Sexy, Gritty Carmen at SF Opera

Irene Roberts as Carmen, Brad Walker as Zuniga. All photos by Cory Weaver

May 27, 2016

 If I had my way, old warhorses like Carmen would be regularly taken out, attacked and disassembled in order to keep them from going stale. So all hail Spain’s bad-boy director Calixto Bieito, whose modern-day reworking restores a lot of grit, sex and blood to Bizet’s opera.

Bieito sets his story in Ceuta, an autonomous Spanish city in North Africa. The first-act location is less a village square than a small military base. Not that location really matters. What’s more important is the presence of modern-day dress and devices (selfies, cars), which serve to make the story more relevant.

The sexuality is stronger, too. The rowdy Spanish soldiers run a woman up the flagpole in her underwear. A couple duck behind a car for feigned fellatio. The Torero (Marcos Vedovetto) performs a naked moonlight dance. The latter, to Bizet’s lovely flute/harp entr’acte, is quite moving, and turns out to be inspired by a ritual performed by matadors on the nights before their debuts.

The story is also altered by the varied strengths of the singers. Irene Roberts is a capable and beautiful Carmen, but in the case of this role one is free to expect a little more charisma than usual, and this is something Roberts simply doesn’t deliver. This lack has the effect of shifting focus onto Don Jose. Tenor Brian Jagde is fully charisma-equipped, and his lirico spinto is an amazing instrument, capable of producing violent knife’s-edge outbursts as well as an aching, tender finish to the Flower Song. In the final confrontation with Carmen, Jagde’s thunderous tone and physical size (especially compared to the petite Roberts) makes this one of the scariest Joses I’ve seen, and places Carmen much more in the position of pure victim. The choreography of the final kill is raw, brutal and bloody (fight director Dave Maier).

Zachary Nelson as Escamillo.

Revival director Joan Anton Rechi makes some deft touches, as well. The bullfight crowd scene bristles with energy, spectators flying into the air behind the masses. The interplay of the smugglers and their poor, abused Mercedes autos is vivid and fun.

Another intriguing power-shift goes toward Micaela, whose love for Jose is more apparent than usual. The act of passing on his mother’s kiss in a less-than-motherly fashion is a trendy move, but Jose brushing her off to reminisce about his mother is priceless, along with Micaela’s miffed exit. Later, having convinced Jose to leave his psycho girlfriend, she gives Carmen the bird (Italian style), something I’ve always wanted to see her do. Micaela’s new strength is aided by the voice of Ellie Dehn, who gave such a luminous performance as The Countess in last summer’s Marriage of Figaro. The melody associated with Jose’s mother is a heart-rending presence, and her sense of legato in the mountain aria, “Je dis que rien ne m’ `epouvante” is divine. The horns in this piece were rich and lovely; I also noticed that the strings under Carlo Montanaro had a particularly sweet sound, especially in the first act.

Ellie Dehn as Micaela, Brian Jagde as Don Jose.

Zachary Nelson was a likeable Escamillo, in the smooth, James Bond style, but, as with Carmen, I felt like I needed a little more fire. Frasquita and Mercedes (Amina Edris and Renee Rapier) were particularly fun, and everybody wanted to take Frasquita’s white cowgirl boots home (costumer designer Merce Paloma). The chorus and children’s chorus were both fantastic, particularly in the supporting parts to Carmen’s Habañera (chorus director Ian Robertson). And a singular bravi to former Opera San Jose singers Daniel Cilli and Alex Boyer as the smugglers El Dancairo and El Remendado. Cilli looked like a young Art Garfunkel playing a pimp, Boyer a greaseball in powder blue; together they added great flavor to the smuggling scenes. (Sadly, Montanaro’s light-speed tempo pretty much destroyed the usually fun quintet, “Nous avons en tete une affaire.”)

