Kirk Dougherty as the Duke of Mantua and Isabella Ivy as Gilda. Photo by Pat Kirk. |
One benefit of the rocker/operaista lifestyle is the lovely
area of interconnection, which today found me walking into the gorgeous
California Theater with a line from last night’s gig running through my head:
“Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth of taste…”
That’s “Sympathy for the Devil,” and there’s no better
description of the Duke of Mantua, who possesses that troubling ability to
convince himself that he actually is falling in love every time he’s trying to
bed another countess. In Sunday’s performance, the dark humor was particularly
potent, perhaps because the senior audience knew all about the Duke ahead of
time, When he entered for the second act, lamenting the lost opportunity with
Gilda, the snickers were thick on lines like “Where can she be, she who
inspired me to constancy?” (for all of 15 minutes?).
The scene was a high point for tenor Kirk Dougherty, who
owns a potent instrument but often seemed to be pushing. This might have been
due to Opera San Jose’s opening-weekend schedule, which calls for a tough Saturday
night/Sunday matinee combo (with the exception of the double-cast Rigoletto).
Dougherty’s other battle was a symptom of young-singerness, a habit of being a
little too Vogue-like (strike a pose!) in moments of passion. He was much
better in in calmer, rakish moments, as when the Duke was awaiting his
“appointment” with Maddalena (mezzo Lisa Chavez).
Another young-singer case (OSJ has a number of newbies this
year) was soprano Isabella Ivy, who sometimes looked unsure in her movements
but makes up for it with a fantastic stage name and a bee-yootiful voice. It
began to make itself known in the duets with Rigoletto and the Duke (in his
poor-guy disguise), then came to full blossom in the lilting “Caro nome.” In
the cadenza, she revealed an effortless, angelic top range, and finished,
rather provocatively, while singing on her back. Ivy also possesses eyes that
get real big, which is a useful bit of stage weaponry.
Matthew Hanscom as Rigoletto (not reviewed here). Photo by Pat Kirk. |
Rigoletto-wise, we have the veteran baritone Evan Brummel,
who does an excellent job of pissing off all the courtiers in the opening scene,
employing a handful of gags from stage director Brad Dalton. In one move, he
trips a nobleman and then, pretending to help him up, succeeds in getting the
poor guy to (quite literally) kiss his butt. Vocally, Brummel draws on a
favorite device, a powerful crescendo, to accentuate the general feeling of
forbidding, once as he’s tormenting the condemned Monterone. He also inspires
much sympathy as he pleads with Marullo for information about Rigoletto’s
abducted daughter.
All hail the men’s chorus! This being the only opera I’ve
actually performed in, I know how those dotted-note choruses can gallop away
from you, and Andrew Whitfield’s charges hold steady. Another excellence is the
set design of Steven Kemp, which offers a luxurious purple-and-black court and
Sparafucile’s black, smoke-imbued hovel. Another good, small touch are the
Carnaval-style masks used by the night-raiding courtiers – and the comical
donkey mask given to the duped jester. Conductor/artistic director Joseph
Marcheso did a superb job with the orchestra, particularly with that overture,
which always seems to capture the entire emotional journey of the opera in a
few brief minutes. The darkest laugh of all is the moment when Rigoletto,
dragging away what he assumes to be the corpse of the Duke, hears him singing
“La donna e mobile” in the distance. You almost hate to laugh in that moment,
but it’s impossible not to.
My personal epiphany for this performance was the way that
Verdi establishes a third-act bit of flute birdsong to accompany his lightning
strikes, then brings them back just at the right time for Rigoletto to identify
the victim of his hired assassin. (Clever, that Verdi!) A rather more topical
thought arrived when the Duke, after a particularly cruel jest, told Rigoletto,
“You take it too far!” A comment that Joan Rivers likely received many times.
The gags also wander freely into Raunchytown; the clown-on-a-stick gets more
stroking than a Wimbledon final.
It’s a time of great change for OSJ, with founding diva
Irene Dalis retiring and longtime Largo factotum Larry Hancock assuming the
position of general director. Hancock expressed relief that his first
production had a successful opening night. As for Miss Dalis, she’s enjoying
watching performances without having to constantly think of possible
improvements, and (everyone can relate to this) she does not miss going to all those meetings.
Through Sept. 21, California Theater, 245 S. First St., San
Jose. $51-$111, 408/437-4450, www.operasj.org.
Michael J. Vaughn is a 30-year opera critic and author of
the best-selling novel The Popcorn Girl.
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