Good singers go down with this ‘Don’

Shortly after 7:30 Saturday night, the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion curtain rose. Leporello, the droll, put-upon servant of the dastardly Don Giovanni, tapped his foot to the music and fiddled with a giant hourglass, that heavy-handed symbol for time passing and maybe a woman’s figure. A masked dancer in an exaggerated white hoop skirt was, I suppose, mysterious death. The Don’s tomb rose upon a geometric stage.

Already by the end of the overture, through which the orchestra sounded anemic, several Postmodern -- and post-Postmodern -- cliches had been, themselves, orchestrated for the return of a Los Angeles Opera production of Mozart’s opera. Quite a few more were held in reserve. For instance, Masetto, the angry newlywed husband of one of the Don’s peasant conquests, Zerlina, became a po-Pomo Pierrot, which is two “pos” more than an edgy comic character.

Some three trivial hours passed before the swaggering Don was dragged to the depths of hell by the Commendatore, whom Giovanni had stabbed in the opening scene after raping his daughter, Donna Anna. By then, I had given up on this stale, simple-minded production, no matter how impressive a stud Erwin Schrott made in the title role or how appealing many of the other singers might have been in a different setting.

As the hour approached 11, the statue came to dinner. This time, though, the Commendatore’s ghost was an unkempt old man in loin cloth rising from the ground and reeking of the putrid grave. The orchestra swelled with frightening authority.

Schrott, who had been allowed only one arrogant dimension all evening, was finally given a second. The Uruguayan baritone’s defenses melted before our eyes, while his voice trembled but grew stronger and more defiant at the same time. This is one of the most difficult scenes in all important opera to pull off. And yet here was a bit of real, disturbing theater. Throw out enough ideas in a long opera and perhaps one will work.

When L.A. Opera first presented this production in June 2003, it was a “Don” of desperation. The company’s plans for an ambitious cycle of Mozart operas by a noted director (Achim Freyer was held out as an intriguing possibility; Robert Wilson’s name was also bandied about) had fallen through. Early in the 2002-03 season, a director or full cast had not been announced. With the clock (or hourglass) running out, the company pounced on a flashy copycat Freyer and Wilson production from Warsaw by a Polish film and theater director, Mariusz Trelinski.

There were in 2003 two saving graces. One was the company debut of Schrott, who is a wonderfully physical singer. The other was the meaningful conducting of then music director Kent Nagano. The rest of the cast was OK, which was good enough, given that everyone on stage was treated like a caricature anyway.

For this revival, being promoted in part for its good-looking cast, most on stage are better than OK, which is now a problem, given that they still aren’t allowed much room to wiggle beyond caricature. Meanwhile, the conductor is Hartmut Haenchen, a German who recently completed 13 years as music director of Netherlands Opera, one of the most venturesome companies on the continent. He has to know better, which may be why he seemed somewhat uninvolved Saturday.

Trelinski demands a lot of puerile prancing from his actors. Leporello must be a slapstick clown; the Don, a stallion (literally, I’m afraid, kicking his foot). I thought I detected a thread of misogyny running through the production, what with an unusually sexy Donna Anna (as deserving rape victim?), a too harpy Donna Elvira and a sex toy Zerlina. Leggy nuns and chorus girls hardly beg explanation.

Musically, the evening was not a disaster. Haenchen didn’t let the Chandler acoustics prevent him from attempting light tone and some of the fast tempos of the period instrument Mozart style, occasionally to good clear, cool effect.

Schrott held one’s ear as effectively as one’s eye. Alexandra Deshorties was a lusciously passionate Donna Anna, and Charles Castronovo an unusually unwimpy Don Octavio, her fiance. Kyle Ketelsen sang very well despite being straitjacketed into an unreasonably nasty, shaved-headed version of Leporello. Maria Kanyova’s grating Donna Elvira may have been intentional. Lauren McNeese and James Creswell managed as well as could be expected as the goofy Zerlina and Masetto.

For the record, Boris F. Kudlicka made the set, which also doubled as an echo chamber; Arkadius designed the flamboyant costumes; Emil Wesolowski choreographed the high-stepping nuns.

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mark.swed@latimes.com

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‘Don Giovanni’

Where: Los Angeles Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave.

When: 7:30 p.m. Tuesday and Friday; 2 p.m. Sunday; 7:30 p.m. Dec. 4 and 7; 8 p.m. Dec. 9; 1 p.m. Dec. 12; 2 p.m. Dec. 15

Price: $20 to $238

Contact: (213) 972-8001 or www.laopera.com