San Francisco Opera: Wagner’s Lohengrin

October 24, 2012

Under director Daniel Slater and designer Robert Innes Hopkins, Lohengrin takes flight from its original tenth century to the Hungarian Revolution of 1956, a shift that provides apt political parallels and the increased relevancy of a more contemporary time-stamp. The central setting is a cavernous abandoned library; the pivotal wedding-night scene takes place in a postage-stamp bedroom resembling a diorama or a television screen.

The primary vocal delight is tenor Brandon Jovanovich, who played Siegmunde in SFO’s 2011 Ring Cycle. Jovanovich is a wonder, delivering the lyricism and phrasing of a Verdian tenor without losing the sheer force of a heldentenor. His instrument is almost a magic trick, and a fitting attribute for a mysterious, god-like hero (delivered by a swan to save an unstable country). His reading of Lohengrin’s confession, “In fernem Land,” is filled with indescribably gorgeous passages of legato.

Playing Lohengrin’s love interest, Elsa, soprano Camilla Nylund proves an able match – particularly in the Act 2 Breeze Song – but her acting doesn’t come across. When Ortrud hurls Elsa’s wedding bouquet to the ground, she shows barely any reaction at all.

Quite the opposite is Petra Lang’s portrayal of Ortrud, a whirling dervish of evil intent. Her sustained end-notes go on forever, musical evidence of of Ortrud’s obsessiveness. Her husband and co-villain, Friedrich, is played by bass-baritone Gerd Grochowski with quirky charisma and a chilling lower range. His performance of Friedrich’s list of grievances, “Durch dich musst’ ich verlieren,” is resoundingly creepy. Together they make a pair worthy of the Macbeths or “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf,” and offered a welcome antidote to the glacial pace of Wagner’s storytelling.

Sometimes I fear for Nicola Luisotti’s well-being, he conducts so energetically, but he certainly draws the most from his orchestra. The tastiest offerings were the elegantly shifting strings of the prelude, the celebrated Act 3 introduction and the sheer force of the opera’s many triple-forte blasts, particularly in the horns (the brass also shone in Elsa’s account of her dream-knight, “Einsam in trüben Tagen”). A cozier delight came from the four onstage herald trumpets – David Burkhart, Scott Macomber, John Freeman and Jeffrey Lewandowski – who introduced the many royal pronouncements, and also the six trumpets that played from the second-tier organ bays.

The men’s chorus was superb, especially in the unaccompanied passages. It’s a shame that Wagner later rejected choruses, which he abjured as a part of the grand opera tradition.

A note of intrigue came from the child role of Gottfried, which had to be divided between Dylan Zorn (Act 1) and Ivan Kiryakin (Act 3) due to child labor laws forbidding more than three hours’ work on a school night.The production appeared previously at the Houston Grand Opera and Grand Thèatre de Genève.

Through November 9 at the War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco. $22-$340, www.sfopera.com, 415/864-3330.

Images: Gerd Grochowski (Friedrich von Telramund) and Brandon Jovanovich (Lohengrin). Petra Lang (Ortrud) and Gerd Grochowski (Friedrich von Telramund). Photos by Cory Weaver.

Michael J. Vaughn is the author of the novel Operaville, available at amazon.com.

San Francisco Opera: Heggie's Moby Dick

October 13, 2012

Having sailed its way through Dallas, San Diego, Calgary and Australia, Moby-Dick made port in San Francisco, providing powerful evidence that Jake Heggie, with his dedication to singer and story, is the best opera composer going. Heggie also has a view of musical history as not something to be avoided (as so many composers in the late 20^th century seemed to do) but as a toolbox to be applied in relating a story to an audience.

A great example is the use of tonal cycling in Moby-Dick. Opera minimalists use the device as an hours-long drone. Heggie takes advantage of its propulsive, rolling sounds to evoke the ocean and drive the tension, and then moves on to something else. He also writes (gasp!) set pieces containing (gasp!) actual, lyrical melody. Some of these pieces even contained the kind of melodic arches native to Puccini’s arias.

