Mozart Smoothies in the South Bay

 

Maria Brea as Donna Elvira, Nicole
Koh as Zerlina. Photo by Dave Lepori.

Opera San Jose

Don Giovanni

Sept. 13, 2026

OSJ has undertaken an ambitious production based on film noir and chiaroscuro sensibilities, and though these effects are striking, the singers, as they often do, took over. Put briefly, the performance was dominated by a cast of voices with extraordinarily smooth styles: legato, polish, whatever you want to call it, this is a cast that will make you hear Giovanni with fresh ears.

Our title character is played by bass Wm. Clay Thompson, who projects the aura of a rock star: tall, blonde and good-looking, a Thor in Spaniard’s clothing. And what clothing! A blazing scarlet suit and gold coat (Caitlin Cisek, costume designer). Thompson certainly has the ability to deliver the rowdier passages - say, the party anthem of “Fin ch’han dal vino” - but what’s extraordinary is his talent for toning things down. His response to Giovanni’s murder of the Commendatore bespeaks compassion and regret, just another set of complications for an eternally puzzling persona. Later, he performs the maid’s serenade, “Deh vieni all finestra” in a sublime understatement.

The height difference between Giovanni and Leporello (Phillip Lopez) is so obvious it doesn’t even need to be highlighted - it’s just constantly amusing. They are a hell of an odd couple, particularly when Giovanni drops him into a dip and caresses him to illustrate his all-encompassing passion for women. Lopez provides a pugnacious frenemy, his voice equal in power to his master’s despite the difference in stature and station. His treatment of the book aria - regarding the sacred volume that chronicles Giovanni’s conquests - is even funnier than usual, augmented by fold-out addenda and a poster-size nude sketch of his target audience, Donna Elvira.

The most astounding instrument belongs to Yulan Piao, playing Donna Anna. Her soprano has so much power and charisma that it can actually be a little startling. She does, however, have the ability to throttle it down and shape her dynamics, as in the famed mourning aria, “Non mi dir.” This time, however, I think I prefer “Or sai chi l’onore,” the dramatic retelling of her father’s murder, which takes full advantage of her power and paints a vivid picture.

Anna’s reassurance comes from her betrothed, Don Ottavio, and Jonghyun Park plays the role with a perfect Mozartean tenor, free, clear, and easy, and deployed with a similar attention to artful crescendos and well-shaped lines. Ottavio’s character is frankly annoying; he makes many pledges and rarely actually does anything about it. He’s like Hamlet without the madness. I could understand, however, how pleasant it might be, spending the day listening to him sing such treasures as “Dalla sua pace” and “Il mio tesoro.” And also, everything does turn out well in the end, so perhaps doing nothing actually works! 

Soprano Maria Brea brings a lovely vocal moderation to her Donna Elvira but not (thank goodness) to her acting. Outfitted with a boat-wide gown and a divine three-poof red wig (Calli Carvajal, wig designer), Brea makes her entrance like a woman on fire, with crazy eyes and a stalker aura. The opera’s funniest gag is the way Elvira shows up whenever Giovanni’s about to get lucky. The second funniest gag may be the way she absolutely melts anytime the Don shows her the least attention (as En Vogue sings, “You’re never gonna get it.”).

Nicole Koh sings Zerlina with a feathery agility, while Joseph Park balances Masetto’s jealousy with the knowledge that he is trapped between feminine wiles and a nobleman’s power and had best resign himself to whatever he gets. Kenneth Kellogg, meanwhile, is one scary Commendatore.

The visual packaging dreamed up by stage director Alek Shrader was definitely striking. Steven C. Kemp’s sets featured black and gray backgrounds that set off the more colorful furnishings upstage. This was especially effective in the final banquet scene which gleams golden in its columns and chandeliers. Perhaps the most intriguing elements, however, were the oddly modern rectangular towers, whose rooftop balconies revealed a series of surprise guests. Another oddity was the quartet of musicians, who resembled the party guests from Rocky Horror and, true to form, delighted in dragging Giovanni to hell.

