San Francisco Classical Voice

The second tune is an affecting lament well-sung in L.A. by minstrel Jake Wallace (James Creswell). Here the context is significant. The tune is the most Italian-sounding of all, not at all like a true minstrel tune of the times. Worse still, it has words that can seem almost ludicrous to an American audience used to the rough-and-tumble Wild West. "My mother, what will she do if I never return? How she'll weep!" At which all the men assembled shed a tear and pass the hat. An attempt to add more verisimilitude by giving Wallace a banjo rather than the guitar specified in the libretto was considerate, but cancelled out in Act III by designer Michael Scott sticking in an anachronistic telegraph pole in the 1849 mining camp.

The third tune is an almost silly little waltz that would have been perfect in La Rondine, and out of place in a mining camp, except for the fact that later on in Act 1, Puccini modifies its ending into a phrase highly charged with longing. As part of a masterpiece of a mini-aria arising from the waltz, Johnson sings "E provai una gioia strana" (And I experienced a strange joy) in an all to brief but sublime combination of melody and harmony. Seventy-five years later, this jewel was debased by sticking it on to a stump from "Brigadoon" and repeating it ad nauseam by Andrew Lloyd Webber in "Music of the Night." This theft is so blatant that during intermission, I heard one audience member chide another for whistling the Lloyd Webber tune at an opera, not realizing he had just heard it himself done by Puccini!

The fourth tune is sung at the romantic climax in Act 2 after a blizzard is supposed to blow open Minnie's cabin door. There was weakly heard wind machine in the orchestra, but a decision by designer Scott to show more outdoors than cabin regrettably made this coup de theatre impossible. Furthermore, the roof of the cabin truncated the heads of the principals if viewed from the balcony. The scene also was marred by one of several problems with the lighting. A loose spotlight aimed at the cabin roof swung back and forth to great distraction. In Act 1 and Act 3, both underlit, lights should have been trained on singers to distinguish them from the crowd. As with the third tune, this one later put profit into another's hand, via Tony Jackson's syncopated version, "Pretty Baby," in 1916.

And of course, there's a fifth tune, the only aria commonly extracted for recitals, Johnson's last request before hanging, "Ch'ella mi creda libero e lontano." Its fame has perhaps discouraged lifters. In any case, it was creditably performed, along with the entire Johnson role, by the incomparable Domingo, sounding better toward the end of his career than his counterpart Malfitano, who had difficulty finding some of the notes in the wide expanse of her vibrato. It makes no sense that Johnson is singing this gem in the mining camp instead of the woods where he is supposed to be captured per the libretto, but this is a minor complaint in an overall finely acted, choreographed and sung production.

Experiencing the production only makes one ponder why the four great tunes are properly appreciated only by those (intentionally or not) stealing them. The explanation is probably that they're JUST great tunes. Only the fifth tune is a true ARIA, rich, ecstatic and cathartic as demanded by audiences. An aria is a show stopper, not a leitmotiv or a brief remark, no matter how many repetitions of fragments occur. Furthermore, Puccini's music tying them all together is too subtle, with harmonies more of the French school. Such are appropriate for Debussy's dreamy Pelleas and Melisande, but seem out of place in the rough-and-tumble Sierra of 1849. Then there's the plot, with politically incorrect Indian stereotypes and Italianate goldseekers crying for their mothers. Is the Wild West no longer exotic enough for today's audiences? Great music has always made up for any plot difficulties, however. I guess the moral of the story is that composers should fatten up a tune or four if they want to make their fortune in opera.