San Francisco Opera's 80th season - the first under general director
Pamela Rosenberg - got under way tonight with a big, colorful,
made-for-opening-night "Turandot."

This third staging of David Hockney's gorgeous comic-book production (seen
here in 1993 and 1998) has everything a well-lubricated gala audience may
wish for:  a phantasmagorical set of red and green hues not to be found
elsewhere in the known universe, Ian Falconer's spectacular Beach Blanket
Babylon costumes, a Cirque du Soleil-type acrobatic procession, and
super-sumo-sized executioners.

On the musical front, there was also some good news.  Donald Runnnicles
conducted a orchestral performance properly turbulent and lyrical in turn,
consistently serving the singers well.  Ian Robertson's chorus, made to
work hard by the stage director, Chris Alexander, sang well and with its
customary fine diction.

Still, this being opera, there remains the issue of soloists.  There were
some adequate (or better) performances, but with the exception of Patricia
Racette's Liu - her two quietly, exquisitely performed arias were wonderful
- nothing big enough to keep pace with the bigger-than-life nature of the
production.

Jane Eaglen, in the title role, of course, is large enough (especially
with layers of costumes and jewelry piled on her), and the new-to-opera
gala audience section reacted to her first appearance with giggles and
noises expressing surprise, amazement, and even concern.  As usual, Eaglen
produced a huge volume, not something musically special or memorable.  A
stainless-steel sound, often squeezed, produced with effort, monotonous and
colorless - hers is a Turandot who remains the ice princess even when the
story and music indicate a change. . . the whole point of the opera, after
all.

At the beginning of her opening aria, Eaglen clearly tried to do something
different, but soon she gave up trying to keep it soft and beautiful, and
just belted the music out.  The climactic Act 3 scene was a parade of
leather lungs between Eaglen and Jon Villars (Calaf).

Villars, who was making his San Francisco debut, is an unusual singer.
Towering over the rest of the cast (in height, I mean), he exhibited a
voice to match, but then strange things happened, especially in Act 1.
This lyric-spinto singer went heldentenor on us. . . almost, but then,
suddenly, he turned the volume down, as if he had a knob in his throat
- at times, becoming inaudible.

He did much better in the rest of the performance, but his is not a
voice to trust when it comes to intonation, legato, control, consistent
projection.  Villars is also a textbook example of what happens when the
voice is not placed forward.  Time and again, the sound seems to bog down
in the back of his throat.

John Ames' Mandarin was fine, along with the debuting Hernan Iturralde's
Ping and Felipe Rojas' Pong.  Other debuts didn't go as well.  Dean
Anthony, as the Emperor, acted broadly and rather un-emperorishly, but
the voice reminded old-timers of Eddie Albert's appearance in the role.
(Yes, he did, he did!) Alfred Reiter, coming all the way from Germany to
sing Timur, gave an indifferent performance.  For a general director coming
from Stuttgart, it's understandable to bring with her major singers she
likes, but why fill small roles with imported minor singers, especially
in a town of many extraordinarily talented youngsters?

Janos Gereben/SF
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