OPERA REVIEW : A Botched ‘Ballo’ in San Francisco

SAN FRANCISCO —  They take Halloween very seriously in this cultural capital by the bay.

On Wednesday night, assorted revelers prowled the streets around the Civic Center in ghoulish drag and goblinesque mufti. Meanwhile, the San Francisco Opera hosted two--count ‘em, two--masked balls.

The one in front of the proscenium attracted a surprising number of festive folk modeling silly suits and funny hats. The one on the stage, better known as “Un Ballo in Maschera,” embellished Verdi’s tragic but mellifluous masquerade with at least one jarring sight gag: a jack-o’-lantern leered beneath the hut of the soothsayer Ulrica in what was supposed to be Stockholm, anno 1772.

The repertory choice complemented the holiday. The performance, alas, turned out to be more trick than treat.

Sonja Frisell’s conventional staging scheme and John Conklin’s conservative designs attracted no particular attention when the production was new in 1977. At that time, however, it did at least provide a neutral dramatic frame for a stellar cast that included Katia Ricciarelli, Jose Carreras, Yuri Mazurok and Kathleen Battle. All that remains now is the pretty scenery.

Frisell’s name doesn’t even appear among the current program credits. The duties of traffic cop have been passed to Anne Ewers. Although she moves singing bodies around the stage efficiently, the singing bodies at her disposal here don’t compel much interest.

The most serious of numerous problems on this unhappy occasion involved the prima donna. Susan Dunn, one of several would-be Verdians optimistically touted as a successor to Zinka Milanov and Leontyne Price, is said to be battling some sort of indisposition. She had canceled her performance at the opening on Sunday, ceding her place to Deborah Voigt. She would have been wise to cancel on Wednesday too.

Vocally, Dunn’s Amelia teetered on the brink of disaster. When audible at all, she sounded strained, tight and flat. Her voice literally gave out before the dreaded high C that should cap the gallows aria. Dramatically, she was a cipher.

Ermanno Mauro performed most conscientiously as Riccardo, a.k.a. Gustavus III. He produced mezza-voce tones of ravishing beauty in introspective passages. He made the rafters ring in heroic climaxes. He struck appropriate poses. He proved that he commands the resources of a world-class tenor.

Yet he seldom managed to make the most of those resources. A clumsy cadence negated an elegant phrase. Discrepancies in steadiness and pitch undermined bel-canto ardor. An awkward move obscured an eloquent stance. It was frustrating.

Alain Fondary--the loud, dull and short-breathed Renato--sang his great apostrophe, “Eri tu,” to an invisible portrait. Tracy Dahl, the cutesy-pie Oscar, chirped her teasing roulades in the manner of a coloratura Betty Boop.

Like most mezzo-sopranos who undertake Ulrica today, the usually admirable Diane Curry found discomfort at one of the range extremes explored in this unreasonable role. The trouble in her case came with the snarly low notes.

Philip Skinner as Sam the conspirator, sonorously seconded by Nikita Storojev as Tom, exuded solid basso bonhomie. Verdi and his librettist might have preferred a hint of menace.

Maurizio Arena, the seasoned professional in the pit, conducted like a man in a hurry to get home. One couldn’t blame him.