The first performance tonight of the San Francisco Opera's revival of
the familiar and wonderful Jean-Pierre Ponnelle production of Verdi's
"Falstaff" blew hot and cold.  It's tough to do justice to this "perfect
opera," even with the late director's guiding hand - the warm rain in the
opening scene, the dazzling white of the laundry-strewn about the stage
(in Thomas J.  Munn' s excellent lighting), all the way to the enchanted
Windsor Forest of that incredible finale.  Ponnelle assistant Vera Lucia
Calabria directed the revival of the 1985 production, last seen here in
1989, finishing the run before the big quake hit, playing havoc with
"Idomeneo" and "Aida."

It is a challenge to rise to the level of Verdi's masterpiece, even with
a cast that does much credit to the outgoing (often justly criticized)
Lotfi Mansouri/Christina Scheppelmann administration.  Also on the plus
side, perhaps most decisively, is the recently red-hot SFO orchestra,
under the direction of Donald Runnicles.

Against those tangible, hot assets, waves of cold entered the War Memorial,
something vague, difficult to define.  It was a cold house, with many empty
seats, and a respectful but passionless audience.  The orchestra, which
played like angels through large portions, sounded cold at first, almost
as if it had done too well at rehearsals and now it just couldn't get up
to its usual focus and concentration.

The chorus fairly fell apart at the beginning of the Windsor Forest scene,
only to rally valiantly at the end - but there was a slack, imprecise
ensemble the like of which I haven't heard (thank goodness!) in this house
for some time.  (Chorus director Ian Robertson and Runnicles must share
responsibility for the slip - whether it came from lack of preparation
or lack of direction.)

Cold as in the illness must have been the cause of Nancy Gustafson's
cautious, low-key Alice; it was a performance without fault, but nowhere
at the level we have come to expect from this great soprano.

John Del Carlo's performance in the title role presented the biggest, most
obvious deficit.  He had no high notes in Act 1 and by the last act, he had
no voice left at all.  Having just finished, with less rest than Arizona
Diamondbacks pitchers get, seven performances as Fritz Kothner in "Die
Meistersinger," it's small wonder that Del Carlo didn't last, but there
is a question about his casting in the role anyway.

But now to the hot stuff.  Runnicles' balances were fabulous, strings and
woodwinds played wonderfully again - apparently THEY didn't tire through
the "Meistersinger" run.  Elena Zaremba's Quickly was as rich and powerful
as expected from her consistently outstanding appearances here.  There were
three fine San Francisco debuts, led by the strangely delayed one of Dwayne
Croft, whose Ford was warm, mellow, spectacular - with a couple of rough
spots.  Victoria Livengood's Meg Page and Paul Groves' Fenton were
decisively on the plus side, although Groves' high notes were less than
something to write home about.

The hottest of the hot was Anna Netrebko's Nannetta. . .  up to a point.
In Act 1, the "old" Netrebko silver was back - the unforgettable sound from
her 1995 debut here as Lyudmilla - but with new strength, perfect breath
control, seamless, soaring, thrilling singing: the best Nannetta there
is or even can be.  By Act 3, however, whatever has kept the (still very
young) soprano from a greater stardom has returned, although only as a
hint.  I've been struggling for five years now trying to describe "it" and
I am still not up to the task.  A slightly hooded quality, a microtone off
the true pitch. . .  something which was completely absent in the glorious
Act 1 performance.

The smaller roles were well cast: Stanislaw Schwets as the imposing
Pistola, Doug Jones as Bardolfo, Jonathan Boyd as Dr. Caius, Dan Stanley
as Page.

For the rest of the run, if Del Carlo's performance improves, if
Gustafson's strength returns, if the chorus gets it together all the way
(not only at the end), and if there is more buzz and excitement in the
house - this will be one heck of a "Falstaff," and there are few better
experiences in opera.

Janos Gereben/SF
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