Joseph Marcheso and orchestra were utterly at home in Mozart’s score. I am mad jelly over the riser that gives harpsichordist Veronika Agranov-Dafoe an equidistant view of stage and pit, optimizing her continuo work.

In the humor category, Leporello banged against a door that was supposed to be locked but, much to his chagrin, kept swinging open. He also delivered one of the better lines as he watched Giovanni and Elvira bickering: “This would make a fine opera.”

Through Sept. 27, California Theater, 345 South First Street, San Jose. $49-$249, operasj.org, 408/437-4450.

Michael J. Vaughn is a 40-year opera critic and author of 31 novels, including Operaville and Gabriella’s Voice. Look for his titles at Amazon.com.

Random Thoughts on Opera San Jose's La Traviata

Mikayla Sager as Violetta. Photo by Dave Lepori.

Opera San Jose

La Traviata

April 19, 2026

Opera San Jose’s opening tableau features Violetta in a stunning white gown, sitting in a single spotlight as a trickle of red and white confetti drifts down from the flies. I love stage confetti, but how intriguing that this small stream signifies sadness, while a full rain of the stuff would mean unbridled joy. Little refugees escaped later in the performance, at one point a half dozen of the little rascals, hovering like red butterflies over the second act.

–Like anyone, critics have good days and bad, and at OSJ’s opening matinee I found that my ears were at a dog-like peak. I could hear everything. Our Violetta, Mikayla Sager, has a perfectly balanced vibrato, and when she reaches into the upper strata her voice creates a crystalline lacework of sound. Listening to her work through the mini-marathon of the opening act was a buffet of vocal desserts.

–Our Alfredo, WooYoung Yoon, is equally as lyric, but with a 13 percent share of spinto - just enough to give Alfredo a little force when the going gets tough. His flights above the staff bring a ringing bronze tone, and his attention to dynamics is fantastic. This especially showed in “Dei miei bollenti spiriti,” Alfredo’s Act 2 counting of his blessings, and in the duet section of “Di quell’amore,” which closes with an a capella section that comes across like a sculpture of sound.

–During that remarkable and famous Act 1 self-argument (true love or madcap adventures?), the maid Annina (Nicole Koh) removed Violetta’s skirt, revealing the hose and garters underneath. I understand stage director Tara Branham’s strategy - being more sexual and forthright about Violetta’s profession - but the combination of bare legs and the poofy top created an awkward asymmetry that distracted from the action. Other moves in this direction - a rather Fifty Shades relationship between Violetta and the Baron (Robert Balonek) - were more successful.

–Kidon Choi is a linebacker of a singer with a mountainous baritone. All this force created a very imposing Giorgio Germont, and intensified my utter dislike for the character. And it’s not just operatic veterans who feel this way. My companion, the Keyboard Queen, attending her first Traviata, whispered, “He’s such a D!” Perhaps in a time of old white men hanging on to power by destroying younger people’s lives, we’ve got extra incentives to despise Germont’s meddling. (Put him in a tie with B.F. Pinkerton for villains who don’t know they’re villains.)

–The K-Queen was quite amused by Flora’s Act 2 salon, especially the bullfight. The star was baritone Michael Jesse Kuo, who lent his height and great hair to a splendid faux Carmen, his black slacks and shoes still visible beneath her skirt. The chorus in general was rowdy and vivacious. I enjoyed the way they stacked up at the doors to spy on the budding love triangle at the opening party.

–Sager’s account of “Addio, del passato” was moving and desperate, well suited to the sobbing qualities in her voice. She also coughed up an impressive amount of blood, another directorial choice aimed at keeping things more “real.” The sunset light coming through the opened curtains was strikingly natural, some alchemical fusion cooked up by lighting designer Mitchell Ost.

–I enjoyed the work of conductor Johannes Lohner, who seemed especially attentive to the needs of his singers. Erik Flatmo’s set was especially versatile, using sliding walls to switch from Parisian apartment to country home.