The opera opens with a stunning projection of stars turning into constellations turning into a sailing ship, followed by a small opening scene and then a grand chorus of brass and sailors as they work an impressive collection of masts and riggings. The proceedings are interrupted by Ahab’s stentorian shout of “Infinity!” (Could an icon have a better entrance?) From there, Gene Scheer’s libretto moves quickly from one conflict to the next, most of them concerning Ahab’s white-whale obsession and Starbuck’s belief that this obsession will lead the Pequod’s crew into danger. The architecture and pace of the libretto is beautiful, and makes much use of the language in Melville’s novel.

The first whaling scene takes that conflict and makes it physical. Robert Brill’s ingenious set curves steeply at the back, allowing the sailors to ride boat-shaped projections (designed by Elaine J. McCarthy) as if they were navigating the face of a wave. (Those tossed overboard slide down the curve into the drink.) The cast performs with great athleticism, both in this scene and in a wild fight in Act II (stage director Leonard Foglia, fight director Jonathan Rider). The sole female, soprano Talise Trevigne one-ups them all by singing aloft, a bracing facsimile of the cabin boy Pip’s journey beneath the water’s surface.

Vocally, the cast is high on testosterone and force – most of all Jay Hunter Morris, who endows Ahab with a heldentenor presence (he sang Siegfried in SFO’s 2011 Ring Cycle), and also delivers Ahab’s unexpected moments of intellect and poetry. Heggie provides him with a masterful manifesto, “I leave a white and turbid wake.”

Baritone Morgan Smith gives Ahab a reasoned, capable opponent in Starbuck, whose many reflections on his home and family in Nantucket carry folk touches reminiscent of Carlisle Floyd. His soliloquy, “He would have shot me,” goes the other direction, carrying the kind of morbid tension exhibited in Heggie’s confession scene from Dead Man Walking, as Starbuck considers murdering Ahab in his sleep.

Samoan bass Jonathan Lemalu possesses both the heritage and the presence for Queequeg, adding an exotic element to the story and music (if he had a leitmotif, it would be percussion). Lemalu brings out a noble gentleness amid the storms of the Pequod crew, especially in the friendship duet with the Greenhorn, sung as they dangle from the riggings.

Tenor Stephen Costello performs superbly as the Greenhorn, who serves as the “innocent eyes” of the narrative, and also, in Scheer’s deft conflation, in place of the narrator Ishmael. (The placement of the novel’s first line is itself a piece of goose-bump genius.) Baritone Robert Orth provides comic relief with the second mate Stubb, in the chanty-like “Spanish Ladies.” An additional old-fashioned melody appears in “Lost in the heart of the sea,” sung by the chorus as they search for Pip. The chorus’s unison cry of “We are one” is a riveting, Verdian device, driven by snare drum and brass.

Ahab’s final cataclysm is delivered by striking projections of water, constellations, the Pequod and the eye of the whale. The sum is certainly effective, but not a match for what I imagined. Sadly, what I imagined is probably not possible on an opera stage.

Patrick Summers led his orchestra through Heggie’s score with great gusto. I especially enjoyed the xylophone, which lent a sharp edge to the dicier moments. The second act begins to drag toward the end, but the slowdown makes a good prelude to the sudden sighting of the white whale. Ahab’s call of “There she blows” is answered by heart-stopping explosions from the orchestra.

Images: Jay Hunter Morris (Captain Ahab). Talise Trevigne (Pip). The whaleboats. The deck of the Pequod. Stephen Costello (Greenhorn) and Jonathan Lemalu (Queegueg). Photos by Cory Weaver.

Through Nov. 2, War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Ave., San Francisco. $22-$340, www.sfopera.com, 415/864-3330

Michael J. Vaughn is the author of the novel Operaville, available at Amazon.com.

