San Francisco Classical Voice

The sharper the characterizations, the stronger the expressive impact of Mozart's music. There must be a sense of real conflict within Fiordiligi to fire her great arias, “Come scoglio...” (“Like a rock”) with its heroic virtuosic vocal work, and much later, under greater stress, “Per pietà..” (“Have pity”). “Per pietà..” goes the full Mozartean range of vocalism. Alexandra Desorties, a Canadian soprano in her debut here, sang these arias cleanly, brightly, with a focused and clear voice and with strong presence. Still, had the characterizations been stronger, she might have had more penetrating effect and arrested the sympathies more fully.

The arias must be played and sung so persuasively that the listener is transported and, for the moment, believes; the characters are no longer puppets, if they ever were. Ferrando's aria of an ineffable beauty, “Un'aura amorosa” (“A breath of love”) did not achieve its sense of rapture until the halfway point, at the repeat, where Paul Groves, turning in to the lyric center of his tenor voice, found the liquidity of the phrase, the floating quality. It should have that from the beginning, but Cox didn't help, didn't set it up, didn't position Groves properly.

Groves is very musical. His tenor voice is grainy and pervasive when he sings out full; but at the softer level for Mozart, it's gentle and fine. Claudia Mahnke, an engaging if somewhat passive Dorabella, has a pleasing and fluid mezzo soprano . The Guglielmo, Hanno Müller-Brachman in his American debut, has an attractive, dark but not deep baritone and seemed young. Guglielmo must make a more pronounced, aggressive impression but for that, either a more experienced actor or better direction was needed.

Don Alfonso was Richard Stillwell who, interestingly enough, sang Guglielmo in the fifth Così production before this one (1973). His is a lyric rather than bass baritone, the type normally heard in this role. No matter, Stillwell was a smooth, beguiling “philosopher,” properly more charming while directing the conspiracy than insidious. Possibly for her first time, Frederica von Stade sang the maid Despina, typically a soprano, soubrette role. The part benefitted from her richer timbre. She worked all the fun as Alfonso's spirited ally in the plot to undermine the women's resolve and played the masquerade roles of Dr. Medico and the Notary to the hilt. She did seem less flexible and agile than the more youthful Despinas.

There is every kind of ensemble in Così, from duets to sextets, each in different mood and character, each delightful. But — as always in Mozart, they must be done with watchwork precision. Frustratingly, that was more often the exception. Michael Gielen, making his first appearance here, far into a distinguished international career, kept his small, trim beat too low, conducting the orchestra not the stage. With his tempos on the up side and the music in a continuous symphonic flow, the singers had to follow by ear and were often behind and sometimes a little apart from each other.

Mozart's vocal lines are woven into the orchestral fabric but with the singers being neither led nor accompanied by Gielen, these were often out of phase. The harpsichord during the recitatives was more often in left field than not. With Gielen's vast experience, one would have thought that he had coached the singers thoroughly, as is the conductor's responsibility, but that cannot have happened. Consequently, in a performance that sounded like an early general rehearsal, the ensemble did not come up to that of any of the past six Così productions. This one was more like that of a provincial German company. Except for the production itself, that is.

Copied from one that originated last year at the Monte Carlo Opera, the production was a charmer. After all, the San Francisco Opera these days puts a premium on the visual. Who listens? The updating of the time of the opera's story to the eve of World War I had no negative effect. With the time change, but with the location appropriately kept on the Mediterranean coast, this Così had a fresh and colorful look. A few pillars connected by a frame across the top, diaphanous drapes and a large attractive screen that slid in provided the basic set. The new venue of a casino resort gave excuse for lots of footmen, bellhops, chambermaids and such who trotted in and out to change the furniture. All worked out to expedite the swift scene changes Mozart needs for continuous playing.

There were accessory strolling passersby, swell hotel guests, army officers, among others, and for these and of course for the principals, Robert Perdziola's costumes were as striking as the sets. The opening scene centered on a large roulette and gambling table presided over by Don Alfonso as croupier. Most attractive was the Act II background of the harbor at night filled with boats outlined with lights. One boat moved forward to bring in Sempronio and Tizio (aka Ferrando and Guglielmo), and later back or upstage to provide a nook for Guglielmo and Dorabella and their presumed lovemaking.

All went well production-wise until the finale. First of all, Cox got cute at the final matchmaking. He united not the original lovers as Da Ponte and Mozart had it, but the switched pair because that's more realistic and, of course, more believable in a modern reading. O.K., not a federal offense. But then Cox jumped ship and joined the current S. F. Opera's “what if” school of stage direction and got into auteurism.

As the sextet lines up and starts singing their finale, out of the blue, stage left, emerges a bunch of World War I British Tommies, direct from the trenches, in ponchos and battle gear, some kind of Dramaturg signal that Così is about war and peace, after all. You didn't know that? But there never was war in this opera. The boys faked going off to a battle that was non-existent. As pointed out in Daniel Heartz' Mozart's Operas, the Kingdom of Two Sicilies where Naples, the chosen locus for the opera, is situated “had the good fortune to be free of wars from the 1750s until the late 1790s,” a fact that Da Ponte and Mozart knew in their deliberate choice of Naples. They knew that that made the masquerade the more ridiculous. But Cox figures that the ladies' succumbing to the masqueraders is more credible if a real war threatens their original lovers' survival. And all this time, we had thought it was about human nature.

You can't rely on Mozart's sense of humor and music, Da Ponte's genius, and concentrate on developing the characters they imagined and developed? You have to bring us down to earth with a thump and give this comic masterpiece a war-is-hell tag? Geddouttahere!