Set designer Alfons Flores got the most out of his minimal set pieces, including a telephone booth, a flagpole and a twenty-foot bull silhouette, the latter inspired by the ubiquitous Spanish billboards for Soberano brandy. The bull made its biggest impact upon removal, accomplished by the stage techs by simply pushing it forward. The crowd gasped as it fell slow-mo onto its face.

Bieito’s stated purpose was to “approximate the gritty naturalism” of the opera’s source material, Prosper Merimee’s novella. To that I say, mission accomplished. I hope SFO continues to prod classical operas in this fashion.

Through July 3, War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco. $26-$395. www.sfopera.com, 415/864-3330.

Michael J. Vaughn is a 30-year critic and author of the best-selling novel The Popcorn Girl.

Opera San Jose's A Streetcar Named Desire

Matthew Hanscom as Stanley, Kirk Dougherty (being held back) as Mitch. Photos by Pat Kirk.

Opera San Jose

Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire

April 17, 2016

A couple decades ago, I saw a production of Beaumarchais’ play The Marriage of Figaro, and noticed that very little was lost in Mozart and Da Ponte’s adaptation to opera. The reason? Recitative. A chord here, a chord there, lots of words rapidly sung – very efficient. I began to wonder why some modern opera composer didn’t use the same device, to produce a work that was more dramatically realistic.

Also a couple decades ago, San Francisco Opera commissioned an adaptation of Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire and ran into a snag: the Williams family agreed to the project, but only if the text of the original play was left largely intact. Well! There’s a problem. Anybody who’s seen a Williams play knows there’s a lot of talking.

Ariana Strahl as Blanche

I was there for the premiere run in September 1998, featuring Renee Fleming as Blanche Dubois, and although I enjoyed it, I lacked the greater musical context to identify what had just happened. In Andre Previn, SFO hired a four-time Academy Award-winning film composer. In creating the opera, he and librettist Philip Littell wrote a score that, while not exactly based on recitative, delivered dialogues accompanied in the same manner as spoken dialogues in films.

The work also signalled a shift in operatic thinking. After years of dramatically criminal sonic cycling musical-theory operas from John Adams and Philip Glass, the opera world decided to put music back into the service of drama. I’d put the official starting point at Jake Heggie’s 2000 Dead Man Walking (also produced by SFO), and would include works like the 2008 Stewart Wallace/Amy Tan Bonesetter’s Daughter and the 2011 Christopher Theofanadis 9/11 opera Heart of a Soldier.

All this musicological connectivity was brought to mind by Opera San Jose’s production, which employs some very effective revisions put in place by the original creators. The most obvious is placing the orchestra at the back of the stage, which brings the action to a point over the closed orchestra pit. This, along with the more intimate setting of the California Theatre, brings an immediacy that was missing from that 1998 premiere. They also cut down the size of the orchestra, which better matches the feel of Williams’ play.

Previn’s score comes across as an interesting but well-behaved houseguest, assisting the action without overwhelming it, dabbling in illustrative effects (a poured drink accompanied by a burbling clarinet) and growing in force when the story calls for it (some startling percussion, for instance, as Blanche tells the story of her husband’s death). As a result, the vocal aspect of the score is free to follow the natural flow of the dialogue, which must have pleased the Williams clan quite a bit.

The casting is superb. Soprano Ariana Strahl possesses a wide-ranging voice that delivers Blanche’s more tender moments – like the Carlisle Floyd-like “Soft People” – but can also throw lightning bolts when needed, as in the final line (“One light!”) in her memory of a gay friend’s suicide. She matches this in the acting department, bringing as layered and nuanced a Blanche as I’ve ever seen, singing or non-singing. Her account of the opera’s best-known set piece, “I want magic!,” is tender and gorgeous.

Stacey Tappan as Stella

Soprano Stacey Tappan’s Stella had her tender moments, as well, particularly an Act I account of Stanley’s romantic homecomings and the wordless song that Stella uses to signal that she’s just had great sex (Blanche uses the same device to indicate that she’s tricked Mitch into marrying her). Tappan does a terrific job of portraying Stella’s sensuality and sly wit.

