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October 4-10, 2012 • BAY AREA REPORTER • 37
As if beauty were enough San Francisco Opera’s ‘The Capulets and the Montagues’ by Jason Victor Serinus
O
n paper, it looked as though San Francisco Opera’s new coproduction of Vincenzo Bellini’s bel canto gem I Capuleti e I Montecchi (The Capulets and the Montagues) would be a triumph. Based on the same story that inspired Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, the opera’s nonstop succession of exquisite arias and duets, blood-pumping scenas, and thrilling ensembles may not be as well-known as the composer’s Norma, but it deserves to be. And the list of principals – the astounding mezzosoprano Joyce DiDonato (Romeo in travesti, a.k.a. in drag), gifted SFO debut soprano Joyce Cabell (Giulietta, called Juliet in the supertitles’ silly attempt to popularize Italian opera), magnificent bass-baritone Eric Owens (Giulietta’s father, Capelio), debut tenor Saimir Pirgu (Romeo’s rival, Tebaldo), and more-than-promising young baritone and Adler Fellow Ao Li (the physician, Lorenzo) – reads as one of the finest that can be assembled in the present day. Yet more than the opera’s ending fizzled. Everyone sang wonderfully. But it just wasn’t enough. Once she fully warmed up, DiDonato sang with tremendous beauty, power and conviction. Hers was in many respects a Golden Age performance, with chilling lows, thrusting highs, and an abundance of coloratura flourishes and extremely intelligent shading. When she let loose in her first extended scene, and gave her all in the finale, she was near magnificent.
Cabell, too, displayed a beautiful voice, which she strove to lighten higher in her range. How she managed to sing perfectly, balanced on one leg while standing on the edge of a sink, or repeat the feat when walking across the edge of a very high frame, is beyond my comprehension. But despite extremely sensitive phrasing, a lovely trill, the occasionally radiant phrase, and wonderful singing in her gorgeous duets with DiDonato, she is not a true coloratura. She’s a very fine artist, but she has neither the silvery tone nor stratospheric high extension that distinguish the best. And there is the problem. Bellini’s writing for his two female leads demands voices that can not only ravish the senses and tear at the heart, but can also cap scene after scene with soaring high notes. And these principals did not deliver. Cabell always went down at the end, and DiDonato, perhaps out of respect for her colleague’s limitations, rarely went up. The leap to the top, which anyone with a sense of vocal line knew was called for, was absent. What was ravishing became merely beautiful. In this case, it was not enough. This is not to say that the production was wont of gifted artists. Owens sang with majesty and authority, but without the volume one would expect from an artist of his caliber. Ao Li not only sang beautifully, with sufficient projection for a large house, but also acted movingly. Pirgu – the Albanian component
of a multi-ethnic, multi-national cast that includes a white girl from Kansas; two African-Americans, one of whom is also of Korean and Caucasian ancestry; and a native of China – was a bit of a disappointment. He may sing at the Met, but his lower range lacks allure, and his powerful high notes sound somewhat disconnected, almost as if punched out. Bellini doesn’t give him that much to sing, but his two arias are jewels that call for a freedom and shine that he did not deliver. Both the San Francisco Opera Chorus, directed by Ian Robertson, and the orchestra under conductor Riccardo Frizza outdid themselves. Frizza has a marvelous sense of bel canto style, lavishing Cabell and DiDonato’s arias and duets with an abundance of rubato and shading. If ever a conductor breathed with his singers, it was he. Saved for last is the production. Director Vincent Boussard’s staging was often ridiculous, but it proved more of a distraction than a major impediment. What was the sink that Cabell perched on all about, and why was she forced to sing one of Bellini’s most exquisite arias variously perched atop and sitting in it? Was Broussard trying to outdo Lepage’s “machine” in the Met’s Ring by forcing his choristers to walk up and down bleachers and stand still like automatons during the opera’s tragic conclusion? Did he and costume designer Christian Lacroix really think they were making an eloquent
Cory Weaver
Joyce DiDonato (Romeo) and Nicole Cabell (Giulietta) in San Francisco Opera’s I Capuleti e i Montecchi.
statement about women’s roles by sticking oversized fabric flowers in the mouths of the silent female choristers? And why did lighting designer Guido Levi cast the spotlight, not on the shadowed prima donnas, but rather on the suspended sculpture? Thank God, prima donnas and
closed eyes alike, Bellini’s writing is so wonderful that it almost always triumphed over the visuals. If not a performance for the ages, it certainly went a long way to convince that I Capuleti e i Montecchi deserves far more productions than it has received up to now.▼
Cory Weaver
Supernumerary courtesans backstage, in Christian Lacroix’s designs for San Francisco Opera’s The Capulets and the Montagues.
