schicchi (Zachary Altman) (C): Nella (Jillian Boye), and Gherardo (Robert Norman) (L): Marco (Peter Tuff) and La Ciesca (Tori Grayum) (R)

No one knows that Buoso is dead so he, Schicchi, will take his place and dictate a new will. Everyone is delighted with the scheme, but Schicchi warns them, “It’s highly illegal; if we are found out, our right hands will be cut off and we will be forever exiled from Florence.” He emphasizes this by tucking his right hand inside its sleeve and waving it about as if it were a bloody stump.

Come see one of the remaining performances to see how it all plays out. A couple of things you might want to notice, particularly if you see Cast 1 (the performance I’m reviewing). Zachary Altman is outstanding in the title role, both in singing and in acting. In his makeup he is far from handsome, but he has a matter-of-fact diffidence that I found most appealing. Alex Boyer has an outstanding voice as I have mentioned more than once in previous reviews. As Rinuccio he has a simple smile that marks him with a naïve innocence of the evils in the world – he’s in love and that’s all that matters. As for Cecilia Violetta López - . . . I remarked earlier that 20 minutes was barely long enough for me in the audience to switch moods between the two operas; she from her infinitely closer involvement on the stage had only a few minutes longer to change her whole personality from the unhappy nun to a starry-eyed innocent teenager in love – but she did it most convincingly.

My review is based on seeing Cast 1, but knowing Opera San José I am confident that I will equally enjoy hearing Cast A when I go again this Sunday, April 21.

Cast 1: Gianni Schicchi (Zachary Altman)

Rather than give you the details of how Schicchi’s plot works out, I just say that it ended up with him in possession of a large portion of the estate – including the house in Florence which he will give to Rinuccio and Lauretta as a wedding present. He also has the last word, spoken directly to the audience as he points to the embracing young couple:

Could Buoso’s wealth have gone to better ends than this? For this prank, Dante has condemned me to Hell but with all due respect, if you have been amused, grant me extenuating circumstances!

We answered with standing applause as the curtain descended.

Casts for Puccini double bill, April 13-28, 2013

All photos by Pat Kirk

This review by Philip G Hodge appeared in sanfranciscosplash.com on April 19, 2013.

OSJ principle resident artists, 2012; photo from OSJ files

But before I begin, a few words from the OSJ web site about Opera San José:

The feature that makes Opera San José unique in the United States is its resident company of principal artists, formed in 1988, through which outstanding operatic artists in the first years of their careers are identified and awarded annual contracts to perform leading roles in mainstage productions and to participate in school and community-wide educational activities. These singers are groomed for international performing careers. Due to the resident nature of the company, modeled after the German regional opera company, these artists build substantial professional repertoire, are coached by resident and guest conductors and stage directors, and are prepared to meet the demands of a successful operatic career.

So that the maximum number of artists may receive this training, they are split into two balanced groups – Cast A and Cast 1 – and each cast sings 4 of the 8 performances of each opera. A serendipitous advantage of this scheme is that each cast automatically provides covers for the other. Thus when the Cast A soprano originally assigned the part of Angelica was unable to perform for this production, Cecilia Violetta López was available to sing the role with both casts. A slight downside from a reviewer’s viewpoint is that the picture I want at a certain point may only be available with the other cast. Thus there is sometimes a discrepancy between the artist’s name in the picture title and in the text.

Soprano Cecilia Violetta López as Sister Angelica

On to the review. The overture to Suor Angelica starts serenely with a simple 8-bar tune based on the familiar quarter-hour chime of an old-fashioned clock. It is introduced on a set of chimes, the orchestra joins them bit by bit, then the curtain rises as an off-stage chorus of nuns adds a simple grace to the mix. All very calm and peaceful – convent life at its idealized best. A mild note of realism is introduced as a couple of nuns scurry across the stage and disappear into the chapel doorway at the rear.

Cast 1: Mezzo-soprano Rebecca Krouner as Abbess; partial chorus of nuns

I thought the stage was particularly impressive for its fuctional simplicity. The picture above shows only part of it, but it still gives you a good idea. The action all takes place int the courtyard in front of the chapel, so the back of the stage is the exterior of the chapel. We see the complete front including the peaked roof. The nuns at the (audience) right obscure a small fountain and pool and a bench at the base of the statue of Virgin and Child. Further to the left is another bench with a table, and a small herb garden. And that’s it. No irrelevant gimmicks to distract you from the intense human drama being played out here.

And drama it was. The nuns are allowed some free time, much of which they spend gossiping. Listening to their gossip, we learn the history of Sister Angelica (Cecilia Violetta López); seven years ago when she was an unmarried princess in the royal family, she gave birth to a child whose father was a commoner. The disgrace to the royal family was beyond atonement and could only be assuaged by their pretending it never happened. The baby boy was snatched from her immediately upon birth and Angelica was sent immediately to a convent to spend the rest of her life in repentance, never to be spoken of or communicated with again.

Cast 1: Mezzo-soprano Patrice Houston as the Princess

No sooner have we, the audience, become acquainted with Angelica’s history, than there is great excitement in the convent. A carriage bearing the Royal Seal is spotted driving up to the entrance. Angelica can scarcely contain herself – at last she will get news of her son! HAH! The Princess (Patrice Houston) sweeps onto the stage with all of the grace and subtlety (and a good start on the weight) of a German Panzer tank, nose in the air and vision pointedly directed anywhere but at Angelica. “Your little sister is getting married. You need to sign this paper relinquishing your dowry to her.” Words directed to empty space but obviously meant to be heard by Angelica. She immediately responds with joy and excitement, “My little sister. Grown up and getting married. Wonderful. Of course, I’ll sign. But first tell me of my son.”

(Silence. Nothing but silence.)