San Francisco Opera: Heggie’s Moby-Dick

October 13, 2012

Having sailed its way through Dallas, San Diego, Calgary and Australia, Moby-Dick made port in San Francisco, providing powerful evidence that Jake Heggie, with his dedication to singer and story, is the best opera composer going. Heggie also has a view of musical history as not something to be avoided (as so many composers in the late 20^th century seemed to do) but as a toolbox to be applied in relating a story to an audience.

A great example is the use of tonal cycling in Moby-Dick. Opera minimalists use the device as an hours-long drone. Heggie takes advantage of its propulsive, rolling sounds to evoke the ocean and drive the tension, and then moves on to something else. He also writes (gasp!) set pieces containing (gasp!) actual, lyrical melody. Some of these pieces even contained the kind of melodic arches native to Puccini’s arias.

The opera opens with a stunning projection of stars turning into constellations turning into a sailing ship, followed by a small opening scene and then a grand chorus of brass and sailors as they work an impressive collection of masts and riggings. The proceedings are interrupted by Ahab’s stentorian shout of “Infinity!” (Could an icon have a better entrance?) From there, Gene Scheer’s libretto moves quickly from one conflict to the next, most of them concerning Ahab’s white-whale obsession and Starbuck’s belief that this obsession will lead the Pequod’s crew into danger. The architecture and pace of the libretto is beautiful, and makes much use of the language in Melville’s novel.

The first whaling scene takes that conflict and makes it physical. Robert Brill’s ingenious set curves steeply at the back, allowing the sailors to ride boat-shaped projections (designed by Elaine J. McCarthy) as if they were navigating the face of a wave. (Those tossed overboard slide down the curve into the drink.) The cast performs with great athleticism, both in this scene and in a wild fight in Act II (stage director Leonard Foglia, fight director Jonathan Rider). The sole female, soprano Talise Trevigne one-ups them all by singing aloft, a bracing facsimile of the cabin boy Pip’s journey beneath the water’s surface.

Vocally, the cast is high on testosterone and force – most of all Jay Hunter Morris, who endows Ahab with a heldentenor presence (he sang Siegfried in SFO’s 2011 Ring Cycle), and also delivers Ahab’s unexpected moments of intellect and poetry. Heggie provides him with a masterful manifesto, “I leave a white and turbid wake.”

Baritone Morgan Smith gives Ahab a reasoned, capable opponent in Starbuck, whose many reflections on his home and family in Nantucket carry folk touches reminiscent of Carlisle Floyd. His soliloquy, “He would have shot me,” goes the other direction, carrying the kind of morbid tension exhibited in Heggie’s confession scene from Dead Man Walking, as Starbuck considers murdering Ahab in his sleep.

Samoan bass Jonathan Lemalu possesses both the heritage and the presence for Queequeg, adding an exotic element to the story and music (if he had a leitmotif, it would be percussion). Lemalu brings out a noble gentleness amid the storms of the Pequod crew, especially in the friendship duet with the Greenhorn, sung as they dangle from the riggings.

Tenor Stephen Costello performs superbly as the Greenhorn, who serves as the “innocent eyes” of the narrative, and also, in Scheer’s deft conflation, in place of the narrator Ishmael. (The placement of the novel’s first line is itself a piece of goose-bump genius.) Baritone Robert Orth provides comic relief with the second mate Stubb, in the chanty-like “Spanish Ladies.” An additional old-fashioned melody appears in “Lost in the heart of the sea,” sung by the chorus as they search for Pip. The chorus’s unison cry of “We are one” is a riveting, Verdian device, driven by snare drum and brass.

Ahab’s final cataclysm is delivered by striking projections of water, constellations, the Pequod and the eye of the whale. The sum is certainly effective, but not a match for what I imagined. Sadly, what I imagined is probably not possible on an opera stage.

