There was an obvious expectation from tonight's San Francisco Opera world
premiere of Tigran Chukhadjian's "Arshak II." Anything for which you have
to wait 133 years must be anticlimactic.
But surprise, surprise: the opera bent out of shape way back, then
Sovietized badly, and never reaching beyond its ethnic-regional boundary,
is a mostly good work.
I am not sure what authentically Armenian music is, but I am certain that
this isn't: a very pleasant, easy-on-the-ears French-Italian sound, with
an occasional bit of Russian accent. The long and repetitive overture is
right out of Drigo and Italian ballet music. Vocal lines bring Verdi's
"Macbeth" to mind (without the memorable parts), and there are
Offenbach-like bouncy passages too.
All 19th century East and Central European opera was influenced by
the French and the Italians, but "Bank ban" has plenty of Hungarian
music, "Halka" is recognizably Polish, and so on. If there is anything
authentically Armenian in "Arshak," I didn't hear it. But, again, it's all
very melodic and pleasant. Under Loris Tjeknavorian's baton, the orchestra
made the best of it. Ian Robertson's chorus sang well, no mean feat
considering the amount of stage business they had to attend.
What makes this world premiere go beyond the acceptable level of its music
is a terrific production and a cast that could have saved the previous
night's "Rigoletto" in their spare time. Production credits belong to
director Francesca Zambello, set designer John Coyne, lighting designer
Mark McCullough and, especially, costume designer Anita Yavich. Together,
they made "Arshak" look like a million dollars - which, coincidentally, is
about what it cost.
It was money well spent as far as the cast is concerned. Making their San
Francisco debuts, the principals were impressive, some simply grand - led
by French mezzo Nora Gubisch (Paransema) and Armenian soprano Hasmik Papian
(Queen Olympia), each with a number of showstopper vocal fireworks. . .
in music I no longer remember while their performances are here to stay.
Christopher Robertson, in the title role, did fine, but the other men were
more powerful, especially tenors Philip Webb (Prince Knel) and Gordon Gietz
(Valinance). The latter, a talented singing actor from Canada, managed
to appear believable in as hokey a role as you'll find in opera. Young
singers from the company made good contributions: Katia Escalera, David
Okerlund and John Ames. Tigran Martirossian sang the role of the patriarch
of the church or Catholicos.
Production, musical and vocal performances are all in the plus column. A
big negative is one of the most turgid dramaturgical mess you can imagine,
the worst left to the end. The first two acts (performed together in this
single-intermission production) are not too bad. It's the year 365, near
Mount Ararat, and Arshak's victory over the Persians is celebrated in an
abbreviated triumphal march. Immediately and without explanation, Arshak
starts misbehaving - he sends his brother (Knel) to exile, grabs Paransema
(Knel's wife), mistreats his own wife (Olympia), later kills his own
father, and dispenses with a great number of the court and nobility.
We are still a long way from intermission.
In the second act, again without much rhyme or reason, Arshak has Doubts
with a capital D, but continues to act badly to the point of giving the
Fourth Century a bad name. Act 3 has a cemetery scene out of the blue,
with ghosts scaring the king straight - except that he is still awful
as ever. Add to the complications the weird behavior of Paransema, who
informs Arshak that a. she loves him (never mind the death of her beloved
husband), and b. she will him (never mind that she loves him). Oh, and c.
she kills the queen's son.
And yet, it's Act 4 that really galls - one of those opera finales that
just can't stop. A long way after an unexpectedly gorgeous ballet by
six white-clad women, in Denni Sayers' beautifully simple and effective
choreography, under the queen's floating prison cage (I said there are some
high production values at work here), Arshak suddenly redeems himself and
the people greet him as if nothing happened during the two hours that went
before. It doesn't make sense, but it's an ending, and a smattering of
applause greeted the curtain before it came down. But it didn't. There
is another ballet scene, not nearly as good as the one before.
A new ending is under development now as the queen forgives Arshak.
(Why?) But no, it's not the end, let's have Valinance get into the middle
of it and try to convince the queen that she is wrong. The renewed
possible romance is stopped cold as Paransema enters with a cup - could it
be poison? - and she snatches a dagger, poisons herself and the queen, and
stabs Arshak. This may be a good place to stop, but nooooo.
What I am trying to figure out is how could Moscow's commissars screw up
this story? Do you really need communist cultural oppression to make hash
of the fourth act?
Meanwhile, enjoy the nice music, impressive sets, great costumes and some
outstanding voices.
Janos Gereben/SF
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