The San Francisco Opera's season-opener tonight, Mozart's "Cosi fan
tutte," reminded War Memorial old-timers of the company's glory days
when standard works got excellent treatment.  Not multi-million-dollar
productions of Hollywood spectaculars (or some kind of "rarity"), with
enormously expensive big-name stars, this was the bread-and-butter of
the Adler era: a musical masterpiece conducted by an outstanding maestro,
a fine ensemble cast without a single weak link, simple and clear
direction, a handsome set.

"New and unusual" is much needed in the opera house, but this - an honest,
decent, skilful, spotlessly entertaining production - is a kind of minimum
standard we'd hope "so would they do all" for the rest of the season.

Michael Gielen, in his local debut, gave the production its big, radiant
musical heart...  although the orchestra virtually disappeared time and
again, laying down a gorgeous carpet for the singers.  At this, the
season's first performance, there were some rusty sounds from the brass,
and occasional under-par performances in the woodwinds, but the strings
were consistent and excellent, the orchestra as a whole serving Mozart
well and true.

The John Cox-Robert Perdziola staging from Opera Monte Carlo is bright,
colorful, and although the setting is updated to 1914, it meshes perfectly
with the "original," not calling attention to itself - although coming
close with a boat bringing the singers from the Mediterranean all the
way to the hall where the action takes place.  It's clever, it works,
it's fine.  Ditto for the use of Perdziola's well-dressed chorus filling
the stage, but not interfering with the action.  This is a "Cosi" with
the right balance: comedy *and* drama, not just one or the other, wisely
staying far away from silly clowning, giving equal time to the very real
feelings that make it rich work that it is.

First among equals in the uniformly excellent cast is tenor Paul Groves
as Ferrando.  He began in a somewhat underpowered manner, but when he
reached his Act I aria, "Un'aura amorosa," suddenly, it was magic time.
Quietly and effortlessly, Groves poured the sound out, singing the music,
not the aria, reminding the listener of the late Gosta Winbergh's Mozart
in this house.  That quality of "not singing the aria" distinguished
Groves from Alexandra Deshorties, whose two great solo turns - "Come
scoglio" and "Per pieta, ben mio" - were brilliantly sung, but bearing
an almost invisible sign: "This is a big moment," instead of conveying
the emotions that are at the heart of the music.  When she'll add more
feelings to her accurate octave-plus leaps and superb legato, Deshorties
will be a singular diva in our time.

Claudia Mahnke and Hanno Muller-Brachman (US premiere) sang Dorabella
and Guglielmo, respectively, in robust, well-projected performances.
Richard Stilwell's Don Alfonso, a bit on the dry side, fit well into the
ensemble.

Frederica von Stade's appearance in her debut as Despina was an important
event.  Although the singer could be the grandmother of the character,
it was ever so important that this San Francisco favorite didn't end her
career with the 2002 "Merry Widow." Flicka was not responsible for that
disaster, she just got caught up in it, and most opera fans here keep
her Melisande in mind anyway, but even a youthful soubrette role in this
fine "Cosi" is a much, much better farewell.

Always an appealing singing actress, Flicka's stage presence now -
when the voice is not what it used to be - is even more important, more
impressive.  Unlike many (often annoying) Despinas, Flicka's maid in not
pert or (ugh) bouncy, but "just right." There is an amazing economy in
her movements and facial expressions, never overdoing, always communicating
the precise meaning and sense of the moment.  At one time, as she looked
upstage, her back to the audience, she clearly and convincingly conveyed
every nuance of the character and the situation.  Although she never
acts as one, she is a true star, in the sense that when she is on stage,
you cannot take your eyes off her, even though she blends in with the
ensemble.

Flicka's voice, at 59, is strong and accurate, filling the monstrously
large, 3,000-seat hall (almost excessively in the natural - one hopes -
amplification heard at the top of balcony where I spent the second act),
but some of the light, color and playfulness in the voice that endeared
her to generations of fans now appear a bit diminished.  All in all, her
singing in smaller halls will be treasured for years to come...  and now
we don't have to think anymore of her Hanna, struggling against all odds
in that Unmerry Widow.

Janos Gereben
www.sfcv.org
[log in to unmask]