Opera 101—(Don’t) Kiss the Girl

Tags

Adaptations, Opera

There you see her
Sitting there across the way
She don’t got a lot to say
But there’s something about her
And you don’t know why
But you’re dying to try
You wanna kiss girl

—Howard Ashman, “Kiss the Girl”

The Prince tries to have his cake and eat it too and gets his just deserts in Rusalka. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Antonín Dvořák, Rusalka (1901)
Based on: the fairy tales of Karel Jaromír Erben and Božena Němcová
Setting: Once upon a time in the land of nymphs and goblins

Plot in 101 words or less: Water nymph Rusalka moons about a Prince who moons around her lake. Her father warns that water and earth signs are ultimately incompatible but sends her to witch Ježibaba anyway. Mixed messages, dad! Ježibaba says no take-backsies on her potions but Rusalka is like cool, cool, cool, hit me. And we’re off to the castle for below-stairs gossiping! The fickle Prince likes Rusalka okay but quickly ditches her for some rando Foreign Princess, screaming, “I’ll vote for a woman, just not that woman!” He lives to regret this but only long enough to get the kiss of death from now-will-o’-the-wisp Rusalka.

Sung in: Czech
Memorable Music: “Měsíčku na nebi hlubokém” (“Song to the Moon”)

Do you think the Prince is a hunter? The darkly predatory ballroom in Rusalka. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Upon leaving the first performance of Rusalka that I attended at San Francisco Opera on June 25, I immediately thought to myself, “When does the box office open tomorrow? Because I need to see this again.” Yes, folks, it was that good. Luckily, because I hadn’t yet used either of my subscription upgrades and I was going solo, I was able to score a premium orchestra seat on the closing night for next to nothing. I also bought a second balcony ticket for Orlando because why not? I’m starting to see multiple productions in a run. What is this world coming to?

My love for Rusalka is somewhat odd because, frankly, the libretto is sort of a mess. Things don’t really make a lot of sense. Why does becoming human mean she loses her voice? What’s in it for Ježibaba exactly? Where and why does the “white doe” come in to things? Where does this foreign princess come from? (She is not the witch in disguise as in the Disney version.) Why does the princess spin on a dime and curse the prince? Why does the prince suddenly become “sick”? (Hmm, maybe the princess is supposed to be the witch.) I know it’s opera, but there are limits.

What is going on here? Who the hell knows? But it was beautiful to watch and listen to. Photo by Cory Weaver.

In any case, plot holes and loose ends aside, this production was stunning (Production: David McVicar). A real foresty-looking forest. A gorgeous ballroom. A workhorse of a kitchen. Lovely foreground and background elements (Set Designer: John Macfarlane). Exquisite costumes (Costume Designer: Moritz Junge). Beautiful music, with a superb conductor at the podium in Eun Sun Kim, who was making her San Francisco debut. [Side note: More of her in future seasons, please.] Even the bit of ballet in the castle scene was well done and integrated into the whole—something I find is not often true at San Francisco Opera (Choreographer: Andrew George).

And the singing, my god, the singing.

Rachel Willis-Sørensen as Rusalka and Kristinn Sigmundsson as her father Vodník in Rusalka. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Soprano Rachel Willis-Sørensen (last seen in Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg) as Rusalka was a picture of frustrated love and emotional torment, though I sometimes found her movements a bit peculiar. Bass Kristinn Sigmundsson, who I loved in Der fliegende Holländer (The Flying Dutchman) seemed perfectly cast as water goblin Vodník, a grim but ultimately loving father. A highlight of the first act was mezzo-soprano Jamie Barton’s turn as Ježibaba, the witch. After being somewhat overshadowed by Sondra Radvanovsky in Roberto Devereux, it was nice to see her steal the show here.

Jamie Barton as Ježibaba administers her potion to Rachel Willis-Sørensen in Rusalka. Photo by Cory Weaver.