“Please tell me about my son, Princess. For seven years my only desire has been for news of that baby who was taken from me the instant he was born.” “Give up your desire. You are here to repent your sin, not to have desires.” “I have given the Virgin everything else I have; I cannot give up the love I bear my son. Give me news, Princess; give me news.

(Silence. Nothing but silence.)

Angelica snaps. Gone is the humble respect due to royalty. Gone is the quiet gentle demeanor of a nun. She turns on the Princess in fury: “You are inhuman. The Virgin is watching you. You will go to Hell. Tell me about my son!” The Princess moves ponderously to the right side of stage and addresses the Virgin’s statue: “Two years ago your son became ill. We did everything we could to save him. He died.”

Angelica screams “My son is dead” and falls to the floor, sobbing. Still sobbing she crawls to the desk, reaches for a pen, signs the paper, and collapses. The Princess sends her maid to pick up the paper, takes it from her, and exits without another word or backward glance. During all of her time on stage she never looked directly at Angelica. Nice gal, huh.

Meanwhile, Angelica slowly regains her composure. Suddenly her face brightens. Yes, her son is dead. But that means, “You are now an angel in Heaven. You are looking at me now so I can tell you how much I love you. How much I look forward to joining you in Heaven. How long must I wait before I join you? Can I join you now? Please send me a sign.”

Apparently she believes she has received a “go ahead” sign. She rapidly uses her knowledge of herbs to brew a poison, which she drinks. All with beatific smile on her face.

Angelica’s son welcomes her into Heaven

Suddenly her face changes to horror as she realizes that she has committed the most deadly of all mortal sins – Suicide. She will not join her son in Heaven. She is bound for Hell. As the poison quickly takes effect she prays desperately to the Virgin. “Forgive me, please, oh please forgive me. Everything I did I did for love. Only for love.” As she falls lifeless at the foot of the statue the music changes from somber to sonorous with brighter tones and rising pitch – the music of redemption. The light grows brighter and brighter. The chapel door bursts open, but we don’t see the chapel interior, we see a streaming bright light with a young boy walking towards us – Angelica’s son, come to bring his mother back to heaven with him. Curtain, thunderous applause, curtain calls with the audience rising as one when Cecilia Violetta López took her bow.

Cast 1: Baritone Zachary Altman as Gianni Schicchi

Twenty-minute intermission to come down from that peak emotion and get ready to laugh with Gianni Schicchi. I’ll tell you about that in Part II. Meanwhile, go to the Opera San José website and order your tickets for one of the remaining performances, as shown in the Cast table below.

Casts for Puccini double bill, April 13-28, 2013

This review by Philip G Hodge appeared in sanfranciscosplash.com on April 16, 2013.

W. S. Gilbert and A. S. Sullivan; photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Critics generally consider Pinafore, The Pirates of Penzance, and The Mikado to be the “big three” of the G & S repertoire, but personally I would have to make it a “big six” by including Iolanthe, The Yeomen of the Guard, and The Gondoliers, all six in no particular order. And the other three: Patience, Princess Ida, and Ruddigore – aren’t far behind. I saw all of them as a teenager way back in the 1930s when the D’Oyly-Carte Opera Company visited New York City with a nine-week stand; I’ve seen most of them here in the Bay Area in the past decade; and many of them umpteen times in between.

The last two operas showed that genius is finite. If someone had never seen a G&S opera before, they would probably be mildly amused, but compared to the “big nine” the plots seem a bit tired, the words not quite as clever. I’ll still go to see The Grand Duke or Utopia Limited when I get a chance, but it will be for historical completion rather than with a sense of keen anticipation.

Their first opera, Thespis, was hastily written as a “Christmas entertainment” in 1871. It was reasonably successful, but the music was never published and no copy is to be found. Judging from critics writing at the time, it was more closely related to Offenbach’s Orpheus in the Underworld and La belle Hélène, than to any of the other G&S.

Audiences in those days had more stamina than we do today. When they went to the theater for an evening they wanted more than an entrée of a full-length opera; they also wanted an appetizer and/or a dessert. In 1874 Richard D’Oyly Carte was producing Offenbach’s La Périchole, and needed an “afterpiece”. The result was G & S’s only 1-act opera, Trial by Jury. It was a tremendous success, but as a short one-act production is in a different category and can’t really be compared with their full-length operas.

And so, at long last, we come to the subject of today’s essay:

The Lamplighters’
production of
The Sorcerer
by
W. S. Gilbert and A. S. Sullivan
2:00 PM, Sunday, March 23, 2013
Herbst Theatre
San Francisco, CA

Having just seen this performance, I’d have to agree that The Sorcerer is not quite in the same class as the “big nine”, but it’s darn close. The plot is no more improbable than many of the others, the words show typical Gilbert cleverness, and Sullivan’s music is delightful. Gilbert’s “gimmick” for turning chaos into a happy ending isn’t as clever as Buttercup’s admission that she had mixed up two babies: “The well born babe was Ralph – your captain was the other!” Or Ruth’s plea that the pirates: “are no members of the common throng; they are all noblemen who have gone wrong.” But it does the trick.

A scene from the prologue to The Sorcerer

Years ago in a television interview I heard Beverly Sills say that any attempt to “improve” or parody G&S was doomed to failure. The parody, the satire, the humor are all in Gilbert’s libretto – change anything and you risk losing all the original appeal. Director Jane Hammett does not fall into that trap anywhere in the opera itself, but she does go all out to ”improve” the overture by filling the stage with a mimed vignette purporting to show what goes on back-stage just before the opening curtain at a provincial touring company performance from the 1870s. Personally, I found it distracting from the music, but I have to give Hammett and the Lamplighters A for effort. The stage was totally soundless, but the supertitle screen carried a lively dialog. Also, the program had an insert purporting to be the program for this prologue performance, and including ads for such products as “The Pansy Corset” and “Bovril”.

