San Francisco Classical Voice

OPERA REVIEW
La Bohème
Nicely Done

September 6, 2002

By Michael Zwiebach

There's an undeniable charm to the bargain-basement La Bohème unveiled by San Francisco Lyric Opera at the Eureka Theatre on Friday night. Sure, there were rough patches in the singing and acting and opening night was marred by technical glitches, but the Lyric Opera audience was willing to forgive such faults, and so should be anybody who ventures into the little theater on Jackson Street. The compensating benefits are that you will get to see a great story and hear Puccini's magnificent music performed live for exceptionally reasonable prices. The theater's intimate size is perfect for this opera and the reduced orchestra (piano and string quartet) meant that singers didn't have to worry about projecting.

And where else will you see a Bohème in which the actual circumstances of the performance match the ostensible setting so exactly? The miniature cutout of the roofs of Paris and the little moon hung on the traveler curtain, the costumes partly accumulated out of the odds and ends of so many closets — all familiar to anyone who's done community theater — are Bohemian production strategies in an art form dominated by well-financed companies. And for once in my life, I've seen a Bohème with a garret that actually seemed like a garret. When the company of friends assembles for dinner, there should barely be space for all four, and that condition was fulfilled in this production.

Of course there is a down side to the shoestring production. The scene change between Act III and IV took fully fifteen minutes, a timing certainly not justified by the extent of the change itself. Other changes were done incorrectly and seemed to be under-rehearsed. The supertitles were constantly running one or two lines behind the singers.

A few miscalls

Opening-night hiccups aside, a worse flaw appeared in Rick Dougherty's unimaginative stage direction which featured many of the big opera house clichés that the Eureka Theatre setting would seem to invite a director to avoid. Why can't the singers sing to each other more often? None of Schaunard's parrot monologue was directed at his comrades and he was so far downstage that he was barely part of the scene. The first lines of Colline's coat aria were directed at the exit sign stage left, instead of at the coat in his hand. Because Rodolfo was sitting upstage for her entire aria, Mimi directed only one line of "Mi chiamano Mimi" to him: "Lei m'intende?" ("You understand me?") at the end of the aria's first part. Dougherty also failed to make his actors take time with important moments such as Marcello, at Mimi's suggestion, telling Musetta that she has a good heart. This particular production has to be more communicative in the small moments.

And at times, it was. Act IV was exemplary in its humanity and was quite moving. There was a genuine connection between the friends, the comedy was natural and, for a wonder, everyone managed to sing softly when Mimi was dying in their midst. I wish I could impress upon future producers and singers of this opera how important it is to play the whole scene quietly, and not just the few moments before Rodolfo's final lines.

There was indeed a find in this production. Lanier McNab (Mimi) is a singer with great presence and polish, possessed of a lovely lyric voice, even tone, and musical sensitivity. She is a strong actor and was believable throughout. In every way, she seems a mature artist. Her Rodolfo, Aaron Scheidel, made an eager and ardent lover. On the musical side, his top is a little strained and his phrasing is monotonously regular. With the exception of the last act, when he improved tremendously, he seemed unwilling to sing at less than full volume; and when he did, the voice sputtered a little in pitch and fullness. Still, for his work in Act IV, all is forgiven.

Fine singing in all parts

Jo Vincent Parks (Marcello) has a soothing, lyric baritone voice with a natural vibrato and is a generous, supportive actor who throws attention to other singers and listens well. He seemed occasionally overtaken by the tricky vocal rhythms and conductor Barnaby Palmer's speedy tempos but was otherwise in fine form on Friday night. Jennifer Rice's Musetta got off to a bumpy start. After her splashy entrance, she couldn't manage the comedy of the scene, blundering through her business with Alcindoro without any focus and unable to execute a clean take. Her rendition of the famous waltz was lackluster and beset with problems of tone production, which occasionally affected her pitch. To her credit, she recovered and played the rest of the opera with much more grace and style, and I'm inclined to think that the Musetta of the later acts represents the real singer.

Nikolaus Schiffman was a boisterous Schaunard, fully at home on the stage. His voice is bright and keen and cuts through ensemble textures. He did a vocal imitation of an English lord in his monologue, which accorded well with his clipped diction, making actually an amusing contrast with the elongated liquid vowels of his counterpart Sergey Zadvorny, a very Russian Colline. Zadvorny's lumpy, comfortable presence and his measured movement were perfect for Colline and his singing was secure and thoughtful. These Bohemians were well matched and more convincing as friends than many I've seen.

John Bonnoit was generally excellent in the roles of Benoit and Alcindoro. On Benoit's first entrance he needs to pause on the threshold and deliver the word "Rent!" directly to someone. The chorus was enthusiastic and mostly together on their entrances. Barnaby Palmer deserves credit for drilling them diligently and keeping them, and the rest of the show, on track. But he also should be grateful for Ron Valentino on piano, whose crisp playing was the singers' compass.