Opera Review                               by Classical Voice
 

The Devil Takes a Ride in West Bay Opera's Vibrant FAUST

By
Truman C. Wang
Sunday, October 21, 2001


PALO ALTO, Calif – On a gorgeous, balmy Sunday afternoon in the San Francisco Peninsula city of Palo Alto, the West Bay Opera presented its final staging of Gounod’s FAUST at the 428-seat Lucie Stern Theatre.   The Spanish-mission style theatre, with its beautifully manicured rose garden and warm acoustics, serves as an ideal venue for a fantastical, romantic drama that saw its premiere in 1859 at the Théâtre Lyrique in Paris. 

By contemporary accounts, the opera as first seen at Théâtre Lyrique was hardly the same work as conceived by the composer Charles Gounod.   The producer cut, shortened, and rearranged the music according to his whims.  The show became a great hit; only commerce, not art, was served.   No such liberties, thankfully, were taken by the West Bay Opera in their new production of FAUST.   Despite the reduced forces (seven violins instead of the original forty) and three major cuts (the ballet, Walpurgisnacht scene, and Marguerite’s spinning-wheel song), the drama played out smoothly and excitingly for the most part, thanks to a cast of young, fresh, and vibrant voices.

Singing the role of Faust was tenor Gabriel Reoyo-Pazos, whose strong, sizable voice is perhaps too much for the character of a brooding philosopher.   It is a curious voice in some ways.  While its main preoccupation seems to be overpowering the orchestra and bringing down the house with its stentorian tones, it also gives us singing of great delicacy and refinement (albeit too rarely) that we could never have anticipated from it.   Faust’s Act II romance “Salut demeure chaste et pure”, sung with honeyed mezza voce by Mr. Reoyo-Pazos, conveyed a dreamscape of pure, idealised love, only to be rudely awakened by a loud high C at the end.   In the Love Duet with Marguerite, the singing ran the gamut of loud to louder, with ravishing soft high notes interpolated few and far in between.   One was unsure whether to blame the singer or Gounod’s librettists for making a simpleton out of Goethe’s complex philosopher.

As Méphistophélès, veteran bass John Minágro displayed a highly suave, polished vocalism that is perhaps better suited for the light basso-cantante roles of Rossini than the sophisticated, meaty role of the devil.   The Golden Calf song in Act I wanted more swaggers and power.  The Serenade came off beautifully – too beautifully, in fact – without any suggestion of sardonic humour that is a sine qua non in any Mephistophelean characterisation.   The great Méphistophélès’s of the past – Pol Plançon, Marcel Journet, Feodor Chaliapin – all combined elegant singing with great acting that is the epitome of the French style, a tradition that is sadly all but lost to today’s ‘international’ school of singing.

Soprano Deborah Mayhan was a superb Marguerite.  Gounod’s infatuations with the figure of Gretchen in Goethe’s drama inspired him to write some of the most sublime melodies (“O silence, ô bonheur”) for the lyric voice.  Ms. Mayhan’s Marguerite painted a picture of feminine grace with her lithe figure and cascading blonde tresses.  Vocally, the fullness of tone and tastefully managed vibrato not only charmed the ear but also revealed the vulnerable nature of Marguerite.   When the music calls for purity and clarity, such as during the Jewel Song, the voice shone forth like a brilliant sapphire—from a well-turned trill and a rapid scale in the beginning, to a brilliant trill and a ringing high B at the end.   On the other hand, when the goings-on get rough as in the Church Scene, where Marguerite is tormented by Méphistophélès and his infernal choir, the voice acquired greater resonance to rise over the orchestra and chorus in a cry of despair (“Seigneur! accueillez la prière”)  To be sure, Ms. Mayhan still has some way to go if she was to conjure up the memories of her famous predecessors for the listener– Geraldine Farrar, Licia Albanese, Victoria de Los Angeles, Anna Moffo, Mirella Freni.   Many of her verbal and musical inflections were less than satisfactory. “Et voici le jardin charmant” from the Prison Scene was a model of phrasing, but not “Je veux t’aimer et te chérir” in the Love Duet (both phrases set to the same melody by Gounod in a stroke of genius).  All caveats aside, this was admirable singing from someone so young.

Michael Taylor as Marguerite’s brother Valentine possesses an ample, rounded baritone that was heard to great effects in the air “Avant de quitter ces lieux”.  The dramatically charged singing in the Death Scene sent chills down one’s spine and recalled the great Giuseppe De Luca.   Siébel, a young man in love with Marguerite, is a breeches role gallantly portrayed by mezzo-soprano Sonia Gariaeff.   Rounding out the cast were Jesse Merlin’s well-acted Wagner and Constance Howard’s delightful, scene-stealing Marthe Schwerlein.

Maestro Henry Mollicone, an opera composer himself, drew some expressive playing from a reduced chamber orchestra of twenty-eight players.  Notable was the lovely violin solo in the Garden Scene by concertmaster Kristina Anderson.  All too often, however, the playing sounded scrappy and careless, as in the case of several botched entrances by the horns, and contrasted sharply with the elegant phrasings eminating from the stage.  The chorus sounded appropriately ragged and inebriated as drunkards in Act I, and inappropriately so as soldiers in Act III. 

The sets and stage directions are efficient rather than memorable.  The painted sets are comprised of three basic units: two on stage sides representing Faust’s study and Méphistophélès’s underworld abode – the latter also doubles as Marguerite’s house—and one massive painted church in the center with a door that swings open (read: tacky).  At times, the director seemed to be trying too hard for laughs.  The Act II Quartet features a hilarious love chase.  Later, in the Church Scene, we are shown Marguerite being tied up in iron chains, with a gloating Méphistophélès standing behind her (read: kinky).

In the end, what mattered was the exciting, exuberant singing of a fine young cast.   It goes to show that opera, when stripped of its pompous and often ridiculous trappings, is really about the art of singing and acting through the voice.



Truman C. Wang is editor of Classical Voice.

 

 

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