END OF TOUR : ‘PORGY’ WINDS DOWN IN SAN FRANCISCO

“Porgy and Bess” finally made it to San Francisco last week, after 22 grueling weeks in transit.

The celebrated Houston-based revival of Gershwin’s opera, which had played Segerstrom Hall in Orange County and the Wiltern in Los Angeles last February, definitely seemed the worse for wear.

On the surface the production looked much as it had in Southern California. But the energy level appeared low, the rote level high.

Diction was sloppy. Timing was askew. Crucial lines were thrown away. The all-important chorus was feeble. Even with the boost of discreet amplification--this in the War Memorial Opera House!--the balance between stage and pit was a sometime thing.

In general, the production sounded pretty much like a competent but careless run-through. Nothing went seriously wrong, but nothing proved memorably right either.

The contours of Jack O’Brien’s staging scheme have been blurred. Show-bizzy indulgences have been refocused. The rigors of the road have taken their toll.

The two-week stint here represented the last stop of the current tour. Sunday afternoon, many of the listless participants acted as if they were trapped somewhere near the end of a hopelessly formidable tunnel.

Things, we are told, had been even worse at the local opening four days earlier. With John DeMain, the official music director, occupied with a “Turandot” in Texas, someone in San Francisco had the idea of passing the baton to Richard Bradshaw. It didn’t turn out to be a good idea.

Bradshaw’s British credentials and reportedly autocratic manners may not have predestined him for this assignment. But, even if they had, he would have needed more rehearsal time than was available.

In any case, the rapport between the new maestro and the tired cast turned out to be problematic. Before the fourth performance, it was decided that Bradshaw’s services were no longer needed. Into the breech flew Roger Cantrell, a former Angeleno who already had served the “Porgy” venture with distinction as Jasbo Brown pianist, chorus master and alternate conductor.

Clearly, he knew this territory and he knew these singers. He molded the score with a sensitive, stylish hand. One had to wonder why he hadn’t been entrusted with the San Francisco duties in the first place.

It wasn’t Cantrell’s fault, of course, that the integrity of the score had been compromised a bit by the local sponsors. Although much was made in the program magazine of this being “a complete ‘Porgy,’ ” local audiences were deprived of the ominous “Buzzard Song.”

A spokesman for the San Francisco Opera cited the threat of overtime, union regulations and related budgetary problems. That excuse doesn’t seem to interfere with even lengthier Wagner and Strauss performances under the same auspices.

The cast on this occasion included two crucial newcomers. Terry Cook, a basso from the Metropolitan Opera, took over the title role. Gregg Baker, another Met stalwart, returned to his definitive performance of Crown.

Cook introduced a lean and pleasant Porgy who sang with lyrical finesse throughout. One may have regretted his omission of the high notes favored by baritones in the role, just as one lamented his mushy way with the words. Still, one had to admire Cook’s care for the legato phrase and pianissimo effect.

As an actor, he remained bland and passive.

Baker, who had sung only the gala opening night in Los Angeles, exulted in the beefcake attitudes of the irresistible villain. Moreover, he complemented an ideal visual impression with vital, beefy vocalism.

Otherwise, it was “Porgy” business more or less as usual.

Henrietta Davis’ still-sympathetic if inarticulate Bess now had to contend with a soprano in tatters. Larry Marshall commanded attention as the perpetual Sportin’ Life even though ritual is beginning to inhibit his vigor. Patricia Miller as Serena sang “My Man’s Gone Now” with searing intensity and commanding dignity. Jubilant Sykes reaffirmed the charming fervor of Jake.

Rita McKinley as Clara found only a thread of a thread of a voice for “Summertime.” Marjorie Wharton added pipe-smoking to Maria’s raucous aberrations. Philip Eisenberg dulled the music of Jasbo Brown with square and prissy exactitude.

Apologists talk of natural attrition in cases like this. They claim that a production as complex and demanding as “Porgy” can only decline with the stress of time and travel.

It ain’t necessarily so.