n a controversial production by San Francisco Opera, renowned American baritone Thomas Hampson shines once again as Verdi’s Macbeth as he did six years ago in Switzerland. The surreal production conceived by David Pountney was premiered by Zurich Opera in 2001 and received polarized reviews, all of which affirm its undeniable originality. The current San Francisco production features Hungarian soprano Georgina Lucasz as Lady MacBeth.

Wrapped in a veil of prophetic visions and witchcraft, Verdi sets to music Shakespeare’s tale of an ambitious Scottish general, Macbeth, who, encouraged and aided by his power-hungry wife, murders his way to Scotland’s throne. The opera follows the homicidal royals as they are haunted by guilt, depression and progressive insanity, until they each meet their own separate and dark fate.

Thomas Hampson’s masterful interpretation of the title role is both subtle and emotional. His powerful voice exudes irresistible warmth from the character’s first note in the second scene of the first act until his eventual assassination by Macduff in the final act. The sincerity of Hampson’s acting makes Macbeth’s unsettling pathology that much more comprehensible to the average viewer. In this production, Thomas Hampson’s voice as Macbeth reaches soul-stirring operatic heights in the third act aria O fuggi regal fantasima when he encounters his rival’s unborn sons, who, according to a haunting prophecy, will succeed him to the Scottish throne.

Georgina Lukacs makes a truly repugnant Lady Macbeth, a depiction which is probably as much her own intention as it is Verdi’s. While clearly a gifted soprano, Lukacz seems to go out of her way to render her voice as disturbing as possible as Macbeth’s murderous wife, with extra-wide vibratos, piercing tones and disproportionate dynamics. While it is tempting to pronounce a hasty and harsh judgment against Lukacs, one must recognize that Lady Macbeth’s moral depravity in the opera can deeply influence our perception of her performer’s artistic merit. A deliberately “flawed” performance then becomes the hallmark of a great performer. That being said, Lukacs’ talent is plainly evident in La luce langue in the opening of the second act, where we get a glimpse of the impressive dimensions of the soprano’s range and color.

To say that under David Pountney’s direction Macbeth takes on an entirely new flavor would be a gross understatement. Presenting a surreal production transplanted from its original birthplace of Zurich seems especially audacious on the part of San Francisco Opera, given the West Coast public’s lower threshold for the avant-garde than its East Coast and trans-Atlantic counterparts. Few would argue that at least some of the opera is lost to the average patron as he or she struggles to relate Pountney’s arbitrary visual elements to Shakespeare’s story as told through Verdi’s music. It is precisely the kind of production that makes one either a loyal and lifelong fan of David Pountney, or an unhappy opera patron demanding a refund after the show. Either way, Pountney’s boldness and innovation deserve recognition.

The cold, greyish set designed by Stefanos Lazardis features a ceiling with a large hole off to one side, possibly created by either a flame or an asteroid collision. The centerpiece of the set is a cube, which is moved and rotated from one scene to the next to provide various venues. It has swinging doors made of two-way Plexiglas mirrors and illuminated by bright florescent lighting. Lady Macbeth appears sitting on top of the cube in the first act, and is later seen as a sickly insane woman writing words and drawing a stick man with a tube of red lipstick on the Plexiglas doors. She also dies within the walls of the cube in the third act.  Other décor elements include an iridescent green typewriter placed, removed and placed again on the stage’s edge, floating words projected onto the walls, seemingly random props such as traffic signs held by members of the witches’ chorus, and mounds of dirt placed on banquet tables from the midst of which pop spring-loaded mummified corpses.

The costumes, designed by Marie-Jeanne Lecca, are a suitable match for the set, scenery and props. The chorus of refugees on the English border wear letters of the alphabet on their backs (which may or may not be related to the earlier themes of the green typewriter and floating projected words) while Banquo’s unborn sons in Macbeth’s prophetic vision appear in robes of clear plastic tarp, each carrying a golden schoolbag on his back resembling an angel’s wings.

While singing relatively small parts, bass Raymond Aceto and tenor Alfredo Portilla are simply brilliant as a strong Banquo and a very promising Macduff. Judging by the decibel level of the audience’s cheer, it is clear that newcomer mezzo-soprano Elza van den Heever (appearing as Lady Macbeth’s maid) is also a huge hit with the San Francisco public. The orchestra is as remarkable as ever under the capable baton of Massimo Zanetti who makes his debut with this production, and Ian Robertson does a fine job of directing the chorus. Clearly, operatic talent is by no means in short supply in this unusual production of San Francisco Opera; nonetheless, Thomas Hampson remains the uncontested star of this Macbeth.