Tenor Kirk Dougherty gives Mitch a good balance of awkwardness and moral strength. When he drags Blanche under the bare light bulb, it’s a little terrifying, in the sense that a truly good-seeming character has apparently gone over the edge. His aria “When you lose the one you love” is a touching and artful bit of wooing, and his comic moves are priceless.

Baritone Matthew Hanscom’s performance as Stanley is so effective that you have to resist the impulse to climb onto the stage and punch him. At first, you can almost see his side (something Williams does for all his characters), since Blanche is trouble and she is lying, but he takes too much obnoxious pleasure in his Schadenfreude. Hanscom’s rich baritone is a powerful weapon, providing Stanley with a fearsome authority and a powerful sexuality. He can even be a little touching, as in the final-act “Wasn’t it all okay?” As for The Scene, he taps into that Brando edginess quite well, helped by Previn’s wise decision to keep “Stella!” as a non-musical scream.

Kirk Dougherty as Mitch, Ariana Strahl as Blanche

Director Brad Dalton’s staging of The Scene was excellent, placing neighbor-lady Eunice (Cabiria Jacobsen) upstage so Stanley’s primal reaction is right up front, the both of them bathed in a stripe of stark light (lighting designer David Lee Cuthbert). Another good staging was the final scene, which left Blanche in a fetal position on the floor as chaos erupted all around her. The rape scene, on the other hand, was an epic failure, featuring the baritone planking over the soprano as the shirtless Chippendale supers gathered around to flex their back muscles. It would be better to leave the rape to the imagination (and Previn’s frantic interlude), or to leave the stage dark and have the singers wrestle around a bit. This high-concept, in-between stuff just doesn’t work.

Conductor Ming Luke did a superb job of working with his back to the singers, and the orchestra played smoothly throughout, particularly with Previn’s frequent use of jazz glissandos to denote sexuality. The constant use of the sax equals sex principle, however, is painfully on the nose (no offense to the excellent sax player Mark Brandenburg).

Through May 1, California Theatre, 345 South First Street, San Jose. $51-$151, 408/437-4450, www.operasj.org

Random notes:

--I like the progress that OSJ has made in the use of actual beverages onstage. For years, they mimed their drinking, and it drove me nuts. Hell, Stanley even sprays himself with a beer.
--Strahl’s portrayal of Blanche in her more pretentious moments reminded me a lot of Diane Chambers, played by Shelley Long in Cheers.
--Other seemingly unadaptable works? How about Verdi’s Shakespeare Triumvirate, with Otello and Falstaff (librettist Boito) and Macbeth (Piave).

Michael J. Vaughn is a long-time opera critic and author of 18 novels, including Operaville and Gabriella’s Voice.

Opera March Madness

Giovanni U: The Dons' up-tempo offense features excellent ball-handling and pass- making skills, but suffers quite a few blocks - and in the clutch they go straight to hell.

Tosca A+M: The Rebels' offense is pure artistry, especially in the paint. Their defense absolutely slays big men, but their flops are sadly ineffective. At game's end, they have a tendency for tragic drops.

Carmen Tech: The Matadors feature a tight-knit squad of one-and-done gypsies who have a real knack for setting traps and tying their opponents up in knots. They're often called for traveling and flagrant fouls (particularly against opposing guards), and a trip to the Final just doesn't seem to be in the cards.

Aida State: The Raging Egyptians have celebrated quite a few victories, but an overdependence on an ancient triangle offense leads to one too many fatal isolation plays.

