| OPERA REVIEW West Bay Faust In Good Form October 14, 2001 |
By Kip Cranna Gounod's opera Faust is surely not the most sublime musical adaptation of Goethe's monumental drama, but it remains the perennial favorite. In West Bay Opera's current production, heard last Sunday, Gounod succeeds once again, not through his penetrating dramatic insight into the mind of a man willing to sell his soul to the Devil, but rather through his sure-fire sense of the musical elements that go into good old-fashioned, sentimental story telling.
Stage Director Christopher Harlan, working with serviceable and at times inventive scenic designs by Jean-Francois Revon, managed to find some interesting new twists in a basically straight-forward staging, with some odd directorial choices mixed with clever ones.
Revon's design is dominated by juxtaposed glimpses of Heaven and Hell flanking the stage, represented respectively by a white painted angel figure and a huge gargoyle with an immense, gaping mouth. (In a clever stroke in his "Golden Calf" song, the demon Mephistopheles converts one of the gargoyle's hefty teeth into a convenient wine flagon.)
Faust, attended by a mute servant, first appears at a lectern to bemoan the meaningless nature of his intellectual studies. As he summons the devil, he becomes literally engulfed in almost comically effusive billows of that “theatrical smoke” that has become so controversial nowadays. Mephistopheles appears looking rather like a red-robed cardinal, minus some of the costume elements that both he and the supertitles mention. Faust, the aging scholar who longs for restored youth, looks quite young to begin with. In fact he is quite easily transformed into a handsome young man by Mephistopheles' two female "magician's assistants," who simply remove his plaid cloak to reveal our hero in a Buster Brown wig and baggy pumpkin breeches, looking for all the world like Bunthorne in Patience. An effective, forced-perspective cathedral façade forms the ominous backdrop for several scenes. Rather than using their sword hilts to form crosses, the outraged townspeople employ a large wooden cross on convenient rollers to intimidate the blasphemous demon. Rather than being repelled, however, he simply rolls the menacing symbol back at them. His devilish power keeps the chorus frozen in place at the end of the Kermis (Fair) scene, as the irresistible waltz music spins on. Only during its last phrase are the townspeople allowed a little swaying. No choreographer required! In the garden scene, the angel figure moves center stage to reveal an attached, attractive canopied bench covered in flowers. At a gesture from Mephistopheles, the cathedral drop flies out to reveal a star-studded sky for the lovers' duet. In Act II, (the opera is played with only one intermission), the large cross, now broken at mid-point, signifies the tragic consequences of Marguerite's seduction by Faust. (Following standard practice, her Spinning Song scene is omitted, as is the Walpurgisnacht ballet.) The church scene takes place outside in the cathedral square, since Marguerite is barred from entering by the tormenting demon, whose two assistants attempt to enshroud her in gauze like a mummy. During the somber prelude to the Prison Scene, Marguerite effectively acts out the story of her downfall, first cradling, then strangling an imaginary infant. When at last her salvation is proclaimed, Faust is sent packing into the gargoyle's maw, while a stairway-to-heaven leads Marguerite upward, to be greeted not by angels, but by her welcoming brother Valentin, who had died cursing her after losing his duel with Faust. The demon, temporarily defeated, crawls, worm-like into the wings.
The cast of singers for this production ranged from first rate to adequate, the chief delight being the polished soprano of Karen Frankenstein as Marguerite. She managed to convey girlish charm without cloying naiveté, and negotiated her Jewel Song with agile coloratura and only a tiny hint of strain on the top notes. There was fine singing too from Michael Taylor as Valentin, whose robust baritone offered a clarion upper register and a rich middle voice. In the trouser role of Siebel, mezzo Margaret Lisi made an endearing teenager caught in the throes of his boyish infatuation with Marguerite. Lisi sang her flower aria "Faites-lui mes aveux" with appealingly pure tone and just the right touch of adolescent ardor. As Faust, Canadian tenor Benoit Gendron struggled to surmount the effect of his wimpy costume, sounding rather throaty and nasal, but his voice projected well despite its slightly pinched tone, and his high notes came through with solid confidence. Baritone Michael Morris, a West Bay Opera veteran, offered a Mephistopheles who was more avuncular than menacing, with hesitant body language that never quite managed to command the stage. His upper voice was strong and convincing, but much of the part-usually assayed by basses--lay too low, and a gravelly quality and uncertain pitch prevailed in the bottom register. Still, his slightly rough-edged tone was put to good use in his mocking serenade. Jesse Merlin as the student Wagner sang with pleasant warmth, and Constance Howard was amusing as the amorous matron Marthe Schwerlein, though director Harlan had her comic scene with Mephistopheles verging on camp.
The small chorus sang earnestly but had trouble projecting beyond the front rows. Perhaps as a consequence, Harlan had the lusty soldiers' chorus enacted with war-weary irony by wounded fighters returned from an apparently losing battle. Conductor Henry Mollicone capably led his small but proficient orchestra, running into a few rough ensemble moments with the soloists. His pacing was generally adept, but the dramatic final trio in the Prison Scene seemed earthbound. Performances continue next weekend with a different cast assuming the major roles on Friday and Sunday. (Clifford (Kip) Cranna is Musical Administrator of the San Francisco Opera, Program Advisor for the Carmel Bach Festival, and a frequent lecturer on music appreciation.) ©2001 Kip Crenna, all rights reserved |