OPERA REVIEW : ‘Merry Widow’ Revived in San Diego

In 1992, it may be impossible, at least on this side of the Atlantic, to produce “The Merry Widow” with complete success.

For all the undiminished charms of its singable, hummable, savorable and unforgettable score, the 87-year-old operetta exists in a time warp apparently inaccessible to those who would revive the work. Conductors conversant with its specific, Viennese musical style are rare, ancient or dead; stage directors with the comic flair and good taste to illuminate its dated--if still mighty functional--book seem similarly unavailable or nonexistent.

Still, Lehar’s masterpiece deserves, and often receives, resuscitation. San Diego Opera has twice before mounted it: In 1977, the company created a gaudy new production designed by Carl Toms and staged by Tito Capobianco for Beverly Sills. Seven years ago, that production was dusted off, reportedly with measurably more success.

Saturday night in Civic Theatre, Glenys Fowles--who had sung Valencienne (opposite Sills) in this production 15 years ago--returned as Hanna Glawari and gave, despite less-than-perfect vocal control, an irresistible performance.

Toms’ sets and costumes, looking garish and older than their age, remain the visual backdrop; a new set of suspects carries out the onstage duties.

Fowles, who looks appropriately glamorous in Act III but whose earlier-act costumes are the opposite of flattering, sings beautifully throughout, coming to grief only when she attempts to float the highest notes in the role--singing them loud is not a problem.

The veteran Australian soprano actually under-sings charmingly through most of the opera--in the pit, conductor Karen Keltner proves a serviceable accompanist, if not exactly a musical dynamo (she follows better than she leads). “Vilja” and the interpolated “Meine Lippen sie kussen so heiss” became object lessons in artful communication through song; dramatically, Fowles’ easy and engaging command of the stage never faltered.

Sunny Joy Langton brought similar virtues to her sturdy Valencienne, singing effortlessly, delivering lines clearly. John Del Carlo demonstrated considerable comic expertise, as well as the most resonant singing voice on the stage, as her Baron Zeta.

Theodore Baerg’s Danilo has the requisite voice and bearing, though it lacks projection in both areas. Gregory Kunde’s promising but raw tenor enlivened the role of Camille, and he achieved genuine dramatic sparks with Langton in Act II. Among the other men, the most pointed, polished performance came from Beau Palmer’s Njegus; he also sang admirably.

The large, well-drilled chorus, trained by Martin Wright, distinguished themselves, most notably in some lusty singing by the men in Act I.

Lou Galterio, remembered for his solid “Fille du Regiment” two years ago, was the stage director. The undistinctive choreography was the handiwork of Kimberly Mackin.