San Francisco Opera took a gamble on "Luisa Miller," not part of the
Verdi hit parade, and came up with one of the best opening nights in years.
Patricia Racette and a uniformly outstanding cast, whipped to a frenzy
by Donald Runnicles, and playing out a broad, sincere melodrama against
Michael Yeargan's quirky but winning sets, made something rare happen:
a performance that's better than the material.  And, a terrific night at
the opera.

There may be some devoted "Luisa Miller" fans out there for whom this
is dearly beloved work, but the truth is that both the Friedrich Schiller
play on which it is based and Verdi's contributions to it only hint at the
greatness both men reached a short time after their "Intrigue and Love"
and "Luisa Miller" -- 1784 and 1849, respectively.  All their themes are
already there -- oppression, forced betrayal, the triumph of love in death
-- presented with unashamed melodrama and unrestrained romanticism, but the
play lacks the broad sweep of other Schiller plays and the opera, although
Verdi's 15th, is without the non-stop "big numbers" of his middle period or
the grand cohesion of his last works.

In fact, San Francisco Opera didn't present "Luisa Miller" until 1974, and
even then it was a borrowed production.  "Just" a quarter century later,
SFO is presenting its own, and it's a beaut.

Runnicles tore into the score, making it sound (correctly and effectively)
Donizetti-on-steroid, evoking the specter of Rossini writing a sequel to
"Goetterdaemmerung," but then he settled down to his usual intense-but-not-
over-the-top sound, bringing the best out of the music -- and sustaining
it all the way through.  One of Runnicles' best moments came during the
strange unaccompanied quartet (unique in all of Verdi), when the conductor
made the four voices blend and soar to sound like a full orchestra.

In all the years Racette graduated from the SFO Merola Program, this was --
by far -- her best, most complete and satisfying performance here.  Her
voice seemingly without limits, projecting magnificently and acting with
conviction and ardor, Racette had her star turn, but remaining very much
part of the ensemble well-directed by Francesca Zambello (except for an
unfortunate obsession with guns).  There was some unhappiness last night
around the War Memorial because of Racette's skipping of the Lotfi Mansouri
Gala, but if that's what it took for her to reach this level of excellence,
she should *never* sing at a gala.

Marcello Giordani sang an impressive Rodolfo, the right notes and plenty of
power, doing well in acting too, although the voice lacks a special sheen,
a really appealing tone.  Gidon Saks' Wurm lacked those qualities too, but
my!  what raw power and bold, hang-ten melodramatic acting.  Seldom is
there a villain so villainous, faintly attractive in his debauchery.
Wurm can be made look ridiculous; Saks' was scary:  mission accomplished.

Elena Zaremba, well and justly loved in the War Memorial, was a great,
powerful Federica.  Arriving on top of a huge bronze horse statue, a lesser
singer would have looked just funny -- Zaremba was majestic and natural...
just the way she sounds.

Katia Escalera was the fine Laura.  Evgenij Dmitriev's Miller was well
sung and acted, and Francesco Ellero d'Artegna's evil Count Walter was
superb, even with wobble here and there.  Ian Robertson's chorus and
Lawrence Pech's dancers all contributed to a production that came together
early and stayed together all the way, even through the half-hour death
scene that's virtually impossible to sustain.  No wonder that Verdi, and
then Puccini, restricted their death scenes to a single aria or duet,
bringing 'em in at half the length of what is really the entire third
act (folded into San Francisco's two-act structure),

The first look at Yeargan's full-stage curved diorama set created
apprehension, with well-justified alarm bells going off in the oberver's
mind.  A huge beam sticking out of the set, carrying a large panel on
rails, didn't help to soothe concern, especially when the panel was
manually flipped over during the story to reveal -- similarly to Pogo's
boat -- different pictures on the other side each time.

And yet, by and by, the set became first acceptable and then even better
than that.  Yeargan pulled off a very tricky device of a bed or a table
remaining center stage with the change of scenery, anchoring the action.
The bottom and later the middle of the cyclorama moved to reveal a
silhouetted court scene at one time, the starry night at the end.

If the production -- singing, acting, direction -- didn't have the punch it
eventually delivered, the tricky set would have destroyed the performance.
Against all the power of the music, washing up from the stage and the pit,
the set became part of the whole:  no designer can do better.

[log in to unmask], SF
Attachments to [log in to unmask]