OPERA REVIEW : San Francisco Recycles ‘Giovanni’

Mozart, Mozart everywhere . . .

The world, in case you’ve been off the planet lately, is frantically celebrating the 200th anniversary of the death of a genius named Wolfgang Amadeus. Perhaps we are getting too much of a good thing.

With everyone wanting to get into the commemorative act, the quality of performances seldom matches the quantity. The deceptively complex Mozart never was a composer who could thrive on cranked-out routine.

The most recent gesture here on behalf of Salzburg’s favorite son is a revival of “Don Giovanni.” Actually revival may not be the right word, and there’s the first of several aesthetic rubs.

When the current San Francisco Opera production, staged by August Everding and designed by Toni Businger, first appeared in 1974, it pleased virtually no one. The ponderous staging scheme was as dismal as the lighting. The quasi-unit set, a semi-abstract arrangement--and frequent re-arrangement--of ugly Spanish grilles, created more problems than it solved.

The murky mess should have been trashed on the spot. Instead, it has been subjected to 17 years of desperate, ultimately futile tinkering--probably in the name of economy though certainly not in the name of artistic integrity.

The lengthy credit list for this year’s recycling exercise does not mention Everding. The production, we are told, is “based on a concept by Michael Hampe,” who, we learn, attended the first two weeks of rehearsals. The physical direction was entrusted to an assistant, Laurie Feldman, who, one assumes, held the book and faithfully directed traffic. It would be naive to look for theatrical revelations here.

The scenery and lighting are now attributed to Thomas J. Munn, whose work is “based on original scenic designs by Toni Businger.” This apparently means that Munn has brightened the stage somewhat, reshuffled the grilles and attempted (clumsily) to redefine some of the locales (at one illogical point, the cast convenes in Donna Anna’s living room to plot revenge over the Commendatore’s casket).

Most important, perhaps, Munn has added a symbolic obelisk and a Hallmark Card vista painted on a yellow cyclorama. Such picturesque innovations clash with the strict stylization of Businger’s surviving contributions.

This obviously cannot be a thinking person’s “Don Giovanni.” Still, the dramatic weaknesses might have been mitigated by a vital musical perspective.

No such luck.

Leopold Hager conducts gently, neatly and blandly. He savors clarity over passion and a vague romantic tradition over an authentic Baroque idiom.

The youthful singers, all reasonably competent, seem left to their own earnest, uninspired devices. Such devices may suffice for “La Boheme,” but they make a tedious evening of “Don Giovanni.” Do-it-yourself Mozart remains a dangerous oxymoron.

The crucial title role was entrusted on Thursday to Gino Quilico. Forthright and debonair, he modelled Walter Mahoney’s costumes with period panache and flashed an ever-rakish smile. He sang the seductive music rather coarsely, however, and sometimes shouted when an insinuating croon would have been more effective.

In general, he was amiable rather than sinister, attractive rather than charismatic. The compulsive, unprincipled, irresistible conqueror of 1,003 women in Spain alone emerged here as a nice college kid out to have a good time.

Lucio Gallo, making his U.S. opera debut, matched him as a handsome, dry-toned, rather charmless Leporello who refused to stoop to buffo devices. For better and worse, one really had trouble distinguishing servant from master on this occasion.

Marilyn Mims, a rare soprano who finds no terror in the heroic coloratura of Donna Anna, deserves a return engagement in a more stimulating interpretive atmosphere. Amply proportioned, she also deserves costumes that don’t tempt viewers to confuse the anguished Spanish noblewoman with the Queen of Spades.

Kallen Esperian, winner of the 1991 Dorothy Buffum Chandler Award, sang Donna Elvira with expressive conviction and dynamic finesse. These obvious qualities were compromised, however, by an uneven line and recurring pitch problems.

Harolyn Blackwell introduced yet another pert, pretty and chirpy Zerlina. LeRoy Villanueva complemented her as a light-voiced pleasant-peasant Masetto.

The most elegant singing came from the stolid but solid Don Ottavio, Frank Lopardo. He managed the treacherous scales of “Il mio tesoro” in a single breath, in the tradition of John McCormack and Cesare Valletti. He also earned admiration for serious attempts at pianissimo shading, even if the results sometimes lacked focus and support.

Peter Rose made his debut as a ghostly Commendatore who came to dinner on wheels, despite Mozart’s explicit description of the statue’s weighty footsteps. The British basso seemed to be singing effectively, with greater impact at top range than at bottom, but the echoes of electronic reverberation made accurate vocal assessment difficult.

Onward, and one hopes upward, to the further adventures of “Don Giovanni” Monday at the Music Center. Mozart, Mozart everywhere. . . .