[From www.sfcv.org, 9/21/04]

   With remarkable punctuality under the potentially chaotic
   circumstances of a premiere in a new house, at 8:03 Saturday
   evening, Opera San Jose had its big moment.  A mightily
   gussied-up audience of 1,100 rose in the reconstructed
   California Theater to sing the "Star-Spangled Banner," marking
   the company's move into this old movie palace, spectacularly
   refurbished by $74 million worth of richly gilded arches and
   bordello-red flower-patterned carpets.

   All that, and, unexpectedly, great acoustics no money can
   buy, only luck can drop onto your lap, especially in this
   1927 barn of a building.  To the company's credit, it didn't
   waste the occasion on some gala fluff; to the contrary, it
   took on Mozart's "The Marriage of Figaro."

   Fast-forward to 11:30, just before the finale, and now it's
   the audience's turn (those still around, that is) to have its
   own big moment, a luminous, ephemeral one, indeed.  In an
   instant, a solid, reliable performance by a regional company
   turned into the kind of musical magic you seldom find anywhere.

   With affecting simplicity, Deborah Berioli sang "Piu docile
   io sono, e dico di si," the line that passeth understanding,
   the wronged, betrayed Countess offering her forgiveness, "I
   will yield, and say yes," something that makes no earthly
   sense...  unless you listen to what the heavenly music says.

   Under David Rohbaugh's baton, the orchestra played the
   accompaniment and the passage that follows as one musician,
   filling the hall with overwhelming beauty.  In that moment,
   the company rose fully to the greatness of the music.  The
   audience's appreciation was reflected in the ovation that
   greeted company founder-director Irene Dalis at the next-to-last
   curtain call; more than an expression of civic pride, it also
   acknowledged the exquisite finale.  As to the last curtain
   call, kudos to Opera San Jose and its chief benefactor, David
   W.  Packard, for an eccentric but generous gesture that saw
   two large busts rolled onto the stage, Easter-Island tikis
   in gypsum, of Mozart and librettist da Ponte, to give credit
   where it's ultimately due.

   The quality of singing varied through the long evening, but
   the orchestra, led firmly and effectively by Rohrbaugh, was
   consistent and impressive.  With some weakness in the brass,
   this band of an unusual origin did itself proud.  (Other opera
   companies have orchestras of their own, which usually also
   play for ballet performances; here, most players come from
   the defunct San Jose Symphony and its successor, the Symphony
   Silicon Valley, itself the creation of Ballet San Jose Silicon
   Valley.  No need to figure this all out, it's just here for
   the record.) Bruce Olstad's Opera Chorus was right up there,
   singing lustily, an amateur chorus giving a professional
   performance.

   Stage direction, by English soprano Lorna Haywood, was
   traditional to a fault.  However wrong the argument may be
   that opera is not "relevant" if it lacks something ugly,
   obscene or just stupid, direction that uses every old cliche,
   copies every move from classic productions, is not particularly
   thrilling either.  If you've seen other "standard" productions
   of this opera, you could predict every moment, where the
   characters will stand, what they will do, who is going to
   hide where, etc.  A little imagination, a bit of originality
   would have been welcome, even while Haywood's avoidance of
   what now appears in opera to be a mandatory display of bedroom
   or bathroom functions was commendable.

   Giulio Ceare Perrone's sets were modestly, effectively palatial,
   a master craftsman at work, regardless of the likely lack of
   a royal budget.  The same applies to Julie Engelbrecht's
   costumes, and Lise la Cour's economic and entertaining
   choreography.

   Among the singers, Joseph Wright's Figaro stood out; his is
   a warm, sonorous baritone, a voice used with discretion and
   finesse.  Sandra Rubaleava's Susanna and Jillian Boye's
   Barbarina made a finely-matched pair, both small in stature
   and voice, but singing accurately, and acting up a storm.
   Rubaleava especially is "born to the stage," moving and acting
   with confidence, commanding attention, smiles and caring from
   the audience.

   Haywood, whose plain-vanilla staging may be questioned,
   deserves unqualified credit for getting a uniformly fine
   acting performance from the cast.  Voices might have spanned
   a range from good to adequate, but everybody fulfilled the
   stage requirements of this complex work that demands both
   comic and dramatic abilities.

   Cast A performs on Sept.  21, 26, 28 and Oct.  3 (matinee),
   Cast B on Sept.  19 (matinee), 23, 25, and Oct.  1, as follows:
   Figaro - Wright / Jason Detwiler; Susanna - Rubaleava / Aimee
   Puentes; Bartolo - Jesse Merlin in both casts; Marcellina -
   Molly McCabe / Kimberly Matthies; Cherubino - Michele Detwiler
   / Heidi Rae Kalina; Amaviva - David Babinet / David Britton;
   Don Basilio - Etsel Skelton / Adam Flowers; Countess - Berioli
   / Lori Decter; Antonio - David Cox; Don Curzio - Bill Welch;
   Barbarina - Boye / Jennifer Muhawi.

   For more about the California Theater, see http://tinyurl.com/4qm4k
   and http://tinyurl.com/3o3kq.  This may well be the world's
   only concert hall with an old-fashioned, glass-enclosed "crying
   room" you'd expect in a move house or a church.  If you are
   among the few misguided souls taking under-under-age young
   ones to concerts or the opera, the California Theater is just
   the ticket.

Janos Gereben
www.sfcv.org
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