San Francisco Classical Voice

The object of Carmen’s seduction is Don José, a soldier in the Spanish army. A hapless, violent man who longs for life in his small village, he can never come to terms with Carmen’s flagrant passion for life. These opposing views eventually polarize the two lovers to perilous extremes. As the relationship reaches an impasse, Don José disintegrates into an abject weakling, and Carmen becomes ever more defiant, flaunting her flirtation with the testosterone-filled matador, Escamillo.

The climactic, harrowing moments are preordained; there is no suspense. Carmen taunts Don José and, even at knife-point, reiterates her claim to freedom. José quickly succumbs to his rage and stabs her to death. Two incompatible worldviews have clashed, leading to common ruination.

Marco Berti, the Don José, impressed with his consistently excellent singing. He is a master at the old school style — carefully massaged phrases, subtle coloration, heroic timbre, and majestically turned high notes. His portrayal was authentic, and without extravagance.

As Escamillo, Kyle Ketelsen sang elegantly and presented a sufficiently dashing matador. One blemish in his toreador scene had nothing to do with him. As he was singing this showcase aria, Zuniga was mimicking him, diverting focus from one of the opera’s great moments. Why stage the scene this way? It undermines the essential dynamism of the love triangle by making the venerated figure of the matador — a macho hero — into a figure to be mocked and ridiculed. It also breaks one of the sacred laws of the theater: Never upstage a colleague during his monologue.

Ana Maria Martinez was an arresting Micaela, her voice well-disciplined, her tone poignant. The first act duet with Don José was carefully nuanced, and her aras filled with vulnerability. The rest of the supporting cast were all first rate. Among them, the Adler fellows shone: Kendall Gladen (Mercedes), Rhoslyn Jones (Frasquita), Matthew O’Neill (Dancairo), Ricardo Herrera (Zuniga), and, especially, the always impressive baritone Eugene Brancoveanu as Morales.

Jean-Pierre Ponnelle’s production still holds its own after 25 years. His magisterial genius is visible in the texture, proportion, and coloration of the huge but simple sets, as well as in the groupings of the chorus on the stage. The harsh glaring sun at midday, the uniquely moody nighttime scenes, and the striking visual choices are all products of his deeply refined aesthetic. It is unclear how much of the original staging of the soloists remains. There seem to have been some alterations since the production was last mounted here by Grisha Asagaroff, Ponelle’s personal assistant. Laurie Feldman Santoliquido capably supervised this season’s restaging.

Conductor Sebastian Lang-Lessing plunged the audience into the overture with unrelenting vehemence. The forceful interpretation created the momentum that undergirded most of the drama. In one of the brief interludes, the third act entr’acte, the orchestra created an ethereal, shimmering quality, before shifting back to the dynamic, driving thrust of the central story. This approach is both unusual and interesting. Lang-Lessing conducted with great vitality and authority and the orchestra played impressively for him.

Kudos are due the chorus, and most especially the women’s chorus, who contributed some ravishing singing in the first act. As expected, the superb San Francisco Boys Chorus and the renowned San Francisco Girls Chorus sang, marched, and leapt around with conscientious zeal. Bravos to all!

(Olivia Stapp is an opera director, formerly artistic director of Festival Opera from 1995 to 2001, and has had a major international career as a soprano.)

©2006 Olivia Stapp, all rights reserved