- Reviewed by Eman Isadiar
 

Swenson as Ginevra - Ariodante, Act 1

According to the San Francisco Opera, the answer is to mount a handsome production, populate it with the finest singers, and let Handel’s music do its magic.   It all looks great on paper; in practice, however, it has left something to be desired.

The complicated plot of Ariodante may perhaps be clarified as follows:

(double arrow =  requited love,  single arrow= unrequited love,  X = archenemies)

Ginevra is betrothed to Ariodante. Polinesso, a jealous rival of Ariodante, uses Ginevra's maid Dalinda to trick Ariodante into believing that Ginevra is being unfaithful.  Ginevra's father, the King of Scotland, hears about the rumor and disowns her. Eventually, truth is revealed by the dying Polinesso, mortally wounded in a duel with Ariodante's brother Lurcanio.  The King pardons Ginevra and offers his crown to Ariodante.  General rejoicing.

John Conklin’s classically-inspired sets consist of several outsized columns atopped with golden Corinthian friezes.  They close behind the singers during the recitatives and open up to reveal a new scene in the next number.  I suspect they also aid in projecting sound into the auditorium as acoustic panels.

Ariodante,  Act 1

The singers, looking ravishing in Michael Stennett’s sumptuous period costumes, were of variable qualities.  Eric Owens’ bottom-heavy bass-baritone sounded to ponderous to convey the King’s nobility.  Sonia Prina as the villain Polinesso (a male role written for a female contralto) was less than imposing both physically and vocally – with hollowed low notes and a peculiar technique that produces fast runs and roulades in a burst of hiccups, ruining the intended melodramatic effects.  Ruth Ann Swenson, a superlative Gilda (“Rigoletto”) and Lucia in the 1990’s, has grown darkened of voice that’s unfortunately laden with heavy vibratos in a part that calls for a younger, girlish voice (such as the first Ginevra of Anna Maria Strada in 1735). 

On the upside, Veronica Cangemi’s attractive young soprano and spirited singing breathed life into the character of Dalinda.  Tenor Richard Croft sang with ardor as the lovelorn Lurcanio, rising to dramatic heights in his Act 2 aria “Tu vivi e punito”.  Best of all was mezzo-soprano Susan Graham, giving a towering portrayal of Ariodante as both a hero and a lover.  Ariodante’s two celebrated arias – “Scherza infida” and “Dopo notte” – were handled with loving attention to the seamless bravura of the vocal line as well as the inner meaning of the music, despite being sabotaged by Patrick Summers’ tempo choice.

 Susan Graham as Ariodante

Which brings us to the weakest link of the performance – the conducting.  The magic and drama of Handel’s music reside mainly with the singers, who dictate the speed or tempo of the aria based on the words and their emotional content.  Alan Curtis, conducting an all-around exceptional Ariodante in Spoleto, Italy last year, carefully and rightfully differentiated the tempi among the arias and also within each individual aria. (taking his cues from the Baroque da capo aria’s binary A-B-A’ form).  If we are to use Ariodante’s “Dopo notte”, as an example –

       [Section A]
       Dopo notte, atra e funesta            /    After the night, dark and funereal,
       splende in Ciel più vago il sole     /    the sun shines brighter in the heavens
       e di gioia empie la terra               /    and fills the earth with joy
       [Section B]
       Mentre in orrida empesta             /    Although my little boat was
       il mio legno è quasi assorto          /    almost swamped in a terrible storm
       giunge in port e ‘l lido afferra     /     it reaches port, and grab onto the shore
       [Section A’]
       Dopo notte... etc.                          /     After the night...

Handel’s marking of Allegro (fast) in the score clearly denotes the festive mood of the aria.  Ariodante is rejoiced and relieved upon hearing the news of Ginevra’s innocence.  However, in section ‘B’, he pauses to reflect on the nightmare that had transpired before the arrival of the good news.  A shift to a slower tempo in the Spoleto performance added to the unspeakable terror of Ariodante’s nightmarish flashback.  In the San Francisco performance, however, Patrick Summers opted for an even faster tempo, Presto, in all sections, thereby ruining this ingenious bit of dramatic effect.  In other arias, Summers went for the extremes – either really fast (“Con l’ali di costanza”) or really slow (“Scerza infida”) with little flexibility or differentiation in the A-B-A’ sections.  It was not only inelegant but also unidiomatic.  The San Francisco Opera Orchestra players were not to blame, for their playing was eloquent and faultless, particularly the excellent woodwinds. 