At the castle, tenor Brandon Jovanovich, who I love more and more each opera (Remember him from Susannah?), sang and acted beautifully to express the twists and turns of the crazy plot and the fickle nature of his Prince. In this he was aided and abetted by Sarah Cambidge’s all too brief appearance as the dastardly and world-wise Foreign Princess. And shout out to Laura Krumm, who played the Kitchen Boy with real flair.

Finally, the cavorting of the wood nymphs, led by Adler Fellows Natalie Image, Simone McIntosh, and Ashley Dixon was raucous, fun, and just a little bit sinister.

Adler Fellows Ashley Dixon, Natalie Image, and Simone McIntosh as raucous wood nymphs. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Truly, it was the dark fairy tale you imagine (and hope for) behind the Disney version.

Opera 101—Crazy on You

Tags

Handel, Opera

If we still have time, we might still get by
Every time I think about it, I wanna cry
With bombs and the Devil and the kids keep coming
No way to breathe easy, no time to be young

But I tell myself that I was doing all right
There’s nothing left to do at night

But go crazy on you
Crazy on you
Let me go crazy, crazy on you…

—Heart, “Crazy on You”

Orlando (Sasha Cooke) is just a tad peeved with the noble Angelica (Heidi Stober) in San Francisco Opera’s Orlando. Photo by Cory Weaver.

George Frideric Handel, Orlando (1733)
Based on: Orlando Furioso, an epic poem by Ludovico Ariosto
Opera Setting: Europe, in age of Charlemagne
Production Setting: a hospital in West London, autumn 1940

Plot in 101 words or less: Orlando—not to be confused with Virginia Woolf’s gender-bending hero/heroine (Or is he/she?)—is convinced he can be both a lover and a fighter. He’s crushing hard on Angelica who, of course, loves someone else, namely Medoro, himself the object of Dorinda’s affection. Circle of life, people. Like so many men, Orlando can’t take rejection and goes mad. Unlike many men, Orlando is prevented from harming others by #notallmen magician Zoroastro, who saves the objects of his jealous wrath, i.e., Angelica and Medoro, and cures Orlando of his madness with a magic elixir right out of Gilbert & Sullivan.

Sung in: Italian
Memorable Music: “Amor è qual vento”

Zoroastro preparing to come get his boy Orlando. Photo by Cory Weaver.

I was rather excited to see Orlando. After all, I have loved both Handel operas previously seen at San Francisco Opera, Serse in 2011, which cleaned up when I bestowed my very first set of Figaro Awards, and Partenope in 2014. However, I was a bit dubious when I realized that I was to witness yet another re-setting of an opera to the twentieth century. While this can work to a production’s advantage—and it mostly works here—I’m a little tired of this trend. Perhaps it’s because I haven’t seen multiple productions of almost anything, but sometimes you just want to see the time and place the composer intended, you know? Also, designers, please just stop with the endless projections that add nothing to the plot or setting.

The opening of San Francisco Opera’s Orlando. Photo by Cory Weaver.

But I digress. Like I said, this production mostly worked for me. Well, it worked enough that I chose to see the opera a second time once I had decided I was going to go back for Rusalka.

What?!?! That’s right, I’ve become one of those people. [Side note: For the record, I attended the June 18 and June 27 performances.]

What got me back into the War Memorial Opera House? Oddly enough, the two secondary roles of Medoro and Dorinda, sung by countertenor Aryeh Nussbaum Cohen and soprano Christina Gansch respectively. Nussbaum Cohen is only a second-year Adler Fellow and was making his San Francisco Opera debut here, but, my god, what a beautiful tone this man has. His arias were stunning. Christina Gansch was also making her San Francisco (and U.S.) debut and thoroughly killed it. Her “Amor è qual vento” in Act III was clearly a highlight for the audience. These two debutants were anchored by San Francisco regular Heidi Stober (last seen in Arabella), who never ceases to delight me with her tremendous acting and singing range. Their “Consolati, o bella” trio at the end of Act I was lovely.

