Arts & Events

Joshua Kosman’s All Wrong on CAV/PAG at SF Opera

Reviewed by James Roy MacBean
Friday September 21, 2018 - 04:33:00 PM

There’s a French saying, “à chacun son goût/each to his own taste.” While honoring this proverbial wisdom, I find Joshua Kosman’s review, (in the Monday, 9/10 issue of the Chronicle), of San Francisco Opera’s current duo of Cavalleria Rusticana and Pagliacci so wrong-headed that I have to register my profound disagreement. Of course, historically, there have been avid partisans and/or detractors of one or the other of this famed duo of operas. But never, I think, until Kosman, has a critic deigned to dismiss Pietro Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana (“Rustic Chivalry”), as “a piece of second-rate motley, with its halting dramaturgy and dull digressions.” I simply couldn’t disagree more with this rude dismissal of an opera that, in case Kosman hasn’t noticed, never fails to move audiences, and even moves quite a few critics. 

Based on a short story by Italian author Giovanni Verga, Cavalleria Rusticana depicts in vivid fashion the ordinary lives of Southern Italians in their local villages. In the space of one hour and thirteen minutes, there is intense emotion, love, anguish, betrayal, illicit passion, and violent retribution; and it all unfolds with tremendous dramatic and musical concision. What is all the more remarkable is the fact that in composing Cavalleria Rusticana, Mascagni was trying his luck as an unknown and hitherto unpublished composer who simply submitted his score to a competition, and came away a winner! When Cavalleria Rusticana had its premiere in Rome in 1890, it was such a hit that the composer had to take 60 curtain-calls! I ask you, Joshus Kosman: Have you ever heard of another composer called on to take 60 curtain-calls? Does this mean nothing to you? Are you so sure of yourself in the safety of your position at the Chronicle that you think you can dismiss the judgment of more than a century of opera-goers? 

I am defending Cavalleria Rusticana not to denigrate its time-honored program-mate, Pagliacci. I find both operas extremely moving. However, in the current San Francisco Opera double-bill, I found Cavalleria Rusticana the more gripping and persuasive opera. I’ll explain why a bit later in this review. In the staging by director José Cura, reprised here by José Maria Condemi, both Cavalleria Rusticana and Pagliacci are set in the Italian immigrant quarter of Buenos Aires. Cura, himself an Argentine, knows intimately the local color of La Boca, a Buenos Aires barrio settled by Italian immigrants. In staging both of the CAV/PAG duo in the same stage-set, with its central square, tavern, colorful apartments, and local church, Cura emphasizes the importance of community and family in his staging of these operas. In this he is true both to the Italian immigrant community of Buenos Aires and to the Southern Italian communities in which these operas were originally set. 

Conductor Daniele Callegari led the Opera Orchestra in both operas. Under Callegari’s baton, the Prelude to Cavalleria Rusticana was sumptuous and rich in color. At its close, we heard the offstage voice of Turiddu singing the praises of his inamorata, Lola. Then, surprisingly, the next music we hear in Jose Cura’s production is not from this opera at all. It is a brief, well-known tango song, “Caminito,” recorded by famed Argentine tango singer Carlos Gardel. This song emphatically sets the scene in Argentina; and the name of the tavern we see on stage right is “Caminito Tango.” The La Boca quarter of Buenos Aires now comes alive in the main square. People come and go, greet one another, sometimes argue. A waiter sets out tables and chairs in front of the tavern. Windows open on the square, sheets are aired, one woman angrily throws a man’s shoes out of her window onto the square. A sheepish man descends to retrieve them. All this hustle and bustle occurs while a mixed chorus of men and women sing of the fragrance of orange blossoms. Many people enter the church, for it is Easter Sunday. Others drift off, leaving the square almost empty of people. Santuzza enters and encounters the tavern-owner, Mamma Lucia, who is also the mother of Santuzza’s unfaithful lover, Turiddu. 

As Santuzza, mezzo-soprano Ekaterina Semenchuk was sensational. Her lush tone and impeccable vocal technique shone through even when her character swung wildly out of control in her despair over Turiddu’s desertion of her for an illicit affair with the married Lola. Santuzza confides in Mamma Lucia, sung by Jill Grove, and Mamma Lucia lends a guarded but sympathetic ear. Now Alfio, the teamster, arrives. He sings of the joys of a teamster but also of the joys of coming home to a beautiful, trusted wife, Lola. Meanwhile, we see in a window above the tavern Lola in a passionate embrace with Turiddu. As Alfio, baritone Dimitri Platanias gave a strong vocal portrayal of a stolid, unsuspecting cuckold. 

