OPERA REVIEW : ‘Figaro’ by the Bay: Safe, Sane, Stylish

Mozart, Mozart everywhere. . . .

The current production of “Le Nozze di Figaro” at the War Memorial Opera House isn’t new. It dates back to 1982.

It isn’t theatrically inventive, like the elaborately misguided “Cosi fan Tutte” that was supposed to highlight the local festival commemorating the 200th anniversary of Mozart’s death. Nor, on the other hand, is it dutiful and dull, like the mundane revival of “Die Zauberflote” that opened the June festival here.

For better or worse, this “Figaro” is safe and sane. It is traditional in concept yet enlightened in tone and relatively stylish in execution. As such, it represents a happy marriage of music and drama.

John Copley, the seasoned director, has inherited Zack Brown’s somber, literal, Goya-oriented decors. Although he cannot make them look elegant, he has rejected the ponderous tragedy imposed on the production nine years ago by Sonja Frisell. He also has abandoned the vulgar touches that marred his own previous stagings of the opera here and in San Diego.

In his careful, conservative hands, the convoluted action is subtly motivated, and the complex characters are deftly defined. Copley obviously respects both Beaumarchais--whose original play is being performed by ACT these days at the Palace of Fine Arts Theater--and Mozart’s inspired librettist, Lorenzo da Ponte. Most important, Copley respects Mozart.

So, thank goodness, does Wolfgang Rennert, who conducts with fluidity that accommodates the wit as well as the pathos of this wondrous score. The German conductor is a Kapellmeister in the best sense of the ancient term--a self-effacing musician who knows the score, understands the tradition and sympathizes with the singers.

He cannot please those purists who care a great deal about authentic appoggiaturas and cadenzas, but he remains a most reassuring presence in the pit. On Saturday he even managed to coax a cohesive, nuanced performance from the San Francisco orchestra, an achievement that seemed to elude his colleagues in “Cosi” and “Zauberflote.”

The cast, generally strong, savored ensemble virtues. In Mozart, that makes a big difference.

Simone Alaimo, the burly Figaro, enjoyed the advantages of a genuine Latin temperament and an instantly amiable stage presence. He articulated the recitatives with telling point and sang his arias with splendid bravado, so long as the line did not dip too low.

Cheryl Parrish complemented him as a plump, bright and spunky Susanna who never resorted to soubrette mannerisms. She savored dramatic details that less intelligent singers ignore--miming an accurate guitar accompaniment for “Voi che sapete,” for instance, and feigning sovereign nonchalance in her surprise emergence from the Countess’ closet. Most important, she sang with sweet, silvery tone that, a few sharp attacks notwithstanding, proved particularly illuminating in the reverie of “Deh vieni non tardar.”

Renee Fleming, a bright hope among spinto sopranos who had been a rather disappointing Donna Elvira in the bizarre Opera Pacific “Don Giovanni,” easily justified her rapidly growing reputation here as Countess Almaviva. She traced the arching lines with welcome poise, slender yet limpid tone and rare finesse.

Here is a young artist who dares sing softly and who actually can muster a trill--not to mention the radiant top C usually alloted Susanna by default in the second-act terzetto. She also looks lovely and moves with a reasonable facsimile of aristocratic grace. Cherish her talent.

Wolfgang Brendel, remembered for his Count Almaviva in Los Angeles with the Berlin Opera, capitalized again on fine macho bluster. Like most baritones in this assignment, he sang with handsome, easy fervor until he reached the treacherous climax of “Vedro mentr’io sospiro.”

Enacting the adolescent raptures of Cherubino in San Francisco for the first time in 19 years, Frederica von Stade suggested that she still has few if any rivals in this role.

The supporting cast boasted Paolo Montarsolo as a superbly crusty Bartolo equipped with a magnificent wreck of a voice, Judith Christin as a properly giddy Marcellina and Michel Senechal as a wild yet splendidly understated Basilio. The latter two, not incidentally, were deprived as usual of their last-act arias.

Archie Drake, a veteran of many “Figaro” wars, introduced a canny though vocally feeble Antonio. Mary Mills looked pert and made a far bigger sound than one expects from a Barbarina. Craig Estep hardly asserted himself as Don Curzio, but deserved credit for toning down the offensive stammering gags.