Robert Vann as Alexis and Lindsay Thompson Roush as Aline

Action takes place in the small village of Ploverleigh, England, on a pleasant summer day late in the 18^th century: Act 1 at noon, Act 2 at midnight. The cast of nine is headed by the young lovers: Robert Vann as Alexis and Lindsay Thompson Roush as Aline. Not only are they in love, but their parents thoroughly approve the match. I’ve seen both of them in several lead roles recently, but this is the first time I’ve seen them together. Not only are their voices a delight in solos, but they blend well together in their duets.

Robby Stafford as Sir Marmaduke and Megan Stetson as Lady Sangazure

Alexis’ widowed father, Sir Marmaduke (Robby Stafford), is delighted with the marriage because Aline’s family is wealthy. However he cautions his son not to be so demonstrative in public – it simply isn’t done in our elevated social class. Aline’s mother Lady Sangazure (Megan Stetson), long a widow, approves because it’s a big step up the social ladder for her daughter. Each of the two parents delivers an aside to the audience that they have a romantic yen for the other, but it would be such bad taste to admit this to anyone they know, particularly to the other.

Robby Stafford as Sir Marmaduke, Robert Vann as Alexis, James MacIlvaine as the notary, Lindsay Thompson Roush as Aline and Megan Stetson as Lady Sangazure

The young lovers embrace on every possible occasion to the dismay of their parents, and all are agreed that the sooner they get married the better. A Notary (James MacIlvaine) is summoned and in no time at all the deed is done.

Rose Frazier as Constance, Kelly Powers as Mrs. Partlet, and Baker Peeples as Dr Daly

But not everyone has such a happy love life. Constance (Rose Frazier) confessed to her mother, Mrs. Partlet (Kelly Powers) that she was in love with the Vicar, Dr. Daly (Baker Peeples), but that he apparently showed no interest in her. Dr. Daly is getting on in years, but muses in a lovely ballad,

Time was when Love and I were well acquainted.
Time was when we walked ever hand in hand
A saintly youth, with worldly thought untainted,
None better-loved than I in all the land!
Time was, when maidens of the noblest station,
Forsaking even military men,
Would gaze upon me, rapt in adoration–
Ah me, I was a fair young curate then!

Although Baker Peeples has sung in almost every G&S opera over the years, this is the first time I have heard him. But he has usually been on the Lamplighters’ program as Music Director. His voice is still good and he’s an excellent actor.

The Widow Partlet pleads Constance’s case to Dr. Daly with extremely broad hints about marriage. He claims it’s too late – “I shall live and die a solitary old bachelor.” However, he murmurs an aside to the audience as he gazes at Constance, “Be still my fluttering heart.” During the dialogue between the mother and the clergyman, it was fascinating to watch Constance’s face and body language register embarrassment at the widow’s forwardness, hope, and sadness – rapidly changing as the conversation seemed to imply different outcomes.

At this point we seem to be headed rapidly to a pleasant one-act curtain-raiser. The wedding party becomes the Finale, and during the joyous celebration everyone relaxes enough to declare his or her love. Sir Marmaduke and Lady Sangazure fall into each other’s arms; likewise Constance and Dr. Daly. Maybe Mrs. Partlet and the Notary will make it unanimous.

B U T

That’s not what happens. Alexis won’t leave well enough alone. He wants all the unmarried people in the village to fall in love and be as happy as he is. He summons the title character of the opera who immediately introduces himself in an authentic-sounding cockney voice.

Chris Uzelac as John Wellington Wells; Photo by David Allen, Joanne Kay

Oh! my name is John Wellington Wells,
I’m a dealer in magic and spells,
In blessings and curses
And ever-filled purses,
In prophecies, witches, and knells.
If you want a proud foe to “make tracks” –
If you’d melt a rich uncle in wax –
You’ve but to look in
On the resident Djinn,
Number seventy, Simmery Axe!

It seems that John Wellington Wells (Chris Uzelac) has a Love Philtre that will make people fall instantaneously, irrevocably, and eternally in love. Alexis asks him about it and he responds, “Sir, it is our leading article.” Alexis is immediately sold and says, in effect, “Let’s do it. We’ll spike the tea at our wedding party, then everyone in the village can be as happily in love as we are.” Wells, as a good businessman, agrees with his customer and answers his questions:

The sorcerer starts his Incantation

ALEXIS And how soon does it take effect?

WELLS In twelve hours. Whoever drinks of it loses consciousness for that period, and on waking falls in love, as a matter of course, with the first lady he meets who has also tasted it, and his affection is at once returned. One trial will prove the fact.

ALEXIS Good: then, Mr. Wells, I shall feel obliged if you will at once pour as much philtre into this teapot as will suffice to affect the whole village.

ALINE But bless me, Alexis, many of the villages are married people!

WELLS Madam, this philtre is compounded on the strictest principles. On married people it has no effect whatever. But are you quite sure that you have nerve enough to carry you through the fearful ordeal?

ALEXIS In the good cause I fear nothing.

WELLS Very good, then, we will proceed at once to the incantation.

Wells’ dialogue and patter song are all delivered in extreme Cockney. After the show I asked Chris Uzelac how he had achieved that perfection. He responded with a startling lack of accent, “About four months of very hard work.”

And we come to the Finale of Act I. Dire spirits are summoned to give the philtre its magical power, the tea is brewed, the philtre added, the villagers and dramatis personae come in dancing and singing, the tea is poured and passed around to more dancing and singing, the theatre begins to darken, the characters begin to rub their eyes and stagger about the stage as the chorus sings their final verse:

Oh, marvellous illusion!
Oh, terrible surprise!
What is this strange confusion
That veils my aching eyes?
I must regain my senses,
Restoring Reason’s law,
Or fearful inferences
Society will draw!

They fall insensible on the stage as the lights black out to end Act I.