These crazy kids (Christina Gansch as Dorinda, Heidi Stober as Angelica, and Aryeh Nussbaum Cohen as Medoro) made it all worthwhile. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Director Harry Fehr’s choice to move the action from a pastoral setting in the time of Charlemagne (Orlando is actually Roland from La Chanson de Roland fame) to a hospital in wartime London was a smart one. This gave the lover-fighter opposition set up by Zoroastro a bit more urgency. As did the hospital setting, which leant itself to much bustling on the part of the characters and supernumeraries. I could have used a bit more variety in the sets from scene to scene, but that is a minor quibble in the face of an overall concept that I thought worked well. What didn’t really work for me were the accompanying projections. They were often distracting and sometimes downright stupid. Moreover, images of Hitler? Really? I may need to invoke Godwin’s Law here.

Unfortunately there were more problems than just the projections. First, the orchestra. Although I’m no expert, I think Orlando is beautifully scored and I felt like the music (conducted by Christopher Moulds in another San Francisco debut) could have sounded a little crisper. One reason that I’ve come to love Handel is the brightness of his music and this wasn’t quite there. Also not quite there was my beloved Sasha Cooke, who I first saw (and loved) in The Gospel of Mary Magdalene. I have nothing but praise for her previous roles (including Magdalene in Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg and Anna in Les Troyens), but I have to agree with most reviewers, who have pointed out that she was miscast here in a role too low for her register. Luckily her acting was strong and at least she convincingly played the role of a conflicted and troubled pilot.

Christina Gansch as Dorinda and Sasha Cooke as Orlando in Orlando. Photo by Cory Weaver.

All in all, this was a solid production from San Francisco that cemented my love for all things Handel.

Opera 101—2018 Figaro Awards

Tags

Awards, Bel Canto, Donizetti, Opera, Verismo, Wagner

Sans la liberté de blâmer, il n’est point d’éloge flatteur.
(Without the freedom to criticize, there is no true praise.)

—Le Mariage de Figaro by Pierre Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais

After falling off the bandwagon last year, I am once again presenting my annual Figaro awards for the best (and worst) operatic moments of the year. All operas seen at the San Francisco Opera in 2018, both the four operas of the Ring Cycle in the summer (Das Rheingold, Die Walküre, Siegfried, Götterdämmerung) and the five operas I attended in the fall (Cavalleria rusticana, Pagliacci, Roberto Devereux, Arabella, and Tosca) are eligible for these beauties.

Production I would most readily see again: Roberto Devereux. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from this opera as in the past I have been underwhelmed by the San Francisco Opera’s bel canto productions, however, they really came through on this one. Sonya Radvanovsky led a great ensemble cast and, while the bare-bones theater set didn’t always work for me, I thought the prologue was a creative solution to provide a basic understanding of the plot (I’m looking at you, Mary Queen of Scots).

Best ensemble: The Ring Cycle. While I didn’t necessarily agree with all the production choices made by Francesca Zambello for this version, the singing across the board was so incredible that it made me forget I was listening to a fifteen-hour opera in German. I suppose it might be considered cheating to consider these four operas as one ensemble but I don’t care. Besides, I already listed Roberto Devereux above.

Most disappointing production: Tosca. This “new” production had a lot to live up to considering the previous one was my favorite opera of the 2012 fall season. Unfortunately, despite a great performance by Carmen Giannattasio as Tosca, I am at a loss as to why San Francisco Opera felt the need to stage this warhorse again so soon after replaying it in the 2014 season, especially when the overall set design didn’t seem very different from the previous one.

Best production/set design: Benoît Dugardyn for Roberto Devereux. Not everything Dugardyn created for Devereux worked for me, but I admire the chances he took and the creativity he displayed with this vision.

