OPERA REVIEW : A Traditional ‘Traviata’ in Orange County

The surprises in “La Traviata,” as staged Saturday night by Opera Pacific at the Orange County Performing Arts Center, were minor.

Bernard Uzan, the stage director from Montreal, had invented some distracting and fussy bits of action for the soprano cast as Violetta. Not incidentally, that excellent--and accommodating--soprano happened be his wife, Diana Soviero.

Portraying the tragic dame aux camelias, she made a fatuous entrance at her sophisticated soiree playing a kiddies game, blind-man’s bluff. At the feverish climax of “Sempre libera,” she carefully tossed fake camellias about the stage, one of which got caught in her hoop skirt. This, no doubt, lent new meaning to the concept of fioratura .

Finally, in “Addio, del passato,” she distorted what should have been the peak of pathos by smearing her cheeks with crimson makeup worthy of Pagliaccio. Luckily, she found some convenient 1850s Kleenex on the night stand to wipe off the grotesque gunk in time for her farewell to love and life.

Otherwise, Uzan tended to “Traviata” business as usual. Tradition, no matter how tired, is always preferable to innovation for its own gimmicky sake.

The musical surprises in Costa Mesa proved more pleasant. Mark Flint, the propulsive conductor, had to contend with some rough playing by the so-called Opera Pacific Orchestra, and his rhythmic definition tended toward the flaccid. He persuaded his singers to venture some welcome pianissimo explorations, however, and he demonstrated sufficient concern for structural integrity to restore at least a verse of each of the flamboyant cabalettas Verdi intended for the Germonts.

For once, Alfredo got to exult heroically in his temporary shame (“Oh, mio rimorso”). For once, the anticlimax of the second-act finale was mitigated by Giorgio’s florid ode to familial passion (“No, non udrai rimproveri”). Under such conscientious stylistic circumstances, one doubly regretted the survival of that disruptive intermission between the scenes of Act II, not to mention the conventional removal of a chunk of Violetta’s death scene (the embellished repetition of “Gran Dio! Morir si giovine”).

The cast, for the most part, turned out to be strong. It was dominated, as any successful “Traviata” must be, by the courtesan with the heart of gold.

Soviero might be more affecting if she could concentrate on the grand line and the arching climax. Nevertheless, her authority and finesse compelled admiration, even when her characterization got bogged down in the wrong histrionic minutiae.

She sustained radiant tone and reasonable agility in the opening scenes. She exerted force without forcing in the dramatic outbursts of Act II (“Amami, Alfredo”) and accented the plaintive lyricism of the last act with telling strokes of desperation and passion. She is a sensitive singer and a resourceful actress.

Tonio di Paolo, her Alfredo, bears a disconcerting resemblance to the young Buddy Hackett. He has a strange habit of suddenly lapsing into tones that verge on a falsetto croon in passages inviting introspective nuance. Contrary to expectation, he chose not to assault the vocal stratosphere at the climax of his cabaletta. But there is potential gold in that throat.

Di Paolo sings with poise, expressive warmth and dynamic generosity. He seems to care about the words. He even knows the meaning of legato. Remember his name.

Timothy Noble introduced a properly stern yet sympathetic Giorgio Germont who savored noble bel-canto values. One might wish for a bit less parlando declamation in “Di Provenza,” or top notes that ring with greater, brighter impact. Still, he helps fill a painful void in the current roster of worthy Verdi baritones.

Anita Protich commanded attention as a seductive Flora Bervoix. The other comprimarios faded into the canvas woodwork of John Conklin’s workaday sets, borrowed from the San Francisco Opera.

Deanna Venegas and Ramon Nunez danced a sprightly mock-bullfight duet in the gambling scene. The choreographer remained uncredited.

Joseph de Rugeriis’ supertitles encouraged the usual laughs in the wrong places, and at certain conversational junctures seemed a bit over-zealous. Surely, an attentive audience can be spared the instant translation of such an innocent utterance as “Ha ha!”

Still, this was a good night at the opera. We have seen worse “Traviatas” in far more prestigious places.