The discerning reader will have noted that there is a certain element of chance in Wells’ description of how the philtre works. A man falls in love with the first unmarried woman he sees – and that might not be the same woman he was courting a mere 12 hours before. Perhaps then it is not surprising in Act II 

All Hell breaks loose!

Time to go. See you next year? It’s an interesting program: 

Photos are by Lucas Buxman unless stated otherwise

All quotes are from The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan, by William Schwenk Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan

This review by Philip G Hodge appeared in sanfranciscosplash.com on March 28, 2013.

Donald Pippin; photo courtesy Pocket Opera Facebook

The orchestra and Donald file on stage and get settled, then as usual Donald comes forward to tell us something about the opera. Only this time he has a serious and worried expression and brings us a dire warning about the main character – “According to my notes, he has been called:

An evil monster A cold blooded reptile A slimy serpent, a lethal serpent A fiend out of hell A public menace A ruthless hunter An aristocratic lecher A master of cunning and conniving An animal, a beast of the jungle From top to toe a scoundrel But then, nobody’s perfect.”

Donald goes on to admit that Don Giovanni can be utterly charming, and concludes with an explicit warning to the women in the audience that they stay here at their own peril.

Many of you have seen Don Giovanni many times before and need no reminder about the plot. But whether this is your first encounter or your twenty-first, I recommend that you read Donald Pippin’s scintillating synopsis before continuing to read my review.

That synopsis leads us at some length through the various plot twists of Act I, but the entire Act II description consists of a single paragraph:

We also get the answer to a number of pressing questions. Will Don Giovanni proceed triumphantly to the final curtain, or will he carry his audacity too far and invite his own doom from a totally unexpected source? Will Donna Anna get her revenge? Will Don Ottavio finally become convinced that Giovanni is the man they are looking for? How much more will it take for Donna Elvira to wake up to her own folly? Will Zerlina and Masetto settle down to a placid, uneventful married life? Will Leporello finally carry out his repeated vow to break away from his unscrupulous master? What pivotal role is played by a marble statue? Far be it from us to spoil the ending. (Italics mine – Opera Nut)

Don Giovanni (Samuel Rabinowitz) is dragged off to Hell by two female demons; photo by Robert Selinske

Donald, of course, was writing for an audience about to enjoy a live performance, whereas I am writing solely for people who will never see this production again. Therefore, I have no scruples about stating that the ending always has Don Giovanni literally going to Hell. That’s what Mozart stipulates, but he doesn’t provide details. I have seen productions filled with fancy stage effects – an open trap-door with flames shooting out and ghostly arms clutching G’s ankles to pull him in; off-stage flames at the side or back and G being pushed or pulled into them – a loud explosion with flashing red strobes and billowing stage-smoke blocking all vision; when the smoke cleared the Don was missing. Pocket Opera, as usual, makes up in ingenuity what it lacks in material resources. We saw a couple of female demons waltz in and block G’s attempt to flee; they unfurled a large cloth covered with painted flames, half-wrapped it around G, and dragged him off stage. Most effective.

Marcelle Dronkers as Donna Anna

So now you know all about the plot. Let me spend the rest of my review talking about the cast that performed it so well. First of all, it was a great mix of newcomers and Pocket Opera veterans. Marcelle Dronkers (Donna Anna) has been one of my favorites since I first found Pocket Opera twenty years ago. Her soprano voice is as delightful as ever and her mobile face registers plenty of grief and sorrow. Her role doesn’t give any opportunity for her wonderful comic timing, but one can’t have everything.

Elliot Franks as Donna Elvira

According to the Cast list on page 2 of the program, Giovanni’s other Donna, Donna Elvira, is sung by Elliot Franks, but the Cast Biographies on page 7 assigns the role to Elspeth Franks. I recognized the rather distinctive face (despite a rather atrocious wig) as that of the same Elspeth Franks whom I had seen and heard many times over the years. Obviously, Thereby Hangs A Tale – but since that Tale does not yield to a google search and is only implied (not explicitly stated) in the program, I have already given it more space than is proper.

My excuse is that I have a very personal interest is such Tales because my eldest grandchild was known as April during the first third-of-a-century of existence, but has recently taken legal steps to change it to Aaron and is currently taking medical steps to implement that change. As April she had a fine soprano voice – no pretensions as to stage quality but far above the average quality of voices I heard at her cousin’s Bat Mitzvah a few years ago. As Aaron, he is very concerned that however the range may change, the quality will remain pleasant to himself and to others.

I am pleased to report that Elliot’s voice was still the powerful soprano that Mozart wrote the part for. I note with interest that the last time I heard Elspeth on stage she was a woman playing a trouser role in Handel’s Rinaldo whereas on Sunday Elliot was a man dressed in drag. Clearly quality is far more important than gender when it comes to opera. Indeed, I suspect the same observation could be made about most aspects of life.

Richard Mix as the Commendatore; photo by Robert Selinske

It was nice to see Richard Mix again. I don’t recall his being in any Pocket Opera productions last year, but he frequently showed up the year or two before. He is an impressively large man with a deep booming voice. The Commendatore is not a large role, but it is a vital one in the opening and closing scenes of the opera.

Jordan Eldredge as Masetto and Molly Mahoney as Zerlina

One of the special joys in going to so many local operas is seeing a young singer develop from an unidentified member of the chorus to increasingly important named roles. Jordan Eldredge has a distinctive face and it seemed like I was seeing him in the Pocket Opera chorus more often than not in recent years. I really enjoyed his performance in the significant role of Masetto. Two of the cast members, Molly Mahoney (Zerlina) and Samuel Rabinowitz (Don Giovanni), were new to Pocket Opera. A third, Mark Kratz (Don Ottavio), I had seen only once before as the Centurion in Norma a couple of years ago. I continue to be impressed by the number of very good singer-actors who appear in the Bay Area.