–OSJ offers supertitles in both English and Spanish. With an opera this familiar, I found myself following the Spanish side just to brush up on my skills.

Through May 3, California Theater, 345 S. First Ave., San Jose. 408/437-4450, www.operasj.org. $56-$221.

Michael J. Vaughn is opera critic for the Palo Alto Weekly and the author of 31 novels, including his recent release, Semiprecious, available at Amazon.com.

An Electrifying Cav/Pag at Opera San Jose

Mikayla Sager as Nedda. Photo by David Allen.

Opera San Jose

Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana

Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci

February 15, 2026

Once in a while, a critic encounters a production that’s not about high concepts, big name singers or pyrotechnics, but mostly about getting every little thing right, allowing a masterwork (or two) to be the best incarnation of itself. Such is Opera San Jose’s Cav/Pag, which is simply the most beautifully crafted version of this popular twosome that you are likely to see.

Let’s begin with Stephen C. Kemp’s set, a charming Sicilian village that climbs its seaside cliffs all the way into the flies. The square is fitted with an elegant set of broad steps, a homey trattoria and a stately church entrance. Each little domicile has its own light that comes on at dusk, and the set of trees along the steps come in both Cav (oranges and leaves) and Pag (barren branched) varietals. I’m ready to move in tomorrow.

A morning tryst reveals the tragic flaw of our young Turiddu, a young horndog who has dumped his lover Santuzza to fool around with Alfio’s wife Lola. They hide away as villagers filter into the square for Easter mass. The people and their judgements prove to be an important element in the drama, and the OSJ chorus - along with members of the Vivace Youth Chorus - are excellent throughout, providing an ever-swirling background for the action.

Soprano Maria Natale lends her strong, broad tones to Santuzza, not only dumped by Turiddu but excommunicated for her scandalous behavior. The two bulls headed directly for each other, Turiddu and cart-driver Alfio, are equipped with plentiful servings of spinto and testosterone. Both tenor Christopher Oglesby and baritone Kidon Choi possess rich, powerful instruments. Choi stays surly throughout, but Oglesby shows a sensitive, lyric side, particularly in his frightened farewell to his mother before going off to do battle (his opening cry of “Mamma!” got an unexpected laugh). With his powerful build and an opening swagger-song reminiscent of Bizet’s Toreador Song, Choi’s Alfio is definitely not the guy you want to tick off.

Courtney Miller has an enchanting lyric mezzo, and I found myself wishing that Lola had more lines. She and her gang of shorter gal-pals gave off a comic aura of Mean Girls, which added to the opera’s critique of Catholic judgementalism. Mezzo Jill Grove gave a heartfelt performance of Mama Lucia, leading to a poignant final image of the town’s women gathering around her to offer condolences. (Whoever provided the blood-curdling offstage screams to report Turiddu’s killing needs to get a job in Hollywood stat.)

The evening did offer one big name: conductor Alma Deutscher, the former prodigy composer who continues with her OSJ relationship. Her graceful conducting style is always a pleasure to watch, and I especially enjoy her use of her left hand for crisp cutoffs and dynamic signals, reminiscent of a choir director. Deutscher’s orchestra brought out a particular sweetness in the strings, particularly in the early morning opening. What came out in Pagliacci were the many sturm und drang explosives of perhaps opera’s most passionate creation, underlined by a provocative use of percussion.

Shawna Lucey adds to her CEO duties by taking on the stage directing for this run, and the results are magnificent. During an early scene - the villagers excitedly greeting the traveling theater troupe - I noticed a standard scene of gamboling children near the church steps. But there was a specificity to it. The child performers had devised a game, whereby a swatter borrowed from the clown served as a weapon in a game of tag. These kind of fine touches went on constantly in the village’s background, signs of a director who wanted authentic little lives all across her created world.

