OPERA REVIEW : Verdi by the Numbers: S.F. Revives a Trivial ‘Traviata’

Every opera company has its special days and its business-as-usual days.

Often as not, the business-as-usual days involve the hum-along delights and pretty pathos of Verdi’s “La Traviata.” And so it was Saturday at the San Francisco Opera.

The performance wasn’t bad enough to be annoying. Unfortunately, it wasn’t good enough to be memorable.

San Francisco cranked out Verdi’s nearly indestructible masterpiece, virtually and literally, by the numbers. The great arias, duets and ensembles came and went on schedule. The audience applauded politely. Not much happened on either side of the footlights.

The problem wasn’t an absence of competence. It was an absence of inspiration. Absence in this case did not make the heart grow fonder, or beat faster.

In the pit, Steven Mercurio, remembered for his work with Opera Pacific, managed to prove that crisp efficiency does not rule out lethargy. On the stage--amid the well-traveled standard-brand decors created by John Conklin in 1987--John Copley kept traffic moving intelligently, neatly, dutifully.

Girl met boy. Girl got boy. Girl met boy’s mean father. Girl renounced boy. Girl died. Nice tunes. Nice pictures. Time to go home.

The principals did what they could. They came, they sang, they exited.

Veronica Villarroel, remembered for a tepid “Traviata” in Los Angeles in 1992, is a handsome presence in her hoop gown and tears. Her bright soprano spans the extended range easily. Too bad about her vocal technique.

On this occasion her tone tended to emerge oddly unresonant and straight. Her pitch often sagged a hair flat, and her range of color ran the gamut from white to pink.

Although she managed some lovely, dignified moments, her level of expressive intensity remained stubbornly low. When a Violetta can negotiate the should-be feverish climax of “Amami Alfredo” without generating a single hand clap, you know something is wrong.

Roberto Aronica, promising student of the redoubtable Carlo Bergonzi, partnered her as a shy and dry, small-scale Alfredo. His lyric resources were gracefully displayed when he didn’t force for impact, but he couldn’t muster much luster.

Gregory Yurisich, the Australian Verdian who left a good impression as Iago opposite Placido Domingo’s Otello in Los Angeles last season, seemed straitjacketed by the stuffy attitudes and organ-grinder platitudes of Germont pere . Though he earned gratitude for his willingness to sing softly, his baritone sounded small and dull, and, for reasons unknown, he turned the rolling legato of “Di Provenza” into a parlando exercise.

Both Germonts, not incidentally, got to sing one verse of their often-deleted cabalettas. The restorations made good theoretical sense. The performances, alas, lacked bravura justification.

The assorted comprimarios did their assorted things with professional aplomb. The choristers, well-trained by Ian Robertson, tried in vain not to look foolish in their aren’t-we-having-fun-at-the-party routines. The incidental choreography, attributed to Adela Clara, recycled the usual holy-ole cliches once more without feeling.

Zzzzz.

* “La Traviata,” presented at the War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Ave., San Francisco. Remaining performances Thursday and Oct. 4, 7 and 10 at 8 p.m., Sunday at 2 p.m., Oct. 12 at 7:30 p.m. $21-$125. (415) 864-3330.