Photos by Kristen Loken
It’s a wonder that La finta giardiniera isn’t produced more often. To be sure, Mozart’s 1775 dramma giocoso, which was written when the composer was still a teenager, doesn’t hit the sublime heights of his mature operas. But in the right hands, it’s eminently theatrical, endlessly tuneful, and outrageously funny.
The new Merola Opera Program production, which opened Thursday evening at the Cowell Theater at Fort Mason, is all those things and more. Mostly, it’s an excellent showcase for the young artists participating in the Merola Program’s 55th anniversary season.
The program, which offers 12 weeks of intensive training, coaching, and master classes, always culminates in performance, and Thursday’s three-hour (with one intermission) opening, which repeats Saturday at 2 p.m., was an unqualified success, featuring an ensemble of seven singers who were well-prepared for Mozart’s stylistic demands and fully committed to director Nicholas Muni’s audacious, insightful mining of the opera’s dark humor.
And darkness does rule in this kingdom. As funny as it is, La finta giardiniera (The pretend garden girl) starts with a gruesome incident. Before the opera begins, the Marchesa Violante has been stabbed — on her wedding day, no less — by her lover, Count Belfiore. She flees, and in the first scene we meet her as Sandrina. Disguised as a commoner, she’s gone to work as a gardener for the mayor, also known as Podesta, of a small Italian town. Her loyal servant Nardo has accompanied her and is working by her side.
Everyone in this opera is in love with someone. The Podesta has fallen for Sandrina. His niece, Arminda, has set her sights on Belfiore, which inflames Arminda’s jilted lover, Ramiro. There’s a simmering attraction between Nardo and the Podesta’s servant girl, Serpetta.
Parade of Amorous Desires
The ensemble of seven singers was well-prepared for Mozart’s stylistic demands.
Those amorous hopes, dreams, desires, jealousies, and rejections are presented in a parade of permutations in Giuseppe Petrosellini’s libretto, and director Muni develops them until the stage fairly throbs. Muni, who also designed the sets, places the action in early 20th-century Italy; a large raked platform set with table and chairs dominates the stage. The garden of the title is suggested in Eric Watkins’ lighting and in photos of verdant scenes suspended from above. The subdued palette of Ulises Alcala’s costumes — an amusing variety of country gents, beekeepers, nurses, and royals — speaks to the constraints felt even by the upper classes.
Muni sees Sandrina (and, to some degree, all the characters) as suffering from a kind of post-traumatic stress disorder. Given Sandrina’s injuries (at one point, she reveals the scar from Belfiore’s horrific attack), it’s an apt approach, and as the other characters describe their hurts — less physical, but no less real — the drama offsets the giocosa, giving the production weight.
Time and again, the production’s funny bits yield to violent outbursts. Early in the opera, the Podesta nearly forces himself on Sandrina. In his first aria, when he compares his lust for her to musical instruments (fluttering flutes, dark violas), it’s charming, until Serpetta silences him with a large, steely syringe. When Arminda learns of Belfiore’s misdeeds, she responds with a rage aria (“Vorrei punirti, indegno”) that nearly blows the roof off the Cowell. Serpetta issues angry expletives and asides in pointed English.
If the characters don’t necessarily get who they want, they get who they deserve. And, if Muni’s staging of the forest scene — featuring swords, knives, crossbows, pistols, and a Rube Goldberg contraption for administering shock treatment — goes a little over the top, the singing, capped by the extended duet “Tu mi lasci” for Sandrina and Belfiore, is gorgeous.
Conductor Gary Thor Wedow led the reduced orchestra in a fleet, vivacious performance.
Soprano Jennifer Cherest was consistently impressive as the radiant, resilient Sandrina. Tenor Theo Lebow was a secure, virile Belfiore. Casey Candebat imparted hearty tone and fine buffo physicality to the Podesta. Gordon Bintner deployed an attractive, flexible bass-baritone as Nardo. Jacqueline Piccolino’s lustrous vocalism and assured stage presence created an indelible Arminda, while mezzo-soprano Sarah Mesko sang with flair in the trouser role of Ramiro. Rose Sawvel dispensed with the usual soubrette portrayal of Serpetta, giving the character an appealingly hostile edge.
Conductor Gary Thor Wedow led the reduced orchestra in a fleet, vivacious performance — a little speedy in spots, but always with plenty of uplift. La finta giardiniera may be early Mozart, but the score often sounded ripe to the point of bursting.