The whole thing rests on Canio, the classic sad clown, and Ben Gulley’s early scenes had me a little worried. His tenor was not entirely “in the groove.” But no worries - he soon warmed up and caught fire, delivering a memorable reading of “Vesti la giubba” (arguably the best-known aria ever). The scene is both a reminder of the aria’s remarkable brevity and the frenetic pacing that leads to the violent ending. (Imagine finding out that your girlfriend has dumped you right before you give an important presentation at a conference.)

Soprano Mikayla Sager makes a charming Nedda and an even more enchanting Columbina (her commedia dell’arte persona); her voice went more lyric and her movements precise and playful. Her facial acting, as she realized that Canio was no longer acting at all, was fascinating to watch.

Kidon Choi returns from Cav-land to give an ebullient account of the Prologue (Leoncavallo’s commentary on the thin line between art and reality). He then plays Tonio, a sleazy hunchback performer who receives a kick to the groin for his advances on Nedda (rough night, Mr. Choi). Tenor Micah Perry shows a special talent for physical humor as Beppe/Harlequin; his best gag involved sitting in the audience and tossing popcorn at his mouth, purposely missing so he could pelt the folks in the row behind. And I loved Luis Alejandro Orozco’s rich baritone as Nedda’s lover Silvio.

All of which leads to the best damn ending I’ve ever seen. Canio, playing Pagliaccio the clown/wronged husband, gets louder and louder and starts hurling furniture around the stage. The villagers slowly realize that Canio is no longer acting and flee up the steps as he pulls out his knife. He corners Nedda and delivers a brutal double stabbing to the gut, causing the (real) audience to gasp almost as one. Canio brandishes his knife at the villagers, then turns back to see Silvio embracing Nedda’s crumpled form. He grins, having identified his target, and rushes in to finish the slaughter. The final tableau - Canio standing over his victims, stark lights coming in from overhead (Michael James Clark, designer), the square littered with chairs and cowering villagers - is a painting by Caravaggio. He raises his arms and delivers Canio’s infamous final line: “La commedia e finita!”

I mean, damn.

I am a connoisseur of these onstage “paintings,” and I had one for Cavalleria as well. Santuzza is sprawled across the broad steps, reaching for her departed Turiddu, an echo of Andrew Wyeth’s “Christina’s World.” The costumes in both one-acts were sublime, timed around World War I. Pagliacci was costumed by Cathleen Edwards, Cavalleria by Howard Tsvi Kaplan of Sarasota Opera.

One final note: my particular Valentine’s weekend included this Cav/Pag and an opening of Salome at West Bay Opera. Don’t accuse these companies of pandering to holiday marketing!

Through March 1, California Theater, 345 S. First Street, San Jose. $58-$215. 408/437-4450, operasj.org.

Michael J. Vaughn is an opera/theater critic for the Palo Alto Weekly and author of 31 novels. His latest, Semiprecious, is available at Amazon.com.

Pinning Down Butterfly

 

Emily Michiko Jensen as Butterfly
Photo by David Allen

Madama Butterfly

Opera San Jose

November 16, 2025

Director Michelle Cuizon and her forces make some interesting tweaks to Puccini’s great tragedy in this production. Some work, some don’t, but she operates with the luxury of strong principal voices and Joseph Marcheso’s orchestra, whose divine playing reveals the sonic gems in the score.

(I’ve reviewed this opera twenty-plus times, so I’m going to afford myself a little stream-of-consciousness. Enjoy the ride.)

Let’s talk about Sharpless, the American consul, who is one of the more malleable characters in the opera. Eugene Brancoveanu, who seems to have become a permanent OSJ fixture, brings to the character an unusually strong presence, owing to his height and resonant baritone. He balances this by giving Sharpless a great degree of sensitivity. In the final act, when the Pinkertons arrive to claim Butterfly’s son, Trouble, Sharpless looks absolutely tortured, and snaps at Pinkerton’s cowardice. Great acting.