All of the singing and acting was good, but the role that impressed me the most in this performance was Cliff Romig as Leporello. His bass voice really boomed out, and his acting clearly showed the various aspects of Leporello. I have seen and heard him in many previous Pocket Opera performances and in a variety of Opera San Jose productions when he was a resident artist there a few years back. His bio in the program indicates that he will be singing in the chorus of San Francisco Opera this fall. One of the many wonderful things about Pocket Opera, West Bay Opera, and other small companies in the Bay Area is that they provide opportunities for chorus-level singers with our great-big company in San Francisco to practice and showcase their talents as featured soloists as they develop. Personally, I think that Romig is already capable of handling a major role with SFOpera, but then, I’m only,

P. S. Sorry to be late with this review so that you‘ve already missed the final performance of Don Giovanni. However the 2013 Pocket Opera season continues, so you can still see an opera a month, April through July:

Photos:  Except as stated otherwise, photos by Cliff Romig.
Tables and photo arrangements by Philip Hodge.

This review by Philip G Hodge appeared in sanfranciscosplash.com on March 23, 2013.

Three “minor” roles

Enrico’s Lieutenant Normanno (Nadav Hart) and Lucia’s maid (Alisa) enter together, take separate brief bows, and step back to the sides.  They are immediately followed by Lucia’s bridegroom Arturo (Delmar McComb).

Male “supporting” roles

The Ravenswood family chaplain, Raimondo (Isaiah Musik-Ayala) is next to take his bow.  Several smiling cries of “boo” from the audience accompanied the bow of Lucia’s brother, Enrico (Krassen Karagiozov) along with the usual shouts of “bravo”.  The former, of course referred to the despicable character he played; the latter to his fine baritone voice.

Edgardo (Delmar McComb)

I felt that Edgardo (Delmar McComb) deserved the same mixed treatment for the brutal way he treated Lucia in the second Act: throwing down his ring and yanking the one from her hand without giving her a chance to reveal the treachery which had forced her signature, but I could only detect “bravo” from the audience.

Lucia (Rochelle Bard)

As each principal had taken a bow a few more of the audience joined the standees, but when Lucia (Rochelle Bard) came on the applause level doubled and nearly everyone was standing.

Conductor & Director

The full cast took a bow, then Ms Bard went to the wing to lead in Conductor Michel Singher and Director Donald Ostwald. The Conductor gestured to the orchestra pit and we all applauded their fine performance.  Then he made a second gesture to a specific chair in the pit and, since even the standing audience couldn’t really see into the deep pit, he mimed playing a flute to be sure we knew he was singling out Tyra Gilb for her outstanding performance in the duet with Lucia during the mad scene.

All perfectly normal for the final curtain call, and why-am-I-spending-so-much-time-detailing-it, right?  RIGHT!  A few more bows, solo or en-masse, the curtain comes down, the house lights go on, and we all go home, right?  WRONG!

At this point General Director Jose Luis Moscovich walks on stage with a serious expression on his face to announce, “We interrupt these proceedings to bring you a special announcement which will be made by the Town Crier.”  A tall young man wearing a long yellow robe and a mask totally concealing his face walks on stage, unrolls a scroll he was carrying and reads it in stentorian tones.  I don’t recall the exact words which were flowery and archaic, but the gist of it was that on this day, February 24, 2013, Paul Kyle announces that he is deeply in love with Rochelle Bard and wants to spend the rest of his life with her.  He then casts off the robe and mask, kneels before her and holds up a ring box, saying, “Rochelle, will you marry me?”  I couldn’t hear her answer, but it was obvious from the way her face expressed surprise, love, happiness, and a sense of can-this-be-happening-to-me?, that it was affirmative.

As normal programming was resumed there was a glow in my heart, a warm lump in my throat and a bit of moisture in my eye – all due to vicarious pleasure at being allowed this intimate glimpse into two young lives.

Joan Sutherland as Lucia in 1961; photo by Louis Melancon/Metropolitan Opera

“Okay, Opera Nut, you’ve told us a nice human-interest story, now tell us about the Opera.”  Okay, let’s – or rather let’s talk about Lucia, the troubled heroine of the tragic opera.  I have seen six or seven different productions of the opera, most of them in the past 8 years, but starting with Joan Sutherland at the Lyric Opera of Chicago way back in 1961.  I must confess I remember none of the details – I only remember having been impressed by the fact that I was seeing one of the great stars of mid-twentieth century opera.

Neither do I have any memory of performances by Des Moines Metropolitan Opera and Minnesota Opera in the 1980’s.  But starting in 2005 I’ve seen a different Lucia every two years:
• West Bay Opera in 2005 with Marnie Breckenridge
• Opera San Jose in 2007 with Rochelle Bard
• Met HD in 2009 with Anna Netrebko
• Met HD in 2011 with Natalie Desai
A drawback to seeing so many operas is that my memories of individual performances don’t always last very long.  The only specific thing I remember of those first two is that at the time I was very favorably impressed by both of the young sopranos.  But I wrote a review of the MetHD performances that I can reread to capture my impressions.  Rather than rehash that review, I invite you to read it yourself.

Rochelle Bard as Lucia (C) with Enrico (L) and the Chaplain (R) together with about half the chorus

Which brings us back to Rochelle Bard, the young lady whose betrothal was the first story in this review.  She is an amazingly versatile singer and actress.

The three faces of Stella (Rochelle Bard)

Of course I already knew this from her outstanding performance in Tales of Hoffmann, which I reviewed last fall.  But Lucia is a far more complex character than any of Hoffmann’s loves and different from all of them.  Whether in solos such as the famous Mad Scene or as one-seventh of the beautiful Septet, Ms Bard was superb.

