OPERA REVIEW : New Cast in San Francisco’s Soda-Pop ‘Fledermaus’

It hasn’t been a good year for the champagne in Johann Strauss’ “Die Fledermaus,” as staged by the San Francisco Opera.

Lotfi Mansouri’s overdressed and overloaded production can boast clever sets by Wolfram Skalicki that complement Thierry Bosquet’s desperately chic costumes. The performance does enjoy the advantage of an accessible if archaic English translation, which actually lets the audience in on the gags.

The gags, however, are heavy-handed, much of the casting is uninspired, and the music-making has tended to be speedy rather than sensuous. In general, this “Fledermaus” suggests nothing more elegant than soda pop.

The values shifted somewhat on Saturday with a new conductor, a new heroine, new solo dancers and a particularly glittery “surprise” guest for the de rigueur star turn in the protracted ball scene. Still, the wonted charm remained elusive.

The problems began in the pit, where Patrick Summers succeeded Julius Rudel on the podium. Rudel had accompanied the singers deftly and enforced considerable brio, if not much lilt. Though Viennese by birth, he showed no interest in the echt -Viennese hesitation that should delay the second beat in three-quarter time.

Summers, a young coach with the San Francisco company and director of its training program, made Rudel’s “Fledermaus” seem a model of relaxation. He dashed through the score with mechanical rigor, rushing the singers, trampling the wit and refusing to yield for either lyrical stress or verbal nuance.

Nancy Gustafson turned out to be a considerable improvement over her predecessor, Elizabeth Holleque, as Rosalinde. She looked properly willowy in her glitzy ball gown, delivered her campy lines with a nice edge of bemusement, and sang with generous bravado. She even managed to cap the treacherous Csardas with a full-throated high D.

Her mellow soprano did tend to evaporate as the line descended, and her articulation of coloratura passages seemed a bit cautious. Still, she was a stylish, commanding heroine.

Prince Orlofsky’s party was elongated on this occasion by the visit of a fine new pair of principals from the San Francisco Ballet. It was further embellished by a drop-in diva who inadvertently upstaged the unfortunate sopranos of the regular cast, both forced to function here as scenery at someone else’s concert.

Leading the corps in Helgi Tomasson’s lovely divertissement, an ardent Ashley Wheater partnered a slightly tentative Sabina Allemann. Venturing a gushing, florid, ultra-altitudinous arrangement of Strauss’ “Voices of Spring,” Ruth Ann Swenson invoked the virtuosic voice--and the dubious taste--of Erna Sack. Her dazzling display stopped the show, in more ways than one.

Otherwise, the matinee offered “Fledermaus” business as usual. Barbara Kilduff repeated her pert and pretty Adele. Ildiko Komlosy returned as a nicely understated Orlofsky. Theodore Baerg was the dapper Eisenstein, Jorge Lopez-Yanez the sex-and-bel-canto-crazed Alfredo.

Timothy Nolen pulled the strings knowingly as a dry-voiced Falke. Arte Johnson clowned his muted way through the routines of Frosch, while Donald Adams offered object lessons in comic finesse and vocal bluster as Franke.

Everyone tried valiantly to keep up with the novice conductor. Those who couldn’t met him at the cadence.