Best costumes: Tobias Hoheisel for Arabella. While I thought there could have been a bit more color overall, the costumes underscored the understated elegance of this production.

Outstanding performance (orchestral): Donald Runnicles leading The Ring Cycle. I almost always like when Runnicles conducts (see also Les Troyens), but he was masterful with his pacing of this behemoth.

Outstanding performance (male lead): Marco Berti as Canio in Pagliacci. Berti won over all my doubts with his delivery of “Vesta la giubba” when it counted. Plus his acting was first rate throughout—despite his heavy makeup and mask, I really felt his anger.

Outstanding performance (female lead): Sondra Radvanovsky as Elisabeth in Roberto Devereux. Both singing and acting came together for this incredible performance.

Outstanding aria (male): Russell Thomas’s “Come uno spirito angelico” in Roberto Devereux. Although somewhat overshadowed by Radvanovsky, Thomas delivered the goods from behind the bars of the Tower of London.

Outstanding aria (female): Carmen Giannattasio’s “Vissi d’arte” in Tosca. As mentioned above, I was rather disappointed by this production as a whole, but Giannattasio was not the reason.

Outstanding performance in a supporting role (male): Štefan Margita as Loge in Das Rheingold. A small role but beautifully sung; Margita made me sit up and take notice.

Outstanding performance in a supporting role (female): Jamie Barton as Fricka in Die Walkure. I liked Barton in Roberto Devereux, but her work in The Ring Cycle could have easily been overshadowed and it wasn’t.

Outstanding performance (female playing a woman playing a man): Heidi Stober as Zdenka/Zdenko in Arabella. I always love Stober and she was a highlight in this otherwise fairly uninteresting opera.

Outstanding performance (pinch hitter): Iréne Theorin as Brünnhilde in The Ring Cycle. A lot of the weight of The Ring Cycle is on Brünnhilde’s shoulders and Theorin (last seen as the icy Turandot in Turandot and who was announced as the replacement for Evelyn Herlitzius just a month before performances started) carried the role off with ease and had fantastic chemistry with her costar Daniel Brenna to boot.

Outstanding performance (couples skate): Lianna Haroutounian as Nedda and David Pershall as Silvio in Pagliacci. These crazy kids sang the sweetest love duet of the season.

Outstanding performance (Adler Fellow): Amitai Pati as Lord Cecil in Roberto Devereux. I didn’t seem to notice the Adler Fellows as much as in years past, but Pati stood out in this small role.

Favorite program cover: Tosca. Though I was somewhat tempted by the portrait of Elizabeth I on the cover of Roberto Devereux, ultimately I went with the photograph of the statue of the Archangel Michael on the Castel Sant’Angelo in Rome, which plays such a critical role in the finale of Tosca.

Reservoir Dogs award for best entrance: the parachuting Valkyrie in Die Walküre

Big Sleep award for most nonsensical plot (tie): Siegfried and Götterdämmerung

Bart Simpson award for creepiest clown: Canio in Pagliacci

Plato award for best shadow puppets: Tosca

Jon Bon Jovi “blaze of glory” award (tie): Die Walküre and Götterdämmerung

Gigli award for worst chemistry: Ellie Dehn as Arabella and Brian Mulligan as Mandryka in Arabella. I’ve enjoyed both leads in the past, and they sang well here, but unfortunately the couple remained fairly stiff throughout their performance and ultimately just weren’t very convincing as the lovers in this semi-comic opera.

Best imitation of Mike Tyson: Turridu in Cavalleria rusticana

Best imitation of Jenny Gump: Nedda in Pagliacci

Best use of a whip: Hye Jung Lee as The Fiakermilli in Arabella

Most lacking in Argentine tango: the Intermezzo of Cavalleria rusticana

Most lacking in actual dragons: Siegfried

Most lacking in actual bears (tie): Arabella and Siegfried

The WeRateDogs™ “Who’s a good dog?” award (tie): Finn and Fubar in Die Walküre

Outstanding performance (bird): Stacey Tappan in Siegfried

Daniel Brenna and Stacey Tappan in Siegfried. Photo by Cory Weaver.*

Finally, a shout out to the tweeps who know far more than me about all things opera and make all of these performances that much more interesting, whether in person or online: @Aspasia_1, @ilana_wb, @JamesJetsOften, @operatattler, @phibetakitten, @revgirrl.