Marcello's Lament

Marcello's Lament

(For Robert Pesich)

"To the ancient Egyptians, these stars (of Orion's Belt) were the resting place of the soul of Osiris, god of the underworld and a symbol of creativity and the continuity of life…"

            --National Audubon Society Field Guide to the Night Sky

Starving tenor finds the stone on a

black sand beach covered in driftwood

(If I said the wood was white as bones

I would be giving it away)

He kneels on the sand

where the ocean comes through the rocks and

reaches into the ribs of a burnt-out cello

plowing a pyramid of blackened chars

until he fingers the edges of its mineral heart and

pulls it into the sun

(If I said it was as red as Betelgeuse

I would be lying)

The stone is a jealous stone

it takes away his lovers

takes away his sleep

leaves his pockets thin and sallow

She is

Musetta, the woman you cannot have

but if you hold her to your ear

she will sing you bright waltzes

and turn her lollipop eyes at you across the café

But the song and the glance are not enough

so Marcello takes the stone and grinds it up

spreads it across his Sunday salad

(If I said the dressing was Roquefort

I would be saying too much)

The fragments trunkle their way through his veins and

gather at the aorta, pressing

northward to make his heart skip

on nights when Artemis neglects her duty and

mountainside lanterns

burst like meteors through the Paris streets

Years after Mimi's last breath

he comes back to the sea to

bare his skin to the inkwell sky and

wait for Orion's Belt to burn him down

leaving a coal as red as Betelgeuse

for the timpani waves to steam away

From Michael J. Vaughn: Collected Poems

Notes: A dear friend, an opera singer, says this is the ultimate description of the artistic life. She's biased, of course, this being taken from La Boheme, but it has proven to be deadly accurate in the years since I wrote it. An early editor couldn't get over the literal visual of "toss her lollipop eyes at you across the cafe," so it became "turned." And it's ironic that I would choose Marcello over Rodolfo, since he and I are both poet tenors, but I always considered Rodolfo a poser. Marcello is pure artist, and this is likely the best poem I will ever write.

How to Sing

How to Sing

Speak.

Catch the vowel, plastic wonder.

Extend. Spin to the realm of

vibration, incarnation of breath,

trick of tone

Pop the consonant, Shakespearean

neutral, crack another egg,

open to the lips, toothcarve,

tongueshift, ceramic wind,

sonic floret, bouquet, filigree

Puzzle the syllables into streams,

meander, slice the clock into

boxes, lay them inside.

Push the edges. Swing.

Sustain. Work the quiet.

Erupt. Goof around.

Reasons we do it:

erectus matesigh,

a shout carried long,

a sob lifted.

It seems to make us

human, takes the prison of

self and flares it

across the landscape.

It’s possible to connect the

song to a thing we miscall

the heart, but you need to

close your eyes and

briefly give up your life.

Have a drink. Have two.

Fill your lungs with sky.

Draw the spectrum across your

larynx; you are a stringed

instrument, gorged with overtone,

rimmed with bellstrike, a

cellular call to the

oscillating world.

One day, when the green flash

gives way to a blue moon,

you may find that the

song is singing you.

You may then call yourself

a singer.

From Michael J. Vaughn: Collected Poems

Notes: A rare case (for me), of trying to answer a big question - or at least taking something huge in human existence down to its bare essentials.

Opera San Jose's Carmen

Lisa Chavez as Carmen in the tavern scene. All photos by Pat Kirk.

Opera San Jose

Bizet’s Carmen

February 13, 2016

If Layna Chianakas intended to prove the difference that a stage director can make, she could not have done better. With a single split-second action, she changed the entire discourse of the story, probably ticked off a few purists, and certainly messed with the idea of Carmen as a feminist icon. (I won’t reveal this split-second action here, but if you’d like to know, I’ll describe it at the end of this review.) I, for one, enjoyed the move, but then it neatly agrees with my take on the character: that Carmen was so possessed by medieval superstitions and megalomania that she was determined to fulfill the destiny spelled out in her Tarot cards.

A memorable OSJ Carmen herself, Chianakas went a little “method” in researching gypsy culture, and her discoveries about that culture’s communal tightness and lack of personal boundaries shows itself here. Most memorable is the opening of the tavern scene, a mass of figures flowing around the stage with the dramatic geometries of a baroque painting, then bursting into flamenco handclaps and footstomps. The frenzy builds during Carmen’s tambourined “Les tringles des sistres tintaient.”