I have never heard such enthusiastic booing for Pinkerton, but perhaps we’re a little sensitive these days about American authority figures abusing young women. Tenor Christopher Oglesby even encouraged it, offering a “bring it on” gesture straight out of professional wrestling. Oglesby did an excellent job of playing the weasel in the final act, leaving his second wife to do the dirty work of claming his first wife’s kid. But he also did a great job earlier, playing the dashing romantic on his wedding night, applying his effortless, confident singing to the epic first-act duets. His top notes are gold.

Not that Puccini hated Americans. In fact, the Pinkerton character was originally Dutch. Puccini, after his trip to New York, became a great fan of all things American. So Pinkerton became a Yankee and Puccini quoted the Star Spangled Banner in his score. Later, he turned another Belasco play into The Girl of the Golden West, featuring Italian-singing California miners who said things like “Stockton,” “Sacramento” while drinking  “viskey.”

As for our Butterfly, Emily Michiko Jensen plays the part with exceptional elegance. Vocally, she is equally as assured as her stagemates, with a bel canto in-the-mask technique that produces a spinning quality in her tone. I do wish that she would play more with her dynamics and phrasing, but younger singers are not always afforded the leeway for such things. Her “Un bel di” is magnificent and moving, sprouting like a sudden bloom from a conversation with Suzuki.

About ten years ago, I began telling my friends that “Un bel di” translated as “One Fine Day,” and in fact inspired the girl-group hit of that name. It was one of those lies that one tells as a joke. Eventually, however, I looked it up online and discovered that Carole King saw a performance of Madama Butterfly and thought that the title “One Fine Day” would be great for a pop song. So my made-up lie was actually true!

The principal variation by stage director Michelle Cuizon is to place a young Asian man (Thien-An Truong) and an older friend (Kyounghee Lee) at the edges of the action, seeming to watch it as if they were viewing a play. This turns out to be the grown-up version of Butterfly’s son, Trouble, come home to see his birthplace with the now-elderly housekeeper Suzuki. In the end, I think this innovation worked, especially with grown-up Trouble’s reaction to the final tragedy.

(A note about that tragedy. I’m sorry, I’m going to need something more visceral than a pretend slash to the throat. Even turning her back to the audience would have at least left it to the imagination. Opera companies in general are notoriously bad at fake killings.)

Other, smaller twists included having American nurses and consulate staff at the wedding. I enjoyed this; it brought out the cultural blendings and clashes of Nagasaki. Another change came in Act II, when Butterfly’s rich suitor, Prince Yamadori (Haoran Li) shows up in a naval uniform similar to Pinkerton’s. The traditional presentation gives Yamadori an extravagant Japanese outfit, befitting his status and vanity. But it makes sense to imply that Goro (Ilhee Lee) makes his money completely off of sailors.

The floral celebration that generally accompanies the arrival of Pinkerton’s warship is vastly muted here. I was disappointed, since the scattering of petals is a joyous, visually arresting scene, and such a stark contrast to the impending tragedy.

The orchestra under Joseph Marcheso really lives and breathes this score, bringing out every delicious touch of Puccini’s score: the booming brass of the wedding scene, the low drumroll that foretells Butterfly’s terrible fate. And especially the playful melody in the strings that underplays Sharpless as he attempts to read Pinkerton’s letter. The melody reappears soon after in the Humming Chorus, played as Butterfly keeps watch over the harbor.

A more visual overlap comes in the form of Kate Pinkerton’s lovely skirt (designed by Julie Engelbrecht), a light brown affair with lace around the waist. The skirt mirrors a similar one worn by Butterfly, creating a subtle connection between the two. In general, the production was visually stunning, thanks in large part to the black backdrop of Kent Dorsey’s scenic design and the work of lighting designer Eric Watkins. The result was a series of stage scenarios that resembled large, live-action paintings.

Through Nov. 30, California Theater, 345 S. First Street, San Jose. $58-$215. operasj.org, 40/437-4450

Michael J. Vaughn is a 40-year opera critic and the author of 30 novels, including his most recent, I Look for You in the Crowd, available at Amazon.

