On the face of it, the two men on the stage of the War Memorial tonight
were James Morris, singing Hans Sachs, and Rene Pape, singing Pogner, in
the premiere of a new production of "Die Meistersinger."
In fact, the occasion was the memorable meeting of the Wotan of yesterday
(Morris was magnificent in his role debut here in 1985) and the Wotan of
tomorrow - Pape sounds ready except for one thing. He has a helden/lyrical
bass-baritone, warm, clean rich voice, perfect diction and projection,
effortless, musical delivery, certainly the volume. . . so what ain't
he got? That certain charismatic extra quality which separates the great
from the near great - but let's hope it's coming.
The evening also marked Morris' best performance here in years. In spite
of occasional graininess and audible effort in some of the high notes, he
sustained beautiful, centered, intimate singing in this role debut through
the long evening. After the performance, he was honored with great
enthusiasm on the 20th anniversary of his San Francisco debut (Assur in the
Horne-Sutherland "Semiramide" when all the attention, understandably was on
the ladies.)
How long? Donald Runnicles insisted on conducting an absolutely uncut
"Meistersinger," and that added up to an 84-minute first act, an hour-long
second act, and a third act running over two hours. From a "correct"
but routine beginning, Runnicles quickly got into his usual relentless,
sweeping interpretation, a seamless flow of music, Wagner as it should be.
The strings were exceptional, by the Act 3 prelude, they were delivering a
world-class shimmering sound in that pre-Strauss "moonshine." First cellist
David Kadarauch should have been taking a solo bow among the principal
singers after all his singing in the orchestra pit. It was a grand evening
for the woodwinds, not so for the brass, especially the horns. (I am still
trying to get over that rock-solid brass section in the Los Angeles Opera
"Lohengrin" a couple of weeks ago; we could have used them tonight.) Ian
Robertson's Opera Chorus produced a Bayreuth sound at times (especially
from the top of the balcony where I spent Act 3, luxuriating in the sound).
The evening was rich in debuts, firsts, excellent performances.
Janice Watson and Robert Dean Smith were a fine match as Eva and Walther
- beautiful voices, not particularly big or exceptional, but good
performances. In fact, Watson is better than that: her command of the
role, her stage presence and the warmth in her voice lift the performance
above the limitation of the voice.
This, believe it or not, was the US opera debut for Smith, a tenor from
Kansas getting rave reviews in Bayreuth and elsewhere. He has a gorgeous
voice, all right, but tonight, it was not very helden nor did it fill the
hall (granted it's a hell of a big place to fill, but it can be done).
It's a bit worrisome that in spite of his very young age, he is already
squeezing out some of the high notes, going into at least an intimation -
if not full-fledged - falsetto. If he did this 20 years from now, one
would be less concerned.
Fortunately, we had the pleasure of an ageless voice under perfect control
as well. Thomas Allen's Beckmesser is a vocal-theatrical-"historical" joy.
I was lucky enough to catch his 25th anniversary Don Giovanni in Covent
Garden, and that was five years ago! You'd never count the years listening
to him, even in a role as tricky as this. As for the stage performance -
wow! Clown-Beckmessers be damned; Allen portrays a real person, prissy,
irritable, scheming, truly Wagner's idea of a music critic, but not a
caricature, an abstraction.
The secondary pair of lovers did a first-class job: Catherine Keen's
Magdalene and Michael Schade's David were superb. (I'd like hear Schade's
Walther, even if it's "not that kind of voice.") Among the masters, John
Del Carlo's Kothner was a standout.
Hans-Peter Lehmann's new production (in his San Francisco debut) is a
towering accomplishment of simplicity, no monkey business, respect for the
work. On John Coyne's fine (and obviously low-cost) sets, with Thomas J.
Munn's excellent lighting, and Walter Mahoney's rich but not excessive
costumes, NOTHING diverts attention from the work. In our unfortunate age
of the fashionable, self-centered, selfish and clueless director, Lehmann
deserves our gratitude and admiration.
Janos Gereben/SF
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