When Turiddu descends to the square, Santuzza implores him to return to her. Turiddu, sung in muscular fashion by Roberto Aronica, tries to deny her accusations, but she persists, revealing that Turiddu has been seen hanging around Lola’s house during the night while Alfio was away. Now Turiddu gets angry and throws the clinging Santuzza to the ground, then brazenly follows Lola into the church. As for Lola, sung here by Laura Krumm, she has only one brief aria, a fickle, carefree song that reveals her shallow character. When Alfio arrives in the square, Santuzza tells him his wife is having an affair with Turiddu. Alfio responds with a strong, grim outburst of pain and desire for revenge. When a bit later Turiddu offers Alfio a glass of wine, Alfuio refuses, and instead challenges Turiddu to a duel. In Sicilian fashion, the two men embrace ritually, and to show he accepts the challenge, Turiddu bites Alfio’s ear. 

Before going off to face Alfio in the duel, Turiddu has an emotional meeting with his mother. He tells Mamma Lucia he is going away. Now apparently remorseful over his betrayal of Santuzza, whom he had promised to marry, Turiddu asks his mother to look after Santuzza if he does not return. Then off he goes for his stiletto duel with Alfio. Mamma Lucia and Santuzza comfort one another, until a voice calls out, “They have murdered Turiddu!” Santuzza falls in a swoon, as Mamma Lucia weeps inconsolably. 

If every detail in this vividly colorful production of Cavalleria Rusticana was perfect, that is hardly the case in Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci that followed. The famous Prologue was here sung by baritone Dimitri Platanias, who also sang the role of Tonio, who is also called Taddeo in the play-within-the-play. Thus there was some initial difficulty in sorting out who was who. However, Platanias delivered the Prologue in fine, stentorian voice, and it made its usual strong impression. Likewise, Platanias was effective as the malevolent Tonio. Canio, the head of the troupe, was sung by tenor Marco Berti, who delivered a robust performance. 

As Nedda, Canio’s wife, soprano Lianna Haroutounian sang gorgeously. She has become a local favorite after her scintillating performances here as Tosca in 2014 and Cio Cio San in Madama Butterfly in 2015. In Pagliacci, Haroutounian’s opening aria, a cheerful song about the freedom of the birds, is superficially light and gay, but it also reveals Nedda’s deeper desire to live free and fly wherever she pleases. Tonio appears and declares his passion for Nedda. When she mocks him, he tries unsuccessfully to force himself upon her. She fights him off and he flees. Now a villager, Silvio, arrives. It seems he and Nedda have been exchanging passionate kisses, and perhaps more, though how this has transpired I can’t fathom when, in this production, the troupe has only just arrived and Silvio works as a waiter in Mamma Lucia’s tavern. Silvio, lustily sung by baritone David Pershall, implores Nedda to run away with him this very evening after the show. Nedda vacillates, but ultimately says yes. 

Then the play-within-the-play begins. I must say there is a considerable drop-off musically when we move from the passionate love duet of Silvio and Nedda to the simple-minded goofiness of the play-with-the-play. The amorous antics of the clown Tonio/Taddeo, and the amorous foolishness of Beppe/Harlequino, are set to silly music-hall tunes. But when Canio/Pagliaccio arrives on scene, earlier having witnessed Nedda kissing a man (Silvio) he couldn’t identify, all hell breaks loose, as the play-within-the-play spills over into real life. Accusing Columbine/Nedda of having an affair, Canio/Pagliaccio demands she name her lover. She refuses, and Canio/Pagliaccio draws a knife and stabs her fatally, then stabs Silvio, who runs to her side. Both Nedda and Silvio fall to the ground dead. Mamma Lucia grimly walks out from her tavern and announces, “La commedia è finita!” 


Editor's Note: For a different view of a different production of this same duo, see, on SFCV, Verismo Opera Shows Vallejo What Cav/Pag Is All About, Roger Wallace.