A Cozy Cosi

 

Emily Michiko Jensen, Nicole Koh and Jonghyun Park.
Photo by David Allen.

Opera San Jose

Cosi fan tutte

September 14, 2025

Mozart’s battle of the sexes could be considered one of the world’s first (and finest) sitcoms. Opera San Jose stage director Alek Shrader really leans into that idea, creating a cozy production with a perfectly cast set of players.

Shrader’s approach is more whimsical than over-the-top (more Chaplin than Marx Bros.), leading to moments of gentle humor that tickle the frontal cortex as well as the funny bone. At the second-act curtain, an anonymous hand tosses four lemons onstage. Being plastic lemons, they scatter, leaving poor Nicole Koh, playing Despina the housemaid, to pick them up as she sings. My immediate thought was, She has to follow a different route every performance! Which John Cage would have loved.

Koh is also a perfect example of sacrificing vocal beauty for the sake of comedy. We know she’s got great pipes - OSJ patrons know her from her Queen of the Night - but with Despina she spends the evening snarling and whining about her spoiled patrons. Her physical humor is brilliant; at one point she illustrates what the girls should do with their strange Albanian visitors by riding a settee like a bucking bronco.

We are graced yet again with bass-baritone Dale Travis, playing Don Alfonso, the initiator of the wager that begins all this hanky-panky. Travis goes for the doddering prankster look, complete with the twin-peaked Don Pasquale wig. Our Foirdiligi, soprano Emily Michiko Jensen, is fearless in matters both vocal and postural. Between draping herself upside-down from the furniture and lifting the poor tenor onto an ottoman with illicit intent, she attacks the hugely intervalled “Come scoglio” with a dramatic-soprano ferocity.

In contrast, tenor Jonghyun Park plays Ferrando with a vulnerable romanticism, inspiring pangs of sympathy when he’s the first to be betrayed. His performance of the love song to love, “Un aura amarosa,” was a treasure of simple elegance and tonal purity.

Baritone Ricardo Jose Rivera gets the most out of Guglielmo’s football-quarterback smugness, wrestling with the Bro Code for perhaps five seconds before putting the moves on his Best Friend’s Girl. Later, he mercilessly flaunts his victory before Ferrando. (Don’t worry - he’ll get his.)

Mezzo Joanne Evans is like the magic elixir that makes everyone else look good. She and Jensen both have magnificent stage faces; Evans is best at Dorabella’s look of scandalized-yet-aroused. Her voice shines during her duets with Fiordiligi, notably the closing passages of “Ah, guarda sorella,” which produced numerous tinglings of the spine.

One of the more memorable orchestral moments came soon after in “Soave sia il vento,” the wavering strings tone-painting a sunrise over the ocean. This reflected the overall approach of Joseph Marcheso and his troops, who played with a deftly light touch. I am a connoisseur of recitative, and was perfectly seated to watch both sides of the conversations between harpsichordist Veronika Agranov-Dafoe and her singers.

The production design was classic and lovely, from Steven C. Kemp’s graceful Italian walls to Elizabeth Poindexter’s crisp period costumes (especially Ferrando and Guglielmo’s military uniforms). I also enjoyed the perfectly spheroid lemon trees, which multiplied as the evening progressed.

OSJ is giving its patrons a say in how the opera ends, through an online voting process. It’s really just a matter of pairing up folks for the final number, and doesn’t affect the score. But it is kind of fun.

Through Sept. 28, California Theater, 345 S. First Street, San Jose. $58-$215, operasj.org, 408/437-4450.

Michael J. Vaughn is opera critic for the Palo Alto Weekly and the author of 30 novels. His recent Punks for the Opera is available at Amazon.com.

A Lively, Entertaining Zorro in San Jose

 

Eugene Brancoveanu as Moncada, Xavier Prado
as Zorro. Photo by David Allen.