Patrick Summers led his orchestra through Heggie’s score with great gusto. I especially enjoyed the xylophone, which lent a sharp edge to the dicier moments. The second act begins to drag toward the end, but the slowdown makes a good prelude to the sudden sighting of the white whale. Ahab’s call of “There she blows” is answered by heart-stopping explosions from the orchestra.

Images: Jay Hunter Morris (Captain Ahab). Talise Trevigne (Pip). The whaleboats. The deck of the Pequod. Stephen Costello (Greenhorn) and Jonathan Lemalu (Queegueg). Photos by Cory Weaver.

Through Nov. 2, War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Ave., San Francisco. $22-$340, www.sfopera.com, 415/864-3330

Michael J. Vaughn is the author of the novel Operaville, available at Amazon.com.

West Bay Opera: Offenbach’s Les Contes d’Hoffmann

October 12, 2012

West Bay has assembled a production packed with vocal talent – including three of the finest alumni from Opera San Jose’s residency program – and a smart, visually stunning production design. It’s a brilliant concoction, marrying the best of Silicon Valley technology with the potent imaginations of both its composer and its protagonist.

Playing the title character, tenor Christopher Bengochea is a force of nature, singing with a broad, wolfish timbre in the middle ranges, bursting into bronze tones above the staff, and attacking the stage with great athleticism. In the opening scene, Bongochea meanders from the song about the dwarf Kleinzach, taking the audience into the ether of its impassioned bridge, and just stays in that elevated state for the rest of the opera. He is the perfect singer to play the love-tormented, charismatic writer.

Another perfect match is mezzo Betany Coffland as Hoffmann’s muse-turned-companion Nicklausse. Representing the eye of the opera’s hurricane, Coffland sings with inspiring clarity and a perfect sense for phrasing. Her performance of “Vois sous l’archet frémissant,” a paean to music and creativity, is captivating.

The third OSJ alum, Rochelle Bard, takes on all three soprano roles, which may seem crazily ambitious but, in fact, fulfills Offenbach’s original concept, the three heroines that turn out to be merely facets of a fourth, the opera singer Stella. Bard shows some hesitancy with the first, the singing doll Olympia (whose canary coloratura is not Bard’s strength), but settles in by the second verse, applying playful ornamentation and some great physical comedy. Antonia, the star-crossed singer, is more in Bard’s zone, especially the duet with Hoffmann, “C’est une chanson d’amour.” But the real delights in Bard’s singing come from the small touches: a ravishing offstage cadenza, finely felt dynamic lines, and the delicate, chilling trill that accompanies Antonia’s death. She performs the third heroine, the courtesan Giuiletta, with a bit of marinara, like Susanna in Le Nozze di Figaro.

Bass-baritone Robert Stafford plays the devil-as-four-characters with a delicious creepiness, not to mention a running fashion show of rock-star jackets (Abra Berman, costume designer). The ultimate was his turn as Dr. Miracle in “Pour conjurer le danger,” interviewing an empty chair (hello, Clint Eastwood) as he torments Antonia’s father (baritone Carlos Aguilar). Stafford also drove the glorious trio with Antonia and her deceased mother, sung by mezzo Michelle Rice. By the final act, he sounded a little worn-out, and frankly I don’t blame him.

West Bay assembled an impressive cast of supporting singers, notably baritone Martin Bell as the innkeeper and Schlèmil, and tenor Trey Costerisan, who provided some fun with the aging servant Frantz’s “Jour et nuit je me mets en quatre.” The chorus delivered plentiful energy – and occasionally too much, as they got ahead of the beat (a common choral calamity). José Luis Moscovich and his musicians were on the mark all night, delivering great curtains of sound from their orchestral cave (at times, Moscovich was close enough to his tenor to shake hands).

Jean-Francois Revon’s set design is sheer genius. The accordion-shaped walls of the opening-scene tavern serve as projection screens for the three tales: a collage of gearworks for Olympia, burning candles for Antonia, Italian artworks (and a gondola) for Giulietta. The great power of this is that Hoffmann is telling these tales inside those same tavern walls. There are also two eye-catching uses of video, Antonia’s dead mother coming to life inside a portrait (hello, Harry Potter) and the theft of Hoffmann’s reflection.