Lucia sings duets with her lover Edgardo (L), the chaplain Raimundo (UR), and her brother Enrico (LR)

She also excelled in my favorite operatic art-form, the Duet.  Whether it be with the sweet tenor of Vincent Chambers as her lover Edgardo, the strong baritone of Krassen Karagiozov as her brother Enrico, or the resonant bass-baritone of Isaiah Musik-Ayala as the chaplain, Raimondo, her soprano voice blended perfectly with his in delightful exchanges and exquisite harmonies.

The many faces of Lucia (Rochelle Bard)

One final reason why I am in love with Rochelle Bard (for Heaven’s sake, Paul Kyle, don’t be like Edgardo!  My love is purely Platonic and Grandfatherly): her mobile face that always fits the music and the mood.  Ecstatic when Edgardo proclaims his love for her in Act I, but tinged with sorrow when he has to leave.  Basically sad in Act II ranging from defiant to utter misery and resignation.  And wildly leaping from joy to horror to sorrow to befuddlement as her mind (and singing!) conjured up different imaginings during the Mad Scene.

‘Nuff said.  My apologies to all for not writing this review in time to urge you to see it for yourselves – I was ill and had to miss the first weekend.  But I remind you that you’ll have one more chance to experience this wonderful small opera company: over the two weekends of May 24 – June 2 they will present their production of Verdi’s Otello.  Don’t miss it.

Except as noted otherwise, all photos by Otak Jump – arrangement and cropping by Philip Hodge.

This review by Philip G Hodge appeared in sanfranciscosplash.com on March 5, 2013.

If you’re looking for professors who are sometimes not profound
Spare this humble essayist
By my readers I’d be missed
To hear you sing King Gama next I want to be around
To see you shake your fist
As a true misogynist
.   .   .   .   .

Rick Williams as King Gama; Photo by Irene Jerome

As I opened the program for Princess Ida at the Mountain View Center for the Performing Arts last Sunday, February 17 2013, I was initially disappointed to see that Ewing was not listed.  That disappointment totally disappeared about 30 seconds after King Gama in the persona of Rick Williams humped his way on stage singing,

If you give me your attention, I will tell you what I am:
I’m a genuine philanthropist – all other kinds are sham.
Each little fault of temper and each social defect
In my erring fellow-creatures, I endeavor to correct.
To all their little weaknesses I open people’s eyes;

And little plans to snub the self-sufficient I devise;
I love my fellow creatures – I do all the good I can –
Yet everybody says I’m such a disagreeable man!
And I can’t think why!

Williams does not play the part of King Gama; he IS King Gama.  I’m sure that Ewing would do an excellent job in the role – but it’s hard to see how it could be Better.

Charles Martin as Arac; photo by Lucas Buxman

But Gama is only one of the delicious roles in Princess Ida.  His three sons, led by Charles Martin as Arac are characters in their own right:

We are warriors three,
Sons of Gama, Rex,
Like most sons are we,
Masculine in sex.
.  .  .  .  .
Politics we bar,
They are not our bent;
On the whole we are
Not intelligent.

With its rousing chorus

Bold and fierce, and strong, ha! ha!
For a war we burn,
With its right or wrong, ha! ha!
We have no concern.
Order comes to fight, ha! ha!
Order is obeyed,
We are men of might, ha! ha!
Fighting is our trade.
Yes, yes, yes,
Fighting is our trade, ha! ha!

Robert Vann as Prince Hilarion; photo by Lucas Buxman

All of which is not to slight the male romantic lead, Hilarion, ably sung by Robert Vann.  His aria near the end of Act II is one of the loveliest love songs in all of Gilbert and Sullivan:

Whom thou has chained must wear his chain,
Thou canst not set him free,
He wrestles with his bonds in vain
Who lives by loving thee!
If heart of stone for heart of fire,
Be all thou hast to give,
If dead to my heart’s desire,
Why should I wish to live?

Robby Stafford as King Hildebrand; photo by Lucas Buxman

Hilarion’s father, King Hildebrand, actually gets a patter song, ending up with

And I’m a peppery kind of King,
Who’s indisposed for parleying
To fit the wit of a bit of chit,
And that’s the long and the short of it!

The astute reader has probably noted that thus far I have talked only about male characters.  Well, the story line here is essentially a chapter in James Thurber’s, The War between Men and Women, so it seemed appropriate to keep the two sides separate.

Jennifer Ashworth as Princess Ida; photo by David Allen

Now it’s the women’s turn – and a formidable lot they are, headed by the romantic lead Princess Ida, sung by Jennifer Ashworth.  Before the opera opens, the two Kings had signed a peace treaty that included the betrothal of Hildebrand’s son to Gama’s daughter.  Early in Act I Hilarion sings an aria about it:

Ida was a twelve-month old,
Twenty years ago!
I was twice her age, I’m told,
Twenty years ago!
Husband twice as old as wife
Argues ill for married life
Baleful prophecies were rife,
Twenty years ago …

The day has arrived for consummation of the marriage contract, but King Gama arrives without his daughter. It seems that Ida has rebelled against this medieval practice of treating a woman as merchandise, and has run off to found an all-women’s university, Castle Adamant.

Rose Frazier as Lady Psyche; photo by Lucas Buxman

Her faculty includes Rose Frazier as Lady Psyche who explains to her students the difference between men and women:

A Lady fair, of lineage high,
Was loved by an Ape, in the days gone by.
The Maid was radiant as the sun,
The Ape was a most unsightly one –
So it would not do –
His scheme fell through,
.  .   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
For the Maiden fair, whom the monkey craved,
Was a radiant Being,
With brain far-seeing –
While Darwinian Man, though well-behaved,
At best is only a monkey shaved!