Opera San Jose

Hector Armienta’s Zorro

April 19, 2025

I spent the afternoon protesting the oppression of poor brown people in America. I spent the evening watching an opera about the oppression of poor brown people in America. That’s how very, sadly topical is Hector Armienta’s Zorro. It’s also a very entertaining and action-packed show, but the currency of its central message makes it especially relevant.

Based on John McCulley’s 1919 novel and a stream of follow-up variations, the story centers on Diego de la Vega, an Alta California kid who returns from his education in Spain to his hometown, Pueblo de Los Angeles. Since his father’s death, the city has fallen under the rule of Moncada, a cruel mayor who freely tortures everyone but the landed Spanish gentry.

Armiento, who also wrote the libretto, develops his first act at a leisurely pace, but there’s a certain pleasure in watching him spread unrecquited love all over the city like landmines. Diego ended a love affair with Carlota just before her powerful family backed Moncada’s ascension. Diego, meanwhile, has the hots for childhood friend Ana Maria, but she’s wholly occupied with saving the region’s poor and needy citizens. Moncada, meanwhile, was Diego’s university pal, but their friendship ended badly and he sees Carlota as an opportunity for a juicy vengeance.

Driven by Ana Maria’s encouragement and his late father’s devotion to justice, Diego crashes a masquerade party in the classic black hat, mask and cape and takes on Moncada’s soldiers, leaving a couple of them with the classic Z-shaped wound. And a legend is born.

Armienta is an unapologetic Romantic in the Puccini tradition. He handles dialogue in the through-composed style of the later Puccini, but when it comes to set pieces, he dips into the rich Latin/Mexican tradition, drawing from mariachi, flamenco and corrido music. It’s an intriguing blend. Compositionally, he reaches his peak with the Act I quartet, the four principals singing their desires and conflicts over an incredibly lush outpouring from the orchestra (led by Jorge Parodi). This deft handling of multiple voices reminded me of another Italian composer, Verdi.

Tenor Xavier Prado brings a charming underdog quality to Diego, full of swagger but also a self-questioning vulnerability. His middle range began a bit covered, but above the staff his tone rang like a bell. He also excelled in the quiet passages, notably in the Act 2 love duet with soprano Maria Brea as Ana Maria. And he performed a steamy flamenco dance with Brea, this time in his guise as Zorro.

Mezzo Melisa Bonetti Luna uses Carlota’s Act 2 aria to deliver a meaty psychological dilemma: does one respond to rejection with the obvious vengeance, or is it better to wish the object of your affections a happy life? Her performance in this piece was passionate and moving.

Baritone Eugene Brancoveanu is eminently fierce and hissable as Moncada, but also sings so beautifully that it’s hard not to enjoy it. His impatience with his oafish Sergeant Gomez (bass-baritone Jesus Vicente Murillo) lends a touch of ‘30s madcap comedy. Don’t feel bad for Gomez, however. He ends up with the beautiful housemaid Luisa, leading to the most relatable romance in the opera. Luisa sees Gomez as a hero, and Gomez has no idea why. Soprano Arianna Rodriguez sings Luisa with the most dazzling voice in the cast, diamond-like in its brilliance.

The production is performed in alternating phrases of English and Spanish. I would have preferred all Spanish - it being the more singable language - but I can see where Spanglish is a distinctly California phenomenon. I wondered, in fact, if this was confusing to the singers, but they didn’t show any flubs. Another little “code-switch” was one of the peasant mothers threatening a soldier with her shoe, which is a long-standing Mexican/Chicano joke.

I really enjoyed the colorful, authentic costumes of designer Ulises Alcala, particularly the sharp colonial uniforms. Liliana Duque-Pineiro’s scenic design also delivered that authenticity, adobe surfaces with rough-hewn timbers. Her sets were like little puzzle boxes, endlessly shifting. Slide an altar out of the wall, drop down a crucifix and tada! Villa to chapel in seconds. (That air of authenticity ran through the production, which is such a welcome distinction from the sometimes-hokey stereotypes of Hollywood Zorros.)