Another delight are the steampunk motifs in the costumes and furniture (steampunk style is based on a fusion of modern technology with 19^th century culture – lots of gears and metal and colored glasses). Stage director Ragnar Conde did an excellent job of keeping all these elements in the flow of the action. The result is a vastly entertaining production that brings out the magical realism of Hoffmann’s fertile imagination (a century before that term was coined).

Through Oct. 21, Lucie Stern Theater, 1305 Middlefield Road, Palo Alto, California. $40-$75. 650/424-9999, www.WBOpera.org

Images: Tenor Christopher Bengochea, mezzo Betany Coffland as Hoffmann and his muse. Photo by Otak Jump.

Michael J. Vaughn is author of the novel Operaville, available at amazon.com

San Francisco Opera: Bellini’s I Capuleti e I Montecchi

October 3, 2012

Much is made of the fact that Romani’s libretto for this opera is not based on Shakespeare but on earlier Italian sources (the same ones that Shakespeare drew on for Romeo and Juliet). This does not change the fact that R & J is whirring through the minds of the audience, bringing out all the things that are sorely lacking in I Capuleti e I Montecchi. Primarily, the great poetry and intimacy that builds the central relationship and makes us actually give a damn about their deaths.

Not that San Francisco didn’t try to overcome. In a co-production with Munich’s Bavarian State Opera, SFO threw out every provocative notion they could find to amp up the proceedings. Fashion designer Christian Lacroix brought his rather weighty presence to the costumes, with mixed results. Outfitting the men in late-19^th-century top hats brought a certain heft to the power politics but took away the usual menace of the two feuding families (you don’t really anticipate a knife fight breaking out in La Traviata). The dresses for the wedding of Giulietta and Tebaldo (Tybalt), however, were spectacular, each one a mashup of several different outifts from the Bavarian Opera’s wardrobe department. Director Vincent Boussard added a creepy, protofeminist element by having all the women (for whom Bellini had written no vocal parts) hold lovely fake flowers in their mouths, mere ornamentation. The scene took place on a set of bleachers that seemed to rise to the heavens, a provocative comment by set designer Vincent Lemaire on the political import of the wedding. As for the saddles strung from the ceiling – seen it before, not impressed.

My favorite vocal presence was tenor Saimir Pirgu as Tebaldo. Pirgu’s middle tones seemed almost too forceful, but once they burst above the staff the top notes were glorious. Forcefulness was also a matter for mezzo Joyce Didonato (an alumna of SFO’s Merola Program), whose sharp timbre as Romeo aided the masculinity of her  presence. As Giulietta, soprano Nicole Cabell sang beautifully above the staff, but everything below came across in an overly covered tone, a sound that may please some but drives this critic insane. Consequently, you had a mezzo who sounded like she was singing higher than the soprano, but when the two came together, in the duet “Si, fuggire: a noi non resta,” the results were magical, notably in the long stretches of unaccompanied harmonies.

Conductor Riccardo Frizza led his orchestra through a decidedly boisterous reading of Bellini’s score, especially in the overture. The bleacher set prevented Lorenzo (Ao Li) from handing the all-important poison to Giulietta (who was busy tightroping a wall), so the invisible bottle was magically transported to her hands. This is when you know that the conceptual thing has gone too far. The penultimate scene provided an intriguing precursor to a scene in Lucia di Lammermoor, which premiered five years later: two romantic rivals interrupted in their duel by a far-off announcement of their dream girl’s death.

Through Oct. 19, War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco. $22-$340, 

415/864-3330, www.sfopera.com.

Images: Ao Li (Lorenzo) and Joyce DiDonato (Romeo). Joyce DiDonato (Romeo) with Supernumeraries. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Michael J. Vaughn is the author of Operaville, a novel available at amazon.com.