Jamie McDonald as Lady Blanche; photo by Lucas Buxman

Also on the faculty is the traditional Gilbert and Sullivan mezzo “heavy,” in this case Lady Blanche sung by Jamie McDonald.  She is sure that she is more qualified than Ida to lead Castle Adamant:

Oh, weak Might Be!
Oh, May, Might, Could, Would, Should!
How powerless ye
For evil or for good!
In every sense
Your moods I cheerless call,
Whate’er your tense
Ye are Imperfect all!
Ye have deceived the trust
I’ve shown In ye!
Away! The Mighty Must alone
Shall be!

As with all Lamplighter productions that I have seen, the basic structure is sound.  The sets by Peter Compton are up to their usual high standards, as is the costuming and lighting.

Two Choruses; photos by Lucas Buxman

The singing and blocking of the two choruses is seamless, including a wonderful sword fight matching Gama’s three sons against Hilarion and his buddies Florian (Chris Uzelac) and Cyril (Michael Desnoyers).

And now for the bad news. If you haven’t seen this 2013 production of Princess Ida, eat your heart out. Mountain View Center for Performing Arts was the fourth of four venues, and I attended the final performance.  The good news is that they have one more production for this season: The Sorcerer, playing two weekends only in March. Hope to see you in Walnut Creek or San Francisco:

Lesher Center for the Arts, Walnut Creek
925-943-7469 • lesherarts.org
Saturday March 16th 2013, 8pm

Herbst Theater, San Francisco
415-392-4400 • cityboxoffice.com
Saturday March 23rd 2013, 8pm
Sunday March 24th 2013, 2pm

Ciao,

All quotes are from Web Opera

Finale to Act I of Tosca

Today, as I am faced with writing a review of San Francisco Opera’s production of Tosca, I have a bit more understanding of where he was coming from.

There are many operas, many great operas, whose principal characters are easy to know.  After seeing two or three different productions, I go again to relive a pleasurable experience.  Tosca is not that simple.  There are three principal characters, and I go wondering how each of them will develop in this performance.

Mario Cavaradossi (Brian Jagde), bloody but unbowed in Act II

Mario Cavaradossi (Brian Jagde) is painter, patriot, and lover.  Different performers (and different directors) may differ in the relative weight they give these three aspects, but all three must be there.

Floria Tosca (Patricia Racette), jealous in Act I

Floria Tosca (Patricia Racette) is more complex.  She is a talented singer who is deeply religious, in love, and basically gentle but possessed with a fierce jealously.  However in the climax of Act II she is faced with an irreconcilable conflict between her religion-based morals and her love for Cavaradossi and is able to summon up an ability to act ruthlessly.  I am still learning about different interpretations as all these aspects interact.

Baron Scarpia (Mark Delevan), evil incarnate

The character of Baron Scarpia (Mark Delevan) can be summed in one word: EVIL – but Evil has many faces.  He is power-hungry, sadistic, and lustful.  Although the 2012 production of Tosca by the San Francisco Opera is the sixth different production I have seen in the past decade, it is only now that I have thought about the distinct differences between Scarpia’s emotions.

Scarpia, ruthless and sadistic, with Cavaradossi and Spoleto (Joel Sorenson)

Having and using power over other people is the most essential.  The power to capture, torture, and execute Cavaradossi clearly excites him and is an example of his sadism. But his approach to Tosca is both lustful and sadistic and different productions can make one or the other the prominent one.

Tosca pleads for mercy in vain

Let me review the last few minutes of Act II.  First the action itself, then from Tosca’s viewpoint, and finally from Scarpia’s.  Cavaradossi is in prison and scheduled to be executed at sunrise. Scarpia has made his proposal: “Submit to me tonight and I’ll spare your lover’s life.”  We pick up the action as Tosca agrees –

“But with two conditions: (1) I want to hear you issue the orders to spare him, and (2) I want a safe-conduct pass for the two of us to leave the country.”  Scarpia readily agrees; he tells Tosca that there will have to be a fake execution but the bullets will all be blanks.  Then he summons Spoleto (Joel Sorenson) and issues his two-faced orders: “Don’t hang him; give him a military execution, à la Palmieri.”  He writes out a safe-conduct pass.  She picks up a knife.  He starts his rape.  She stabs him and exits.

If you have read (and remember!) any of my reviews of previous Tosca productions (Royal Opera House, Opera San José, or Met HD), you know that my favorite Tosca is Julia Kierstine in West Bay Opera’s 2002 production, with Karita Mattila in the 2009 MetHD a close second.  My vision of Tosca, based primarily on these two interpretations, is that her self-image as portrayed in her famous aria Vissi d’Arte is a true picture: she is, indeed, a sweet young woman, deeply religious and thoroughly in love, whose actions are based on emotion rather that reasoning.  As such, she cannot accept either of Scarpia’s alternatives and go on living.  Even as she chooses to be raped to save Cavaradossi’s life, her emotions tell her, “I can’t allow this.”  When she picks up the knife it is possibly with the idea of killing herself even though reason should tell her she is condemning her lover.  It is only at the last minute that she suddenly sees killing Scarpia is a third alternative and acts on it.

Tosca has a plan

Soprano Patricia Racette and Director José Maria Condemi have a quite different vision. She verbally accepts Scarpia’s proposal with conditions like any other Tosca, but the instant she sees the knife she becomes a changed woman.  A plan has been conceived in an instant.  She picks up the knife with a gleam of triumph and sprawls on the couch in a suggestive pose with a seductive smile on her face.  Her eyes seem to say, “Come and get it, big-boy; I’m all yours.”

Against a Scarpia such as Shouvik Mondle (Pocket Opera, 2004), Tosca’s strategy would not have worked.  Power was his thing with sadism an integral part of it and lust a distant third.  He was looking forward to enjoying her hatred and would have immediately sensed deceit in her apparent willingness.