And so the clock runs down on another year and another round of Figaros. I look forward to attending Orlando and Rusalka during the summer season and seeing what the 2019-2020 season will bring.

Feel free to comment or argue for your favorite (and not-so-favorite) moments of the season below.

*Note: All photos in this post except the Tosca cover were taken by Cory Weaver for San Francisco Opera.

Opera 101— Bel Époque

Tags

Bel Canto, Donizetti, Opera

Overture as history lesson in Roberto Devereux. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Gaetano Donizetti, Roberto Devereux, (1837)
Based on: the play Elisabeth d’Angleterre by François Ancelot
Setting: England, 1598

Plot in 101 words or less: On this week’s episode of The Crown, Sara is sad—really sad—and Elizabeth is mad—really mad. Lord Cecil and his gang of (literal) peers are mad too. They’re plotting against the queen’s favorite, Devereux, who’s been playing footsie with those pesky Irish rebels. Devereux returns to plead his case but admits to Elizabeth he loves another and leaves her ring—the one that would guarantee his safety—with Sara, his best friend’s girl and object of his affections. Sara can’t get the ring back to him and so… off with his head! Should have found some hobbits. Or eagles.

Sung in: Italian
Memorable Music: the overture, which quotes “God Save the Queen”; “Vivi, ingrato”, Elisabetta’s final aria

Mirror, mirror, on the wall… Sondra Radvanovsky as Elisabetta in Roberto Devereux. Photo by Cory Weaver.

As a self-proclaimed bel canto whore and lover of all things Tudor, I was bound to like Roberto Devereux, one of Gaetano Donizetti’s three “queen” operas, which, along with Anna Bolena and Maria Stuarda, forms what is known as the Tudor Trilogy. But I liked it even more than I thought.

Of course, this is not really surprising as Devereux had another strong point in its favor with the teaming of soprano Sondra Radvanovsky as Elisabetta and mezzo-soprano Jamie Barton as Sara, the Duchess of Nottingham, who we last saw together on the War Memorial stage in Norma and on whom I rightly bestowed multiple Figaros for outstanding performance.

Sondra Radvanovsky as Elisabetta (left) and Jamie Barton as Sara (right). Photo by Cory Weaver.

Radvanovsky was fantastic here, both in voice and in her acting. The woman next to me seemed absolutely convinced she was elderly. For my part, I was amazed by her ability to convey imperial majesty and temperament as well as a certain kind of frailty and vulnerability. Jamie Barton’s Sara was a lovely counterpoint to this fierce and fearless portrayal, singing with what seemed a heartfelt and melancholic resolve. Tenor Russell Thomas as the eponymous Devereux also sang beautifully, especially in his final moments behind bars in the Tower with “Come uno spirito angelico.” Adler Fellow Amitai Pati once again stood out in a small role, that of the devious Lord Cecil.

What’s a little swordplay between friends? Russell Thomas as Roberto Devereux (left) and Sondra Radvanovsky (right). Photo by Cory Weaver.

This production conducts an elaborate history lesson in the prologue, which I liked, but wasn’t really necessary. It might have been more helpful to the audience to have highlighted more specific emotional or political aspects of Elizabeth’s reign. That said, I’m always happy to see sailing ships.

Still, this emphasis on “history” seemed at odds with the set itself, which was designed by Benoit Dugardyn and based on Shakespeare’s Globe Theater—a choice that emphasized the performance nature of an opera that is not quite based on actual history. While this bare set mostly worked, it did lead to a few clunky staging efforts, such as the final execution and renunciation of the throne. Oddly enough, I liked the whole glass casing idea that opened and closed the opera.

