Photos by Kristen Loken
The review in a word: Delightful.
The verdict is about the weekend's musically excellent, theatrically entertaining Merola Program production of Rossini's Barber of Seville.
As aspirants to operatic fame they have seen achieved by scores of their predecessors during the past half century, the young Merolini struted their stuff with a mix of ambition, stress, anxiety, and giddy abandonment.
Watching the singers in the double-cast production it's easy to relish moments of nervousness or crisis that resolve in long passages of these performers simply being in the zone. Beyond witnessing great potential, there is solid value in the here-and-now.
For the majority of the audience, decades-long fans and supporters of Merola, it may be disappointing to have a single production of a reliable warhorse (charming as the Rossini may be), instead of several, mostly adventurous works which could never make it to the Opera House main stage.
If you take a look at past SFO premieres, you will see wondrous Opera Center efforts, the Center being previously the umbrella for the now independent Merola Program.
Young artists in the past performed works by Harbison, Mechem, Hindemith, Pasatieri, and so on. Regardless of the low cost of those past productions, all that now appears an unaffordable luxury. What remains is making the best of warhorses, and that's exactly what these performances accomplish.
On Herbst Theatre's tiny stage that is more suitable for recitals, and with members of the San Francisco Opera Orchestra squeezed into the lowered portion of the stage and taking over several rows of prime seating turf, the production takes wing on the music.
Mark Morash, who is also the program's master coach, conducted a solid, consistent performance; the musicians kept up with Rossini's demanding crescendos and rapid passages. In a gross omission, the two artists who provided excellent recitative accompaniment are not credited in the program. I think they were Clinton Smith and Ana Maria Otamendi, and both deserve of acknowledgment and — more — kudos.
Although the only Seville connection may be with a Spanish house of ill repute, Erik Flatmo's scenic design is terribly clever, economical, and a hoot. With a full-length shimmering silver-and-gold tinsel garland back curtain and an emerald-green one in front, the versatile set consists of large tables serving as all kinds of structures.
The tables compare well, half-penny on the dollar, with the Opera's 2003 Johannes Schaaf/Hans Dieter Schaal production and its 40-ton revolving building. In another coup of thrift, Kristi Johnson's costumes sparkled, but Jax Messenger's lighting (with Herbst's limited resources) dazed, rather than dazzled. (Sorry, the 40-ton reference belongs with Metropolitan's Ring set; let's call Schaal's monolith half of that.)
Roy Rallo's stage direction had its usual excesses (he is fond of making singers fall down and crawl around; if one sneeze is funny, Rallo will ask for a dozen). But the singers responded with performances ranging from basic to top professional level, and the singing and acting too came through in an effective ensemble performance.
While principals of both casts acquitted themselves well, I came away most impressed with the Friday/Sunday Figaro, Mark Diamond; the Thursday/Saturday Rosina, Suzanne Rigden, and the two Bartolos, Philippe Sly and John Maynard.
Diamond has a vital vocal/stage presence, including aikido rolls in a pinch, and he sustained the impression of having a great time. Jonathan Michie, the Figaro in the other cast, gave a similarly impressive performance, even if the voice occasionally didn't have the right weight.
Rigden sounded more like a soprano than the true mezzo of the other cast. And Renée Rapier took some spectacular chances in her bravura arias, and came out on top most of the time.
Both Sly, who somehow got stuck with a red fright wig (against the more sensible white one of the other Bartolo), and Maynard excelled with big warm voices, fine legato, and great diction.
Diction — unexpectedly good all around among the young singers who come from various countries, though none from Italy — made a difference between the two Basilios. Both the first cast's Adam Lau and the second's Peixin Chen (from Inner Mongolia) have big voices, but Lau (raised near North Beach) aced communication, which is so important for this role. (And important in all opera.)
On both nights, Morash erred in not building up "La calunnia," maintaining a steady volume, instead of the crescendo from the whispered rumor exploding as a cannon. I am just quoting the lyrics, don't you know.
Both Almavivas, Daniel Curran and Heath Huberg, sang some beautiful passages, while putting great effort into sustaining their arias. Huberg's stage presence is more advanced.
In smaller roles, Suchan Kim impressed as Fiorello in both casts, and Cooper Nolan — without anything to sing — was the source of some remarkably bizarre and funny sounds.
Merolini without roles formed a powerful, if overacting, chorus. And a good time was had by all.