Cory Weaver
Eric Owens (Capellio) and Saimir Pirgu (Tybalt), with men of the San Francisco Opera Chorus, in Christian Lacroix’s designs for San Francisco Opera’s The Capulets and the Montagues.
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Lacroix costumes
From page 21
Opera. “This was a natural progression for him.” Drawn to antique textiles, Lacroix is partial to layered, clashing fabrics; a distinctive asymmetry; and bold, in-your-face colors like teal, fuchsia, turquoise and yellow. All these proclivities converge in the courtesans’ costumes he dreamed up for Capuleti. He was allowed to plunder Munich’s archive of vintage, turn-ofthe century costumes, scavenging fragments like a red-striped sleeve that looks like a refugee from The Barber of Seville, and a skirt which may have had a previous life in Don Carlo. He recycled these and other materials from old garments to construct 28 unique, mix-and-match creations with exposed, partiallylaced corsets, bodices and sleeves that fall off the body – the quicker to disrobe, my pretty – and billowing patchwork skirts done in jeweled gold-and-black brocades, sequins,
intricate hand-sewn laces, and contrasting tulle crinolines. And then there are the accessories: one costume comes with a rhinestone leash, another with single lavender glove that might be wrapped around the neck or stitched to an underskirt. It seems Lacroix has taken a walk on the wild side, elevating expertlycrafted tackiness to new heights. Imagine Madonna’s “Material Girl” on steroids and heading her own atelier. For this particular version of Romeo and Juliet, Verdosci and his team developed a hyper-masculine universe in which women have no voice or role in society other than as adornment. The courtesans, for instance, look spectacular, but their lack of status is expressed by bunches of flowers stuffed into their mouths (Fortunately, they’re nonsinging extras.) Juliet wears a white strapless pouf dress – the taffeta was customwoven with a cross-thread of metal – loosely laced up the back, and
tinged with bluish pink watercolor, evoking a budding rose about to be plucked, although not by Romeo if her parents can help it. The men are outfitted in slim dark pants, rakish scarves, top hats of varying heights, rear bump-pads that lend them an Oscar Wilde silhouette, and jackets that borrow from the street while suggesting morning frock coats. They’re made from sheer lightweight, non-traditional materials like Tyvek that come alive in the light. Romeo gets a Euro, uber-cool look that rivals Rick Owens’ sleek upscale leathers.
Finishing touches On my recent visit to the opera’s costume shop, seamstresses, as busy as Santa’s helpers a week before Christmas, were applying finishing touches and altering some of the 120 Lacroix costumes. Suffice it to say there were no size 2 mannequins in sight. “We do well with Germany because the Bavarians are tall and broad-shouldered, but with the Ital-
ian shows, it’s a lot harder,” sighs Verdosci. The costume warehouse occupies three floors of a building that stretches nearly half-a-block on Ninth Street, and it’s filled with goodies. The facility houses more than 300,000 individual costume pieces, including over 3,000 pairs of shoes, materials to build costumes, and over 1,800 yards of fabric. But the shop is where the magic happens – if it weren’t for the highly skilled artisans toiling there, it might be a kindergarten playroom. There are models and remnants of past productions like a portion of the angel’s wing from the sublime San Francois d’Assise that has been retired to a perch above a cubicle. (The wing is Yves Klein blue, an excruciatingly vibrant hue residing somewhere between cerulean and lapis, named for the “New Realism” monochrome painter.) The walls of the so-called dye room are splattered with “blood” and unruly experiments with metallic spray paint, while in the craft workshop, a test dummy that has seen better days is slung over the rafters, and an ominous, generously proportioned, structured red corset lays face down on an unattended table. Most of the available space is crammed with all manner of breastplates, belts, helmets and body armor forged
to resemble metal. The transformation process starts with a piece of felt molded into a human form that’s sized, made rigid, covered with leather, steamed and then hand-painted with the imperfections of battle-worn metal – rust, mud, cracks and dents. And voila! It’s show time. “Creating illusions and magic is one of the most challenging and exciting parts of this job,” says Verdosci, who remembers with special fondness a scene from Cunning Little Vixen that’s a long way from couture and Lacroix. “A dozen chorus ladies playing chickens were laying eggs on stage through a large pipe system,” he recalls. “After the fox blocked the pipeline, the chickens’ inflatable bellies grew and grew and grew until they all exploded in a shower of feathers.” Ah, the wonder of theater!▼ I Capuleti e I Montecchi, starring soprano Nicole Cabell as Juliet, and mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato in the role of Romeo, will be performed at the War Memorial Opera House, Oct. 11, 14 (at 2 p.m.), 16 & 19. For info, go to www.sfopera.com or call (415) 864-3330. If you’re interested in the synergy of opera and high fashion, the contributions of famous couturiers have been profiled in a new book by Helena Matheopoulos, Fashion Designers at the Opera.