The costumes by Ingeborg Bernerth were similarly uneven. I loved some of the elaborate dresses, but Sara seemed rather plain in comparison considering she was Duchess of Nottingham.

You play with swords, you get the axe. Photo by Cory Weaver.

I realize this brief summary makes it seem like I didn’t like the production design, which is not the case, I just feel like it could have been more cohesive and less didactic somehow. Regardless, the singing was absolutely stellar.

In short, more Tudor queens, please!

Even Shakespeare shows up! Photo by Cory Weaver.

There are only two more performances of Roberto Devereux at the War Memorial Opera House, on September 23 and September 27. Run, don’t walk, to see this incredible production!

Opera 101—Code Name Verity

Tags

Fashion, Opera, Verismo

Isn’t it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air…
But where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.
Don’t bother, they’re here.

—Stephen Sondheim, “Send in the Clowns”

A performer entertains the crowd in Pagliacci. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Cavalleria rusticana and Pagliacci are two short verismo operas that often appear together on a double bill, as San Francisco Opera has chosen to do for their 2018–2019 season, with a production originally from the Opéra Royal de Wallonie-Liège. The entire production is about three hours, including one intermission between the two operas.

Verismo is an Italian operatic style that emerged in the late 1800s and can be considered a realist (or naturalist) style, with plots taking their inspiration from real life. In other words, verismo presents everyday people with everyday problems, albeit at the usual operatic extreme. [Side note: The other major non-Puccini verismo opera is Andrea Chénier, which opened the 2016–2017 SFO season.] I can’t say I’m a huge fan, despite naturalist author Émile Zola being a favorite of mine. However, this was my first “Cav/Pag” as the kids say, so maybe I shouldn’t be too quick to judge.

In both Cavalleria rusticana and Pagliacci, the plot is fairly straightforward: a married woman is having an affair and her jealous husband kills her lover. But only one has clowns.

Pietro Mascagni, Cavalleria rusticana (Rustic Chivalry) (1890)
Based on: a novella and play by Giovanni Verga
Notable Cultural Reference: The Godfather Part III
Setting: Sicily, Easter Sunday, 1890s

Plot in 101 words or less: Villager Santuzza is pregnant by ex-soldier Turiddu, son of innkeeper Mamma Lucia. Before getting his gun on, Turiddu was with Lola, but when the cat’s away the mouse will marry someone else, namely Alfio. Because getting with Santuzza made Lola jealous (as planned), she and Turiddu start up again. Santuzza gets pushed around literally and figuratively, curses Turiddu, and tells Alfio what’s what. And… intermezzo. Everyone, drink! Well, everyone except Alfio, who refuses Turiddu’s wine and challenges him to a duel. Turiddu Mike Tysons Alfio’s ear—apparently it’s a Sicilian thing, not one of the “Ten Duel Commandments.” Justice is served.

Sung in: Italian
Memorable Music: the Intermezzo

Laura Krumm as Lola, Roberto Aronica as Turiddu, and Ekaterina Semenchuk as Santuzza in Cavalleria Rusticana. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Ruggero Leoncavallo, Pagliacci (Clowns) (1892)
Based on: an actual incident (maybe)
Notable Cultural Reference: Seinfeld, “The Opera” (clip 1, clip 2)
Setting: Calabria, Ferragosto (August 15), 1860s

Plot in 101 words or less: Traveling performers, including Canio—clowno numero uno—and his wife Nedda, come to town for a Ferragosto performance. Soon Nedda is by herself, singing Jenny Gump’s prayer. Tonio—clowno numero duo—tries to seduce Nedda, to no avail, mostly because she likes villager Silvio, who’s no fool. Unfortunately, Canio learns of their affair before they can run away together. The performance begins. Mise en abîme alert! The audience realizes too late that the jealous obsession playing out on stage is a little too real: Canio stabs Nedda, and then Silvio. In short, you are well advised to be scared of clowns.

