There were many distractions last Saturday night in the city and the nation and the world as the San Francisco Opera presented its opening-night revival of the company's "classic" production of Giuseppe Verdi's Un Ballo in Maschera (A Masked Ball ). The early-October heat wave had everyone moving a little slower (especially crosstown traffic), Yom Kippur was ending at sundown, and the Giants were still battling for their 18-inning, record-breaking playoff-game win. The opera community was also still buzzing about the ramifications of SFO General Director David Gockley's announcement, on the previous morning, of his retirement in two years.
With no air conditioning to speak of at the War Memorial Opera House, the orchestra section was still cool enough for comfort, and the standees, three-deep at the start of the performance, managed to avoid fainting before thinning their ranks as the night wore on. Gockley won't be gone for a while, and he has lots of magic left to do. And by the second intermission, the Giants triumphed in their marathon.
This is not to say the opening of the seven-performance run was a comparable test of the audience's strength or patience �" well, maybe occasionally �" because Ballo sort of sells itself with an uncommonly fine succession of great and memorable tunes, even by Verdi's standards. It also has a relatively sophisticated plot, revolving around political intrigue and an assassination, superstitious fortune-telling, and chaste but illicit love-trysts. There are still plenty of Gilbert and Sullivan moments (especially if you are reading the bluntly correct supertitles), but by and all, it is one of the master's finest achievements and always a surefire crowd-pleaser, as well as a personal favorite.
The cast looked awfully good on paper, and I certainly was up for the return of dramatic mezzo-soprano Dolora Zajick to the SFO stage in the role of Satanist consultant Madame Arvidson, in the Sweden-set version of the opera used here. Additional star power was supplied by Mexican tenor Ramon Vargas as the immature but good-natured King Gustavus III, and iconic American baritone Thomas Hampson as the kinda-sorta cuckolded Count Anckarstrom. We'll just call him the Count from here on.
The important role of Amelia, wife to the Count and unconsummated paramour of the King, was essayed by soprano Julianna Di Giacomo (Merola Program alumna) making her SFO debut. The pants role of the page Oscar was given to soprano Heidi Stober, who returns to the War Memorial stage after a good number of previously well-reviewed successes.
With handsome scenery purchased from the Washington National Opera, gorgeous period costumes by designer John Conklin, a sensible re-creation of the SFO's prior staging by director Jose Maria Condemi, and most importantly, Music Director Nicola Luisotti on the podium, this Masked Ball looked ready to party on. And it did, through a rather luxuriously paced evening lasting a total running time of three hours.
Conductor Luisotti, never one to rush anyway, led the orchestra in a very refined and beautifully detailed rendition that was highlighted by some exceptionally effective solo playing. The rum-ti-tum and oom-pah-pah aspects of the orchestration were subdued, with just enough rhythmic bounce left to keep us tapping our toes, and whistling in the men's room during the intervals.
The SFO Chorus (Ian Robertson, director) made another outstanding presentation in each of the three acts, singing, dancing and emoting with poise and conviction. The Chorus also made an especially good supporting framework for Dolora Zajick's big Act I, Scene 2 appearance.
Her star turn was self-defeated to a degree by the lack of power remaining in her still pure and richly impressive voice. When she advanced to the apron of the stage, it was as if someone had turned the volume up and we could once again bask in the beauty of her dramatic vocalism.
Julianna Di Giacomo, a replacement choice for Krassimira Stoyanova for the entire run, certainly didn't seem like second-best. She has all the power necessary to fill the vast reaches of the auditorium, and her big arias were delivered with a lovely sweetness even in the highest notes. Her acting is merely serviceable, but the part can really get by on postures alone as long as the voice is there, and the voice is definitely there.
Heidi Stober was pert (it isn't her fault, Oscar is a pert sort of fellow), and her slightly darker voice gave attractive weight to the coloratura demands of the role.
Thomas Hampson, looking fit and darkly handsome (the original barihunk, after all) was also in very good voice as the conflicted and complicated Count. Hampson has proven himself in Verdi repeatedly through the years, and his textured portrayal was perhaps the best of the evening. He got a standing ovation at the final curtain, and it was deserved.
Unfortunately, the really pivotal character in the score and the plot is the callow King, who has to grow up very suddenly indeed. The role resounds in our ears with some of the greatest tenors of the previous generation setting the bar very high. On opening night, Ramon Vargas vacillated between just okay and disappointing. His top notes were slightly pinched, and he couldn't make up for them with very convincing acting. He has shown us better portrayals before, and his voice, while rarely exhibiting the clarion beauty of a Pavarotti or Domingo, is an estimable instrument. He shouldn't be enough to keep lovers of the opera away from this reassuringly conventional and carefully mounted staging, but we hope he sturdies himself before the end of the run.