John Copley basically let his team of Handelians roam freely without too much directorial interference, although I have noticed an annoying habit of having each singer exeunt after his/her aria and the ensuing applause at an empty stage – something that would have mystified Mr. Handel himself.  Would he have hired Italy’s most celebrated castrato, only to make him disappear promptly after his big showpiece?  I think not.

The opera’s static plot was briefly enlivened by a team of dancers in Act 3, who clearly reveled in the dance rhythms in Handel’s music to Kenneth von Heidecke’s choreography.

San Francisco Opera’s Ariodante is a feast for the eyes, but not so much for the ears -- with the single exception of Susan Graham.  A live recording of this performance will be broadcast on Classical 102.1 KDFC in San Francisco on Sunday, November 2, 2008 at 8pm.   Tickets to the remaining showss (July 1, July 6) may be purchased by phone at (415) 864-3330 or online at www.sfopera.com

Ariodante, Act 3 finale

- Reviewed by Truman C. Wang

Billed as the “American” Ring, first seen in 2006 in Washington D.C. and extensively revised for San Francisco, the production team of director Francesca Zambello and set designer Michael Yeargan use imagery from various eras of American history – the California Gold Rush and the Roaring Twenties in Rheingold.  The elaborate projections by Jan Hartley feature glider fly-by of the American West that accompanies Wotan and Loge’s descent into the Rhine, and the water of the Colorado River cascading over a mountain of gold in both rear and front projections on a scrim.  It even takes a jibe at L.A. Opera’s upcoming Lucas’ Ring by opening with fast-zooming stars of a galaxy far far away á la “Star Wars”. 

Overall, the projections, coupled with Wagner’s orchestral alchemy, create mesmerizing, almost hypnotic effects.

The “American” theme extends to Catherine Zuber’s contemporary costumes, circa 1920, of the American upper class enjoying a leisurely weekend in the country.  Their white pants suits and plume hats look elegant and spiffy as if out of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel “The Great Gatsby”.   The impending doom of the Gods is here depicted as a quintessential American tragedy of greed and lust. 

Only simple props or sets are used, most of the visual wizardries being achieved via video projections.  The giants are lowered from above on a piece of construction steel, and the rainbow bridge that is supposed to carry the Gods to their new home becomes a cruise ship gangplank with rainbow hues splashed onto rear projection.  The exception is the massive Nibelheim set – dark, menacing and imposing – that resemble the depths of a Utah coal mine.    

Margita as Loge (L), Delavan as Wotan (R)

Vocally, this has to be one of the best-sung Ring’s I have heard in recent memory.  The Wotan, Fricka, Loge, Donner, Froh, Freia and two of the Rhinemaidens are all singing their roles for the first time, bringing with them a freshness and vitality that the tired old veterans cannot match. 

Bass-baritone Mark Delavan portrays Wotan as smug, egotistical, more interested in his own self-gratification than in ethical dealings.  This Wotan is a young, brash fellow, firm of voice and intense in purpose, who, like a bratty teenager, will get things his way at all cost. 

As Wotan’s partner in crime, Loge is here seen as a slime ball lawyer, dressed in a tie, a grey vest and a trench coat, obsequiously catering to his clients’ whims and doube-, even triple-crossing them in the process. Tenor Stefan Margita gave a vivid and subtly inflected reading of Loge’s Narration (“Immer ist Undank Loges Lohn”) and darted about the stage like a shifty character that is Loge.

Perhaps the most surprising casting choice is the Fricka of mezzo-soprano Jennifer Larmore, whom I have admired in lighter, more lyrical roles of Mozart and Rossini.  Here, as portrayed by Larmore, Fricka’s oft-heard hard edges gave way to soft lyricism and feminine charms that nicely complemented Wotan’s hard-driven single-mindedness.  Larmore’s Fricka berates her Wotan not with venom but with the mocking irony of a woman resigned to her fate, realizing she cannot change her man no matter how hard she tries.  Larmore’s Fricka was vocally sumptuous and dramatically vivid both in her own singing as well as in her interactions with other characters (such as, at Loge’s reneging of his promises, she put her hands up and rolled her eyes in disgust). 

Rounding out this superb Rheingold cast are the three lithe-bodied, honey-voiced Rheinmaidens (Catherine Cangiano as Woglinde, Lauren McNeese as Wellgunde, Buffy Baggott as Flosshilde), the impressive giants of Andrea Silvestrelli (Fasolt) and Günther Groissböck (Fafner), soprano Tamara Wapinsky’s silver-voiced Freia, and the chameleon-like Alberich of Richard Paul Fink – whose chilling Curse (“Jeder giere nach seinem Gut”) on the stolen ring was a highlight of the evening.  Contralto Jill Grove also delivered Erda’s Warning to Wotan with grave authority. 

