San Francisco Classical Voice

That goes twice for comedic acting. Happily, both the spoken dialog in English and the sung German got the same standard of comedy, the sight gags, the shtick, the personality excesses that went for the top without pricking the soufflé. Typically the most dangerous moment in the whole piece begins Act III, a stretch of pure spoken and acted comedy, without music, by characters who are drunk. For the occasion, the company engaged the multi-talented Kelly Houston as Frosch, the jailer. With his own gangly Kramer-like character and the other gags, reactions, props and “prisoners,” Houston had the room rocking with laughter. No one got specific credit for scripting the skit, but someone should have. (In addition to Alfred-impersonating-Eisenstein, the inmates included one M. Stewart and one M. Jackson. I could tell you more, but I don't want to spoil your fun.)

Christina Major carried the “dramatic” soprano role of Roselinde with a marvelous aristocratic air and polished vocal authority. She lost none of it in her czardas scene disguised as the Hungarian countess. (She and two members of the other cast, Joseph Muir and Sandra Rubalcava are winding up their OSJ residencies with this production.) As the tricked husband Eisenstein, Etsel Skelton tainted his poses with more puffery, except while drunk, and delivered an easy floating tenor. As Alfred, the relentless former and would-be lover of Roselinde, J. Raymond Meyers cavorted like one of the Marx Brothers, singing bits of every familiar tenor aria in the rep and smoothing himself in the mirror with equal self-appreciation.

Smart (and smarting from a previous humiliation,) Joseph Wright as Dr. Falke exploited his opportunity for revenge with charm, elegance, excellent timing and a warmly polished baritone that served his every whim. Deep mezzo Janelle Laurenti became Falke's confidant in the scheme as the eternally bored Prince Orlofsky, playing along while directing the party, and setting the tone by praising champaign and reiterating his philosophy, summed up in Chacon son gout.

Jesse Merlin proved a standout actor and comedian at the party and later as the seriously hung-over jail commander, topping off both with a fine basso. As Adele, the chambermaid cum actress, Susanna Uher had all the sparkling stage presence but, when loud and high, produced a hard edge that needs refining.

Conductor Jonathan Hodel got a bold and propulsive response from his little orchestra. Like Dalis herself, stage director Lorna Haywood had a big soprano career, especially in her native Britain, and deserves much credit for making the small Montgomery stage deliver such a successful product. Orlofsky's party gave the costume shop a fine opportunity to dig out attire representing every operatic stereotype. The curtain call ended with the entire company singing two choruses of “California Here We Come,” challenging the enchanted audience to buy next season's tickets to OSJ's new home without delay.