At tonight's "Der Rosenkavalier" in San Francisco, the Marschallin's
portion of Act 1 - this most Mahlerian scene in all opera - was
heartbreakingly beautiful. From the sudden catching of the breath to
the concern, then worry, then a full-fledged anxiety attack, to deep,
paralyzing angst about the passage of time, the loss of youth and of young
love, to overwhelming sadness and then a measure of dignified catharsis,
even acceptance - the music said it all, and it spoke with assurance,
authority, and yet with a kind sincere vulnerability, but free of cheap
sentimentality. It was all real, believable, moving and something to be
treasured among dozens or even hundreds of performances one hears.

It's too bad that the singer of the role merely accompanied the glorious
music coming from the orchestra, especially the strings, and especially
the first violin of Kay Stern - an opera concertmaster without peer (and
a great chamber-music performer in her free time). It was an outstanding
orchestra playing at its best, under the baton of the man who owns this
music outright - Charles Mackerras, whose work with the orchestra is a
miracle of "playing together," instead of imposing ideas.

As to the Marschallin on stage, I came to hear Renee Fleming, not to bury
her. (Which, incidentally, I am not doing even now - she was fine, only
not on par with that collective, orchestral glory.) Unlike some of my
colleagues and many fellow opera fans, I have never been turned off by her
acting and vocal passivity, that curiously "enervated" presence of hers
that always lurks behind the pretty face and beautiful voice. In fact, the
languid acting and voice did not add up to a Marschallin - almost as if she
couldn't play herself, similarly to the well-known lothario whose Don
Giovanni is, well. unconvincing.

Much as I wanted to, I couldn't believe anything Fleming said, although
her singing was accurate and pleasant: a far cry from the soaring, aching,
sweeping Mackerras-Stern Marschallin. I actually missed Yvonne Kenny in the
role; she brought something to the role that's missing now. At least, when
Kenny sang about walking around at night to stop all the clocks, she felt
and conveyed the true pathos of the scene. Fleming smiled as she sang,
not a rueful, sad smile, only the usual diva-smile. This uncomprehending
performance was a devastating disappointment from an otherwise intelligent
artist, who might have been suspected of Gorish artificiality, not
Bush-like vacuousness. Maybe it was just one of those nights, maybe
it was jet lag. It just wasn't the Marschallin.

The rest of the production is rolling along fine: Susan Graham's Octavian
and Rebecca Evans' surprising and still-growing Sophie, Franz Hawlata's
terrific Ochs, excellent work in the minor roles and by the chorus,
Thierry Bosquet 's recreation of the 1911 Dresden premiere sets - it's a
"Rosenkavalier" well worth revisiting again and again. I'll return just to
hear Stern's singing.

Janos Gereben/SF, CA
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