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OPERA REVIEW
June 28, 2003
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By Norman Rabkin
The libretto to which Gaetano Donizetti set L'elisir d'amore made it possible for a composer who had written a long series of historical tragedies — thirty-six! — to create a comedy of rare perfection. Set in a a rural village, the plot is a virtually archtypical pastoral romance: Nemorina loves the flirtatious Adina, who, we suspect, really loves him but must grow up enough to be able to commit herself to a single partner. The two might remain perpetually locked in their positions, but two outsiders come to town and the comedy gets going. One of them is the classical braggart soldier Belcore, so full of himself that he expects Adina to marry him almost as soon as he marches into town.
The other stranger, who in most succesful productions is the comic center of the opera, is the equally familiar trickster, the quack doctor Dulcamara, peddling a magic elixir that supposedly will cure all ills. And of course he sells it to Nemorino as a potion that will bring him success as a lover. Thus, with a brilliant symmetry, each of the romantic principals uses one of these farcical intruders as an agent to work on the other. The combination of stock figures with an almost magically efficient plot enables Donizetti to do what he does best: pour out one enchanting melody after another, which gives virtuoso singers the chance to strut their best and audiences, to live for two hours in a delightful imaginary world.
Both musically and dramatically, the new production of L'elisir by the San Francisco Lyric Opera at the Eureka Theater succeeds wonderfully on the romantic side and in creating the village ambiance, perhaps somewhat less so in the opera's farcical aspect. Barnaby Palmer, music director and conductor, led a string quartet and piano in place of the orchestra for which Donizetti wrote a brilliant score. The same combination, doing the same composer's later comedy Don Pasquale last December, seemed inadequate to this critic. The difference can be explained by several factors: a stronger cast of singers, closer control by Mr. Palmer in the stage as well as pit, and a higher level of energy overall.
A clear-voiced chorus of fifteen added greatly to the evening's success. They enacted their roles with charm and sang their words clearly. Their charm was reinforced by Matthew Berglund's enchanting stage design using both painting and imaginative props, Emily Ehrlich Inget's colorful costumes for the large cast, and Kay Kleinerman's adroit stage direction. But it was the singing of the lead parts that really made the evening so memorable. Yoosun Park, the first of three Adinas who will be performing, has a lovely soprano voice, accurate, pure, strong, and capble of ringing high tones. She has a graceful stage presence, and she made her role both witty and poigant. Jimmy Kansau's Nemorino (the first of two) was a fine match for her: despite occasional problems with intonation, he is a promising young tenor with a powerful, sweet voice. He is both a good comic and a subtle and convincing actor. Krista Wigle, in the small role of Gianetta, added another lovely soprano voice to the ensemble. Less satisfactory both musically and histrionically were the two deeper-voiced outsiders. As Belcore, Nemorino's puffed-up military rival, Manuel Jesus Vincent Acosta Valdez seemed more a bully than a funny egoist, and his big, pleasing voice might have profited from some modulation. But the greater disappointment was Jo Vincent Parks' portrayal of Dulcamara. Ordinarily this patent medicine salesman, hawking Bordeaux wine as a magic elixir, is the comic center of the opera: from the moment he arrives,he is the life of the party. He embarks immediately on a patter song, rattling off the virtues of his product, that successfully emulates similar catalogues in Mozart and Rossini. But the effective delivery of such an aria demands histrionic inventiveness and vocal delicacy, both in short supply in this performance. Parks' gestures were simply vigorous and rough where they should have been witty and inventive. His singing was loud and louder, to the extent that one had difficulty hearing the words. Rather than an endearing rascal, Parks' Dulcamara was simply a blowhard.
Some things in the staging might, one must admit, have been improved. Primarily, Kleinerman provided more stage business than was necessary. Perhaps to make up for the loss of orchestral brilliance in the overture, she had the village cast milling around on stage carrying on a variety of activities in small groups. Here and later, this kind of clutter merely distracted. But it is much more important to reiterate that this was an unquestionably successful production. The San Francisco Lyric Opera has given a city that loves opera cause to rejoice, even if in very small quantities at a time. Let this review end by citing a characteristic instance of the show's appropriate goofiness: for the duration of his first aria, while pining sweetly and movingly for his unattainable beloved, Jimmy Kansau's Nemorino clutched a dead chicken. The bit was obviously not demanded by the composer or his librettist. But it belongs there, because it helps us know how we should be responding to the opera. Imagine how much less constructive it might have been to surround the amorous tenor with figures wearing trench coats and bowler hats.
(Norman Rabkin is a retired professor of English, with a special interest in Shakespeare, at the University of California, Berkeley.)
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Yoosun Park (Adina) 
Jo VIncent Parks (Dulcamara)