Sung in: Italian
Memorable Music: “Vesta la giubba”

Amitai Pati as Beppe, Lianna Haroutounian as Nedda, and Dimitri Platanias as Tonio in Pagliacci. Photo by Cory Weaver.

While both of these operas as written take place in southern Italy, this production by Argentine José Cura sets both operas in La Boca, the Italian quarter of Buenos Aires. This mostly worked for me, although, if you didn’t read the production notes, I can see why you might be confused at times since the characters in this production overlap. For example, Pagliacci opens with Turridu’s coffin, Santuzza appears noticeably more pregnant in Pagliacci, and the character of Silvio now works in Mamma Lucia’s bar from Cavalleria. In fact, it is Mamma Lucia who utters the famous closing of Pagliacci—“La commedia è finita”—which I found a distinctly odd choice, whatever the rationale.

Ekaterina Semenchuk as Santuzza (seated) in a scene from Cavalleria Rusticana. Photo by Cory Weaver.

As this was my first Cav/Pag, I went in fairly open to both operas. From what I had read, Cavalleria seemed to be considered the more “musical” of the two, but I came out highly predisposed to Pagliacci. The construction is far more creative, including the complex “play within a play” and the breaking of the fourth wall with the prologue, but it is also stronger from an emotional perspective and had more “breakout” arias to these ears.

As for the singing, it seemed a bit uneven. While I really loved the tone of most of the singers, at times they felt underpowered. This was mostly on the male side, as the women came off fairly well.

The highlight for me was soprano Lianna Haroutounian as Nedda in Pagliacci. Mezzo-soprano Ekaterina Semenchuk as Santuzza in Cavalleria was also impressive, although I don’t think she had much to work with. Her acting certainly stood out: Given that the role is not particularly sympathetic, I felt for her. (If you remember, Semenchuk was also a highlight for me in Luisa Miller. I was even impressed by some of the smaller parts, such as Laura Krumm’s Lola, which is rare for me.

For the men, one obvious highlight was tenor Marco Berti’s delivery of Canio’s “Vesta la giubba” (I was rather relieved when he delivered on that since I felt he cut short the final note of “Nessun dorma” when I last saw him in Turandot). Berti was also one of the better actors: Despite his heavy makeup and mask, I really felt his anger. I also liked Merola graduate David Pershall as Nedda’s lover Silvio. He has been in a few things I’ve seen but I’ve never made note of him before. His love duet Haroutounian was very nice. I thought Adler Fellow Amitai Pati had excellent tone as Beppe and stood out in his aria even if it was a bit soft. Dimitri Platanias, the sole singer to truly have a dual role and making his SFO debut, as Alfio in Cavalleria and Tonio in Pagliacci seemed to do a little better with Pagliacci, especially in the prologue.

Amitai Pati as Beppe as Arlecchino in Pagliacci. Photo by Cory Weaver.

A distinct disappointment for me was the dance interlude. Given the resetting, I was hoping for a fiery Argentine tango with its classic snap kicking and I felt the choreography did not live up to its potential.

What did live up to their potential were my fellow operagoers, whose outfits (mostly) rose to the occasion. Unfortunately, the San Francisco Chronicle’s coverage was fairly weak this year, so I’ve only included my own pictures below; however, I wasn’t able to capture all my favorite looks. For example, Komal Shah wore a beautiful Dolce & Gabbana floral number and Camille Bently donned a black, jeweled Christian Siriano gown, both of which were well suited for the “¡Viva La Noche!” theme.

There are six more performances of Cavalleria rusticana and Pagliacci at the War Memorial Opera House on September 12, 16 (2 pm), 19, 22, 28 and 30 (2 pm).