The Aria Comes to Life

Dvorak’s Rusalka

San Francisco Opera

June 21, 2019

Rachel Willis-Sorenson as Rusalka. All photos by Cory Weaver.

One of the more unique experiences of the opera aficionado is to fall in love with a particular aria, and then, perhaps years later, to finally see it in its theatrical context. I have been a fan of Dvorak’s Song to the Moon for a dozen years, owing largely to recordings by Renee Fleming and Barbara Divis. Only now, thanks to SFO, did I get it to see it in its proper context.

Kristinn Sigmundsson as the Water Goblin.

This level of attachment is a perilous thing. Boito’s “L’altra notte” is on that list, as well, and Patricia Racette did it no favors in SFO’s Mefistofele, drowning it in emotion. I’m happy to report that Rachel Willis-Sorenson fared much better with Song to the Moon, helped by an intensely lush approach from Eun Sun Kim and her orchestra (Olga Oretenberg-Rakitchenkov, harp). Willis-Sorenson possesses just the right broadness of tone and low-to-high range to pull it off. As she sang, pleading for a chance to become a mortal and meet her human lover, set designer John Macfarlane’s lakeside trees shifted aside to  reveal a gorgeously oversized full moon. The completeness of the experience was everything that I could have hoped for.

Sarah Cambidge as the foreign princess.

Willis-Sorenson continued her inspired vocalizing throughout the evening (except for the second act, when she was rudely required to be mute), and also captured the audience with her acting. Playing a water nymph completely out of sorts with her new human body, she radiated a painful physical anxiety.

Based on folk stories and works like Undine and Anderson’s The Little Mermaid, Kvapil’s libretto weaves these threads into a deeply conflicted view of interspecies love. There is always, he seems to say, a price to be paid. The intensity and suprising human-ness plays well with Dvorak, who, late in his great career, was creating from a full and fascinating palette. The opera incorporates turn-of-the-century features like through-composing, the use of folk songs and Wagnerian liet-motifs. (Bits of Song to the Moon, in fact, reappear regularly as Rusalka’s motif.)

Brandon Jovanovich as the Prince.

The players here are exceptionally strong. Rusalka’s father, the Water Goblin, is performed by Kristinn Sigmundsson, who delivers a stout bass and a domineering stage presence. He is forever scaring audience and characters alike with his surprising ascents through the stage floor. Tenor Brandon Jovanovich is his usual excellent self, lending a necessary charisma to the Prince. The audience has to care enough to resent his fickleness but pity his gradual madness.

Jamie Barton as Jezibaba.

One of Jezibaba's crows.

Mezzo Jamie Barton brings to Jezibaba (who grants Rusalka’s wish) a sense of cantankerous fun mixed with bits of sadism. As the jealous foreign princess, Sarah Cambidge has just the right level of bright sharpness (both tonally and actorly) to be amiably vicious.

Dvorak is such a masterful, inventive musician, it’s almost no surprise that he sometimes bogs down the stage action, but director Leah Hausman does a genius job of creating memorable stage visions. She is helped greatly by her dancers, who perform playful wood-nymph antics and beautiful ballets, as well as water-nymph lamentations for their lost sister that possess the sublime eccentricity of a Martha Graham work (choreography by Andrew George). As for Jezibaba’s crows, they nearly steal the opera.

Macfarlane’s royal hall is stunning, seemingly a mile long, and masterfully shadowed by David Finn’s lighting design. Moritz Junge’s costumes are endlessly inventive.

Through June 28, War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness, 415/864-3330, www.sfopera.com.

Michael J. Vaughn is the award-winning author of The Popcorn Girl and his latest work, A Painting Called Sylvia.

John Macfarlane's royal hall.