Eventually, of course, all the direction in the world fails without talent, but San Jose’s lineup is loaded. Lisa Chavez was born to play Carmen, equipped with the classic Carmen look, vocal power and attitude. She does a masterful job of tempering that power, keeping her powder dry for the truly dramatic moments. In the Habanera and other classic passages, she retains a self-assured cool that gives her the bearing of a leader.

Lisa Chavez as Carmen, Kirk Dougherty as Don Jose.

Kirk Dougherty sings Don Jose with a spinto tenor and an effective, edgy ring in the top notes. He uses his thin physique to convey a Jose who is unable to stand up to the larger-than-life Carmen. The final phrases of his Flower Song are heart-breakingly tender and fragile. Later, he plays the final stalking scene with a particularly creepy sense of insecurity, the lashing out of a powerless man.

With her big, bright eyes, it’s easy for Jennifer Forni to portray Micaela’s innocence, but she does well to hint at the ferocity of her attachment to Jose. She and Dougherty blend beautifully on the Act 1 theme associated with Jose’s mother, which reappears in Act 3 (followed by a rather lengthy kiss), and she sings the renowned “Je dis que rien nem epouvante” with lovingly crafted crescendos.

Baritone Matthew Hanscom wrestles with the low opening of the Toreador Song, but otherwise delivers a confident, charismatic Escamillo, helped in the tavern scene by the ensemble’s energetic greeting. His voice truly comes alive in the faceoff with Jose in Act 3.

Jennifer Forni as Micaela.

The second tier of singers features some solid voices from OSJ’s past, including baritone Daniel Cilli in the brief-but-pivotal role of Morales, and the seasoned bass of Kirk Eichelberger as the ill-fated Zuniga. The opera comique smugglers Dancaire and Remendado (baritone Eugene Brancoveanu and tenor Michael Boley) lead the Gypsy Quintet through the smuggling plan with precision vocals and phsyical schtick in the Rossinian “Nous avons en tete une affaire.” Carmen’s gal-pal Mercedes is yet another former OSJ Carmen, mezzo Cybele Gouverneur. As for gal-pal #2, I have never heard a Frasquita I didn’t like, and soprano Christine Capsuto certainly fits that bill, playing her as a proto-rocker chick with edgy humor. Her victory dance when the cards predict a rich, near-death husband is hilarious.

Giulio Cesare Perrone’s sets are inventive and utile, providing high archways for the plaza scenes and a brooding, stark mountain set for the gypsy hideaway. Carmen’s Act 2 outfit, a blood red skirt with a black spangled corset, is just hot (Alyssa Oania, costume coordinator). Fight director Kit Wilder maintains a good balance between compelling scuffles and keeping his singers off the disabled list. Conductor Joseph Marcheso led the orchestra in a sumptuous reading of Bizet’s score, particularly in the delicate interplay of flute and harp (and later, exquisite swells of strings) in the Act 3 entre’acte.

Christine Capsuto and Alexandra Jerinic as Frasquita and Mercedes.

The mystery figure of the teenage toreador adds nicely to the intrigue. The two dancers (Gabriel Mata and April Shippen), added a vigrous, athletic element to the proceedings. And the children’s chorus was just superb. In a completely selfish mode, I’d like to thank PR man Bryan Ferraro for the new press kit, basically a standard program with blank pages for critic’s notes. Brilliant!

Through February 28, the California Theater, 345 South First Street, San Jose. $51-$151, www.operasj.org, 408/437-4450.

SPOILER: Carmen, impatient with Jose’s inability to make good on his threats, grabs his hand and forces him to stab her.

Michael J. Vaughn is a long-time opera critic and the author of 17 novels, including Operaville and Gabriella’s Voice.