Bizarre novelty and stunning excellence vie for the lead in tonight's
report from the San Francisco Opera's fourth and final `Siegfried.'

The really good news first: except for a final, climactic note squashed
like a ripe pumpkin, Jane Eaglen sang a Bruennhilde so great that it's
difficult to describe it.  Just three weeks ago, when she sang the role
here for the first time, it was impressive, a huge voice under good
control, but rather `mechanical' and unvaried.

Tonight was a winning, near-perfect combination of a voice cutting through
the storm from Donald Runnicles' orchestra and -- at times -- overwhelming
with bel-canto beauty.  If she had a Siegfried to sing with, this could
have been a performance for the ages.

And there is the other story, an amazing but rather unpleasant one.

George Gray has no business singing the title role of `Siegfried' or the
role in `Goetterdaemmerung,' with his small, tired, raspy voice, constant
sliding around the notes, complete inability to produce high notes without
squeezing and huffing and puffing.

No business singing either role. So Gray sang...

BOTH.

Back to back.

Yes, 'tis true and 'tis a pity, but true.  A foolish administration.  And
something for operatic history books.

To be fair, there are things to admire in Gray's anatomy: no, not his
voice or artistry or sense of humor (cupping his hands around his mouth in
trying to wake Bruennhilde was a vile `joke') -- but rather his guts,
endurance, mindless bravado.

Yes, it is true: after last night's six-hour `Goetterdaemmerung,' Gray
had 18 hours before the curtain went up on the five-hour `Siegfried,' with
Lotfi Mansouri giving him the news in-between about Wolfgang Schmidt being
unable to perform.  Gray went on, and he was *standing* at the end.
(Although at the end of Act 2, he couldn't climb high enough to strike the
required pose -- if only that were the worst thing that happened!)

The SFO general, artistic and music directors should collectively hang
their heads in shame that they couldn't get two decent Siegfrieds in the
first place -- and then no usable cover either.

Beyond the enduring screeching of the `childlike hero' (that's in the text,
see?, although Wagner had no idea about Siegfried peering into the
orchestra pit, looking for the forest bird, and stunts like that), there
were fine things happening: James Morris' final Wotan, as good or better
than his illuminating first in this series; Gary Rideout's landmark Mime,
Eric Halfvarson's Fafner, and Elena Zaremba's terrific Erda.

And, what will stay with us after all the dust settles: Eaglen's greeting
to the sun -- a call both to awaken the dead and something to die for.

Janos Gereben/SF
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