Groissbock as Fafner (L), Silvestrelli as Fasolt (R) and Wapinsky as Freia

The San Francisco Opera Orchestra played like Gods for maestro Donald Runnicles, in his final season with the company as its Music Director, yielding not only sheer grandeur of sound in the symphonic passages (the Prelude and the descent/ascent from Nibelheim) but also clear, precise articulation in the woodwinds and tight, compact tones in the brasses.  In the fifteen years that I have heard Runnicles, he has grown from a fine Wagner conductor to a great one.

One disappointment was the electronic thunder that was supposed to accompany Donner’s big hammer stroke failed to materialize, rendering a thud instead of a bang to the climactic moment.  

So much of the opera-going experience is about hearing the wonders of natural sounds echoing off of the wood paneled auditorium of the opera house, that any miking or electronic enhancement must be duly noted.  In addition to the botched electronic thunder, there were the amplified anvils (15 strong) in the Nibelheim Scene, and Alberich’s voice when he’s ‘invisible’ (the whip cracks, I was assured, were real without electronic assistance.)

The second Ring opera, Die Walküre, will be seen in the summer of 2010, followed by the entire Ring Cycle in the summer of 2011.

- Reviewed by Truman C. Wang

But let’s not get carried away just yet, for there are other fine singers in the cast.  In the role of Lucia’s lover Edgardo, Italian tenor Giuseppe Fillanoti possesses fine ringing tones and robust high notes, although he has a deplorable habit of throaty, guttural singing for melodramatic effects.  Italian baritone Gabriele Viviani was impressive as Lucia’s brother Lord Henry Ashton, vibrant and well focused, without resorting to histrionics.  Lucia’s maid Alisa (mezzo-soprano Cybele-Teresa Gouverneur), her tutor Raimondo (bass Oren Gradus), her suitor Arturo (tenor Andrew Bidlack) were all strong and well sung. 

The opera, however, is named Lucia after all.  It is a showcase for the high coloratura soprano to display her brilliant skills at projecting the lyrical pathos of a demented heroine (mad scenes are a common dramatic device in the early 19^th-Century operas of Rossini, Donizetti and Bellini – the so-called bel canto operas)  It is not enough simply to trill and chirp like a canary, but a great singer must also be able to mold the notes into tear droplets and the delicate melodies into sighs of despair, reflecting the heroine’s fragile mental state.  There are only a handful of coloratura sopranos today capable of accomplishing such feats, and Dessay is arguably the finest of them all.  In the theater, Dessay projected a bell-like bright tone with a pleasing honeyed glow in the center (which somehow gets lost on her commercial recordings).  The voice, although slender , was capable of great intensity and pierced through the famous sextet (“Chi mi frena in tal momento”)  like an angelic voice from above.  Her very great singing in the Mad Scene offered an object lesson in the art of bel canto, with flawless execution and astonishing virtuosity – all while rolling around in agony in her blood-drenched white gown.   For the Mad Scene, San Francisco Opera employed a special instrument called the verrophone (like the glass harmonica specified by Donizetti, but has a bigger sound).  It produced fragile, other-worldly tones that would soon accompany the dying Lucia into the next world. 

Unlike Rheingold heard the night before, the orchestra in Lucia was relegated to the role of the accompanist, playing oomph-pah’s most of the time.  French conductor Jean-Yves Ossonce nonetheless whipped up a lot of white heat in the sextet as well as in the Act 2 Wolf Crag Scene (aided by electronic thunder and wind).  The opera was presented more or less complete, with only minor cuts in the second verses of several baritone cabalettas. 

The production design by Paul Brown feature a wind-swept dead oak tree, movable partition panels for indoor scenes, and an ominously huge moon.  The famous well that Lucia sings about in Act 1 is curiously absent.  Nick Chelton’s lighting makes sure all the sets are covered in doom and gloom, with the exception of the brightly-lit groom and his unwilling bride in their gleaming white wedding costumes.   Veteran British director Graham Vick gives his singers room to roam, but unlike in Ariodante, the singers getb to receive their applauses while on stage. 

As always, the San Francisco Opera Chorus was superb, singing the lament “Oh qual funesto avvenimento” powerfully and movingly. 

In the end, Natalie Dessay was the raison d'être that people came to see this Lucia, and she exceeded their highest expectations.  Viva Donizetti!  Vive la France!

- Reviewed by Truman C. Wang