Up to this point, Mark Delavan had not been particularly clear as to the relative importance of Scarpia’s three motives.  In fact, my impression was that he was following stage directions rather than living a part.  But at the imminent prospect of “making love” to this beautiful woman he was lust, pure lust.  Reason left him, his gonads were wholly in charge and he almost leapt upon the recumbent figure – only to meet the firmly held dagger as the first point of contact.

Tosca alive and Scarpia dying

Not content with that first fatal wound for which Scarpia had supplied the momentum, Tosca quickly withdrew the dagger and stuck him a couple more times, thoroughly enjoying the exercise of her suddenly acquired power.

And that’s the magic of Tosca.  I wonder what the next production I get to attend will be like.  Of course I like some more than others, but I can enjoy the novelty of an interpretation even if I like other interpretations better.  Like the Lake Wobegon children in Garrison Keillor’s A Prairie Home Companion, “All Toscas are Above Average.”

San Francisco Opera
301 Van Ness Avenue
San Francisco, CA 94102
(415) 861-4008
sfopera.com

All photos by Cory Weaver, San Francisco Opera

This review by Philip G Hodge appeared in sanfranciscosplash.com on December 30, 2012.

1. Fledermaus finale, complete with champagne

Let’s start with the “less elaborate” – which begins before we even enter the theater. California Theatre, venue for OSJ, is a beautiful century-old-newly-restored building with an elaborate marquee and a big outer lobby with three enclosed and miked ticket windows.  Traube Center, one of several theater venues on the NDNU campus, is an unassuming rectangular building with a couple of closed unmarked doors facing a small parking lot; a friendly student told us which one would open eventually to admit us directly into the theater; the box-office consisted of a narrow table with two students behind it right beside the door.  The actual theater in San José has 1100 seats, an enormous stage, and a large orchestra pit in between; even from row E, you feel remote from the stage.  Yesterday there were less than a hundred seats and a very shallow stage; I was in row A, center, and felt that I was really part of the action.

2. Adele (Gabrielle Guidi) carrying a boar’s head

As for “much more fun”, I’d rather say, “even more fun,” since I remember how much fun it was seeing the OSJ performances.  Still, I have to admit, I laughed longer and louder yesterday than I can recall doing for many a moon.  Both the singing and the dialog were in English, using a saucy translation by Marcie Stapp.  And the diction of all of the singers was so good that only in retrospect did I realize that there were no supertitles!

3. Adele with Gabriel (Christopher Sponseller) and Rosalinde (Andrea Fuentes) Eisenstein – Crying on the outside, laughing on the inside

As is usually the case when I see Die Fledermaus, the first act trio sung by the Eisensteins and their housemaid was hilarious.

4. Alfredo (Eric Morris), and Adele celebrate in the Eisensteins’ home

For the finale of Act I, Adele and Alfredo (Eric Morris), clad in Eisenstein’s dressing gown, are having a pleasant tête-à-tête in the Eisensteins’ home when Frank (James McGoff), superintendent of the city jail, arrives to personally escort Herr Eisenstein to jail to begin his sentence.  Not knowing the Eisensteins personally, Frank naturally assumes that the domestic-seeming couple are husband and wife – wishing to avoid a scandal they do not disabuse him even though it means Alfredo must spend a night in jail.  They gain a brief delay by inviting Frank to join their party and have a glass of wine, but Frank soon returns to business and insists they leave.

5. Alfredo tries in vain for a farewell kiss from Rosalinde

Alfredo pleads with Frank for a brief reprieve to give his “wife” a good-bye kiss.  Frank readily agrees, and here the two productions differ markedly.  In San Jose, as in all other productions I’ve seen, Rosalinde showed only a token resistance as Alfredo delivered a lengthy bend-her-over-backwards-almost-to-the floor kiss, but here she successfully fought him off without even a peck on the cheek.  This might have been because the powers-that-be felt that their student-actors should be shielded from such strong sensuality – but I suspect it was because said student-actors persuaded Director Yefim Maizel that it was really funnier if the poor Italian tenor was totally frustrated. Incidentally, whether it’s Eric Morris’ natural state or some clever make-up artist, can you imagine a more realistic-looking caricature of an Italian tenor?

6. Prince Orlofsky’s party

I was very impressed with the staging.  Given a small shallow stage area, limited off-stage space (I suspect), and limited resources, how do you convey the idea of three very different settings for the three acts?  To start with, about 4 feet at the rear of the stage was marked off by a heavy drape with three triangular openings; it remained in place for all three acts.  Act I takes place in the living room of the Eisensteins.  A few pieces of period furniture are on stage and the drape openings are covered with light-weight opaque curtains, thus giving the impression that we are in a cozy living room (see images 3 or 4 above).  All entrances and exits are through the side wings, so the other side of the drape is left entirely to our imagination – I liked to think of it as a pleasant garden.

7. Prince Orlofsky (Evan Bailey Hunt), Adele, and Ida (Jayne Amini) lead a toast to champagne

Act II takes place in the spacious ballroom of the villa which has been rented by Prince Orlofsky (Evan Bailey Hunt).  The drape openings are now uncovered revealing a long hallway which presumably connects with other rooms in the villa.  Not only is the ballroom full of guests part of the time, but guests and servants are constantly entering and exiting through the drape openings, frequently at break-neck speed.  The effect of all this motion is to increase a feeling of spaciousness and also of the size of the party.

8. Frank (James McGoff) and Adele in the jailer’s office

Act III is in the warden’s office in the jail.  Bars over all the drape openings immediately evoke a claustrophobic feeling appropriate to a jail, and the hall at the back now leads to the front door in one direction and to the jail cells in the other.  All three settings achieved with such simplicity and such effectiveness.

It’s too late to see another performance of Die Fledermaus, but I plan to go back to the NDNU Musical and Vocal Arts program in March for The Sound of Music and again in April for a show with the provocative title Opera Rocks.

This review by Philip G Hodge appeared in sanfranciscosplash.com on December 28, 2012.