The swordfighting was so intricate and edgy, I really did worry that someone was going to get hurt. Kudos to the cast, stage director David Radames Toro and fight choreographer Dave Maier.

Through May 4, California Theater, 345 S. First Street, San Jose. $58-$215. 408/437-4450. operasj.org. OSJ’s ‘25-’26 season will include Cosi fan tutte (Sept. 14-28), Madama Butterfly (Nov. 16-30), Cavelleria Rusticana and Pagliacci (Feb. 15-March 1) and La Traviata (April 19-May 3).

Michael J. Vaughn is a 40-year opera critic and author of 30 novels. His latest, I Look for You in the Crowd, is available at Amazon. 

The Hypnotizing Case of Bluebeard's Castle

 Opera San Jose

Bartok: Bluebeard’s Castle

February 15, 2025

Seeing Bartok’s 1918 one-act is not just a rare opportunity, it’s a mesmerizing one. It would be difficult to experience this work without having the furniture in one’s mind fully rearranged.

Taken from a French legend told by Charles Perrault, Bela Belazs’s libretto carries a fairly discursive pattern. In her desire to marry the mysterious bad boy next door, Judith (Maria Natale) comes to his castle and is led through a series of seven doors, each revealing an aspect of its owner’s life, the last of these completely verboten.

The unsettling mood is set up immediately by Steven C. Kemp’s gorgeous gothic set, two high stone walls outfitted with doors of different shapes and colors and an array of grand mismatched chandeliers. The seventh door stands at the top of a set of stairs, carved and golden.

Bluebeard himself (Zachary Nelson) opens with a spoken prologue, which in itself is an unsettling opening for an audience primed for singing. Our heroine arrives in a sexy sheer bridal outfit that looks a little Taylor Swiftian (Caitlin Cisek, costume designer).

The riddles begin, and one by one the doors are opened: a torture chamber, a store of bloody weaponry. A fairly creepy beginning, but it’s also hard to decipher the back-and-forth between bride and groom. Is this foreplay, or is this a cat playing with a mouse before killing it? 

This perilous little tennis match is represented in the music, as well. Bluebeard, often seated, sings plainy and in the pentatonic mode, often repeating the phrase “Are you frightened?” Judith moves restlessly about the chamber as she quizzes her suitor, singing in richer modalities inspired by Debussy. She also applies trickier rhythms, triplets and shifting signatures taken from Transylvanian folk music.

Joseph Marcheso and his orchestra do an amazing job of delivering this demanding score. The proceedings reach a grand climax with the revelation of Bluebeard’s expansive landholdings, represented by a burst into C major and the sublime rumbling of the California Theater’s Wurlitzer organ, played by Veronika Agranov-Dafoe.

Nelson sings Bluebeard with a calm presence and a rich baritone, providing the possibility for both menace and kindness. Soprano Natale does a superb job of exploring Judith’s emotions, giving the tale its necessary dramatic throughline.

Stage director Shawna Lucey leans into the story’s feminist implications, underlining the power plays between authoritarian male and disadvantaged female - but I would add a further interpretation. Judith is horrified at the violence revealed by the first two doors, but her disgust lessens as she sees the gold, gardens and lands that came as a result. And there’s your modern oligarchy.

Lighting designer Michael Clark achieved some innovative effects with the door openings, particularly the shimmering of Bluebeard’s treasures. There’s a bit of license taken with the ending, but the change is actually much closer to Perrault’s original story.

Through March 2, California Theater, 345 S. First Street, San Jose. $58-$215, operasj.org, 408/437-4450. In English with English and Spanish supertitles.

Michael J. Vaughn is a 40-year opera critic and author of thirty novels, including his latest, I Look for You in the Crowd, available at Amazon.com.

Image: Maria Natale as Judith, Zachary Nelson as Bluebeard. Photo by David Allen.